The Seer (67 page)

He shook his
head silently, his gaze not leaving the Arena.  

‘Good. 
But I might just go get my knife belt anyway, just in case –’

‘And I might
even let you.’  Phantasm cut across her smoothly.  ‘If you tell me
what you’re going to do in French.’

Mistral’s foul
reply, delivered in perfect French, was drowned out by Leo’s shouted order for
the first contestant to step forward.  No-one seemed keen to start and
there was a long moment of silence before Fabian finally rode forward and took
the coiled length of rope from Leo’s outstretched hand.

Mistral
watched with bated breath while Fabian calmly walked Spirit across the Arena
towards the knot of mares, keeping his eyes down and offering the stallion no
direct challenge, he pulled Spirit around and rode her back again.  A
simple tactic.  Fabian was using Spirit as bait.

On the fourth
pass, the firebrand stallion was unable to resist the urge to try and claim the
bright mare and left the protection of his herd.  Mistral watched with
something close to veneration as the stallion broke into a canter, the liquid
smoothness of his strides belying the sheer power that lay within every heavy
hoof fall.  Fabian allowed the stallion to draw near, almost casually
looping the lasso around his colossal neck.  He guided Spirit into a lap
of the Arena, the firebrand stallion cantering in tandem by her side while he
tried to woo her. 

Mistral gave a
laugh of pure delight and clapped her hands together.  The ease with which
Fabian had completed the final event was almost comical, all because his mare
appealed to the object of the task. 

When Fabian
released the stallion and resumed his place amongst the contestants, Samson
rode out to take the next turn and employed the same tactic with equal
success.  Mistral felt her hopes soar, Cain also rode a mare; if he did
the same then final three would be him, Fabian and Samson – a combination she
was more than happy to accept.

The warrior
called Jasper rode next; his heavyset liver-chestnut took an instant dislike to
the firebrand stallion and challenged him.  Realising that he didn’t have
long to accomplish the desired outcome of the event before the two horses began
to fight, Jasper flung a lasso over the firebrand stallion’s neck and hauled
for all he was worth.  The firebrand snorted with surprise at the unfamiliar
sensation then resisted.  Jerking his head back sharply, he pulled Jasper
from the saddle with almost disdainful ease; eliciting a roar of laughter from
the watching crowd.  Mistral felt a wave of pity for the warrior, lying
face down in the mud of the Arena.  He climbed slowly to his feet, wiping
mud from his face and grinning in good grace at his own failure before exiting
the Arena to a round of applause.

Brutus rode up
next.  Mistral frowned anxiously; her brother rode a gelding and couldn’t
use the same simple trick as Fabian and Samson.  She watched him loosely
coil the lasso in his hands and urge his horse into a trot towards the knot of
mares surrounding the stallion.  Mistral held her breath; would he try to
lasso the stallion like Jareth had?  She hoped not, Brutus was tall, but
not overly broad.  It would take a big warrior to handle the
stallion.  Brutus had obviously come to the same conclusion as her and
made the unexpected move of lassoing one of the mares instead.  Pulling
the startled horse from the herd, Brutus led her away at a fast canter, causing
the firebrand stallion to squeal in fury and give chase.  Keeping the mare
close to his side, Brutus knotted another loop in the end of the rope and held
it ready.  As the jealous stallion thundered up, he slipped it over the
firebrand’s head almost without him noticing and continued to circle the Arena,
leading the mare with the jealously protective stallion in hot pursuit.

‘Clever!’ 
Phantom remarked, clapping loudly along with the rest of the crowd.

‘Well, one of
them had to have some brains.’  Mistral remarked drily.

‘Are you
suggesting that Xerxes got the looks?’ 

‘No!’

Erin rode
forward next to muted applause.  Mistral merely growled.

‘Easy now,
let’s just restrain those pregnancy hormones a little bit shall we?’ 
Phantom laughed.

Mistral noted
with satisfaction that her costly pony was a gelding, unappealing to the
stallion and too small to constitute a threat to his herd of mares.  Erin
was actually going to have to do some work this time.

‘She rides
well.’  Phantom made the mistake of commenting.

Mistral
immediately slapped him down, ‘No she doesn’t!  She rides like a half-full
sack of potatoes!  That pony is doing all the work!’

Phantasm shot his
brother a warning look over the top of Mistral’s head, indicating towards her
clenched fists and the hilts of the two daggers just visible in the sides of
her boots.  Phantom raised his eyebrows in silent agreement to tread more
carefully.  Mistral on a good day could easily be angered into doing
something as impulsive as throwing a dagger at a fellow warrior, never mind
Mistral pregnant and facing two weeks without her Mage.

Erin circled
the Arena at a steady canter while she considered her options.  On the
third pass a warrior began to heckle her from the crowd and was soon joined by
another until a chant began, urging her to “get on with it”.  Mistral
didn’t join in the chant, but she grinned and enjoyed watching Erin’s sharp
features flush at the growing chorus of catcalls.  Eventually losing her
temper, Erin flung the coil of rope out to land neatly around the stallion’s
neck.  Turning her pony in a sharp circle, she pushed him into a gallop,
intending to use the impetus of speed to drag the unsuspecting stallion from
his herd.    The stallion lifted his head in recognition of the
rope around his neck but remained resolutely still.  It pulled taut,
yanking Erin from the back of her galloping pony with a surprised squeak. 
With a flash of devilment, the stallion abruptly reared and leapt away from the
seclusion of his mares to canter around the Arena, dragging Erin face-down
through the mud in his wake.

Mistral tried
very hard to be the better person and fight down her mirth, but when Phantom
burst into musical peals of laughter she gave way and joined in. 

Grinning
widely, Phantasm placed an arm around her shoulders and turned to whisper in
her ear, ‘Didn’t I tell you it would be better if she failed on her own?’

Mistral nodded
and choked back another wave of laughter when Erin finally let go of the rope
and stood up, her slight figure and mud splattered face making her look
suddenly like one of the annoying dark-furred creatures that plagued the
forests.  ‘Spriggan!’  Mistral gasped and heard Phantom break into
more fits of laughter.  ‘She looks like a spriggan!’

Erin stomped
from the Arena to a storm of jeers and mocking applause, leaving only Cain to
complete the event.  Despite having been fooled with the same trick twice
in a row, the firebrand stallion fell for the same simple ploy of being lured
out by a new mare and Cain was soon bowing and grinning to the crowd after
having completed two laps of the arena with the stallion trotting happily
beside him.

‘This is going
to be interesting.’  Phantasm murmured.

‘What
is?’ 

‘Four
successful finalists and only three places on the Contract.’

‘Oh!’

They were not
the only ones to realise that the Contract was over-subscribed.  A murmur
ran through the crowd.  Some of the warriors began muttering under their
breath and casting suspicious looks at Leo.  If he capitulated and
permitted four warriors to go it would either reduce the Contract value or look
like favouritism, and neither would do his popularity much good.  Fabian
and the other three successful contenders were gathered in the Arena around Leo
and Imperato, obviously discussing the problem.  Mistral scanned the
crowd, trying to gauge their reaction.  Malachi was stood with his
sour-faced group, his lips moving quickly and his face set in a poisonous
expression.

‘I wonder what
Master Sphinx is going to do.’  Phantom mused.  ‘I don’t suppose
you’d just give him a quick read would you Mistral?  …  Mistral?’

Mistral was
staring vacantly into space.  Instantly recognising the blank look on her
face the twins watched her intently, waiting for her to come out of her trance.

‘Who?’ 
Phantom breathed the second she blinked and her eyes focussed again.

‘Malachi,’ she
sighed. 

‘And?’

‘Oh, he’s
capitalising on the confusion, saying that Leo should’ve foreseen the
possibility of this outcome and how it’s a sign of his immaturity, he’s not
ready to be the Divinus, the Ri need someone with experience.’

‘What, like
him?’  Phantasm snorted.

‘Hush!’ 
Mistral said quickly.  ‘Leo’s winding up to deliver another stormer!’

‘Warriors! 
We have one finalist too many!  I hereby propose a tiebreaker!’

A huge roar
went up from the crowd but Mistral merely looked confused, ‘Why are they so
excited about a tiebreaker?’

‘They’re
warriors Mistral.  They get excited by anything to do with swords.’ 
Phantasm sighed.

Mistral
instantly perked up, ‘Swords?  So what’s a tiebreaker involve then?’

‘Usually
duelling.’

Mistral’s eyes
shone with anticipation.  She looked at the Arena to see that a heated
discussion was taking place between the four finalists and Leo, calmly observed
by Imperato. 

‘Look!’
 Phantom nodded over to where Mage Grapple was striding across the muddy
Arena.  ‘If he interferes it won’t look good!’

The twins and
Mistral watched Mage Grapple halt in front of Leo and begin speaking to him,
too quietly for any of their conversation to carry back to the tensely waiting
crowd.  Leo bowed his head while he listened to whatever Mage Grapple was
suggesting, his face creased into a thoughtful frown.  Finally he raised
his head and looked at each of the finalists, appearing to ask them something
before he gave a decisive nod and gazed over at the waiting warriors again.

‘Here we go.’
 Phantom murmured as Leo stepped forward to address the crowd once again.

‘The four finalists
have expressed a wish not to duel with each other –’

A low groan of
disappointment echoed around the packed village square, however there was
little surprise in the sound; the four finalists all knew each other’s fighting
styles too well to make any duelling particularly challenging or exciting to
watch.

‘However, a
solution has been proposed that I would like to put to you for your approval –’

‘Clever Master
Sphinx, very clever.’  Phantasm smiled with grudging admiration. 
‘Asking the warriors for their approval shows he values their opinion.’

‘Not really
Leo’s style to ask permission though is it?’  Mistral muttered.

‘Of course
not!  Master Sphinx would never dream of seeking their counsel on any
matters of importance, but to involve them in something like this is just good
sense.’

‘Oh just see
Malachi’s face!  He could sour milk with that look!’  Phantom hissed
gleefully.

They all
turned to see Malachi glowering furiously at Leo, now stood with his arms held
open in a very Bryden Wolfsnare-ish type gesture.

‘Mage Grapple
has agreed to be the static duellist!’

A gasp ran
around the square.  A warrior stood close to Malachi shouted out in a
belligerent voice.  ‘Do you expect our warriors to try and defeat Mage
Grapple and not suffer any consequences from his warlocks?’ 

‘No!’ 
Leo laughed.  ‘I expect my warriors to duel with Mage Grapple and score
points!’

The crowd
echoed his laughter, leaving the warrior who had spoken flushed with anger at
being publically ridiculed.

‘Oh dear,
that’s one vote lost.’  Phantom sighed.

‘Never had him
anyway.’  Phantasm muttered dismissively.  ‘He’s in Master Nox’s
camp.’

‘So they’re
duelling for points?  Like at The Festival of the Arcane?’  Mistral
asked quickly.

The twins
nodded. 

‘Although I’m
sure there’ll be a twist in it somewhere.’  Phantom added, narrowing his
eyes thoughtfully. 

‘I think
probably having Mage Grapple as the duellist is the twist brother.’
 Phantasm murmured, watching Mage Grapple shed his cloak in preparation
for the start of the duels.

Mistral
watched Clovis and Grendel moving the horses from the Arena to leave it clear
for the duelling to begin.  She laughed quietly when the crowd instantly
parted to give the firebrand stallion a wide berth.  It stepped out with a
strong gait, its fearless black eyes bright.  Mistral’s gaze travelled
greedily over the sleekly muscled flanks, imagining how exhilarating it would
feel to ride such a powerful animal.

‘I wonder if
he’s for sale –’

‘If he is,
it’s not to you.’  Phantasm remarked shortly.

‘Why not?’

Phantasm
raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly down at her thickening waist. 

‘I won’t
always be pregnant!’  Mistral flared.  ‘I could just buy him, but not
ride him till after the baby is born!’

Phantasm made
a disbelieving noise and shook his head. 

‘What’s that
supposed to mean?’

‘It means,
Mistral, that I don’t trust you!  And,’ he added nodding meaningfully
towards the vanishing firebrand, ‘it looks as though I’m not the only one!’

Mistral spun
around to see Fabian trotting Spirit across the village square after
Clovis.  She immediately hurried after him, muttering furiously under her
breath.  She arrived at the yard and slipped quietly into the gloom of the
stableblock to find Clovis and Grendel hauling the bad-tempered firebrand into
a stall, watched in stony-faced silence by Fabian.

‘I want that
horse out of the Valley before I leave on this Contract!’  he snapped when
Clovis appeared from the stall, rubbing a hand over his sweating face.