‘Mage De Winter doesn’t count!’ Cain waved a hand airily. ‘He’s more warrior than Mage. I’d be happy to fight alongside him any day.’
Mistral hid a smile of gratitude. It meant a lot that her brothers had accepted Fabian so easily. She couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be if they hadn’t, which made her immediately think of Saul. She glanced up quickly to see him riding silently between Cain and Brutus, his face expressionless.
‘How many Rochfortes are we going to be facing?’ Xerxes asked, holding his parchment up and running finger down the totals column. ‘Only, I hope there’s quite a few or we’re going to have to kill some of them twice to fulfil this quota!’
‘You know what they say; what’s better than one dead Rochforte?’ Brutus began with a grin.
‘Two dead Rochfortes!’ they chorused loudly.
Mistral found herself laughing along with them. Their boundless enthusiasm never failed to lift her mood.
‘Saul?’ Xerxes called. ‘What’s the tally?’
‘Gleacher reckons the tribe stands at about fifty, but they will have tried to swell the ranks with a few paid hands. So we can assume that we’re going to be facing about eighty.’ Saul responded in a flat voice.
Mistral stole a quick glance at him. It was the first time he’d spoken in her presence all day, although she could hardly expect him to be leaping up and down and congratulating her on getting married.
‘And how many are we?’ Xerxes asked with a frown, gazing at the army of warriors around them.
‘Forty three.’ Saul replied promptly. ‘Although Grendel really counts as two.’
‘Good, good –’ Xerxes mumbled, returning his attention to his parchment.
‘Don’t forget the Council will be fighting too.’ Brutus reminded him.
‘Damn! I nearly forgot about them! Can that lot actually fight or will they just stand there and chuck spells at each other?’
‘Some of them can fight.’ Saul replied. ‘Mage Grapple is famed for being a fiercesome warrior, but most of them think that wielding an actual physical weapon is below them.’
Xerxes snorted disdainfully, ‘So it’ll be down to the Ri to save their Isle for them then.’
‘It’s our Isle too brother.’ Brutus said quietly. ‘It’s like his Leoship said. We’re fighting for our freedom, not the Council.’
Mistral threw him a scathing look but couldn’t argue with the truth in his words. Despite the fact that she despised Leo’s fondness for making overly dramatic speeches, he had got that one exactly right.
‘What about the warlocks?’ Xerxes looked up, concern wrinkling his brow.
‘Won’t act without Mage Grapple apparently.’ Mistral responded, pleased to be the one with some knowledge for once. ‘So you can stop worrying about them messing with your quotas.’
‘Ah, excellent!’ Xerxes’ face broke into a beaming grin. ‘This is going to be one damned good fight!’
Brutus suddenly grinned at Mistral, ‘I wish you got married as often as my brother did. Your wedding is turning out to be a lot of fun!’
Mistral turned to Xerxes, ‘Wait. You’ve been married?’
Xerxes shrugged, ‘Once or twice. Although I’m not sure how legally binding they were. There was this girl I met on a mercenary Contract in the East that wouldn’t engage in any type of fun activity unless I married her, but all we did was say a few words over a painted stick in front of a priest wearing a carved wooden mask … anyway, I left the next day and I’ve never been back so that one doesn’t count.’
Mistral stared at him, her face a mixture of utter disbelief and amusement, ‘Once or twice? You’ve been married more than once?’
‘You know how it is.’ Xerxes grinned, the shameless oaf she knew and unfortunately liked. ‘Needs must when the girl needs a little encouragement.’ he paused and frowned. ‘But I’m fairly sure the second time didn’t count.’
‘And why is that, dare I ask?’
‘Well, when I got to the wedding the bride’s mother and I realised that we knew each other a bit better than we should. It got a bit heated after that –’
‘Xerxes!’
‘Don’t worry Mistral.’ Xerxes held up a placating hand. ‘I was alright. I left quickly and avoided causing any unnecessary bloodshed.’
‘I wasn’t worried about you!’ Mistral shook her head, laughing despite her disapproval. ‘You’re a disgrace Xerxes! I wish I’d never treated your back! You deserve to suffer for what you’re doing to the female population!’
‘Hey! I leave them happy!’
The resulting burst of laughter made Leo turn and give them a glacial look.
‘Talking of which, his Leoship the Ever Unhappy is glaring at us.’ Cain muttered. ‘Oops! Too late! Get ready for the windswept treatment! Here he comes –’
Wiping the grin from her face, Mistral ducked her head down and concentrated on fiddling with the coarse black strands of Cirrus’ mane.
‘I expect my warriors to behave with more dignity than this!’ Leo hissed. ‘You are all behaving as though this is some glorified training session, not a fight for the future of the Isle! I cannot stress how important the outcome of this battle will be! If the Rochfortes defeat the Council they will seize control of the Isle, and that includes the Ri!’
Xerxes shrugged, his expression a study of defiant insolence, ‘If they somehow manage to defeat us their rule will be short-lived. Once Mage Grapple gets back he’ll command the warlock army to squash them like gnats.’
Leo’s voice dropped several degrees to something beyond glacial, ‘I marvel at the boundless limits of your ignorance Xerxes. Allow me to enlighten you and then perhaps you may begin to understand the magnitude of our situation.
‘Warlocks are loyal to the Head of the Mage Council alone, not the Council or even the Isle. Am I clear on that?’
‘Crystal.’ Xerxes muttered sullenly.
‘Good. Then let me tell you what will happen if the Rochfortes defeat us tomorrow. They will assume control and force the Mage Council to swear in the conquering Rochforte as the new Head of the Isle. By the time Mage Grapple returns to our shores it will be to face his own warlock army, not lead them!’
‘Er, it does sound pretty bad when you look at it like that.’ Xerxes mumbled.
‘Bad? No. It’s dire!’
There was a brief silence then Mistral looked up, ‘Master Sphinx?’
‘What?’ Leo snapped, still glaring at Xerxes.
‘How much of this fight will involve the Craft?’
Leo favoured her with a calculating look, ‘That is a question on which our whole battle strategy hinges. You all have troll or gorgon skin armour I presume?’
They all nodded wordlessly.
‘Then you are as prepared as you can be.’
He kicked his heavy warhorse on, resuming his position beside Fabian.
‘Oh great, and what did Captain Enigmatic mean by that?’ Xerxes demanded with a disgusted look.
‘Don’t know.’ Cain said shortly. ‘But I know someone who does –’
He promptly reached into his saddlebag and grabbed a chunk of bread then threw it at Phantom, striking him squarely on the back of the head.
Phantom spun round with an angry glare and Cain instantly beckoned him to join them.
‘Was that really necessary?’ Phantom hissed as he pulled his horse back to ride alongside him.
‘Yes.’ Cain said unapologetically. ‘You were raised at the Council weren’t you?’
Phantom looked suddenly apprehensive, ‘In part.’
‘Did you get to learn about how the Craft works then?’
‘Bits.’ Phantom muttered evasively.
‘Well we need to know those bits right now, or more specifically how the Craft will be used tomorrow so get on with it!’ Cain hissed impatiently.
‘Oh, hang on – give me a piece of bread –’
The piece of bread bounced off Phantasm’s shoulder. He spun around to give his broth
er a furious look.
‘Get back here!’ Phantom mouthed silently.
‘No!’ Phantasm mouthed back, his eyes sliding left to indicate that he was still eavesdropping on the battle plans.
Phantom held another chunk of bread up, threatening to throw it, ‘Don’t make me!’
Giving his brother a filthy look, Phantasm held his horse back, ‘That was just getting interesting!’
‘Was it? What were they saying?’ Phantom asked eagerly.
‘Never mind that!’ Cain snapped. ‘We need to know how the Craft is going to be used tomorrow! I’ve got a lot of money riding on my bet – my deposit on that shop in the village actually, and if anything is going to upset my chances I need to know about it.’
‘A bet written down on paper cannot be changed.’ Xerxes intoned heavily.
‘I don’t want to change it Xerxes, I want to prepare!’ Cain hissed and patted his saddlebag significantly.
‘Ah yes, shoot the damn lot of them from a long way off with poisoned arrows then go home, a good day’s work done.’ Xerxes nodded happily.
‘What specifically do you need to know?’ Phantasm asked.
‘Only everything!’
‘Fine.’ Phantasm sighed heavily. ‘I’ll start with the basics. So, you know that the Craft is more powerful in some sorcerers than others. Well the Council is made up of only powerful sorcerers. It’s through their bloodlines that they originally gained their positions at the Council.’
‘Good to see nepotism is alive and thriving.’ Cain grunted.
‘Nepotism, corruption and bribery.’ Phantasm continued. ‘Sorcerers look after their own. It’s quite literally in their blood. Any related by blood can cast jointly and create a more powerful spell. I’m not sure how many of the Council are related, my brother is the expert on sorcering genealogy –’
‘Not as many as you might think.’ Phantom interrupted. ‘Most families were decimated by the wars back in the Isle’s early days. There’s a few cousins, the most notable being Green and Rosenberg, and there’s the Castledine brothers –’
‘However,’ Phantasm cut in quickly, ‘all of the Rochfortes are related, which means they will be able to cast on mass.’
Brutus gave a low whistle, ‘Powerful.’
‘Very.’
‘Can the Council equal that?’ Xerxes asked doubtfully.
Phantasm pulled a face, ‘Without Mage Grapple and the warlocks they’re going to struggle.’
Mistral frowned, ‘How much protection will our armour offer? Only, I had mine on when Mage Grapple cast and it was still like being thrown against a rock face!’
‘Mage Grapple is probably the most powerful Mage the sorcering world has ever known. No other spell cast would have that effect Mistral, your armour will allow you to continue fighting –’
‘Mage Grapple’s family tree is complicated but basically he’s the end product of the meetings of some of the most famous sorcering bloodlines in history.’ Phantom jumped in again, keen to show-off his knowledge. ‘You can trace him right back to Thaddeus Noble –’
Phantasm gave him a weary look and continued in a firm voice, ‘The Craft is not simply something that can be aimed and fired like a crossbow. It is a force within each sorcerer that will do anything to protect its vessel from destruction –’
‘So how good is their aim with it then?’ Xerxes interrupted impatiently.
‘Well, put it like this. It would take great skill to direct a spell onto an individual in the melee of battle. I would say that the Rochfortes are much more likely to cast in a cloud.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Quite simply what it says Xerxes. They cast jointly over their enemy’s army rather than target individuals. It has the benefit of making multiple strikes but seriously dilutes the spell’s strength.’
‘Aha, quantity not quality.’
‘Crudely put, yes. The larger the area the spell has to cover, the weaker it becomes.’
‘Enough for our armour to protect us?’
‘Yes.’
Xerxes smirked, ‘I’m liking the sound of this battle more and more!’
‘Wait!’ Cain said sharply. ‘The Craft works both ways doesn’t it? I mean, it can attack and defend can’t it?’
Phantasm nodded, ‘Yes. The Rochfortes will cast protective spells over themselves.’
‘Will that stop our arrows getting through?’ Xerxes asked with a worried look.
‘No. It’s like for like. Protective spells are only barriers against other spells.’
A slow grin spread across Xerxes’ face, ‘Ah, now you’re talking. So while the pompous over-bearing Mages face-off and lob invisible fireworks at each other we can charge in and use some good honest steel!’
They all laughed and Mistral joined them, feeling a sudden rush at the thought battle. It was a completely different sensation to taking a Contract, the cold sense of purpose at being paid to get a job done was replaced by a burning desire to fight and defend what was rightfully theirs – by any means necessary. It felt personal, as though the invading tribe of Rochfortes were trying to steal her freedom. She glanced over at her brothers and could see by the gleam in their eyes that they felt the same.
‘Ha! The Rochfortes think they’re going to be facing a bunch of over-privileged fat Councillors and instead they’re going to meet us! This is going to be good!’ Xerxes roared and promptly launched into a verse of his favourite goblin-stuffing song.
Mistral laughed and kicked Cirrus on. She had heard the crude song enough times and had no desire to hear it again. Leaving the twins behind she pushed Cirrus up to ride beside Gleacher Shacklock and caught Fabian’s eye. She wished Gleacher and Leo would have their battle strategy meeting elsewhere so that she and Fabian could at least have a conversation. It was their wedding night after all.
Mistral’s wish for some time alone with her Mage went unfulfilled as Leo pushed on late into the night, finally calling a halt for an hour at midnight to eat and allow the horses to rest. Mistral swung herself out of the saddle and stretched gratefully, glad of the chance to walk around and ease her stiff legs.
‘We’re making good time.’ Fabian commented while he passed her some cold meat. ‘If we can maintain this pace we should reach Holdridge before dawn.’
‘I wish Leo would ride elsewhere.’ Mistral grumbled, tearing a piece of meat off and chewing it bad-temperedly. ‘He’s so inconsiderate! This is meant to be our wedding night and he’s ranting on endlessly about battle strategies.’
Fabian frowned, ‘I don’t think you understand how important this battle is Mistral. If the Rochfortes succeed in their attempt to take power the Ri will be wiped from the face of the Isle. Rochfortes are notoriously intolerant of half-breeds. They consider them abominations, nothing more than vermin to be drowned in a bucket at birth.’
‘I’d like to see them try!’ Mistral snarled, angrily tossing her food to Prospero.
‘Oh, they’re going to try.’ Fabian said quietly. ‘But I think they’re going to get more than they bargained for.’
Mistral looked up, ‘You mean the Ri?’
Fabian reached out and stroked a single finger down her cheek, letting it rest on the curve of her lips, ‘I would fight to the last breath in my body to defend what is mine, and that is more powerful than any spell.’
Mistral held his gaze, ‘Please tell me you’re not intending to take them on single-handedly.’
‘No.’ Fabian smiled. ‘I will fight with the Ri and know that they feel about the Isle as I do about you. Here, they can exist without persecution, command respect for the skills they strove to learn, be paid for the services they provide. The Rochfortes threaten their very existence, and there is no stronger cause to fight for than the right to survive.’
Mistral gazed back wordlessly. The fierce light she saw in his eyes echoed perfectly her own desire to destroy the faceless tribe threatening her right to a life with Fabian, and even the right to exist. Wasn’t she ex
actly what they detested? A half-breed? There and then, with her eyes locked on Fabian’s, Mistral vowed to die fighting rather than bow to Rochforte oppression. There was no fear in that realisation, only a savage sense of determination.
‘This was their plan all along wasn’t it? To steal control of the Isle. The meeting was a sham. The tribe never wanted to abide by Mage Grapple’s rules and live here peaceably. I almost feel sorry for Antoine. He was used.’
Fabian nodded, ‘I believe so too. And I also think that Putreo had more than a helping hand in the scheme.’ he narrowed his eyes. ‘I wonder what he was promised for his assistance.’
‘Mage Grapple’s position?’ Mistral suggested.
‘Possibly, but if he believed them, then he is even more of a fool than I ever imagined. He betrayed the Rochfortes by staying on the Isle when they left and doesn’t even have the courage to be known by his family name. I suspect the Rochfortes have deceived him with empty promises. Putreo was always a shallow creature, easily turned by the prospect of some glittering reward.’
Leo’s voice rang out across the cool night air, summoning the warriors to hear the battle plan.
Mistral sighed, ‘Do I need to hear this, or can you tell me everything? Only this is our wedding night and I would like to spend some of it with you.’
Fabian smiled, ‘I think I can summarise.’
An hour later the warriors were riding on towards Holdridge, pushing their horses relentlessly through the night. As Fabian had predicted they reached the high cliffs above Holdridge in the starless black that proceeded the first dawn light. Halting in a long line the warriors stared silently down at the small port beneath them. The quayside was eerily deserted, the sea empty.
‘Saul!’ Leo called in a low voice.
Instantly Saul dismounted and strode to the edge of the cliffs. His yarthkin blood had blessed him with eyesight far sharper than any of the other warriors possessed. He gazed intently out at the sea stretching before them in a blank sheet of darkness.
The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams) Page 23