The Seer (85 page)

‘You think
he’s going to join one of the other vampire tribes?’  Phantasm asked.

‘Anything is
possible when dealing with a creature as resourceful as Malachi.  He is
not unused to living amongst humans either, it was often required when he
worked for the Council carrying out cleaning Contracts.’

‘What?’  Xerxes
choked and sprayed wine out with an incredulously laugh.  ‘Malachi
scrubbed floors at the Council?’

‘Not that kind
of cleaner brother.’  Phantasm said quietly.  ‘The kind that cleans
up Mages who expose their true identities.’

‘“Cleaning?”’ 
Brutus snorted.  ‘Is that what the Council call it?’

‘You know the
Council brother.’  Cain said disdainfully.  ‘Why call a spade a spade
when it can be so aptly described as a manually operated digging implement?’

‘Where do you
think he’s gone Mage De Winter?’  Phantasm asked under the laughter
resulting from Cain’s joke.

‘The
Rochfortes.’

Phantasm
exhaled softly, ‘Of course –’

‘Dinners
ready!’

Mistral’s
announcement ended their murmured conversation and caused a frantic scramble of
activity.  Before long they were all sat cross-legged around the fire
enjoying roasted grouse, rabbit and trout. 

‘Seriously,
get that away from me.’  Samson growled to Brutus who was biting into a
hunk of the cooked fish with relish. 

Mistral
laughed and moved closer to Fabian to make a space, ‘Sit by me Samson. 
I’m on your side when it comes to eating things that don’t breathe in the
normal way.’

Happily
sharing a hunk of roast rabbit with Prospero, Mistral listened to Samson and
Fabian discussing the possibility of a return trip to clear out the vampire
tribe in the summer. 

‘Do you think
Leo would pony up a Contract fee for it?’  Samson asked. 

‘Possibly.’
 Fabian mused.  ‘But definitely not officially.  And there is no
way Eximius would be seen to be paying to have the tribe eradicated, no matter
how much he secretly wishes it.’

‘So it’d be a
case of more highly dangerous, unpaid work then?’  Samson said with a
grin.

Fabian laughed
softly and slid his arm around Mistral, letting her know that whatever mad
plans Samson was making, he would not be involved.

‘Brothers!’ 
Cain rose to his feet with a flask in his hands that Mistral instantly
recognised.  ‘I’ve been saving this for a special occasion, and aside from
the moment that I finally meet my nephew, I can’t think of anything more apt
than celebrating the fact that we’ve just wiped out two generations of
blood-sucking parasites and are still standing – well, for the moment
anyway!’  He knelt down and filled a row of horn tumblers with an
evil-looking black liqueur, passing them around before standing up and raising
his own in a solemn toast.  ‘To those who fell and to those who remain …
and to those whose birthday it is!’

A loud cheer
rang out then they all tilted the tumblers to their lips and downed the potent
liqueur in one swallow.

‘Hell’s
teeth!’  Samson gasped with watering eyes.  ‘What
is
in that?’

‘Manticore
poison.’  Mistral sighed, passing her tumbler over to him.  ‘Here,
have mine.  It tastes better the second time round.’

Samson
laughed.  Turning his empty tumbler over and placing it onto the ground he
took hers and downed it in one quick swallow.  ‘A song!’  He cried
once his coughing fit had subsided enough to allow him to speak again.
 ‘This birthday party needs a song!’

‘The Ballad of
Elias the Fallen!’ 

Xerxes’ demand
was taken up by the others.  Empowered by the manticore liqueur; the twins
eventually bowed to pressure and began to sing in clear lilting voices.

Mistral
listened to the twins singing the sad ballad and watched sparks flying up from
the fire to expire in the cold night air.  The night sky was filled with
thousands of stars, gleaming jewel-bright over them.  She lifted her gaze
to contemplate the various constellations, thinking again of the centaur tribe
and her lessons with Imperato.  It was May and the sign of the Gemini was
in precedence.  Mistral smiled, wondering at the existence of
destiny.  How much of a coincidence was it that the twins, the Gemini,
were born under the sign that defined their gift?

 A
raucous bout of laughter drew her attention back to her brothers.  The
manticore liqueur was taking effect and a lively bout of story-telling had
ensued; each tale defying the last with improbable acts of daring and, to
Mistral’s ears, utter stupidity.

‘No! 
No!’  Samson cried.  ‘Fabian and I can top that one!  Do you
recall that Contract to sort out the giants brother?’  He leapt to his
feet and began to retell the tale, turning occasionally to Fabian for
confirmation of a fact. 

‘Happy
Birthday brother.’  Mistral smiled when Phantasm dropped lightly down
beside her.  ‘I’m sorry I haven’t got you both a gift.’

Phantasm
turned to look at her with glass-bright eyes, greener and more dazzling than
any emerald, ‘There’s nothing you could give me that would mean more to me than
you already have.’

Mistral gave
him a puzzled look, wondering how drunk he was, ‘What do you mean?’

He smiled,
transporting his angelic face with a beauty that was almost divine, ‘I’m going
to be a godfather.’

‘Yes you
are.’  Mistral couldn’t help smiling at his joyous expression. 

‘It means more
to me than you will ever know Mistral,’ he whispered, his bright gaze not
leaving hers.

‘And you mean
more to me than you will ever know,’ she replied, still smiling then added in a
more serious tone.  ‘You taught me what it meant to have family when all I
cared about was me.’

His face
became suddenly sad, ‘But now you have an entire centaur tribe that are your
family –’

‘Yes, I have a
whole damned tribe of relatives now.’  Mistral cut in with a weary
sigh.  ‘But I value you and your brother above them all.  You’re my
family.’

He gazed at
her wordlessly, the green eyes that she had seen a thousand times now glowing
with intense emotion.  Overcome by an impulse even she couldn’t explain,
Mistral suddenly leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. 

‘Happy
Birthday brother.’

‘Ah
brothers!’  Samson had finished his story and raised his wineskin in a
loud toast once more.  ‘I feel the time is ripe to share with you a tragic
tale of epic love and devastating loss, and I pray that none of you here suffer
as much as the hapless young warrior in The Ballad of The Falling Star –’

He began to
speak in his low, rasping voice, relating the melancholy tale to his rapt
audience.  Firelight flickered across his scars, each a reminder of a
Contract, a fight, or a foolish error; but Mistral knew that none had caused
him as much pain as the words falling from his lips. 

‘Such beauty did befall his
eye

A star, a comet, she blazed
‘cross his darkest sky

Her eyes were sapphires,
her looks so fine

With skin of lily and lips
of wine

Silken hair in summer’s
golden glow

Haunt my dreams of deepest
woe –
’

Mistral
listened to the poem and glanced at Fabian, turning her head to breathe her
words into his ear, ‘Did he write this about Gemma?’

Fabian nodded;
his thought murmuring in her ear.

His father
was a travelling bard …

Mistral raised
an eyebrow; that explained Samson’s love of story-telling.  She listened
to the rest of the ballad, knowing that every word was true made the story even
more poignant.  When he finished a silence fell across the camp.

 Xerxes
wiped a tear from his eye and raised his wineskin to Samson, ‘Ah, well told
brother, a truly tragic tale … but well told, well told –’

‘Ah,
yes.  I can ruin a good tale by telling it.’  Samson sighed and took
a long swig from his own wineskin.

‘I feel that
some light relief is needed!  I know a little ditty or two myself. 
Now, join me in the chorus brothers –’

While Xerxes
launched into a rendition of his goblin song, Mistral turned to resume her
whispered conversation with Fabian, ‘Did you ever meet Gemma?’

Fabian nodded,
‘Once, briefly.  Samson and I Qualified at the same time and he met her
just after.  But then I took a long mercenary Contract in Desert
Lands.  By the time I returned it was all over.’

‘He still
loves her.’  Mistral whispered sadly, watching Samson singing, the grin on
his face conflicting with the pale green aura of sadness encircling his
head.  ‘I wish it’d been different for him.’

Fabian followed
her gaze but could only see his old friend apparently having a good time, ‘You
see more than others do Mistral, perhaps too much.’

‘You think
it’s none of my business?’  she turned to look sharply at him.

‘Is it?’ 
Fabian responded evenly.

‘I See lies,
hidden desires and concealed slights every day of my life, but in Samson I See
sadness, regret and love!  What’s so wrong with wishing happiness for
him?’

Fabian smiled,
lifting a finger to trace the angry lines creasing her brow, ‘No, my love,
there is nothing wrong in that.  But Gemma was a long time ago, and I am
certain that Samson is only thinking about her again because of you.’

‘Me? 
What have I done to Samson?’

‘Not to
Samson.’  Fabian said softly.  ‘To me.’

Mistral gazed
at him silently, waiting for him to continue.

Fabian’s smile
faded, his gaze roamed over her face for the briefest of moments before seeking
her eyes again, holding them with his ebony stare, ‘Samson used to joke that my
name befitted my character too well, that my soul was as cold and unfeeling as
the winter snows … but then I found you and now my soul is warmed by all the
seasons.’ 

He paused and
leaned forward to brush her lips with a soft kiss.  She closed her eyes
and savoured the touch, opening them again to see him gazing at her almost
sadly.

‘Samson sees a
change in me I am sure he never imagined possible, and he sees you growing with
child, the family he will never have.  He knows now that the love he threw
away all those years ago will be a regret that will burn with him on his pyre.’

‘But why
doesn’t he just go and find her?’  she whispered.  ‘You came to find
me, and even though I thought you loved another, I wanted you –’

Fabian pressed
a finger to her lips and gave a slight shake of his head, ‘I never loved another
Mistral, only you.’  Sighing deeply he took hold of her hands and looked
down at them thoughtfully.  ‘I cannot say why Samson has not sought her
out; we have never discussed the matter.  However I know that Samson is a
proud man, despite the way he likes to play the fool.  I am sure he feels
that too much time has passed for his pride to permit him to risk her
rejection.’

‘But if he
sought her out and spoke with her, at least he would know, either way –
wouldn’t that give him some kind of closure, or at the very least give him the
opportunity to apologise?’

‘Ease his
guilt?’  Fabian smiled.  ‘I think his guilt is his way of making
amends.  His penance if you will.’

‘That’s
ridiculous!’

‘Is it?’ 
Fabian looked at her carefully.  ‘And do you still blame yourself for
Saul’s death?’

‘I –’ Mistral
began and immediately stopped as tears inexplicably welled up in her
eyes. 

Fabian
continued to regard her closely, his dark eyes forcing her to confess the truth
she fought so hard to conceal, even from herself.

‘I will always
blame myself for his death.’

‘And if, just
for one single second, you stopped feeling guilty, would it make you feel as
though you had taken Saul’s sacrifice for granted?’

Mistral
nodded, unable to stop the tears from falling. 

‘Then you understand
why Samson is content to punish himself with guilty remorse and never seek to
alleviate it.’  Fabian said simply.

‘But she might
be happily married with a huge brood of children and not even remember
him!’ 

‘That may be
so, however it is Samson’s choice to make, and he is definitely big enough and
ugly enough to make his own now.’  Smiling, Fabian brushed the tears away
from her cheeks with his fingertips.  ‘But now, my beautiful Lieutenant,
why don’t you tell me what plans you have for the first week of lessons when we
return?’

Mistral
smiled, her eyes suddenly shining with enthusiasm, ‘I’ve had this great idea I
wanted to discuss with you!  In fact, can we ride back through The Velvet
Forests?  There’s a few things I’d like to pick up on the way –’

‘Do you ever
wonder what life would’ve been like if our father hadn’t died?’  Phantom
asked as he leaned back on his elbows and stretched his legs out lazily in
front of him.

‘Empty.’
 Phantasm replied, gazing over at Mistral talking animatedly with Fabian.

‘Oh I don’t
know.’  Phantom mused with a hiccup.  ‘We’d be having a masquerade
ball, or something equally as grand for our twenty first … that would be
anything but empty!’

Phantasm turned
to give his brother a scathing look, ‘A room full of Mages we barely know, only
there because of our father and not because they give a damn about his
half-breed sons?  That would be the very definition of empty, brother!’

‘Maybe, but
we’d be rich.’  Phantom argued.

‘We are rich,
just not in the monetary sense.’

Phantom looked
around idly at the circle of warriors; Cain was teaching Samson a card trick,
Xerxes and Brutus were dancing a jig to a tune Darius was playing on a pipe
while Prospero ran around them in circles, barking excitedly and Grendel was
laid out snoring beside a pile of empty wineskins, oblivious to Chester drawing
on his face with a charred stick from the fire.