The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams)

by Jones, Kirsten

  ‘Thanks –’ Mistral yawned again and struggled out of the heavy wolverine skin. Nudging a still snoring Prospero with her boot she began to walk towards where Phantom had indicated. Giving a huge yawn, Prospero reluctantly hauled himself to his feet and trotted after her.

  Mistral smiled as she walked by the horses, patting Cirrus absently when she passed him, her thoughts returning to the previous night and the way Fabian’s hands had felt on her skin ... a cold swim was definitely in order.

  She strode purposely towards the wide stream. The water was fast flowing and clear. Mistral could see where the twins had washed by the water staining the rocks at the edge of a pool. Casting a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure she was alone she undressed quickly and dived into the pool. She plunged down and kicked her legs, arcing up to the surface wide-eyed and gasping at the startling coldness of the water. Prospero gave an excited bark and plunged in after her. Making small whining noises he swam around her in frantic circles with his mouth open to catch the darting shoals of tiny silver fish.

  Mistral swam back to the side with quick strokes and pulled herself out. It was too cold to linger in the pool. Shivering, she hastily dragged her clothes back on. Rolling up her sleeves to let the sun warm her skin she sat to comb out her wet hair, laughing at Prospero still trying to catch the elusive fish.

  ‘Come on boy, breakfast time!’

  Prospero immediately paddled back to the side and scrabbled up the rocks, showering Mistral when he vigorously shook the water from his heavy coat. She cursed and chased him away. Prospero barked and ran excitedly around her, playing the game.

  ‘If only having a cold swim had that effect on me.’

  Mistral turned towards the velvet sound of Fabian’s voice, watching him walk towards her with familiar loping strides.

  ‘Good swim?’ he enquired with a smile and ran his fingers lightly through her wet hair.

  ‘Refreshing.’

  ‘Hmm.’ his fingers moved over her bare arms, his light touch leave a trail of goose bumps in their wake. ‘So I see. Would you like me to warm you?’

  ‘Yes please.’ her voice had shrivelled to a breathy whisper, her sphere of vision narrowed to contain nothing more than the dark eyes possessing her.

  Slowly bending his head to kiss her, he pulled her against him, the closeness of him setting her alight with a heat that had nothing to do with the warmth of his body.

  ‘Are you warm enough now?’ Fabian enquired, slowly releasing her.

  ‘Do you really need an answer to that?’

  Fabian laughed softly and gazed at her for a long moment, his expression slowly changing to become more serious.

  ‘You know we must behave with more propriety for the duration of this Contract –’

  ‘But I’m your fiancée!’ Mistral pouted. ‘Surely that gives me license to leap on you whenever I wish to.’

  ‘Mistral –’

  Her playfulness abruptly vanished, ‘Oh don’t worry Fabian. I promised you I will behave in every way; and I will.’

  ‘Thank you.’ he smiled again. ‘Although, I quite like it when you misbehave.’

  Appeased by his smile, she smirked slightly, ‘You should see your aura.’

  ‘Yes, and that is precisely why I’m going for a cold swim. Save me some breakfast.’

  They ate leftover cold rabbit with rye bread Mistral had bought. Fabian outlined the plan for the day as they ate, going over every detail with the meticulous attention that had earned him such a formidable reputation.

  ‘Do you want me and Prospero to hunt for tonight’s dinner?’ Mistral asked, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of bread.

  ‘Yes. But not rabbit. A hind if you can get one. They may well have come with provisions but it would be impolite not to offer them a good meal.’

  Mistral nodded, ‘We’ll hunt through the edge of the forests as soon as we leave, that way we won’t slow you down.’

  ‘Good. Now,’ he looked around at each of them, ‘one final recap and any questions that you need to ask must be done before we leave. We cannot present anything but a completely united front to the delegates. There can be no uncertainties, no whispered conversations and definitely no quarrels. We must be calm and professional.

  ‘I will lead our party and deal with all of the communication. Mistral? I want you to ride between the twins at all times. This will break up their rather startling appearance and also offer some protection against Antoine and his cousins.’ he paused, the faintest curl of disdain lifting one corner of his mouth. ‘They have reputations.’

  Mistral fought the urge to roll her eyes. If one of the delegates so much as laid a finger on her she would hack it off with her dagger. Which, on reflection, was probably what Fabian wanted to avoid.

  ‘I will ride alongside Antoine. His cousins will ride behind. You three will be riding at the back. I want their auras read at all times and if you notice anything that worries you let me know by giving Prospero a command to heel. We all know that he never leaves your side but they do not, so it won’t sound suspicious and I will immediately know to be prepared for something untoward. Should this happen, Phantom and Phantasm will immediately use their gift to influence each cousin and then Antoine. Understood?’

  They all murmured their assent.

  ‘Good. Are you all wearing armour under your shirts?’

  They nodded and Fabian scrutinised them all carefully.

  ‘Mistral!’ he snapped. ‘Yours is still visible. Button your jerkin up to hide the top of the chest plate.’

  Mistral kept her face carefully neutral as she complied to his snapped command but couldn’t help feeling slightly peeved that he hadn’t told the twins to do the same. She had the distinct impression that Fabian would have quite liked her to have put on a cloak on with the hood up … he had mentioned the delegate’s rakish reputations at least twice so far.

  ‘The cousins are all Rochfortes, naturally. Their names are Christophe, Etienne and Guillane. None speak any language apart from their own so you will not be expected to converse with them. Of the three Guillane is the most unpredictable. He has a habit of casting first and asking questions later. You’ll easily be able to tell which one he is by the distinctive scarring on his jaw and throat.’

  Mistral caught the twins glancing at each other. They loved a mystery. She knew they wouldn’t dare ask Fabian for more details but would probably spend the entire journey staring at Guillane’s neck and trying to guess what had caused them.

  ‘Once we have met the delegation we ride north across the High Moors and camp for the night there. We should reach the Council by mid-morning tomorrow.

  ‘These are the hard and fast rules to follow during the journey. Do not speak to each other or any of the delegates and avoid making eye contact with them. Never leave each other alone – for any reason –’

  Mistral gave him a withering look and decided not to drink any more water.

  ‘And be prepared for trouble. If they cast, use your throwing knives and aim to kill.’

  Mistral relaxed slightly. Finally, something she understood.

  Fabian regarded them all for a long moment, ‘We have already been through the procedure for when we arrive at the Council but do you wish me to go over it one more time?’

  They all shook their heads.

  Fabian nodded, ‘Any questions?’

  There was a brief silence.

  ‘Only one springs to mind Mage De Winter.’ Phantasm ventured. ‘Should Count Darke have bought a Contract on Antoine and his cousins it will surely have been taken by another Ri warrior, a brother. What do we do then?’

  ‘Leave that to me.’

  Mistral looked at him sharply but he avoided her gaze and busied himself with buttoning his jerkin. She stood up. Two could play at that game.

  ‘I think I’ll get a head start and ride through the forests. It’s a good time to catch the deer grazing.’

  ‘Phantom will go with you.’ Fabian said curtly.
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  Mistral paused, torn between the desire to snap back her refusal and her promise not to make trouble. He finished buttoning his jerkin and looked up to meet her angry glare. Her promise promptly won in a resounding victory that vanquished her anger to the darkest corner of her mind. How could she refuse anything of him when he looked at her like that?

  ‘We’ll meet you in a couple of hours.’ Phantom said brightly. Oblivious to the suddenly charged atmosphere between Mistral and Fabian he strolled past her carrying his horse’s saddle and nudged her with his elbow. ‘Get a move on! I think that swim washed your brains right out of your head!’’

  In the end hunting with Phantom turned out to be more fun than riding on her own and brooding over Fabian. Their impromptu spriggan hunt the previous evening seemed to have re-ignited his relish for the more physical side of their training and she found herself enjoying his company more than she had done for a long time. Prospero flushed out two small does which she and Phantom bought down with their crossbows. The carcasses were small enough to fit across the back of their saddles but would easily provide enough meat to feed the eight of them for the evening and leave enough for breakfast.

  ‘Your Mage is getting a bit antsy about the French cousins isn’t he?’ Phantom remarked casually.

  Mistral rolled her eyes, ‘You noticed that too. Mind you Phantom, your comment last night didn’t help.’

  Phantom gave her an apologetic look, ‘I know. I got the message when he stormed off. I’m sorry about that Mistral. Do you want me to say something to him?’

  Mistral fought down a smile. The thought of Phantom trying to broach the subject of seeing her without a shirt on was almost laughable. It wasn’t a question of whether Fabian would kill him or how, just how long it took.

  ‘No, it’s all fine now. Don’t worry about it.’

  Phantom exhaled with obvious relief, ‘Oh, well as long as you’re sure.’

  They left the forests and rode out towards the cliffside path Phantasm and Fabian were riding along, spotting them easily on the exposed ground. Fabian’s palomino shone like burnished gold in the sunlight, making Mistral smile. Fabian was rigidly disciplined in almost every aspect of his life but Spirit was his one indulgence. After her.

  Emboldened by that thought she looked over at Phantom and raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Race you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Five bronze coins?’

  He pursed his lips, the bartering angel, ‘Six.’

  ‘Done!’

  ‘You have been!’ Phantom laughed and kicked Mars into a gallop.

  ‘Cheat!’

  Mistral dug her heels into Cirrus’ side, a shout of joy escaping when he plunged forwards in deep, powerful strides. She could feel the muscles in his haunches bunching and flexing, pushing himself into a flat-out gallop after the Phantom’s lighter horse. They tore along the path at breakneck speed. The cliffs to their left dropped steeply away to meet the sea, an endless blue that sparkled enticingly in the morning sunlight. Mistral breathed in deeply, savouring the fresh, salty tang of the sea mixed with the sharp scent of the pine trees. Phantom’s horse was light, but Cirrus had stamina. She quickly caught him up and stuck her tongue out as she thundered past, grinning at his response.

  She hauled Cirrus to a snorting halt at Fabian’s side, breathless and glowing.

  ‘Just the level of professionalism Mage De Winter expected of you,’ said Phantasm in a reproving tone.

  Mistral glared at his disapproving expression before she risked a cautious glance at Fabian, his face was expressionless but his eyes betrayed a flash of humour.

  Mistral composed her face into an apologetic expression, ‘I’m sorry, that was definitely my final outburst of bad behaviour … well, for the next couple of days anyway,’ she amended quickly.

  Phantom rode up at a more sedate pace, his face carefully arranged into a suitably bland expression.

  Wordlessly, Fabian pulled Spirit around and continued to ride along the path, taking up his quiet conversation with Phantasm as he rode alongside him.

  Phantom rode up beside Mistral, his expression wooden and his eyes fixed straight ahead.

  ‘You owe me six coins brother,’ Mistral murmured out of the side of her mouth.

  Phantom’s mouth twitched into the semblance of a smile and they rode on together in silence.

  By the middle of the morning they were nearing the Port of Holdridge. The cliff path they were following dipped steeply, presenting them with a stunning view of the open sea and the cluster of white-washed houses gathered around the small fishing harbour, all made miniature by the distance. Fabian called a halt and studied the port carefully; Mistral followed his gaze and could make out a larger sailing vessel moored alongside the simple fishing skiffs.

  ‘They have already arrived.’

  Fabian turned to face them, keeping his back to the port.

  ‘I am sure that we are being watched even now; we are now under Contract.’

  The twins nodded tensely and Mistral met Fabian’s cool gaze calmly. She would not let him down.

  Riding between the twins as Fabian had instructed; they followed him the rest of the way down the path and into the village, riding at a deliberately slow walk into the harbour and reining their horses to a halt. Mistral and the twins remained mounted as Fabian swung himself out of the saddle and led Spirit over to greet the four Mages waiting on the quayside. It was apparent they had only recently docked as their horses were in the process of being led out from the belly of their ship. Mistral cast a swift eye over the party. One stood out as obviously being Antoine, he was richly dressed in robes of darkest blue trimmed with black fur and greeted Fabian in a self-assured manner bordering on arrogance. The other three held back, waiting to be introduced. Two were tall and thin with shoulder length fair hair worn loose. Mistral guessed that the third must Guillane. He was a head shorter than his cousins and as dark as they were fair with small black eyes that never seemed to be still. Her eyes roved over his jaw and neck and noticed the white scarring that Fabian had mentioned … definitely Guillane.

  Time to work …

  Freeing her mind of all thoughts, Mistral focused on the air mid-way above the small gathering. Fabian’s aura obediently strengthened, flooding her vision in a halo of perfect royal blue that commanded her undivided attention. Forcing herself away from something she could happily stare at for hours, Mistral turned her attention to the French delegates. Their auras shimmered into view more slowly, drifting across her vision with the laziness of clouds in a summer sky, circling each of them in a blue to match Fabian’s.

  Royal blue. Focus and intent.

  She concentrated harder, looking for a warning or some hint of a hidden agenda. Seeing none in the two tall delegates she narrowed her eyes and fixed her attention solely on Guillane, the unpredictable element. His aura was uniformly blue too but still Mistral stared, unwillingly to believe that Fabian’s warnings had been in vain. Her eyes ached, watering from the strain not blinking but she refused to give in and was finally rewarded with the briefest flash of vivid red.

  She blinked and drew in a deep breath. The twins stirred on either side of her but she had no way to warn them of what she had seen in Guillane’s aura.

  Red. Rage. Never a good sign.

  Fabian waited politely while Antoine and his party mounted their horses before he swung himself back into the saddle. He held Spirit back to ride alongside Antoine, the three cousins riding a respectful distance behind to allow them to converse more privately.

  Mistral heard Fabian reply to something Antoine said and was surprised to hear him speaking in French, as easily as though he did it every day. She was struck for the hundredth time by how much she still didn’t know about her Mage.

  Fabian and Antoine rode past them without looking up or breaking off from their murmured conversation. Keeping her eyes fixed on the tightly bunched reins in her hands Mistral waited for the three cousins to pass, feeling their curi
ous gazes on her as they rode by. Female Ri warriors were not unheard of but definitely unusual. They stared openly at the massive form of Prospero sat obediently beside Cirrus, but did make any comment. Lifting her gaze once they had passed by, Mistral glanced briefly at the twins on either side of her. Their eyes slid over hers and with no words spoken they urged their horses forward as one.

  The day passed slowly. Mistral quickly developed a headache from the strain of continually reading auras – and from not drinking any water. She was adamant that the twins would not be accompanying her to the toilet anytime soon. They did not stop for lunch but rode on, trying to cover as much ground as possible before they made camp for the night. The landscape changed as they headed north, the sweep of the forests giving way to bleak open moorland and occasional flat grey lakes. Mistral was glad to have hunted the deer in the morning, there wasn’t much to hunt on the moors but rabbits and grouse, both of which Prospero stared at longingly but didn’t move from his position beside his mistress. He had instinctively switched from hunting to guard dog.

  The sun finally began to drop into the western horizon, streaking the vast expanse of sky with violent pinks and purples. Antoine raised a hand and called a halt, subtly reminding all who that it was he leading the party, not Fabian. They were to camp for the night in the shelter of a natural hollow. A lake lay close by, offering both fresh water and the opportunity to wash.

  The three cousins dismounted with the horses being led away by one of the taller fair haired ones, either Christopher or Etienne, Mistral didn’t know which yet. She could see from their auras that they were pleased to have stopped for the day and also slightly depressed, probably by the thought of spending a night on the bleak moors. The other fair haired cousin took Antoine’s horse from him and Mistral dropped her gaze to hide her contempt. They treated Antoine as though he were a king, not a dispossessed Mage begging for sanctuary on the Isle.

  Mistral and the twins dismounted and Phantom took all three horses. They had agreed beforehand tasks for the duration of the Contract. Phantom would tend the horses, Phantasm would take charge of the fire and Mistral would prepare and cook the meat. She had grudgingly accepted the role, knowing that the Rochfortes would expect the task to be performed by a woman. In truth, the reason for her allocated task was less to present an image of conformity but to provide her with the perfect opportunity to continue reading the delegates without appearing to be obviously staring at them.