The Seer by Kirsten Jones Read Free Book Online Page B

blue swam
into view; lightning strikes of silver, beige and scarlet rocketed through the
blue ... excitement, boredom and anger ... Mistral frowned and pushed her mind
further, to See beyond the colourful display of emotions to his very thoughts,
his soul.
    ‘I hate my
job,’ she muttered, her face contorting into a grimace of distaste. 
    What??
    ‘Tell you
later,’ she murmured, taking some small satisfaction from the impatience she
instantly felt in response.
    Malachi
stepped forward, his face cast into sharp relief by the unforgiving light of the
bright winter’s day and the burning pyre.  He began his speech, his
clipped tones magnified to address the crowd in something like a staccato
shout.
    ‘The Divinus
leaves a void that must be filled by a strong and determined leader.  We
need a new Divinus, one with a clear vision of the future and a desire to see
the continued existence of the Ri beyond restrictive rule!  We must seek
new ties and new beginnings!  The Isle is ripe for change … let this be
the herald of such brave times!’ 
    He stepped
back again to a deafening silence broken only by the hungry roar of the funeral
pyre.  The twins shared a meaningful look and Mistral nodded in agreement
to their unspoken words.  Malachi was clearly stating his intention to
lead them away from the Council should he be elected as Divinus. 
    Uh-oh, it’s
Master Sphinx’s turn … Mistral looked over at her brother-in-law.  He
was the light to Fabian’s dark, yet so bleak and barren compared to the rich
love that lived within her Mage.
    ‘There are no
words that can express the depth of gratitude the Isle owe to the lifetime of
dedication given by this Divinus.  I ask you all to remember him as
Aloysius Broadoak, an exceptionally gifted individual.’
    Leo stepped
back, bowing his head respectfully.  The twins shared frankly astounded
looks and even Mistral was impressed.  Leo had been respectful and
succinct; rare on both counts.
    Mage Grapple
left the protection of his four menacing warlocks and stepped forward into the
glare of the pyre, the flames shedding unflattering light across the multitude
of scars gouged into his face.  He gazed at the burning coffin for a long
moment before turning to address the gathering of mourners.
    ‘Today I
honour the passing of someone I greatly admired.  A rare and pure soul
possessed of an unfailing consistency to place the good of our Isle above his
own needs or wants.  His life should serve as inspiration to us all, for
how many of us can lay claim to such selflessness or profess to such complete
absence of guile?  To know what it is to have pride, but be not
proud?  Aloysius Broadoak … the Divinus, shall ever remain the eternally
divine.’
    Mage Grapple
looked again at the burning funeral pyre before striding back to resume his
position amongst his warlock guard.  A hush fell while the crowd around
the pyre jointly bowed their heads in a silent moment of respect. 
     ‘Ah,’
Phantom let out a long sigh.  ‘Now that’s how to make a speech.’
    ‘Brother! 
Are you crying?’
    ‘No!’
    ‘Yes you
are!  I can see tears in those green things you call eyes!’
    A load roar
erupted from the mass of Arcanes, Mage and Ri gathered around the pyre. 
Mistral felt the stirrings of pride in her heart at the noise, the simple
celebration of a life worth living.  She thought of the few short hours
she had spent in the company of the Divinus, his calm direction and belief in
her ability to master her gift, the time he had freely given to show her the
mind of her Mage when he was away from her, to help her cope with his
absence.  He had found time for such small kindnesses whilst the burden of
the Ri’s weightier issues must have still hovered over him like a sword
dangling on a fine thread.
    ‘Now who’s
crying?’  Phantom chided with a grin.
    ‘Oh, do one
brother,’ she muttered, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her expensive velvet
cloak.
    ‘Don’t