The Seer (84 page)

‘Good morning,
sleep well?’

Mistral
glanced up to see the twins walking towards her.

‘Breakfast in
bed for Lady De Winter is it?’  Phantom grinned and dropped down beside
her, passing her some cold meat and bread.

‘Oh
thanks!  I’m starving!’  She bit hungrily into the meat and sighed
with pleasure.  ‘Roast beef!’

Phantasm sat
down on her other side and rested his hands lightly on his bent knees, gazing
over at the mountains.  He had barely spoken to her since the fight, not
that here had been much time, but he was unusually reticent.  She glanced
at him, studying the flawless profile of his face, apollonian in its
perfection.  His aura flared into view instantly, encircling his blonde
hair in a halo of bronze; guilt and remorse.

‘Whatever it
is that’s bothering you brother, you’re going to have to tell me because I’m
all done with listening to thoughts for the moment,’ she sighed. 
‘Yesterday was a touch wearing.’

He turned to
look at her and she was shocked to see tears glistening in his eyes, ‘I would
never have forgiven myself if you had been hurt yesterday!  I should
never
have left you alone on that ledge –’

‘Yes you
should!’  she cut across him sharply.  ‘If you hadn’t then we’d all
be dead!  You warned the others of Bellicose’s plan … and anyway
everything’s fine –’

‘Everything?’ 
he asked in an agonised whisper.

Mistral rolled
her eyes and tossed a piece of meat to Prospero, ‘Everything.’

He closed his
eyes and sighed.  Mistral shot a meaningful look at Phantom but he didn’t
meet her look, his brother’s obsession with being a godfather was something he
was plainly unwilling to comment on.  Instead he lifted his chin slightly
to draw her attention to Fabian and Samson’s conversation. 

‘Looks a bit
intense.  What’re they talking about Mistral?’

She gazed over
at Fabian, bending his head to speak Samson to avoid being overheard, his
expression taut. 

With a
resigned sigh Mistral pushed her weary mind to function again; like a door
banging open on a windy day, Fabian’s thoughts rushed in.  She stared
blankly at the sky while she listened to them for a few moments.  Breaking
the connection with another long sigh, she returned her attention to the last
of the roast beef before Prospero’s nose crept any closer to it.   

‘They’re
arguing … Samson wants to break camp and leave straight away … he’s worried
that Malachi will have fled straight back to the vampire tribe and lead the
females down on us,’ she lifted her gaze to study Fabian again, he was shaking
his head at Samson.  ‘But Fabian wants to stay another day, he wants me to
rest.’

‘And what do
you want Mistral?’  Phantasm asked quietly.

She looked
down at her dirty hands, holding them up to examine the dried blood encrusted
beneath her fingernails, ‘A bath.’ 

Phantom
laughed.  She grinned at him suddenly noticing that his blonde hair was
wet.  ‘You’ve had a wash!’  she cried accusingly.

‘Yes, much as
I adore the aroma of vampire blood, I felt it was a touch overpowering –’

‘Show me
where!’  Mistral demanded, throwing off the Wolverine skin and leaping to
her feet.

‘What’s it
worth?’ 

‘Me not
beating you to death in the next five seconds!  Come on brother!  You
owe me!’

‘I do?’ 
Phantom looked surprised and stood up slowly.  ‘And just how do you work
that one out?’

‘Er, well
first there was the centaur thing, then trying to terrify me to death with a
nightmare –’

‘Equalled out
by me saving you from falling off the ledge yesterday.’  Phantom said
dismissively and bent down to pick up her saddlebag.

‘Hang
on!  It was me that worked out Bellicose’s plan!’

‘Ah, but it
was me who told the others about it.’  Phantom argued back, taking hold of
her hand and leading her away from the campsite.

‘No that was
your brother!  You just went to have a nosy at the dead vampires!’

‘Nosy? 
Is that even a word?’

‘I’ll give you
a word –’

Phantasm
watched them walk away towards the mountain stream.  He listened to their
bickering gradually fade until he could no longer hear their voices, only see
the figures of his twin leading the mother of his godson away by the
hand. 

‘Is it me or
is she mellowing?’  Xerxes commented, wandering over and chewing
thoughtfully on a leg of roast rabbit.

Phantasm
raised his eyebrows, ‘Did you hear the language she was using when we left her
with the centaurs?’

Xerxes
grinned, ‘Oh yes, I’d forgotten that brief relapse,’ he patted his top pocket
absently.  ‘Ought to make a note of some of her more choice phrases, one
or two were quite good.’

Phantom
returned a short while later, soaked to the skin and scowling angrily. 
Mistral had finally lost her temper with him and pushed him into the
stream. 

‘Not mellowed
then.’  Xerxes said, glancing up from his parchment before returning his
attention back to the scribbled lists of numbers and names, frowning in
concentration.  ‘You know brother, I’m sure I took a bet somewhere that
you would get scarred up before me – I just can’t seem to find a record of it.’

‘Is it
bad?’  Brutus asked, gingerly probing the wound with his fingers.

‘Terrible. 
You look like Mage Grapple.’  Xerxes said without looking up.

Brutus’s face
fell, ‘Do I?’ 

Xerxes nodded
and gazed at him sorrowfully, ‘Shame Mistral didn’t stitch it straight either.’

Brutus looked
like he was about to cry.

‘He’s winding
you up Brutus!  Mistral did a perfect job.  And, so long as you don’t
go bald, no-one will ever see the scar,’ sighed Cain, not looking up from the
dressing he was changing on one of Grendel’s wounds.  ‘There you go
brother, I’m sorry I can’t stitch them, but your skin’s just too tough to push
a needle through.’

Grendel
grunted indifferently and tugged his shirt back on, ‘Can’t feel them anyway.’

Mistral
returned, invigorated from her wash to find the argument between Samson and
Fabian had escalated.  They were stood face-to-face, holding searing eye
contact while they spoke in intense voices that were low, but still carried
clearly across the campsite.

‘We are not
ready to face another battle!’

‘I will not
leave until she is ready!  Go without us!’

Samson’s
scarred face creased into a disdainful expression, ‘I would never leave
warriors behind!  If you stay, we stay!’

‘Then
stay!  But do not ask me to endanger the health of my wife and child any
further than I already have!’

‘You are
endangering them both with every second that we linger in this godforsaken
place!’

‘I’d quite
like to leave too actually.’  Mistral interrupted quietly.  ‘Cain
says I’m fine – isn’t that right brother?’  She looked pointedly at Cain.

Cain gave her
a reproachful look, displeased to have been drawn into the argument, ‘Well yes,
apart from some superficial cuts and bruises, you are well enough to be able to
travel.’

Mistral turned
back to Fabian and Samson, raising her eyebrows, ‘See?  We can go, only
I’d like to read Malachi first and make sure he isn’t about to leap out on us
with a horde of vengeful widows –’

‘Just as soon
as you and I have finished checking the wounds we treated yesterday Mistral.’
 Cain broke in tersely.  ‘If there’s one thing I hate more than being
used in someone else’s argument, it’s stitching the same wound twice!’

‘Fine!’ 
Irritated by Cain’s bossy attitude, Mistral levelled Samson with an evil
look.  ‘If you’ve quite finished arguing with my husband Samson, I’ll check
you first … and you’d better pray it doesn’t need re-stitching!’

Samson quailed
under the force of her stare and sank to the ground wordlessly while Fabian
turned and walked away.

‘Come on
Samson, shirt off, I haven’t got all day!’  Mistral snapped, tapping her
foot impatiently.

‘Er, try to be
gentle with me won’t you Mistral?’  Samson eyed her apprehensively while
he unbuttoned his shirt. 

‘Yes, yes, you
know me.’

‘That’s my
concern actually.’

While she
checked the wound Mistral noticed a small tattoo on his shoulder; a black star
radiating light from each of its five points.  A star called Gemma; the
girl he’d nearly married years ago.  She smiled at the permanent reminder
on his skin, another scar.

‘You have no
idea how much it knocks a man’s confidence when a woman smiles at his naked
body.’

‘You’re not
naked Samson, and I’m smiling at your tattoo, not you.’  Mistral said
briskly and began to tug at the stitches to check they were holding.

‘Oh.’
 Samson fell silent and looked unusually bashful.

‘What
happened?’  Mistral asked distractedly while she daubed more iodine onto
the wound.

He shrugged,
‘I was unfaithful, she was … unforgiving –’

‘Samson.’ 
Mistral put down the bottle of iodine and gave him a long look.  ‘I’ve
suffered Xerxes as a brother for nearly three years.  You must’ve done
something more than that!’

‘Er,
well.  Maybe.’

‘I think you’d
better tell me if you want to remain a godfather to my son, or I’ll only have
to find out for myself, and you never know what I’ll discover while I’m rooting
around in your mind.’

Samson pulled
a face, twisting his scars into a mask of remorse, ‘It wasn’t one of my finest
moments Mistral.’

‘Worse than
Persia?’

Samson sighed,
‘Infinitely.’

‘Oh
dear.’ 

‘I was young …
and quite handsome too; anyway, I met Gemma shortly after Qualifying.  I
thought I was such a hero … The Ri Warrior!  We started courting –’

Mistral
concentrated on cleaning the other cuts she hadn’t had time to tend the day
before while she listened to Samson’s tale, smiling at his youthful
misdemeanours.  His aura was telling her more than his words; guilt,
regret and still, after all these years, an unmistakable smudge of pink. 
Love.

‘So there you
have it, my sorry story.’

‘It wasn’t so
bad.’  Mistral said fairly.  ‘Although I am glad I’ve chosen a
godmother that you won’t feel compelled to behave the same way with.’

Samson looked
at her in surprise, ‘Godmother?  Who?’

‘Oh you’ve met
her.  You know, big, scaly, likes to eat vampires for breakfast –’

By noon they
had broken camp and were riding back down through the lower slopes of the
Northern Range to camp for the night at the edge of the High Moors. 
Mistral was exhausted but determined not to show it.  She managed to read
Malachi again then stay awake long enough to witness Xerxes start a game of
knuckle bones but was asleep with her head on Fabian’s shoulder before the
first round was over.

The following
day dawned, bright and clear with the powder blue sky above them heralding the
first real day of summer.  By the time the sun had risen above the horizon
they had reached the end of the stony path leading them out of the mountains
and the long sweep of the High Moors spread out before them.  The horses
pricked up their ears and tossed their heads at the sight of the wide plains, thick
with lush grass.  Reining their restless horses to a halt at the top of
the ridge that formed the start of the moors, Samson turned to Fabian and began
to discuss the route they should take.

While they
debated the various options, Mistral gazed at the view.  She could see the
whole of the High Moors, stretching out from the Dawn Forests on their left
over to the western coastline of the Isle; a sweeping expanse of green, dotted
here and there with purple heather and the occasional crop of light grey rocks.

‘We’re agreed
then.’  Samson announced.  ‘We’ll head for the lake and make camp
there for the night.’

Mistral
followed Samson’s pointed finger and saw a long oval of water, the same lake
they’d camped at the year before with the Rochfortes.  Then it had been an
uninviting sheet of grey water, but today the surface was completely still, a
mirror reflecting back the perfect blue of the early morning sky. 

Following
Samson they descended the ridge, controlling their horses with some
difficulty.  The sun above them and the breeze at their backs had made
them all skittish.  By the time they reached the level ground of the moors
the sound of Samson swearing at Grendel for not keeping his firebrand stallion
under control had become a constant refrain.  Grendel eventually lost his
temper and gave the powerful horse his head, charging off across the moors at a
thunderous gallop, upsetting all the other horses in the process.  Mistral
struggled to hold Cirrus back while she watched him enviously.

‘Not a patch
on the one you were riding a couple of days ago.’  Phantasm murmured in a
placating tone. 

‘Very true
brother.’  Mistral agreed with a smile.  That was one memory she
never wanted to forget.

‘What’s the
date today?’  Phantom suddenly asked.

Mistral
frowned, ‘No idea, it’s May now though isn’t it?’

‘Yes Mistral
it is.’  Cain said with a roll of his eyes. 

Mistral gave
him a sour look.  Just because she was pregnant Cain expected her to
announce the precise date like some kind of living calendar.  Why did she
need to know how long she’d been pregnant for?  The baby would be born
when it was born, and not a minute before. 

‘And by my
calculations it’s the twenty first of May.’  Cain finished, giving Mistral
a reproving look that clearly told her she should’ve known that.

‘I thought
so!’  Phantom turned and grinned at his brother.  ‘Happy Birthday!’

Mistral looked
at them in surprise.  She had known the twins for nearly three years and
had no idea when their birthday was.  But then, birthdays were not
traditionally celebrated in the Valley.  Most warriors barely knew who
their parents were, never mind the date they were born on.  Mistral
herself had only recently found out that her birthday fell in October, and
she’d never even considered asking Fabian when his birthday was; she was sure
it would only serve as a reminder of his unhappy childhood.

‘Well, I think
this calls for a bit of a celebration, don’t you?’  Samson declared
cheerfully and hefted his crossbow up with one hand.  ‘Small wager on who
brings in the most game brother?’  he asked and raised an eyebrow at
Xerxes.

‘Ten bronze
coins to enter the sweepstake.  The winner gets the lot.’  Xerxes
replied promptly and pulled his longbow from his back. 

‘Done!’ 
Samson grinned and kicked his mare into a canter, pulling away from the group
of warriors.

‘Damn! 
He’s got a head start!’

‘Come on
brother!’

‘Can I borrow
Prospero, Mistral?’  Brutus asked quickly. 

She nodded and
looked down at her dog, gazing eagerly up at her, his long tail wagging with
anticipation, ‘Go hunt boy –’

With a loud
woof he bounded after Brutus, following the other warriors, spurring their
horses on to fan out across the open grassland.  Mistral watched them go
with a heavy sigh, feeling her previous envy rapidly returning.  She was
still banned from hunting … well, apart from the brief respite of hunting
vampires from the back of the dragon queen.

Wordlessly
reaching out to take hold of her hand, Fabian gave her a look that instantly
burned any jealous thoughts her mind.  His thoughts whispered in her ear,
she listened to them and grinned slowly.  ‘You read my mind.’

By the middle
of the afternoon the warriors had gathered to compare hauls and the usual
heated arguments were taking place.

‘No
Cain!  An adder doesn’t count!  We can’t eat it can we?’

‘Well, you
could if you wanted to –’

‘No
thanks!  And I’m still not scoring it as a legitimate kill!’

‘Oh come
on!  Give me some credit for making a damned good shot!’

‘Your horse
trod on it!’ 

Knowing he had
been caught out, Cain grinned, ‘Still, worth a try though!’

Xerxes shook
his head angrily, ‘Cheating hob!’

Phantom
wandered along the row of game with a disgruntled expression on his face,
‘Rabbit … rabbit … rabbit … grouse … more rabbit, huh!  You know what
brother?’  he turned to his twin, sat quietly plucking a grouse. 

‘What?’ 
Phantasm murmured, not looking up from his task.

‘I fancy a
change tonight.  It’s not every day that we turn twenty one.  There
must be some fish in that lake … I think I’ll have a try at catching some.’

‘Don’t bother
on my account.’  Samson muttered with a shudder.

Brutus reached
into his saddlebag and threw Phantom a rolled up ball of fine twine, ‘Here,
take my line, it’s good and strong.  I used it when we were driving the unicorn
herd … caught a damned great trout with it.’

‘I remember
that!  It was the most revolting creature I’ve ever seen!’  Samson
grimaced at the memory of the fish Brutus had caught.  ‘Definitely worse
than a knucker!  All wet and slimy with huge bug eyes … can’t image how
anyone could bring themselves to touch one, let alone eat one!’ 

‘Well you
certainly didn’t Samson!  If I remember rightly you took one look at it
and refused to even come near the fire when it was cooking … you reckoned the
smell of it made you feel sick!’

Samson
laughed, ‘Not as sick as I felt watching you and Fabian eat the thing! 
Talking of which, where is Fabian?’  he looked around with a frown. 
‘I didn’t see him and Mistral out hunting.’ 

‘I saw their
horses are down by the lake.’  Phantasm said, still engrossed in the
grouse he was plucking. 

‘Can’t believe
she’s a Training Lieutenant now.’  Brutus shook his head, smiling. 
‘Those poor first years!’

‘Being taught
by her has got to be better than training with her was.’  Cain muttered
with feeling.

‘And they’ll
learn some fine language too.’  Xerxes added with a grin.  ‘Plus
she’s a damned sight better to look at than Cyrus or Barak were, especially at
the moment.’

‘What is it
with you and pregnant women brother?’  Brutus asked with an exasperated
frown.  ‘I can remember you following cousin Hestia around when she was
expecting.’

‘Ah, Hestia.’
 Xerxes went all misty-eyed for a moment before giving himself a shake and
shrugging in response to his brother’s question.  ‘I don’t know why I like
pregnant women so much.  I think it’s because they’re all plump and
pliable … it’s a good look.’

Cain and
Brutus burst out laughing. 

‘If Mistral
ever hears you call her either of those words you won’t be able to walk for a
week!’  Brutus warned.

‘You’re
right.’  Xerxes frowned thoughtfully.  ‘Neither really apply to
her.  In fact, on second thoughts, I don’t envy those first years at all.’

‘At least they
won’t have a second year with Malachi to look forward to.’  Phantasm drew
his dagger and starting to prepare the grouse for cooking.

‘Did Mistral
read him this morning?’  Samson asked.

Phantasm
nodded, ‘Same thing as last night.  He’s travelling with no real purpose
in mind.  At least we know he hasn’t returned to the tribe and rallied the
females.’

‘Now that’s
one bunch of charming ladies I’d rather not have the pleasure of meeting.’
 Xerxes said with a shudder.

‘He can’t go
back to the tribe, they’d shred him on sight.’  Samson said
dismissively.  ‘They’ll blame him for the loss of two generations of
males, plus their leader.  Until some of the young males mature the tribe
are going to be fairly inactive.  The females certainly won’t leave their
young to go hunting as far afield as Bellicose did, so it’s back to good old
animal blood for them … for a while at least.’

‘I vote for
coming back with a decent sized party and clearing the whole nest out.’
 Xerxes growled. 

‘Not a bad
idea.’  Samson agreed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.  ‘Make a nice
trip in the summer –’

He broke off as
Phantom came striding back into the camp with a thunderous look on his face.

‘You could
have told me that Mage De Winter and Mistral were in the lake!’  he cried,
glaring accusingly at his brother.

‘I only saw
their horses.’  Phantasm looked up in mild surprise at his twin’s angry
arrival.  ‘How was I to know they would be swimming?  They could have
just been taking the horses for a drink.’

‘Swimming?’ 
Phantasm snorted disgustedly.  ‘They were in the water, but I don’t think
you could call what they were doing “swimming!”’

Samson gave a
loud guffaw and Xerxes smirked, making Phantom’s scowl deepen. 

‘I literally
had to crawl back to avoid being spotted!’  He fumed.  ‘It would have
been so embarrassing if they’d realised I’d seen them!’

‘You shouldn’t
have been so worried.’  Cain said, stifling a laugh.  ‘If they were
that preoccupied then I’m sure they wouldn’t even have noticed if you’d
wandered right up to the bank and started fishing!’

Brutus started
laughing, ‘You always have had a knack of interrupting them!’

‘Not on
purpose I assure you!’  Phantom retorted.  ‘I’m going to be mentally
scarred for life by what I’ve just seen!’

By the time
Mistral and Fabian appeared, the fire was lit and Phantom was carefully turning
a spit laden with rabbits and grouse over the flames.

‘Good
swim?’  Xerxes asked with a knowing grin.

‘Yes thank
you.’  Mistral replied primly.  ‘Fabian did some fishing too, here –
Happy Birthday brothers!’ 

Phantasm
smiled and took the pair of brown trout Mistral was holding out, but Phantom
couldn’t quite meet her eyes and quickly returned his attention to the meat
roasting over the fire.

‘I’ll do that
brother.’  Mistral offered, kneeling down beside him.  ‘It is your
birthday after all.’

Relinquishing
his role as camp cook with muttered thanks, Phantom stood up and took the
wineskin Samson offered him. 

‘A
toast!’  Xerxes roared, rising to his feet and raising his own wineskin up
high.  ‘To the twins!  Double the trouble, but damned handy to have
around in a card game when I’ve made the mistake of betting on a poor hand!’

A burst of
laughter met Xerxes toast followed by a ragged echo of “the twins!”.  A
brief silence fell while wineskins were drained.  Mistral smiled at the
firelit faces of all her brothers, bruised, and in some cases still bearing
traces of dried blood, but all wearing matching grins.  Turning back to
the fire, she gazed into the flames and idly turned the spit, letting her mind
wander pleasantly.

‘What’s he
doing?’

‘Who?’ 
Mistral gave Phantasm a blank look.

‘Malachi of
course!  You had that faraway look you always get when you’re reading
someone.’

‘Did I?’ 
Mistral blustered, going red.  ‘Er, Malachi … right –’

For a moment
the firelit scene faded to be replaced by a starry sky, the sound of booming
waves and the smell of salt on a cold wind.

‘He’s still
travelling.’  Mistral said, drawing her mind back from Malachi’s. 
‘Somewhere near the sea.’

‘He’s near the
sea you say?  Good!  Let’s hope he’s going to jump off a cliff then.’
 Brutus said loudly.

‘I doubt that
Malachi is the type to be driven to suicide by defeat.’  Fabian said
quietly.  ‘I think it is far more likely that he is about to leave the
Isle for more hospitable climes.’