The Seer (54 page)

‘We can’t just
leave them here!  They’ll be hunted or die of neglect!’  Mistral
shouted back stubbornly.  She urged Cirrus through the nervously milling herd
to the stallion.  ‘Come on boy, it’s alright,’ she called
soothingly.  ‘We’re going to take you home.’  The unicorn stallion
eyed her warily but didn’t move away.  ‘You’ll like the Isle,’ she
promised in a low murmur, edging still closer.  ‘It’s got lots of grass –’
The stallion’s ears flickered as he listened to the calming tone of her
voice.  He whickered softly and took a step towards her, closing the
distance between them.

‘Mistral! 
We need to go! 
Now!’
 

Fabian’s
urgent shout startled the stallion; he threw his head up with a loud
snort.  Mistral instantly flung herself forwards to grab the length of
rope attached to his halter.  The stallion instinctively shied but Mistral
had spent enough time catching her own unwilling horse to know it was a half-hearted
attempt.  She held onto the rope tightly and swiftly pulled Cirrus
around.  The unicorn followed, snorting fearfully.  Fabian
immediately snatched the leadrope from her with a terse look and kicked Spirit
into a canter across the yard, dragging the unicorn with him.  Cirrus
wheeled agitatedly when Mistral held him back, twisting in the saddle to look
round at the herd of mares.  They were huddled together in the centre of
the enclosure, anxiously watching their stallion cantering away.  Praying that
they would follow, Mistral dug her heels into Cirrus and rode after
Fabian.  Cirrus lunged forwards impatiently, his iron shod hooves
clattering loudly on the cobbles.  Quickly catching Fabian up, they
thundered through the open gate side by side, pushing their horses into a
gallop across the open grassland. 

Mistral and
Fabian rode their horses mercilessly; desperate to put as much distance between
them and the farmhouse as possible, knowing the small reconnaissance party
Fabian had anticipated would actually be a Rochforte army.  Mistral
continually cast anxious glances over her shoulder, but could see nothing other
than the herd of dirty brown mares trailing along behind them.  Instead of
feeling relieved by lack of pursuers Mistral couldn’t help worrying that they
were running in vain.  The Rochfortes were Mages; capable of casting
powerful spells that would give them a speed far greater than the pace they
were riding at.  Turning her head to shout to Fabian over the noise of
rushing air, Mistral tried to keep some of the fear she felt from her voice.

‘Will they use
Expediency to catch us?’ 

Fabian shook
his head, keeping his gaze fixed steadfastly ahead while he replied,
‘Expediency is uncontrollable once it has been cast.  They would not be
able to stop until the spell had run its course.’

Mistral felt a
small burst of relief at that news and turned her head to look at the
mares.  They were still galloping along in their wake; following their
exhausted stallion who was gamely trying to match Spirit’s flying
strides.  Even their seasoned horses were unable to keep up the hard pace
for long and began to flag.  When Cirrus stumbled from exhaustion and
nearly threw Mistral, Fabian immediately slowed Spirit to a more sustainable
canter.  The slower pace allowed the mares to catch up and left Mistral
and Fabian able to talk more easily.

‘Please tell
me what has just happened.’  Mistral called breathlessly while she pressed
a hand to her side to ease the stitch from riding so hard.

Fabian turned
to look at her, anger shining in the black depths of his eyes, ‘What
happened?’  he echoed bitterly.  ‘What happened was that I allowed
myself to become so blinded by an obsession that I was willing to place you and
our son in danger!  Pierre is actually Pierre Rochforte, Etienne’s
uncle.’  He paused and scowled angrily, shaking his head at his own
oversight.  ‘I should have realised that something was amiss the moment we
saw the state of the herd!  The Mage who bred them and travelled to the
Council to sell them is obviously long dead.  The Rochfortes must have
been aware of his plans and seen it as an ideal chance to abduct you.’

‘But how would
they know I’d take this Contract?’  Mistral demanded.  ‘Any warrior
could have taken it!’

Fabian gazed
at her, his black eyes suddenly cold and hard, ‘No Mistral.  It was a
Contract offered exclusively to Fortes and English; an Agency with only twenty
warriors on their books, of which it is common knowledge that I am one. 
Someone close to the Rochfortes who knows of my relationship with you and also
understands you well enough to be certain that you would relish a Contract such
as this is the key to this.’

‘Who?’ 
Mistral demanded angrily.  ‘Etienne?  Christophe?’

‘Close.’
 Fabian murmured icily.  ‘But try Golden.’

Mistral’s eyes
widened at the realisation of the truth.  Golden was Etienne’s lover now,
and no doubt eager to embrace the bitter blood feud that existed between the
Rochfortes and the Nobles; especially if it presented her with the chance to
destroy Mistral and something she loved ... Fabian.  Pierre’s promises of
Fabian’s imminent death had been real.  Mistral had known the words were
true the moment they left his lips.  Golden.  Her perfect features
flooded Mistral’s mind with sickening clarity.  She shook her head angrily
to banish the vision.  ‘What’s French for Golden?’  she asked
suddenly.

‘D’or.’

Mistral swore
and shook her head again, this time at her own stupidity, ‘Pierre kept thinking
her name, but I didn’t know what the word meant!  Damn it!  We’ve
been set up from the start by that scheming bitch!  I
will
kill her
Fabian!  I swear it!’

‘Mistral.’ 

Fabian called
her name softly; she turned her head sharply to meet his steady gaze, her
forehead furrowed into angry lines.

‘I need you to
focus, to
See
–’

‘See?’ 
Mistral stared at Fabian, too full of the raging anger that inflamed her senses
and made her incapable of any rational thought, other than riding straight to
the Rochforte stronghold and wrapping her hands around Golden’s skinny throat …

‘Mistral. 
This is important.’

Drawing in a
deep breath, Mistral held Fabian’s gaze and let their black depths calm her
enough to speak without ranting about Golden, ‘Who?’ 

‘Etienne.’

Mistral
nodded.  She’d been expecting him to ask for that since they’d arrived in
France, ‘I’ll try.’

Fabian reached
over to take Cirrus’ reins, allowing Mistral to concentrate on the faded memory
of Etienne’s face.  The image wavered and flickered, threatening to slip
from her mind altogether.  Mistral frowned and redoubled efforts, focussing
on the calculating look in his eyes ... the disdainful set of his
features.  She held the picture clearly in her mind, determined not to
fail Fabian again, forcing herself to focus on the colour of his hair ... the
precise shade of his eyes ... and suddenly the image of Etienne’s face appeared
with such startling clarity that she instinctively recoiled, nearly falling
from the saddle.  In a sudden rush his thoughts poured into her
mind.  Her face instantly relaxed, becoming vague, almost disturbingly
vacant.  When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

‘Ah ... I
See
you –’ Mistral smiled briefly, her success short-lived. 
French
. 
He was thinking in his own language ... and she couldn’t understand a
word.  Quickly discounting the words, Mistral concentrated instead on the
images in his head and the scenery she could see through his eyes.  ‘They
are travelling … they ride hard … he is filled with purpose … we are that
purpose,’ she paused and a frown flickered over her blank face.  ‘No … I am
that purpose … he sees me in his control … hah!’  Mistral’s face twisted
with hatred.  ‘D’or! 
Golden
… he thinks of her –’ 
Mistral began to recite Etienne’s thoughts, repeating the language she didn’t
understand in a toneless voice while Fabian listened carefully, his face
creased into hard lines of concentration.  When she fell silent he
prompted her with a series of questions which she answered in the same flat
voice.

‘What of the
scenery Mistral?’  Fabian finally asked.  ‘Do you recognise where
they are?’

This time
Mistral frowned and gazed unseeingly at the sky, ‘No … nothing is familiar … I
can’t see the farmhouse.’

‘Then we are
ahead of them.’  Fabian said with quiet satisfaction.  Reaching out to
hold her hand tightly, he drew Mistral from her trance.  ‘I think we
should stop and rest now.  I want to check your injuries, and you should
eat something too.  It will help with the shock.’

Mistral looked
around dazedly and was surprised to see that the sun had already set. 
She’d been in Etienne’s mind longer than she’d realised.  Reining to a
halt beside a fast-flowing stream, Mistral dismounted and stretched, groaning
quietly when every muscle in her body protested.  She unstrapped her
saddlebag and winced when her shirt grazed against the raw knife cuts, making
them throb angrily.  She lifted her shirt to examine them, tentatively
prodding the wounds to see if they opened beneath her touch.  Sighing with
relief when they didn’t, she dropped her shirt to see Fabian watching her
anxiously. 

‘When we
return to the Valley I want you to have a thorough check-up.  But for now
I will clean those wounds to keep any infection out.’

Mistral said
nothing while he gently cleaned and bandaged her cuts.  A visit to the
Infirmary was the last thing she wanted when they got back, she’d been thinking
more along the lines of a trip to The Cloak.  

Fabian looked
up, guessing her thoughts instantly, ‘I mean it Mistral.’ 

Mistral met
Fabian’s worried look and gave in, ‘Oh, alright then.  But Cain, not
Serenity.  Now tell me what I Saw in Etienne’s mind,’ she asked, grabbing
a hunk of bread from her saddlebag and tearing into it hungrily. 

‘Etienne
ordered the murder of the old Mage who owned the unicorn herd when he returned
from the Isle.’  Fabian surmised briefly.  ‘They knew of his plans to
sell the herd to Mage Grapple.  As I suspected Golden had told Etienne of
how much such a Contract would appeal to you, and it was obvious that such high
profile work would only be offered to Fortes and English.  All that
remained was for them to place Pierre in the stead of the dead Mage and have
him wait at the quayside to meet whoever was sent.’

‘Which, of
course, was us.  Just as they knew it would be!  We couldn’t have
made it any easier for them if we’d tried!’

Fabian’s face
tightened into angry lines, ‘I’ve been so blind!  How could I have not
realised that this was a trap?’

‘Fabian, I’ve
got the Sight and I didn’t see it!  Please don’t be so hard on
yourself.  We’re both alive and we saved the unicorn herd –’

‘It’s slightly
premature to be congratulating ourselves yet Mistral.  We have another two
hours riding before we reach the harbour!’  Fabian abruptly rose to his
feet and strode over to untether the horses. 

They continued
with their journey in silence.  Mistral alternated between reading
Gleacher to ensure that he was prepared for immediate departure and Etienne,
whose thoughts became increasingly ambiguous, confusing Mistral. 

‘I don’t
understand,’ she muttered, pulling herself out of Etienne’s thoughts
again.  ‘He’s concentrating on things that just don’t matter!  He was
staring at the sky just now and must’ve been thinking about the weather because
he kept shivering with cold!’

Fabian frowned
but said nothing.  His brooding silence set the tone for the remainder of
their ride.  Finally reaching the outskirts of the small fishing village
they halted and looked down at the harbour.  It was deserted, the market
stalls boarded up for the night and the fishermen long since headed to their
beds or the tavern.  The Ri ship remained moored to the quay. 
Torches lit along the deck revealed two of the crew on watch. 

They pushed
their weary horses on, descending the dirt track leading down to the harbour at
a canter only slowing to a walk once they reached the cobbled quay. 
Mistral felt her skin prickle as they rode out into the open expanse of the
harbour front.  The moon was hidden behind a heavy bank of cloud and the
only source of light came from the torches along their ship’s deck.  She
pulled Cirrus to a halt and stared into the heavy shadows of the empty market
stalls.  Fabian rode up alongside her and she heard in his thoughts an
echo of the sudden apprehension she felt.  It was so quiet that Mistral could
hear the mooring ropes creaking as the Ri’s ship moved with the swell. 
The noise repeated, too quickly for it to have been made by the gentle rocking
of the ship.  Puzzled, she looked at the ship more carefully then a sudden
motion caught her eye, drawing her gaze over to the other side of the
harbour.  Hearing Fabian’s sharp intake of breath she knew he’d seen the
movement too.  Lit by the weak flare of torchlight, Mistral and Fabian
watched in frozen silence as several shadowy figures rose up from their hiding
places on the rooftops along the edge of the harbour.  Each had a long bow
drawn ready; the creak of drawing bowstrings was the noise Mistral had mistaken
for ropes.

Fabian’s
breath escaped his lips in a low hiss, ‘Archers!  It’s a trap!’

A lone figure
rode out from the dark shelter of the empty stalls in the centre of the
quay.  Torchlight shone on his fair hair and lit the face that tilted to
greet them with an arrogant smile.  His name escaped Fabian’s lips in a
low growl. 

‘Etienne.’

Mistral stared
at the Rochforte she’d been reading for the last few hours, the truth finally
dawning on her.  She hadn’t recognised any of the scenery on his journey
because he hadn’t been riding to the farm.  He’d been riding to the
harbour to cut off their escape route.