The Seer (83 page)

She worked in
silence, stitching the skin neatly back together.  Brutus’ long hair would
hide the scar.  She hoped for his sake that her brother didn’t go bald in
later life, he was inordinately proud of having an unscarred face.
 Subdued voices spoke around her.  She could hear Cain issuing
instructions while he worked on one of the other warriors.  She glanced
over to see three warriors stretched out on the ground and her heart
dropped.  Samson’s body was one of them. 

Turning back
to Brutus she quickly daubed the stitched wound with iodine then stood up,
speaking rapidly to Xerxes while she rolled the pouch up, ‘Watch him closely. 
Make him drink water when he comes round.’

Leaving Xerxes
with Brutus, Mistral hurried over to Samson.  Dropping down beside his
still body, she quickly assessed his condition.  His eyes were closed and
his skin was clammy beneath her touch, but his chest rose and fell in shallow
breaths.  She could see a lot of congealed blood surrounded a gaping wound
visible through his torn shirt.

‘Samson? 
It’s Mistral.  Can you hear me?’ 

Samson groaned
faintly in response.

Mistral
unbuttoned his jerkin and carefully pulled back the blood-soaked shirt to
reveal a deep circular wound in his shoulder; a vampire bite, ‘I’m going to
stitch you up Samson; it might hurt a bit.’

Samson’s lips
twitched into a faint smile, ‘Make it neat … would hate … uneven scar to ruin
my collection –’

Mistral smiled
and reached out for the medical kit, ‘I’ll do my best not to mar your
perfection, but I can’t promise anything.’

She knew he
was there before the sound of his soft footfalls reached her ears.  She
turned her head slowly, her parched eyes drinking in the dark figure walking
towards her.  No words could express how she felt at the sight of her
blooded Mage striding towards.  He held her gaze as he approached, their
eyes sharing a language of their own.  Samson gave another low groan,
reminding Mistral that she had a job to do.

There was no
time for reunions or recriminations, the warriors bleeding their last on the
cold ground demanded every minute of her time.  The sun peaked and began
to dip into the western sky while she and Cain worked, speaking only to request
assistance.  Each of her brothers had been wounded in some way but it was
Silas, one Samson’s friends, who had sustained the worst injuries.  A
heavy silence crept over the watching warriors until the only words being
spoken were by Cain, quietly urging him to cling to life while Mistral
worked. 

‘Stay with me
Silas … stay with me –’

Mistral paused
from the wound she was stitching to check Silas’ pulse.  The beat was
faint, and before her finger had left his skin it had faded away to
nothing.  ‘He’s gone Cain.’

Mistral’s
softly spoken announcement was met with a long drawn out sigh from Samson.
 He walked over slowly to kneel down beside his brother’s head, pressing
his hand down over the half-open eyes to close them for the last time.

‘Farewell my
friend.’

They had done
all they could.  Rolling up her kit Mistral looked up to meet Fabian’s
eyes.  There was no grief in them at the loss of a brother’s life, only
the poignancy of a life expended.  The unresolved regrets and unrealised
desires of the body growing cold on the ground at her feet only served to fuel
the fire within her.  Who knew how much time they had?  It could be
mere days, or an entire lifetime.  She vowed to seize each second and live
it as though it were her last.  No longer would she fight against her
destiny but embrace both it and the joy it had bought her, standing before her
now, gazing back with eyes of blackest velvet. 

Fabian.

He reached out
to touch her cheek.  She closed her eyes and savoured the caress, lifting
her hand to hold it against her skin before opening her eyes to gaze at him and
breathe words no-one else could hear.  Fabian’s smile was as soft as the
sigh that escaped his lips, slipping his hand into hers he pulled her away from
the gorge filled with dead vampires.  By unspoken agreement they left
their brother’s body on the gorge floor; there was no wood to build a funeral
pyre and the rock could not be dug, even by Grendel.  His bones would be
left to bleach beneath the sun and snows of the passing seasons. 

Returning to
the camp they lit a fire and settled in for the night.  The wind had
dropped, leaving the night sky clouded and moonless.  They gathered around
the fire and shared a meal, too exhausted to talk much until the food and wine
revived their spirits.  Mistral curled up beneath Fabian’s arm, wanting
nothing more than the touch of his body against hers and to hear the silken
sound of his voice, whispering words meant for her alone.  A loud clang
made her jump.  Lifting her head from Fabian’s shoulder she saw that
Samson had flung his iron collar into the fire, the mangled circlet of metal
glowed in the hot embers.

‘Damned
uncomfortable,’ he declared, rubbing his neck.  ‘But it probably saved my
life a few times today.’

‘Ah, no
Samson, that was me,’ said Xerxes with a grin, his usual brashness restored by
the presence of his older brother by his side.

‘Actually, I
think it was Mistral.’  Samson turned to stare at her through the flames
of the campfire.  ‘And I think it’s high time we heard just how you
managed to call up the dragon queen, leap on her back and ride around the gorge
like she was a damned hobby horse!’

‘Later.’ 
Mistral laid her head back onto Fabian’s shoulder and closed her eyes, unwilling
to even attempt to explain her experience.  When the silence lengthened
she was forced to open her eyes and was instantly trapped by the twins’ duel
stares.  She sighed wearily.  There would be no side-stepping this
one.

‘Come on
Mistral, it’s time to hold the stage!’  Samson grinned and swept his arm
across his body in a mock bow.

She looked up
at Fabian for help but he was gazing at her with a thoughtful expression, he
couldn’t comprehend her mysterious connection with the queen either. 
Drawing in a deep breath Mistral turned to stare into the fire, it was easier
than meeting any of her brothers’ curious looks.  ‘Well, let’s start from
the beginning.  Obviously you know that Bellicose got wind of our
presence, quite literally.  The easterly wind blew our scent straight to
the tribe.  It was the older members that noticed, they were always hungry
– I don’t think Bellicose ever brought much back for them from his hunting
trips – anyway, they alerted Bellicose to our presence and he magnanimously agreed
to allow them to enter the gorge first.’  Mistral paused and
shrugged.  ‘You know what happened next,  Bellicose turned up once
we’d wiped out an entire generation of his tribe in the hope that they’d
weakened us enough for his vampires to finish us.’

‘Bet it was
you they smelt Grendel.’  Cain muttered to the half-troll who growled
menacingly back.

‘The vampire
tribe was far larger than we thought!’  Xerxes exclaimed.  ‘Lucky
they didn’t all attack at once, or we’d be dining in Elysium tonight!’

‘Bellicose has
been blatantly lying about the tribes numbers for years!’  Phantom
muttered angrily.  ‘There were easily sixteen elders in that gorge today,
and Bellicose’s little army numbered at eighteen ... although it was hard to
say for sure, since most of the evidence has been eaten by Mistral’s new ride!’

Mistral didn’t
smile at his joke but continued to stare into the fire, recalling her relief at
the queen’s arrival; her winged salvation, ‘I didn’t call her, if that’s what
you’re thinking.  I think she must have smelt my scent on the wind mixed
with the reek of the vampires and spilt blood, and she came to investigate.’

Samson frowned
at her, ‘But what I don’t understand is why?  
Why
would the dragon
queen even be the slightest bit interested in you, or us?  Apart from to
eat of course –’

‘The origins
of dragons are lost to the mists of time.’  Fabian interrupted
quietly.  ‘They truly are relics of another era, and little can ever be
known about them or the purpose they serve.  In Mistral the queen
recognises another mystical being; a Seer.  The bond they have is
indefinable and,’ he paused and glanced at Mistral, ‘incomprehensible. 
But what is certain is that the queen would do anything to protect her.’

‘And for that
brothers … sister … I raise my goblet, or rather my wineskin.’  Samson
grinned and lifted his gourd of wine up in a toast to Mistral. 

‘But what of
Malachi, Mistral?’  Phantasm asked.

Mistral raised
her eyebrows briefly.  He had not referred to Malachi as “Master Nox”,
signifying that he no longer held any respect for the disgraced ex-Magnate
member.  She shrugged and opened her hands out in a helpless
gesture.  ‘He was gone the moment the queen arrived.  Fabian chased
after him –’

Fabian took
over from her, speaking in a hard voice, ‘He fled before I could slit his lying
throat.’

‘Damn, I’ve
never seen you climb so fast brother!’  Samson laughed.  ‘As soon as
you’d laid waste to that pair of leeches trying to bite through your collar you
were up that cliff like you had wings!’   

‘Ah, talking
of wings, what was it like to ride a dragon Mistral?’  Xerxes asked
enviously. 

A slow grin
spread over her face.  She was reliving the wild rush of diving through
the air on the back of a creature more fearsome and magnificent than any other
on the Isle.  ‘Good –’

‘Good?’ 
Xerxes snorted incredulously.  ‘Good describes the weather, or a
meal!  Not marauding around on the back of a dragon!’

They all
laughed and Mistral joined in but Fabian remained silent.  His hand
reached for hers, holding it tightly, his look of concern making her sigh,
knowing what was coming.

‘Ready
Mistral?’

‘Yes Cain,’
she sighed heavily and rose to her feet, following him into the cave.

‘Oh,
Mistral?’ 

Mistral turned
back to look at Samson, he was holding something in his hand.  ‘Yours I believe
–’ He tossed the object to her, it spun hilt over tip, glinting in the
firelight.

‘My butterfly
knife!’  she gasped joyously and reached out to catch it by the hilt,
eliciting another round of laughter.  

‘That was one
hell of a good throw you made with that today.’  Samson said
gruffly.  ‘Took out the leech chewing on my shoulder – I owe you one.’

Mistral nodded
and quickly turned to follow Cain before her face could betray her guilt.

By the time
the embers of the fire had burned down to a red glow the warriors had settled
into their Wolverine skins for the night.  Only Mistral and Fabian were
still awake, sharing a murmured conversation.

‘Do you want
me to read Malachi?  I had a good look in his mind today, I think I might
have broken through whatever barrier he was putting up against me.’

Fabian shook
his head and gently kissed the side of her neck, ‘Not tonight.  Tomorrow
maybe, if you are feeling rested enough.’

The warmth of
his words against her throat reminded her of Bellicose’s hot breath making her
shudder involuntarily.

Fabian caught
her reaction and his arms tightened around her protectively, ‘I will kill
Malachi for what he put you through today.’

‘Malachi
actually stopped Bellicose from killing me today,’ she admitted quietly. 
‘Well, held him off for a bit anyway.  Then the queen arrived and, er, ate
him.’

‘Please, don’t
remind me of my failure to protect you today.’  Fabian muttered tensely.

 She
twisted in his arms to look up at him.  The moon glimpsed out from behind
the bank of clouds revealing the face she loved, his eyes gleaming with a dark
anguish.  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry Fabian!’  Mistral began, her face
crumpling at the sight of his pain.

‘For which
part?’  He asked, one corner of his mouth lifting into a wintry
smile.  ‘For twice thwarting my attempts to keep you safe?  Or for
nearly giving me a heart attack when you were left alone on a ledge with a
vampire, only to leap onto the back of a dragon and fly away before I could
reach you?’

‘None of
those.  I’m not sorry I followed you, I belong with you Fabian, it’s not
possible for us to be apart … and I’m never going to be sorry for riding the
queen, that was – ’ Mistral paused, at a loss for words to describe how that
had felt.  ‘Something else.  What I am sorry for is causing you so
much anguish.  I would do anything never to make you feel like that
again.’

‘How about
doing what I tell you to then?’  he asked reasonably.

‘Anything but
that.’

Fabian laughed
quietly.

‘What’s so
funny?’  she frowned.

‘Oh, it’s just
that I think you’re going to have to become used to me telling you what to do
from now on.’

‘Oh?  Am
I really?’  There was no disguising the sharpness of her response.

‘Hmm, yes, you
are.’  Fabian smiled down at her, his eyes lit with subtle humour at some
private joke. 

‘Why?’

‘I’m your
Training Captain now.’

‘So?’ 
She pouted.  ‘I’m no longer an apprentice!’ 

‘No,’ he said
slowly.  ‘You are my Training Lieutenant.’

Mistral stared
at him then a slow grin spread across her face, ‘Really?  You sacked
Nereus?’

Fabian nodded
then raised an eyebrow, ‘But I think we need to agree some ground rules before
you undertake the role.’

‘Whatever you
say, boss,’ she smiled and tilted her face up to kiss him.

Mistral awoke
the next morning, stiff from a night sleeping on the hard ground.  She
groaned and stretched, shoving Prospero off her legs.  Fabian was not
beside her, she looked over the campsite to see him sat talking with Samson,
their heads bowed over his map of the Northern Range.

She dragged a
hand through her knotted hair and winced, the cut on her scalp was tender, and
the hair around it matted with dried blood.  Her whole body ached, but
Cain had reassured her she’d done no harm to herself or the baby, although he
had been at great pains to recommend that she lose her “attitude” and “defiant
disregard for danger or consequences”.