The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams)

by Jones, Kirsten

  ‘Thank you, I never realised.’ Fabian responded in a cold voice. ‘However Cirrus is in his stall. I have all of her weapons and her dog was shut in her room.’

  ‘So she’s still in the Valley. She’ll come back when she’s got over her sulk.’ Xerxes gave a shrug. ‘I really can’t see what all the fuss is about.’

  The twins shrank back slightly as Fabian seemed to swell with rage and even Xerxes realised he had overstepped the mark when he glanced up to meet Fabian’s flat black stare.

  ‘I only meant that she can’t have gone far!’ he amended quickly.

  ‘Oh, but she has. Unarmed and without her dog. Clovis tells me that she took one of the Ri herd and left two hours ago!’

  Brutus gave a relieved shake of his head, ‘That’s not long for Mistral. She’ll have gone hunting.’

  ‘With no weapons?’

  ‘Very Mistral.’ Brutus nodded. ‘Especially if she was angry.’

  Fabian drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, ‘I have no idea why she is so loyal to you all when you obviously have no care for her life at all.’

  ‘I –’ Cain began but Fabian cut him off with a curt gesture.

  ‘Are you aware Antoine Rochforte was killed with Mistral’s throwing knife?’

  They shared perplexed looks and nodded uncertainly.

  ‘And with this knowledge did you pause to consider the possibility of the cousins seeking revenge for the loss of the head of their tribe?’

  Xerxes frowned, ‘But the Rochfortes were repelled at Holdridge.’

  ‘Maybe so, but neither Christophe nor Etienne Rochforte were amongst the slain or the captured. The Council have secured all four sailing ships and still not located them. We can only assume that they, and however many soldiers they took with them, are now loose on the Isle.’

  A heavy silence fell, full of shared grimaces. Only Mistral could go hunting with no weapons, no dog and not on her usual fiery, powerful horse when a group of Rochfortes bent of avenging their dead comrade were after her blood.

  ‘Oh dear.’ Phantom sighed quietly.

  Torture

  Mistral woke with a groan. Her head was pounding and her throat felt like she had drunk a cup of sand. She tried to open her eyes but the room span sickeningly. Retching, she rolled onto her side to realise that her hands were tied behind her back and her ankles were bound together.

  After a few moments she became aware of the coldness of the stone floor beneath her. She opened her eyes a fraction but couldn’t see anything in the pitch black. She drew in another breath and tasted damp and mould on her tongue. She was in a cellar. She frowned and tried to recall how she had ended up there and groaned as another wave of nausea washed over her. Breathing slowly through her mouth, Mistral waited until it passed then used her elbows to push herself into a sitting position. Closing her eyes against another attack of vertigo, she leaned back against the wall behind her and forced her drugged mind to work.

  She could remember being furious with Xerxes and borrowing a Ri horse … then riding out of the Valley … the forests, she could remember riding through the forests and then … then there was nothing, only a big blank haze.

  The creak of a door opening made her look up. In the faint light of a single candle Mistral saw the robed figure of Count Putreo Darke entering the cellar.

  ‘Ah, finally. I was beginning to worry that my bodyguard had overdone the mix. She does rather want to kill you and I feared that she might have given in to temptation.’

  Mistral stared at him. Putreo! The image of him and Golden in the forests came flooding back to her followed by the ugly features of the one person that refused to leave her be.

  ‘Columbine!’

  ‘Yes. A rather an unattractive creature I will admit, but most effective. And one who seems to know you well. She swore you would be easy to find. I was rather hoping we would have to kill De Winter to get to you, but instead you obligingly delivered yourself to us. It was,’ he paused and sighed theatrically, ‘almost too easy.’

  Mistral felt her racing heart falter. She was unarmed, bound hand and foot and didn’t even know where she was. She watched warily while Putreo closed the door and turned to scrutinise her closely.

  ‘If only I had known how valuable you were going to be when De Winter bought you to the Council I could have been saved all this ... trouble.’ Putreo cast a disdainful glance around the damp cellar. ‘However,’ he looked at her again, ‘it seems you have suddenly become a most strategic creature to own.’

  Mistral said nothing but gave him a look of undisguised loathing.

  ‘Oh yes. I can see that you have spirit.’ Putreo murmured, watching her face carefully. ‘But that can be broken, and then we will use your Sight to help the Rochfortes take their rightful place as the ruling power on the Isle.’

  Mistral stared at him in astonishment, ‘You’re insane! I can’t! I don’t have the Sight! And even if I did, I would never do that!’

  Putreo sighed softly, ‘Oh but you will, however, you probably won’t be able to realise it by the time you do. Minds can stand to be torn apart in ways the body cannot. We will simply have to destroy your will then free your gift, gouge from your mind if you will. Consider it an involuntary liberation.’

  Mistral forced a dry swallow and stared at him while he casually brushed a speck of dirt from his long robes.

  ‘Of course, the cousins wanted you dead until I informed them of your rather unusual abilities. They have since come to realise that you would be of more use to them still breathing.’

  Putreo tilted his head on one side and regarded her dispassionately, ‘Etienne has some rather archaic ideas about how to persuade you to release your gift, but I do not think that you are the type to be afraid of physical violence. No,’ he mused more softly, his eye falling on her left hand. ‘I think something subtle will be effective. Something closer to the heart.’

  Mistral realised with a burst of horror that Putreo had seen her wedding ring. She bit down hard on the inside of her lips to stop herself from begging him not to hurt Fabian.

  ‘Ah, I was right.’ Putreo gave a satisfied smile. ‘I can see that hurting De Winter rather than you would be more effective.’

  Mistral jerked her gaze up to meet his lazy look and snarled, ‘I’d like to see you try!’

  ‘Oh, and you will,’ he murmured coldly. ‘Over and over again.’

  Mistral screamed at him, incandescent with helpless rage as she struggled against the ropes binding her wrists. Laughing softly, Putreo turned and walked from the cellar, closing the door quietly behind him and leaving her shouting uselessly in the dark.

  Breathing hard Mistral began to force her wrists to move, trying to loosen the ropes biting into her wrists, twisting furiously them until she felt blood running over her hands, but the ropes remained tightly knotted. She had no idea how long she was left alone in the dark cellar. She cursed and struggled futilely against her bonds, shouting abuse at the closed door and demanding to be released.

  ‘I will kill you!’ she finally screamed at the closed door.

  A tinkling peal of laughter rang out from the other side. Mistral froze, listening to the protesting rasp of the door being unbolted.

  ‘Oh no, you won’t, Mistral. However, I rather think you will want to soon.’ Golden smiled and swayed into the room carrying a candle before her.

  She closed the door behind her and turned to look at Mistral, the dim glow of the candle throwing light over the sculptured planes of her perfect face.

  ‘Missed me?’ she enquired, arching a perfect eyebrow.

  Baring her teeth in a vicious snarl Mistral began to struggle against her ropes again, feeling the sharp sting of the wounds rubbing against the harsh rope and the trickle of fresh blood.

  Golden suddenly strode forwards and crouched down in front of Mistral, so close that she could see the carefully applied make-up around her blue eyes and smell the heavy scent of her perfume.

  ‘Do you know how m
any nights I had to lie in his bed listening to him talk about how your gift would change everything?’

  Golden’s perfect face contorted into a mask of bitter rage as she glared into Mistral’s eyes and continued to speak in a harsh whisper.

  ‘I detested you! Leo indulged your foul moods and trouble-making while you continued to shun your gift! Wanting so much to be a warrior while all the time you had at your fingertips a gift that would guarantee you power and wealth! Look at you! You can’t even be bothered to use it now to save your own life! You’re pathetic!’

  Golden spat on the floor at Mistral’s feet and swept from her, pacing agitatedly around the cellar.

  ‘I even used to wonder why he didn’t take you for his own! Oh, I know I’m more beautiful than you.’ she paused and stared contemptuously down at Mistral. ‘But with Leo it was always about the power … and when he found out about you and that tormented Mage you adore so much he went crazy! Shouting and ranting about De Winter meddling in his plans for the future, how he could ruin everything with his passion!

  ‘When Leo explained to me that you two couldn’t be together or your gift would vanish in a puff of smoke along with your precious innocence, how I laughed! You were to be denied the one thing that gave me more power than you! But it obsessed him. He became paranoid that you were too headstrong.’

  Golden paused and stared at Mistral, her eyes glittering with hatred, ‘I was lowered to becoming jealous of you! You! With that lovesick yarthkin lingering in the shadows and a tortured Mage burning with unfulfilled desire! Because of you I made that one mistake that Leo’s damnable pride wouldn’t allow him to forgive … despite my best efforts.’

  Golden suddenly threw back her head and laughed; a discordant peal of notes that set Mistral’s teeth on edge.

  ‘But look at me now!’ she titled her chin haughtily. ‘A Countess! I suppose I should really thank you for driving me to make that stupid mistake. Well, let me show you how grateful I can be –’

  Mistral stared at her silently and suddenly wondered if Golden was slightly insane.

  ‘There’s someone I think you’d like to see.’

  Golden’s soft voice was followed by the door opening. Mistral’s heart lurched as the familiar tall figure loped towards her with a welcoming smile and open arms.

  ‘No!’

  Mistral’s scream of horror reverberated off the stone walls of the cellar as Golden stepped forward and plunged Mistral’s dagger straight into Fabian’s neck. He fell to his knees, his velvet eyes fixed on hers with a look of such beseeching agony that Mistral cried out again.

  ‘Please! No!’ she sobbed desperately and crawled awkwardly towards his fallen body, staring into his eyes to see the light fade from them, leaving them flat and lifeless.

  ‘I will kill you!’ Mistral screamed into Golden’s laughing face while she knelt over Fabian’s dead body.

  ‘Yes, I think you really would, so I suppose I should remove any temptation.’ Golden said quietly and quickly bent to pull Mistral’s dagger from Fabian’s neck. Instantly the figure on the floor shimmered and faded, leaving nothing behind but the tell-tale scent of ozone in the air.

  Mistral gasped in relief. It had just been an illusion. But her relief quickly turned to dread. She stared in horrified silence at Golden, knowing how they were going to try and break her will.

  Time did not exist in the dimly lit cellar while Mistral watched an endless procession of Fabians enter the room to die by Golden’s hand in a variety of heart-wrenching ways. Even though she knew that each one was only an image conjured to fool her she could not help but react. Her heart leapt for joy every time the door opened to reveal him standing there, only to be overwhelmed with sickening fear at the knowledge of what was about to happen.

  She shouted useless warnings to each of the Fabians until her throat was ragged and her voice hoarse. She cursed and swore at Golden and made solemn promises to end her life to which Golden simply laughed and killed the man she loved before her eyes.

  ‘I’m bored of this. Your Mage is too easy to kill. I think it’s time I tried something different.’ Golden declared and turned to the door. ‘Come in.’ she smiled seductively at Fabian when he entered through the door, her eyes on Mistral to watch her reaction. ‘My love.’

  Mistral screamed in fury when Golden kissed Fabian then began to sob when he returned her embrace. Golden threw Mistral a wink and began to unbutton Fabian’s shirt, revealing the skin that Mistral was forbidden to touch.

  ‘No scar, there’s no scar, no scar, no scar –’

  Mistral repeated the refrain under her breath when Golden dropped Fabian’s shirt to the floor and ran her hands across the bare torso of her Mage. Screwing her eyes up tightly to shut out the image before she repeated the words to herself, forcing her mind to reject the fallacy and embrace the truth. It was an illusion, no more. The fresh scar of the arrow wound that Mistral had stitched on Fabian’s shoulder was absent from the figure before her.

  ‘Well it’s no fun if you’re not going to watch.’ Golden sighed. ‘I suppose I shall just have to kill this one as well then shall I?’

  After that Mistral refused to open her eyes so Golden began to order the Fabians to talk to her, telling her that they no longer loved her and were leaving her here to die, cold and alone in a cellar.

  Mistral tried to block out the false words his velvet voice whispered in her ear but her hands were tied and she couldn’t cover her ears. Tears streamed silently down her face as she was forced to listen to his rejection and betrayal of her love over and over again. She tried to focus on other sounds in the cellar, the scratching of mice in the dark corners and Golden’s ringing laughter, but his voice cut though them all, carving their cruel words deep into her soul.

  ‘She is conscious now,’ the Divinus sighed softly.

  Leo and Fabian spun to face the fragile figure sat on the throne-like wooden chair in the centre of the room.

  ‘Where is she?’ Fabian demanded in a hard voice.

  ‘Fabian!’ Leo warned sharply.

  ‘She is in blackness –’

  ‘What is she thinking?’ Fabian demanded urgently, his hands balled into tense fists by his side.

  ‘She is confused … the floor is cold and hard … damp … she thinks she is in a cellar –’

  ‘A cellar!’

  ‘I will order a search of all of the homes in the Valley and the villages nearby immediately!’

  Leo strode from the room leaving Fabian alone with the Divinus.

  ‘What is she thinking now!’ Fabian cried and stared desperately into the blind gaze of the Divinus.

  ‘She is waiting … there is nothing … she cannot remember how she came to be there –’

  ‘Tell me about the room!’ Fabian shouted in frustration.

  ‘She is in blackness.’

  ‘I know that! But there must be something!’ he cried and spun to stare out of the dusty window, staring unseeingly out at the view across the Valley.

  A long silence fell before the Divinus spoke again.

  ‘Someone is there … it is the Count Putreo Darke.’

  Fabian let out a roar of rage and banged his fists down against the stone window ledge then spun around to face the Divinus, his eyes blazing with hatred.

  ‘What is he saying?’

  ‘She is to be a tool for the Rochfortes to gain power … the Count sees himself in Eximius’ position with her as his Seer … the Council will be made up of the Rochforte tribe … a single ruling tribe.’

  ‘I don’t care what he wants! Where has he got her?’

  ‘I cannot See … he is being very careful not to think of their location –’

  ‘Damn him! I will kill him for this!’ Fabian wrenched his hands through his hair, his expression wild.

  ‘The half-nymph is there … and filled with hatred … she is amused, she has been imbued with control over a spell the Count has cast … she plans a torture –’

  ‘What! How?’
Fabian’s face contorted to something beyond agony.

  ‘Visions of you … dead … in a lustful embrace with another … betrayal … rejection … they plan to break her mind and make her incapable of denying her gift any longer.’

  The Divinus finished speaking and Fabian stared at him in silence. All his frustration and helpless rage abruptly drained away to be replaced by horror at the realisation that he was powerless to prevent them from hurting her.

  ‘The Rochforte cousins! What are they thinking?’ Fabian cried suddenly, hope flaring in his eyes.

  The Divinus’ papery face creased into a deep frown. Fabian watched with barely controlled frustration when the Divinus nodded slowly, as though listening to someone speaking closely in his ear.

  ‘The Count has coached them well … they think only of their plans and not the location … they are filled with vengeful thoughts … much greed and ambition … Etienne desires the half-nymph –’

  Fabian snorted with disgust and began to pace the room in long, angry strides, ‘I don’t care about that!’ he snapped savagely.

  ‘I can only tell you what I hear,’ the Divinus sighed softly.

  Fabian spun on his heel and stared at the shrunken figure before him.

  ‘I apologise,’ he said tersely. ‘I am not ungrateful – please continue.’

  The door opened and Leo entered quietly, ‘A search has begun. Saul took her dog and found tracks in the forest, we should follow them.’

  Fabian immediately began to stride towards the door.

  ‘Wait.’ Leo called quietly and turned to the Divinus. ‘May I respectfully ask for you to travel with us Divinus? We will need your Sight.’

  The Divinus remained motionless on his chair, his milky gaze fixed on Leo’s unmoving face, ‘Your soul,’ he murmured softly. ‘It’s very recesses are filled with unresolved anger and pain. You must reconcile those issues before you can ever hope to assume this role.’

  Leo remained silent.

  ‘I See … everything,’ the Divinus sighed.

  A heavy silence spread over the room while the Divinus sat motionless on his throne. Fabian gritted his teeth in frustration. He should be gone, not standing here waiting for some unspoken conversation between Leo and the Divinus to reach its conclusion.