The Seer (81 page)

Mistral cried
out with relief when strong hands grabbed her windmilling arms and pulled her
back onto the ledge.  Moving in front of her to form a barrier between her
and the edge, Phantom turned to give her an admonishing look.

Only you
could try and die before the fight has even begun …

Mistral said
nothing; her heart was still in her mouth. 

They moved
awkwardly along the narrow ledge with Mistral pressed between the rockface and
Phantom until they entered the confines of the gorge and the wind
lessened.  The ledge they were following narrowed to a point then fell
away to nothing.  They had reached the end of their journey. 

Immediately
dropping down onto one knee, Mistral unslung her crossbow and loaded it, ready
to fire at the first sign of a vampire.  Her eyes raked the gorge. 
She could see the crouched figures of Brutus and Xerxes on their platforms, but
she couldn’t make out any of the warriors hiding along the shadowy sides; they
had concealed themselves too well. 

Seconds longer
than hours ticked past, each taut as the drawn crossbow in her hands.  The
wind continued to rage; groaning and howling above them like a deranged beast,
reminding Mistral of the sounds of the feeding vampires.  She stared with
aching eyes into the western end of the gorge but it was just a distant slither
of darkness to her.  Her trigger finger tightened in agitation; she was
too high up to be able see anything moving.  She needed to be in Fabian’s
mind to be closer, but she needed to stay in her own mind to be ready to
fire.  With a sensation akin to ripping cloth, her mind suddenly
divided.  One half remained in her body, alert and ready to fire, but the
other flew to her Mage, burying itself deep within his mind, enabling her to
hear the soft rasp of his sword being drawn through his ears and see the gorge
through his eyes.  Sight took over her mind, making sense of the deluge of
contradicting information; the wind-torn sky above her was both close and far
away, the gorge floor a distant ribbon below her yet also firm beneath her
feet, the crossbow in her hands was also the sword held in Fabian’s grip. 
Another second crawled past then Fabian drew in a sharp breath; his words
escaped her lips at the first glimpse of pale bodies moving through the
darkness.

‘They’re
here.’

Her mind
instantly retracted and she stared down in the gorge through her own eyes to
see two arrows fly out from Brutus and Xerxes.  A bloodcurdling scream
reverberated off the black sides of rock; first blood had been drawn. 

Suddenly the
vampires were everywhere, swarming into the gorge, their unnaturally pale
bodies luminous in the gloom.  Snarls and growls rent the air, mingling
with the shouts of the warriors leaping from their hiding places and the whine
of arrows raining down.  The fight had begun.  Mistral fired, hearing
the twins’ crossbows release a split-second after hers.  She reloaded and
leaned further over the edge, firing again.  Dark figures were moving
across the gorge floor beneath her, made tiny by her elevated position but
still achingly familiar; Grendel’s bulk, wielding the huge double headed battle
axe he still favoured, Cain moving swiftly out of the shadows behind him only
to be instantly knocked to the ground by one of the vampires.  Mistral
hastily reloaded and leaned over to fire a bolt into the vampire; it jerked
sharply then slumped forwards.  She paused only long enough to watch Cain
roll out from beneath its prone body before fitting another bolt to her
crossbow.  The twins fired continually into the tumult of white-skinned
creatures.  Mistral matched each shot, aiming, firing and reloading with
mechanical detachment until she was abruptly thrown by the sight of Fabian
emerging from the shadows, fighting for his life against two vampires. 
She gave an enraged shout and instantly fired; reloading and firing again into
the same creature before its dead body had crumpled to the ground.  Her
shout had been drowned out by the noise of the fight but Fabian immediately
lifted his head to look up in her direction.  The fleeting moment of
distraction was all the second vampire needed, it lunged for him, reaching out
with sinewy arms to lock him in a deadly embrace and bite down into his neck.

‘NO!’

Mistral’s
scream echoed through the narrow gorge as the vampire recoiled from Fabian with
a pained shriek. 

‘They’re
wearing collars Mistral!’  Phantasm yelled furiously. 

Mistral cursed,
realising that she’d given away their position.  Eyes glowing like hot
embers turned to stare hungrily up at them.  Vampires began to swarm up
the walls, seeming to run up the sheer rock rather than climb.  Mistral
and the twins fired frantically, unleashing bolt upon bolt into the creatures
streaming up the rock.  Brutus and Xerxes joined in to help, leaving the
warriors on the gorge floor battling for their lives without the protective
cover of their fire. 

The vampires
were fast and agile, but the paleness of their skin made them easy targets and
soon white bodies were falling, screeching as they crashed to the ground
below.  The others quickly turned around, heading back for the gorge
floor.  Mistral shifted her position, angling her crossbow to follow one
of the fleeing vampires.  It moved in erratic bounds, seeming to change
direction mid-leap.  She rose up onto her knees, trying to keep it in her
sights.  Samson was ahead of it, fighting with another vampire, his back
was turned; he wouldn’t stand a chance ... a sudden gust of wind rocked
Mistral.  Dropping her crossbow, she grabbed at the ledge to steady
herself.  The wind had changed direction to drive into the gorge,
distorting the sounds of the battle below.  Pulling her back from the edge
with one hand, Phantom leaned over and fired a bolt, catching the vampire
mid-leap.  It’s suddenly slack body crashed down onto Samson, causing him
to stagger.  The vampire he was fighting squealed and lunged.  Samson
whirled around; the dead vampire sprawled across his shoulders and head
blinding him.  His sword arm swung out, the long blade slicing the
vampire’s head cleanly from its shoulders.  The headless body weaved
unsteadily then fell to the ground, thick blood streaming from the gaping hole. 
Samson grunted and flung the dead vampire from his back, dropping it onto the
slain body of its brother. 

It’s nearly
over! 

Mistral didn’t
respond.  She was scouring the white bodies strewn across the base of the
gorge.  Not one of them had the distinctive cropped dark hair of Malachi
Nox. 

‘We need to
get down there!’  she shouted to the twins.  ‘I can’t tell if any of
those are Bellicose or Malachi from up here!’

Phantasm gave
a small shake of his head, his eyes not leaving the scene in the gorge, ‘You’re
staying here with me until it’s definitely over.  My brother can go.’

Phantom nodded
and slung his crossbow over his back, dropping nimbly over the side of the
ledge he began to climb swiftly down.  Phantasm moved closer to Mistral and
levelled his crossbow down into the gorge once again.  Mistral ignored the
restraining hand he laid on her arm and leaned out over the edge, staring
yearningly down at the lean frame of Fabian.  He was moving amongst the
fallen vampires, prodding them with his sword tip to ensure that none still
lived.  She would give anything to be with him now and put her arms around
him, to breathe in his scent and celebrate that fact that he was alive and
whole; instead she was left perched on a cold ledge staring uselessly down at
him.  Mistral sighed and studied the lifeless forms scattered across the
gorge floor then suddenly frowned.  Even from the distance of the ledge
she could tell that they looked subtly different to the creatures she had Seen
through Bellicose’s eyes.  Thinner.  Older.

Mistral swore
loudly, ‘They’re not the ones we were after!  Get down there and tell them
to get back into position!  I think we’ve been fooled!’

‘What?’ 

‘Look at them
Phantasm!  The vampires!  They’re
old
.  Bellicose has
sent a decoy in!’  

Phantasm
frowned at her but Mistral continued to stare down into the gorge.  Xerxes
and Brutus had climbed down to join Phantom and the other warriors.  She
could hear Samson laughing as he strolled over to greet them, absently wiping
his sword clean on his trousers.  They were all too relaxed, believing
that the fight had been won.  Only Fabian was motionless, gazing up at
her, too far away for her to see the expression on his face.  She resisted
the pull of his thoughts and turned to Phantasm again.

‘I need to
read Bellicose!  You
must
warn Fabian that it’s a trap!’

He read the
panic in her expression and nodded tensely.  Swinging his body over the
side of the ledge, he dropped out of sight.  Mistral sat back against the
cliff face and closed her eyes.  Breathing in deeply she forced the
persistent moan of the wind to fade, focussing her mind on Bellicose La Monte,
falling through his lurid red eyes into his mind.  She opened her eyes,
seeing not through them but his, and immediately recoiled in surprise.

She was
staring at herself, but seen from above.  The wind had teased her hair
from its tight knot and was blowing around her in long tendrils.  A cruel
laugh escaped her lips.

‘Trapped
like rats!’

The unnatural
harshness of her voice jerked Mistral back into her own mind.  She leapt
to her feet and spun around to stare up at a sight that made her blood run
cold.

Bellicose La
Monte was standing above her with his vampires lined up on either side of him,
leering hungrily down into the gorge.  Staring at the line of cadaverous
faces Mistral instantly knew two things; the warriors were vastly outnumbered,
and she had somehow managed to find herself alone and unarmed with a tribe of
vampires.  Well, almost unarmed.  The butterfly knives Fabian had
bought her were secured in either boot, plus she still had her crossbow,
discarded near the base of the ledge.  Keeping her eyes on the vampires
above her she began to edge towards it.

‘Finish them!’

The vampires
responded to Bellicose’s barked command with a chorus of low growls, bounding
over the edge and pouring down the sides of the gorge. 

‘Fabia –’
Mistral’s scream choked off as a hand clamped over her mouth.

‘Silence
Seer!’  Bellicose pressed his hand harder against her mouth to pull her
sharply backwards.  Grabbing a fistful of her hair he wrenched her head
back.  ‘You smell g
ood
–’

Mistral gagged
at the fetid stench of his breath, hot against the exposed skin of her skin.

‘We need her
alive!’

Malachi’s curt
shout rang down from the top of the gorge, halting Bellicose.  Unable to
move her head, Mistral swivelled her eyes up to see him.  He was standing
at the edge of the gorge looking down at her.  As they locked stares his
thoughts rushed into hers; flooding her mind with a torrent of information. 
She saw the mistakes they had made, so obvious in hindsight.  The easterly
wind had blown their scent right to the vampires, but not to the satiated
hunting party Mistral had Seen.  It had been the elder members of the
tribe who had smelt the enticing scent of living beings close by.  No
longer able to make the long hunting trips they were always hungry; relying on
the scraps of life Bellicose saw fit to bring back for them.  Bellicose
had been only too happy to permit them to hunt the warriors, for sake of the
old ways, his act of benevolence cleverly disguising his true intention of
using the tribal elders to draw the warriors out, callously sacrificing them in
order for his plan to succeed. 

In the second
it took Mistral to hear Malachi’s thoughts, the vampires had reached the gorge
floor.  High up on the ledge all Mistral could hear of the fight were
broken fragments of sounds born on the wind; discordant vampire shrieks and
shouted warnings from the warriors.  She struggled desperately against Bellicose’s
grip, her neck still stretched out at a painful angle.

‘We do not
need her!’

Mistral could
hear the edge of desire in his voice and knew he was losing control over the
craving that drove him.  She struggled harder, twisting in his grip, her
body slamming into his as she fought to free herself.  With a guttural
snarl Bellicose threw her away from him.  Mistral stumbled to her knees,
quickly snatching a knife from her boot as she staggered to her feet. 
Spinning round she pressed her back against the rockface and held her knife up,
glaring fiercely at the vampire before her.  Bellicose merely laughed
while she waved her knife at him.  Without the disguise of a cloak his
primitive features were frighteningly barbarous.  Thick cords of muscles
stood out like knotted ropes in his shoulders and his skin was so white she
could see the map of blue veins beneath the surface.  He did not move
towards her but tilted his head slightly, pointing down at her body with one
yellow-nailed finger.

‘Do I hear two
heartbeats?’  he hissed.  He closed his eyes and lifted his head, his
flattened nostrils flaring as he drew in her scent.  ‘Ah –’ His red eyes
flew open and his face glowed with a sick ecstasy.  ‘You are with
young!  It makes the blood so
sweet
–’

‘There’s nothing
sweet about me!’  With a snarl of fury Mistral flung her knife at
him.  It flew through empty space and out into the air above gorge,
spinning uselessly into nothing.  She hadn’t even seen Bellicose move, but
suddenly he was above her again, laughing coldly from the top of the
gorge.  Mistral immediately drew her second knife and brandished it at
him, her face white with anger.  ‘Come down here leech!  Let me see
how fast your blood runs!’

Bellicose
snarled and dropped into a crouch to spring back down but Malachi grabbed his
arm, hauling him back. 

‘You must
exercise restraint!’