The Seer (53 page)

Mistral could
hear the urgency in his quietly spoken words and nodded quickly, ‘I can hear you
all the time, whether I’m really trying or not.  But I can only hear one
person at a time, so I’d have to ignore you to hear Pierre’s thoughts.’

Fabian shook
his head, ‘Read his aura only.  I want you to be able to hear me in case I
need to warn you of anything.’

Mistral nodded
silently, the sudden strain she saw in his eyes sending a chill through
her.  His expression abruptly changed to one of heartfelt regret.  He
reached out to brush his fingers gently down her cheek. 

‘I am so sorry
Mistral.  I fear that I may have stupidly led us into a trap.’

She caught his
hand, pressing her lips to his skin in a tender caress, ‘My place is by your
side Fabian.  I believe in the reasons that brought us here.  Trap or
no trap, we had to try.  Our son’s future is at stake.’

Fabian’s voice
became bleak, ‘More so now.  We cannot afford to waste any time Mistral,
we must hurry!’ 

He swung
himself back onto Spirit and led the stallion beside him, closely followed by
Mistral and more hesitantly, the herd.  The stallion trotted alongside the
object of his affections, occasionally turning his head to nibble at her neck,
which she bore with ill-grace.  Fabian paused on the crest of the ridge to
wait for Mistral.  She pulled Cirrus to a halt beside him and they both
scanned the wide expanse of pasture land for any sign of Pierre.  It
didn’t take long for them to spot the distinctive figure of the elderly
Mage.  He’d ridden to the top of the next rise and was sat completely
still astride his sturdy pony, gazing northwards.

‘Unless the
bear left paw prints on the horizon I don’t think he’s searching for tracks.’
 Mistral whispered.

Fabian didn’t
reply but Mistral could hear the tension in his thoughts.  Kicking their
horses on, they descended the ridge at a light trot and cantered across the
rolling grasslands towards Pierre.  Hearing the sound of their approach he
turned to greet them with an easy grin, speaking to Fabian while he reached out
a hand to pat the stallion.  The unicorn shied sharply and Mistral heard Fabian’s
thought echo her own.

Pierre’s
scent is unfamiliar!

Fabian didn’t
comment on the stallion’s reaction but immediately engaged Pierre in
conversation, leaving Mistral free to concentrate on reading his aura. 
The warm mid-afternoon sunshine cast a golden glow over Pierre and Fabian’s
heads, blending into the shimmering colours of their auras.  Mistral rode
silently behind them, her blank expression the only indication of what she was
doing.  Pierre’s aura remained a bright display of golds and silvers. 
Mistral quickly grew bored of trying to guess the reasons for his apparent
joyous mood.  She continued to monitor his emotions half-heartedly until a
bright flash of scarlet tore through the jewel-box colours ... hatred. 
Mistral blinked in surprise and the vision was gone, leaving her with just the
gentle murmur of Fabian’s thoughts in her mind. 

Mistral
frowned.  Why would Pierre be feeling hatred?  It didn’t make sense …
the joy could be explained in a hundred ways, the success of rounding up the herd
being the most obvious, but hatred?  It was no good, she had to try and
find out, even if it meant going against Fabian’s instructions.  With a
small pang of loss, Mistral pushed Fabian’s voice from her mind and focussed on
the incomprehensible thoughts of Pierre. 

Par la
victoire de ce soir sera le nôtre …

Feeling
frustrated that her gift could expose his thoughts but not permit her to
understand a damned word, Mistral clung onto the only one she recognised.

Victoire! 

Pierre was
thinking about victory once again.  Mistral felt a corresponding burst of
unease.  His voice faded from her mind as her concentration slipped. 
Cursing under her breath, she forced her mind to dispel the sudden wave of
apprehension and focussed again on the air above the grey hair.

D’or …

Mistral
frowned and let his thoughts slip out of her mind while she puzzled over the
burst of blinding yellow amusement that flashed through his aura every time he
thought that word …
d’or
… what did it mean?

We are
nearly at the farmhouse Mistral, come out of your trance …

Fabian’s
thought cut across her musings, pulling her back to reality.  She blinked,
adjusting to reality, and found that they were riding down the rough cart-track
into the farm.  The herd of mares had followed obediently, blindly going
wherever their stallion led them and he appeared to be more than content to go
wherever Spirit went. 

They
dismounted in the courtyard outside the stables.  In response to Fabian’s
unspoken instruction Mistral took their two horses and Pierre’s pony into their
stalls then returned to watch Fabian and Pierre leading the herd towards a
fenced enclosure.  Convincing the herd to enter the confines of the corral
took more work than they had anticipated and Pierre was soon sweating profusely
under the warmth of the late-afternoon sun.  With a muttered oath he ran a
hand over his perspiring face and pulled his jerkin off, flinging it to the
ground beside the fence not far from where Mistral was standing.  An odd
tinkling sound drew her attention, looking around for the source Mistral saw
that something had fallen from Pierre’s jerkin pocket and was lying in the
grass by her boot.  Bending down, she picked it up and looked at the
object curiously.  It was made of soft velvet and had a small silver bell
attached to the top.  Unfolding it to examine it more closely she noticed
two ornate patches embroidered on either side and immediately knew what it
was.  A falcon’s hood.

Pierre had a
falcon?  She couldn’t recall seeing one at the farm … but she had seen one
recently… somewhere quite unexpected ….

Mistral
suddenly gasped out loud as she remembered seeing a falcon disturbing the flock
of seagulls at the fishing harbour.  She looked down at the falcon’s hood
that had fallen from Pierre’s jerkin pocket ... Pierre; the eccentric French
Mage who had unexpectedly turned up to greet them at the harbour, who didn’t
know his way around his own kitchen and had supposedly dedicated his life to
caring for a herd of unicorns that blatantly didn’t recognise him …

‘Fabian!’ 
Mistral couldn’t hide the note of panic in her voice.  With the
unerring certainty that Sight gave her she knew that something was terribly
wrong.

Fabian dropped
the halter of the unicorn he’d been coaxing into the corral and spun to face
her.  Quickly reading the look on her face he dropped his gaze to see the
velvet hood held in her hand.

‘Ah Pierre, my
friend.’  Fabian said softly and Mistral was surprised to hear that he was
no longer speaking in French.  ‘You never did tell me you surname.’

Pierre stared
at Fabian for a moment then a grin slowly spread across his craggy features,
‘Rochforte.’

Mistral felt
her mouth fall open in horrified realisation of the truth.  They had
walked right into a trap.  Pierre had sent Etienne news of their arrival strapped
to the leg of the falcon ... and that had been more than a day ago; plenty of
time for him to muster a party and head out straight away.

Fabian’s snarl
of anger snapped Mistral’s shocked gaze back to see him lunge at Pierre with
his dagger drawn.  The air around Pierre immediately shifted and wave of
invisible power exploded out, sending Fabian crashing to the ground. 
Caught by the edge of the spell’s shockwaves Mistral was flung from her
feet.  She slammed back into the fence with a force that took her breath
away and slid to the ground, winded and dazed.

Suddenly
strong hands were grasped her around the throat, hauling her choking to her
feet.  Inhaling the stench of ozone and sweat Mistral knew that Pierre was
holding her and immediately began to struggle.  At once something cold and
sharp pressed against her belly, piercing through her shirt and cutting into
the skin.

‘Stay still or
I will gut you of that child you are carrying like a fish.’  Pierre
growled into her ear.

Mistral
instantly froze.  Held in Pierre’s strong grip she could only stare
helplessly at Fabian, now walking slowly out of the enclosure towards them.

‘What is your
plan Pierre?’  Fabian enquired coldly.  ‘Keep us here until your
nephew arrives?’

‘Ah, finally
you remember the Rochforte blood-lines!  I thought you would make the
connection eventually ... but come no closer!’  Pierre warned sharply as
Fabian drew nearer.  ‘Or I will hurt her.’

‘Oh I don’t
think you will.’  Fabian murmured, continuing to walk with deliberate slowness
towards them.  ‘You need her alive.’

Pierre’s face
twisted with hate, ‘We need
her
... but not the child she is
carrying!’  He pressed the dagger into Mistral, making her flinch. 

Fabian
immediately halted and glared at Pierre with unadulterated hatred, ‘Hurt her
and you die Pierre.’

Pierre barked
out a harsh laugh, ‘Empty threats De Winter!  Save your breath to
beg!’  He twisted the knife suddenly, digging it deeper into Mistral
side.  She bit down a gasp, feeling fresh blood run down her side. 

Fabian
snarled, his hands curling into fists.

‘Hold your
temper Mage De Winter!’  Pierre warned.  ‘Or I will cut her deep!’

A loud snort
broke the tension.  Pierre’s grip on Mistral tightened reflexively and she
cried out aloud as the dagger cut into her again.  Fabian’s eyes
immediately tightened and Mistral stared at him, imploring him silently not to
do anything rash.  His gaze flickered over her face then locked onto
Pierre’s again, icy rage resonating from every line of his body.  A sudden
movement from behind Fabian drew Mistral’s panicked stare.  It was the
unicorn stallion pawing the ground agitatedly, his black eyes fixed on Pierre,
the source of the unnatural ozone scent that threatened his herd. 

Fabian didn’t
turn to look at the stallion but continued to hold Pierre’s cold stare,
speaking in quiet voice, ‘And what are Etienne’s plans for me?’ 

Mistral
blinked and stared at Fabian again.  His expression was suddenly calm,
almost polite.  His hands had uncurled and were hanging loosely by his sides. 
Mistral instantly knew that he was trying to lull Pierre into a sense of
complacency by appearing relaxed.  She felt a burst of dread ... Fabian
was about to do something rash.  

Pierre
shrugged, the rise and fall of his shoulders making the dagger dig painfully
into Mistral.  She winced and saw the resulting flash of fire in Fabian’s
eyes while Pierre spoke.  ‘You will die De Winter … eventually … and
become just another Noble to meet his end at the righteous hand of a
Rochforte.  I am sure Etienne will want to subject you to a small amount
of pain first, just to ensure that your wife will have some lasting memories of
you.’

The
callousness of Pierre’s words sent a chill through Mistral.  She saw
Fabian’s eyes narrow fractionally and knew that he was about to act.  She
tensed, preparing herself for whatever he was about to do. 

‘I refuse to
suffer the indignity of death by a Rochforte hand.’  Fabian hissed
coldly. 

‘You will
die!  And soon!’  Pierre snarled.  ‘Etienne is on his way!’

‘Fabian!’ 
Mistral felt the air around them pulse with the unseen power of the spell
he was preparing to cast, her cry of warning turning into a scream as Pierre
flung her to the ground.  His boot stamped down, pinning her beneath his
weight.  The air around her rippled, searing her throat with the burning
reek of ozone.  
‘NO!’ 
Her shriek was lost in a series of
confusing noises.  The ground beneath her prone body reverberated with the
force of something heavy running towards them ... Pierre shouted in pain and
suddenly the weight pinning her down was gone.  Mistral quickly rolled
away and staggered to her feet, staring around wildly.  She cried out as
hands took hold of her again, holding her firmly by the shoulders.

‘It’s me
Mistral.’

She let out a
cry of relief and threw her arms around him, pressing herself tightly to him,
‘What happened?  Where’s Pierre?’ 

‘The unicorn
stallion charged him.’

‘Oh!’
 The sound of something heavy had been the unicorn stallion galloping at
Pierre.  She turned in Fabian’s arms to see Pierre slumped on the
ground.  ‘Is he dead?’ 

‘No, just
unconscious –’

‘I’ll soon
change that!’  Mistral reached into the back of her belt for her dagger.

‘No,
Mistral!  He must live, and we must go!  Now!’

‘Why the hell
should he deserve to live?’  Mistral shouted angrily, struggling against
his grip. 

‘To be
read.’  Fabian replied shortly and began to drag her towards the
stables.  ‘How badly are you hurt?’  He demanded, his eyes taking in
the cut visible through the tear in her shirt.

‘It’s nothing
–’ 

Fabian’s eyes
lingered on hers.  She could hear the conflict in his thoughts; his
anxiety for her battling with the urge to get them away from the farmhouse
before the Rochforte party closed in.

‘It’s just a
couple of nicks, I’ll clean them up when we’re back at the ship –’ Mistral’s
lies seemed to work.  They quickly saddled Cirrus and Spirit and led them
from their stalls.  Throwing herself into the saddle Mistral gathered up
her reins and glanced over at the unicorn herd.  ‘What about them?’

Fabian was
already riding out of the courtyard, ‘Forget them Mistral!  We need to
go!’

Mistral held
Cirrus back and looked at the bedraggled herd of unicorns, the innocent victims
caught in the middle, ‘No Fabian.  I’m not leaving them.’  She kicked
Cirrus towards the stallion, now circling his mares protectively.

‘We don’t have
time!’  Fabian shouted angrily.