The Festival of the Arcane
Mistral and her brothers left the Valley early the next morning. To everyone’s relief Leo was unable to accompany them. His new Training Lieutenant had sustained a serious injury during a sword session with the apprentices, forcing Leo to take over instructional duties.
Mistral kept quiet while Xerxes regaled the rest with the story of how Nereus had managed to cut his leg open with his own sword whilst demonstrating a flamboyant figure of eight twirl. She was sure the real reason Leo had decided not to attend was because his secret would be revealed. He was a full-blooded Mage. There was no way he would be allowed to enter the festival. His true identity was safe in the Valley where blood-lines and pasts were a forbidden subject, but in a celebration of Arcanes he would stand out like a sore thumb.
‘Nereus is a moron.’ Brutus shook his head scornfully. ‘If you’ve got time to twirl your sword around like a flag during a fight you deserve to be killed!’
‘Noah reckons he can’t walk.’ Xerxes continued. ‘He said Serenity’s recommended a week of bed rest then wants to put him in some sort of chair on wheels until his leg heals.’
‘He’ll love that. Nereus is a lazy git. He just likes to stand in the Arena with the sun on his face nodding and saying “very good” to everything the apprentices do.’
‘You almost sound like you miss our old Lieutenants!’ Saul laughed.
‘No. Not really. But we had some fun moments with them, didn’t we? Like our first Contract when Cain drugged them senseless for three days so we could gamble and drink every night.’
‘Ah, happy times … happy times.’ Cain smiled.
They fell to reminiscing, laughing at each half-forgotten mishap. Mistral rode quietly beside Phantom. He wasn’t joining in with the storytelling but was talking to her about something to do with her gift. She wasn’t listening to him or her brothers. Her mind dwelled anxiously on Fabian. She worried continually for his safety. Putreo was no threat, but the Rochforte tribe were. The irony of being concerned for an assassin with a fearsome reputation was not lost on her. She smiled to herself. Cold-blooded assassin he may be, but he was hers and she wanted him back in one piece.
‘Now if you’re smiling at my advice on mind enhancement techniques I know you haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said.’
‘Sorry brother. I was thinking.’
‘Mage De Winter I assume?’
Mistral sighed, ‘I worry about him.’
There was a brief silence and Mistral could feel Phantom’s incredulous gaze boring into the side of head.
‘I know, I know,’ she muttered, looking down at the leather reins gathered in her hand. ‘He can look after himself. But I can’t help worrying.’
‘I have never witnessed a more ridiculous pairing than you two!’ Phantom exclaimed in an exasperated voice. ‘You’re fretting over an assassin credited with more kills than I’ve had hot dinners and he regularly tries to die protecting one of the most stubbornly indestructible creatures on the Isle!’
Mistral gave a wry laugh, ‘I know. Stupid isn’t it?’
‘There is nothing stupid about love. Irrational maybe.’ Phantasm murmured, riding up on Mistral’s left.
Mistral sighed and pushed her troubled thoughts to the back of her mind, concentrating instead on the journey ahead of them.
‘Which way are we going? Through the Southern Range or across the marshlands?’ she asked, gazing ahead of them to where the meadows met the foothills of the Southern Range.
‘Through the marshes.’ Phantasm confirmed. ‘It’s been dry for the last three weeks so it should be safe enough, and it’ll cut about a day off our journey.’
Mistral nodded her agreement. Although the hunting opportunities through the Southern Range would have provided a good distraction, she didn’t particularly want to be reminded of the week long chimera hunt Fabian had taken her on as a holiday after her Qualification.
‘Tell me about The Festival of the Arcane,’ she demanded abruptly when Fabian threatened to fill her mind again.
‘I’m afraid we’re not too well informed on the subject.’ Phantasm admitted with a frown. ‘Like you, we were mostly raised in a sorcering community and the years we spent with our tribe must have fallen between Festivals because I don’t recall hearing much about it.’
‘However, I know a brother who can answer all your questions … Saul!’
Phantom had called out before Mistral could stop him. She grimaced and kept her eyes fixed on her hands as Saul pulled his horse between her and Phantom, smiling slightly.
‘You yelled?’
‘Tell Mistral about the Festival, she’s curious to know all the facts, as are we actually –’
Saul frowned at Mistral for a moment and then his face cleared, ‘I always forget you weren’t raised by a tribe. It was Nevelte wasn’t it?’
Mistral nodded wordlessly, trying to hide the discomfort she was feeling. She could kill Phantom. She and Saul had barely spoken a word since her wedding and all the events that had followed, not least of all her threatening to take her own life at the thought of Fabian dying. She cringed inwardly at how selfish and petulant that must have made her seem.
‘Well it’s no surprise you’ve never heard of it then. The Festival of the Arcane is strictly non-Mage. What goes on there is a fiercely guarded secret. Not that there’s anything Mages would be remotely interested in, it’s more a matter of Arcane pride. It’s a celebration of Arcane skills, well a tournament rather than a celebration. It’s held every five years over the summer solstice. The title of ultimate champion carries a lot of kudos for the tribe of the winning warrior, as well as a big prize. It’s everything you’d expect from a mass gathering of the Arcane tribes, competitive, violent, raucous and damned good fun!’
Mistral glanced up to see that he was grinning at her and she instantly grinned back, feeling a wave of relief that he appeared to have forgiven her recent erratic behaviour.
‘Tell me about the categories,’ she asked eagerly, warming to the idea of a three-day tournament designed purely to test their skills to the limit.
‘Well we don’t know the details until we register, but the last Festival entailed an open category on unarmed combat –’
‘What do you mean “open category?”’ Mistral interrupted.
‘No restrictions on who enters. Basically, it’s all weights, ages … and sexes.’
Mistral said, looking surprised, ‘Do they usually divide it into sexes?’
Saul smiled, ‘I know you tend to think of yourself as a warrior rather than a woman, and I admit, you would annihilate your average male, never mind female – but the amazon tribes will be there and they can be pretty fearsome opponents. In fact, I’m sure they were banned one year for excessive violence against one of the elven tribes.’
‘Were they like Xerxes?’ Mistral asked suspiciously.
Saul laughed, ‘I think that may have been part of the dispute.’
‘Then I completely understand, but I admit finding the idea of separate categories strange. I’ve only met two other female warriors, apart from Columbine and Golden –’
Saul cut across her in a hard voice, ‘They don’t count as warriors and they won’t be breathing for much longer either.’
‘With you there brother.’ Mistral agreed, frowning as she continued with her train of thought. ‘Oh yes … and the other two female warriors I’ve met, well, they were … how do I describe it?’
‘More of a man than Xerxes?’ Saul suggested with a grin.
Mistral laughed, ‘They did look similar, even down to the scars and stubble. I reckon they’d have been able to hold their own in a fight with pretty much anyone. Well, except Grendel of course.’
‘He’s our secret weapon.’ Saul gave her a sly smile. ‘Xerxes has been working out the odds on Grendel being this year’s ultimate champion and for once, they’re too even for him to bother with.’
Mistral laughed with him and felt a burs
t of happiness at being friends with her brother again. She began to look forward to the next few days of gratuitous violence, drinking and gambling … the perfect distraction whilst Fabian was away.
‘Tell me about the other categories.’
‘Well, based on the last event the first day will probably be unarmed fights all day. No problems for the Ri there. It’s not a knockout tournament so even if you lose all your bouts on the first day you’ll still be eligible to compete over the next two days, if you’re still standing that is.’
‘I’ll make damned sure I am! Spectating is not my idea of fun.’
‘Yes, we know. So, day two, let’s see … if my memory serves me right it was live target shooting on horseback. A herd of wild pigs were released and everyone had initialled bolts or arrows –’
‘Sounds familiar.’ Mistral muttered darkly.
‘I’m sure it does. But they were aiming for pigs, not high-ranking Rochfortes.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Don’t mention it. Moving swiftly on to day three. Armed combat –’
‘Swords?’ Mistral asked quickly.
‘Swords, quarterstaves, knives … you name it, they fought with it.’
Mistral sighed happily.
‘Then they finish in the afternoon with an event just for the finalists. Last time it was a hunt –’
‘Lame!’ Mistral exclaimed disgustedly.
‘Let me finish. Unarmed and on foot … for a cockatrice –’
‘Oh now you’re talking brother!’ Mistral gasped, a glow of reverence lighting her face.
‘Don’t get any ideas Mistral.’ Phantasm’s cool voice blotted out her happy thoughts like a black raincloud. ‘I really don’t think that would fall into the specified category of “safe and distracting”.’
Mistral turned to frown sharply at him, ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Phantasm remained silent, wearing his aloof and irritatingly enigmatic expression that begged to be punched.
Sensing her growing aggression, Saul sighed and confessed their joint secret, ‘There were certain requirements to your attendance at the festival.’
‘Oh?’ Mistral switched her angry glare to Saul. ‘Like what?’
‘Well, mainly that you didn’t die over the course of the three days … oh, and we have to ensure that you don’t get abducted again.’
‘And who set these “requirements”?’
‘Leo.’
‘Damn Leo!’ Mistral burst. ‘He’s always ruining my fun!’
‘That’s family for you.’ Phantom murmured and kicked his horse on to ride ahead before Mistral could glare daggers at him too.
The journey to the Vale of Belleville took them just over two days during which they hunted, bantered and spent the nights gambling and listening to Xerxes telling stories. For Mistral the undemanding simplicity of each day was exactly what she needed. Apart from forcing herself to spend an hour each evening reading her brothers’ auras she didn’t give her training a second thought. She was on holiday.
Mistral had never spent much time reading her brothers’ auras before and was surprised at the complexity of each. Xerxes’ was much as she had anticipated; a deep shade of ruby reflecting his amorous nature but edged with a thick band of purple revealing that he was frustrated with some aspect of his life. Mistral was unwilling to adopt the role of agony aunt to her brothers and didn’t discuss her findings with them. Although they had willingly agreed to being read she could tell they were secretly uncomfortable with the idea of their private emotions being revealed to her.
Cain’s aura was a swirling mass of metallic turquoise, reflecting perfectly his fun and curious nature. Brutus’s was predominately lilac with a strong royal blue ring. From the lilac part Mistral surmised a powerful sense of loyalty to his wayward brother. The blue signified a strong purpose, as to what she had no idea but could hazard a guess that it was probably a promise made to their mother to try and keep Xerxes out of too much trouble. Or too many beds.
Grendel’s was typically simplistic but no less gratifying. A swathe of bright copper reflecting his strong, stubborn nature and a shining gleam of lilac reflecting the bond he felt for his brothers.
Saul. Mistral had hesitantly read his aura, frightened that she would see something that would make her feel guilt. Or pity. However she had been pleasantly surprised to see that his aura was a startling burst of bright yellow tinged with a glimmering edge of mother of pearl. Happiness and hope. It seemed that Saul was finally looking to the future and not dwelling on the unrequited feelings he had harboured for her over the last year.
Mistral had read the twins so many times over the last year that she barely registered their auras. As ever they were a vivid mix of curiosity, purpose and excitement, reflecting their inexhaustible zest for life and ambitions for their future careers.
‘Share!’ Phantom repeatedly demanded in a low whisper whenever they were out of earshot of the others.
Mistral refused his requests. She was grateful to her brothers for allowing her the opportunity to continue trying to master her gift and didn’t want to betray their trust. The fact that her efforts had so far been in vain was beside the point.
The Vale of Belleville appeared out of the early morning mists on the third day. A sweeping valley filled with a sea of brightly colour tents, all pitched around a large empty space of grass.
‘The Arena!’ Brutus whispered, gazing down at the open area in the centre of the tents.
‘I can’t believe we’re actually here.’ Xerxes sighed.
‘She would be so proud.’
Xerxes nodded wordlessly, his eyes shining with emotion.
Mistral stared at them both in disbelief. What was it with her brothers and their overbearing mothers? The twins and now Xerxes and Brutus seemed to live in fear of the women that had borne them, something Mistral was eternally grateful to not suffer since she had no idea who her mother had been.
Deciding that the tone needed lifting before Xerxes and Brutus starting crying, Mistral turned to Cain and raised an eyebrow.
‘Fancy a race to the Vale? Winner doesn’t have to pitch the tent?’
Cain grinned patted his mare’s neck, a slight grey arab called Venus, ‘You’re on. Hope you’re good with ropes and tent pegs!’
‘Ha! That’s going to be your job!’ Mistral dug her heels into Cirrus, galloping away before the others had even gathered up their reins.
A chorus of resounding yells followed by a thunder of hooves told her that they had taken up her challenge. She glanced over her shoulder and grinned at the sight of her brothers tearing after her at a flat-out gallop with Grendel running heavily at the back. Cirrus had more stamina than the other horses and held his pace, but Cain’s lighter mare was blessed with an incredible turn of speed and soon caught her up. Cain swept past with a wicked grin on his face and Mistral couldn’t help but laugh. She watched him streak away over the flat grassland, only hauling his mare to a jerky halt when he reached the start of the steep path leading down into the Vale of Belleville.
They gathered in a breathless line at the edge of the steep path, looking down into the Vale. Up close the mass of tents showed just how popular the event was. Mistral tried to count them but quickly gave up. There were just too many.
Xerxes spoke, his voice gruff with excitement, ‘Are we ready brothers, sister?’
‘Ready!’
‘Before we enter, I have one question for you.’ he paused and lifted one eyebrow in a mocking expression. ‘What is our purpose?’
‘Glory!’ Brutus responded automatically.
‘Money!’ Cain cried a split-second after, causing a ripple of laughter.
‘For glory and for money then!’ Xerxes laughed and kicked his horse into a gallop, leading their headlong charge into The Festival of the Arcane.
They slowed their horses when the path levelled out to ride into the Vale at a more sedate pace. The colourful array of tents reminded Mistral of Rufus the Red
’s camp in The Desert Lands and instantly bought to mind thoughts of Fabian. She sighed longingly at the image of him that appeared with heart wrenching clarity in her mind’s eye. To distract herself before she began to pine in earnest she tried to take more interest in her surroundings and was soon gaping in astonishment.
‘I bet this is an eye-opener for you.’ Phantasm leaned over to whisper in her ear.
‘You could say that. Where I was raised was, well you’ve seen it … and then the Valley … let’s just say that I think I’ve led a bit of a sheltered life so far.’
‘I would hardly describe your life as that Mistral. You’d find trouble in a puddle. But, I think you’re going to find meeting the Arcanes to be something of a revelation. I know we did when we moved from the Council to our tribe.’
Mistral nodded and tried to stop herself from staring too obviously at some of the extraordinary creatures that met her curious gaze. Some of the Arcane races she was already familiar with and recognised easily; tall elves, furtive looking goblins and dour huddles of drows, but others were creatures of myth and legend that she had only seen in books.
‘Are they what I think they are?’
‘Yes Mistral, centaurs. Don’t stare! They take offense very easily.’
‘Isn’t there supposed to be a tribe in The Velvet Forests?’ Mistral muttered and tried to keep her gaze fixed on Cirrus’ ears.
‘That’s them. To call them reclusive would be a slight understatement.’
Mistral stole a curious glance out of the corner of her eye at the strange creatures. Their upper bodies were bare, revealing muscular chests and arms. Their faces were bearded, wild and proud yet also somehow deeply mystical.
‘What are their traits?’ she whispered curiously, referring to the fact that each of the Arcane tribes had a skill unique to their bloodline.
‘Stargazers.’ Phantasm muttered back.
‘What does that mean?’ Mistral frowned, switching her gaze to meet his.
‘They try to predict the future from the movements of the stars. It’s a calling that consumes whole lifetimes and often the results are too ambiguous to be of any real use. But they have been known to produce Seers. The one before the Divinus was from their tribe.’
The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams) Page 34