The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams)

by Jones, Kirsten

  Mistral was unable to resist looking at them again and promptly met the deep stare of a large male centaur. She quickly dropped her eyes to look at her reins.

  ‘They are also formidable hunters. They usually win the live target shooting event.’

  Xerxes chuckled, ‘Mainly because they have unfair advantage by being at one with their mounted steeds!’

  ‘A tasteless and dangerous joke to make Xerxes!’ Phantom hissed with a worried glance in the centaurs’ direction.

  ‘Oh hello!’ Xerxes exclaimed under his breath.

  They were approaching a large silver and pink tent adorned with multiple strings of brightly coloured bunting. A giggling group of nymphs smiled and beckoned seductively from the open tent mouth.

  ‘I know where I’ll be later!’ Xerxes grinned, waving back cheerfully.

  ‘Get your money ready then brother, because those girls charge!’ Cain warned.

  ‘What?’ the grin faded from Xerxes’ face. ‘I have to pay them? Surely it should be the other way around!’

  ‘You could try and persuade them to work for free, but I doubt even your famous charm will work on them.’ Cain dropped a wink in Mistral’s direction to bring her in on the joke. ‘They’re immune to smarmy half-bloods.’

  Mistral watched Xerxes scowl disgustedly at the nymphs and stifled a laugh. She wasn’t at all surprised to find nymphs working that particular profession. Golden was only too happy to trade on her looks to gain what she wanted.

  ‘You could always try your luck with them brother.’ Mistral titled her head towards a tent made of animal hide where some long-limbed females were sat skinning a bear between them.

  ‘Amazons!’ Xerxes muttered. ‘Thanks but I value my safety!’

  Phantom watched the fierce-looking women for a moment then whispered to his twin, ‘Do you think Mistral’s got amazon blood brother?’

  Phantasm glanced across and studied them briefly, ‘I agree, she has some amazonian tendencies, but no, I really don’t think so. Just look at their colouring and size for a start. Grendel would struggle with one of them.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Phantom agreed and looked away quickly when one of the amazons caught him staring and raised her eyebrows suggestively.

  ‘There’s the registration tent.’ Xerxes called, pointing to a huge black mass of billowing canvas where two female dryads were sat around a table piled high with parchment. ‘We’ll go get some entry forms while you lot set pitch the tent.’

  ‘So much for the winner’s privilege!’ Cain muttered, watching Xerxes and Brutus dismounting and leading their horses over to the two dryads.

  ‘Never mind brother, I’ll pass you the pegs.’ Mistral murmured consolingly. ‘You can hammer them in and imagine its Xerxes’ head.’

  ‘Right, let’s find a suitable pitch.’ Phantom said briskly. ‘Somewhere not too noisy –’

  They rode at a slow walk down a long avenue of brightly coloured tents, talking little and soaking up the atmosphere of the festival. Laughter and singing drifted out from almost every tent they passed. Loud banter and roars of laughter were coming from a large red and white striped tent that seemed to be bursting at the seams with representatives from every Arcane tribe on the Isle, all clutching tankards of ale.

  ‘Ah, the unifying bond of alcohol.’ Cain smiled. ‘I wonder if we can persuade some of them to join us in a game later. Mistral? Would you consider aiding and abetting me in some slight defrauding of our fellow races in the beer tent later?’

  Mistral grinned at him and shook her head, ‘I’ll play, but not read. I don’t fancy my chances against one of those amazons if they work out what I’m up to.’

  Cain followed her gaze to see one of the amazons winning an arm-wrestle with a Ri warrior they both recognised.

  ‘I agree,’ he muttered, giving the amazon a fearful look as she won her bout and promptly reached across the table to force a passionate kiss on her startled opponent. ‘They make Eudora look like a lady!’

  ‘Let’s hope for your sake that they don’t like the cheeky type.’ Mistral muttered when the amazon caught Cain’s awed look and winked at him.

  ‘Quick! Hide me!’

  Mistral laughed and kicked Cirrus into a trot, shielding Cain from the amazon’s view. They both pulled their horses back to a slower pace again once they’d left the drinking tent a safe distance behind. There was too much to see to ride at anything quicker than a walk.

  ‘This will do us I think.’ Phantasm announced a short while later, stopping at a space large enough for their tent.

  ‘Who’s is this?’ Cain asked Saul while he helped him unroll the bundle of canvas from the back of his saddle.

  ‘Gleacher’s. He uses it for overnight Training Contracts with the apprentices.’

  ‘Oh good.’ Cain heaved a sigh of relief. ‘I was worried it belonged to his Leoship and he’d used it to take Golden on a nice camping trip last year.’

  ‘Ugh! Cain!’ Mistral pulled a disgusted face.

  ‘Sorry. I forgot that now you’re married you have no sense of humour.’

  Mistral felt her good mood slide away at the reminder of her missing husband, away trying to kill the man who had abducted her and allowed his wife to torture her. She vented her dark mood on the tent pegs, hammering them into the ground with angry blows that drew meaningful looks from the twins.

  They had just about finished erecting the tent when Brutus and Xerxes arrived surrounded by a noisy group of hob, all talking and joking at the same time.

  ‘Look out, here comes trouble.’ Cain muttered, eyeing the approaching group mistrustfully.

  Xerxes and Brutus both sat down wearing identical looks of bemusement while the hob converged on Cain with loud cries of greeting.

  ‘I thought Cain was the most annoying creature on the Isle, but this lot win the title with no contest!’ Xerxes exclaimed.

  ‘Are they from his tribe?’ Phantom asked, looking up interestedly from the fire he was lighting.

  Brutus nodded, ‘Cousins apparently. They saw us at the registration tent and must’ve guessed that we were Ri because they immediately starting asking if we knew of this giant half-hob warrior called Cain.’

  ‘Giant?’ Mistral echoed and looked over, raising her eyebrows in surprise when she realised that compared to the slightly built, sharp-featured hob, Cain did indeed look huge.

  ‘Cain!’

  One of the hob hailed him more loudly than the rest, a wide grin of pleasure lighting his impish features.

  ‘Hermes.’ Cain responded reservedly.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re here! We all thought you’d have been murdered out the back of some seedy tavern for cheating at cards by now!’

  ‘Sorry to disappoint you.’

  Hermes laughed and pulled Cain into a swift one-armed hug, quickly breaking off when his eye fell on Mistral. ‘Hello sister. In need of a little charmer in your life?’ he sidled up to her with a mischievous smile on his face.

  ‘Careful Hermes.’ Cain warned. ‘She’s married to Mage De Winter.’

  ‘Really? Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.’ Hermes murmured, running his gaze roguishly over Mistral.

  ‘Neither’s she.’

  Mistral shot Cain a blistering look.

  ‘Sorry, but am I missing something? Is this lady bedding a Mage or not?’ Hermes asked with an enquiring glance at his cousin.

  ‘They’re married brother, the two are quite different.’

  Even Mistral had to laugh at that and the atmosphere quickly lightened. Cain’s cousins were lively company and full of stories about Cain’s exploits with his tribe before he had joined the Ri.

  ‘Of course, it was such a scandal when Cain’s mother ran off with a Mage and came back with Cain in tow three years later.’ Hermes sighed dramatically. ‘I think it was the shame that saw her off in the end –’

  Mistral bit back a laugh and glanced at Cain. His expression showed that he was on the verge of losing his temper with his
talkative cousin. He was obviously furious about having his past so openly discussed but she felt little sympathy for him. Her brothers were only too happy to gossip about her personal life, it was nice to see one of them on the receiving end for a change.

  ‘My stars!’ Hermes exclaimed when Prospero bounded into view with a dead rabbit hanging from his mouth. ‘Is that a dog or a horse?’

  ‘That’s Prospero and he’s all dog, well, with a bit of wolf too.’ Mistral grinned, giving her dog an affectionate pat.

  ‘Can I borrow him for the horse race tomorrow morning?’ Hermes asked, watching Prospero drop down at Mistral’s feet and begin to make short work of the rabbit.

  ‘Horse race?’ Mistral asked eagerly.

  ‘Yes a horse race is the first event Mistral. Now, if I’ve finally got your attention,’ Xerxes impatiently waved a piece of parchment in the air, ‘could we please get down to the business of completing our entry form, only I’ve got some rather pressing engagements to keep!’

  Brutus sighed, ‘By which you mean money to extort from our Arcane kinsmen.’

  ‘Precisely that brother.’ Xerxes said briskly. ‘Now, do you want to hear the categories or shall I just enter you all for everything?’

  ‘I think we should hear them first.’ Phantasm said quickly.

  ‘Right, here we go then … horse race tomorrow morning. Two circuits of the Vale, bareback, no bridles … any takers?’ Xerxes glanced round, his tatty quill poised ready.

  Mistral quickly gave her name, followed a split-second later by Cain, Saul and Brutus. Only the twins demurred, eyeing the parchment in Xerxes’ hand dubiously.

  ‘Why not?’ Mistral demanded sharply. ‘Your horses are so well behaved you could ride them standing on your heads!’

  ‘It’s not a horse race Mistral, it’s a brawl!’ Phantasm retorted. ‘The race starts with all the entrants on foot and not many actually make it to their horses!’

  Mistral’s eyes lit up, ‘Even better!’

  ‘Has she got amazon blood?’ Hermes murmured to Cain who laughed and shook his head.

  ‘No, just a strange perception of what’s good for her.’

  ‘Must have if she married a Mage.’ Hermes cast a disdainful glance at the gold ring on Mistral’s finger.

  ‘Grendel? Are you entering on your hobby horse?’ Xerxes asked and everyone laughed.

  Grendel growled and leaned across to tower menacingly over Xerxes.

  ‘I’ll take that as a no shall I?’ Xerxes quickly crossed Grendel’s name out. ‘Moving swiftly on to the afternoon’s event –’ Xerxes paused and scanned the parchment in his hands briefly. ‘Ha! The traditional open category of unarmed combat. Winner stays on to the last man, or woman, standing. Any takers?’

  Again, only the twins murmured their dissent to their names being entered.

  ‘Grendel’ll win that one easily.’ Saul said confidently and Mistral nodded, keeping private her suspicions that the amazons might give the half-troll a run for his money.

  ‘Day two.’ Xerxes continued, reading carefully from the parchment in his hand. ‘Armed melee with non-bladed weapons only, again, last man or woman standing wins the event. Any takers?’

  ‘Are you two actually going to enter anything?’ Mistral demanded when the twins demurred once again.

  ‘The afternoon is sword duelling –’

  ‘Now that’s more like it! Skill over brawn. Put our names down please Xerxes.’ Phantom called, giving Mistral a haughty look.

  ‘All in for that one then.’ Xerxes bent his head and quickly scratched out their names with his quill. ‘Last day. Mounted live prey event –’

  ‘What’s the prey?’ Brutus asked eagerly.

  ‘Give me a chance! Er, ah! Here we go … harpies!’

  They all exchanged grins and Brutus let out a low whistle.

  ‘All in again then?’ Xerxes asked, barely bothering to look up. ‘Good! Now that just brings us to the final … hmm, let’s see what it says … oh –’

  ‘What brother?’ Brutus demanded, a look of feverish excitement on his face.

  ‘It says here that the final event can only be entered by the winners of the previous categories. It’s an Arena event with as yet unspecified beasts.’

  ‘Sounds like our wretched Qualifying hunt!’ Cain said in a low aside to Saul.

  While Xerxes finished checking through the entry requirements Cain’s hob cousins gathered around the fire Phantom had lit, talking loudly and showing no signs of leaving anytime soon. Before long the sound of their persistent shrill voices began to give Mistral a headache. Impulsively grabbing her saddlebag she whistled for Prospero and strode off along the avenue of tents.

  ‘Where are you going Mistral?’ Phantasm called, leaping to his feet and walking after her.

  ‘Walk … look around … maybe find a place to wash,’ she called back without bothering to stop.

  What she really craved was a little peace and quiet. The festival was proving to be an effective method of dulling the sharp pain of missing Fabian but after two days of being in her brothers’ company her natural desire for solitude was suddenly overwhelming.

  ‘We’ll come with you.’ Phantom sprang to his feet and joined his brother, both quickly catching up with her.

  Mistral frowned, ‘There’s really no need.’

  ‘There is every need actually.’ Phantasm said quietly.

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous!’ Mistral snapped. ‘This is The Festival of the Arcane! All Mages are banned! I think even the Rochforte’s desire to see me dead would be severely hampered by having to get past some of the tribes we’ve seen so far!’

  Phantasm didn’t respond and continued to walk beside her.

  ‘Is there something you’re not telling me?’ she demanded suspiciously.

  ‘You mean other than being made to swear on pain of death by Master Sphinx, Mage Grapple and not least of all, Mage De winter, not to leave you alone for, and I quote “one single second”?’ Phantom replied. ‘Believe me Mistral, babysitting you is hard work! You’re hardly grateful!’

  ‘Would you be?’ she retorted. ‘I’ve been travelling for two days solid and I want a wash, preferably without you two handing me a towel afterwards!’

  ‘Tough.’

  ‘Nothing we haven’t seen before anyway –’

  ‘I damn well think it is!’ Mistral snarled, earning several surprised looks from the tribe of elves sitting outside a large tent made of woven strands of willow.

  ‘Only joking! Honestly Mistral, I do hope you get your sense of humour back when you finally gain the Sight. You’re becoming exceptionally difficult you know.’

  When Mistral snorted and stomped ahead Phantasm quickly rounded on his brother, ‘Could you please try not to wind her up too much? Our job is going to be hard enough as it is!’

  ‘Sorry.’ Phantom muttered back. ‘Hard to resist, old habits die hard and all that. Anyway, what’s the plan for tomorrow?’

  ‘Well, the others have entered the race too, apart from Grendel of course, so they can protect her during the brawling part. If they fail we’ll be on the side-lines willing anyone that goes near her to suddenly want to go in the other direction.’

  ‘Ah, cheating again, I like it. Cain’s right, this is turning out to be just like our Qualifying hunt!’

  ‘Hmm, let’s just hope Columbine doesn’t show up this time.’

  Mistral strode ahead with Prospero padding watchfully by her side. She had been apprehensive about how her dog would react to the Arcane tribes, especially since his protective instincts seemed to have increased since Fabian had left, but so far he was appearing remarkably tolerant to the unusual sights and smells of the Festival. She smiled and dropped a hand to rub his head affectionately then returned her attention to looking for somewhere to have a wash.

  Her irritation at the twins was quickly replaced by renewed amazement at the bizarre sights that met her eyes. The avenue of tents was busy, providing her with much to marvel at. A
group of sylvads swept past speaking to each other in musical voices, instantly reminding Mistral of the formidable Melsina which led to her remembering the way Fabian had looked at her in those trousers... she was rudely shaken from her musings by some surly goblins pushing past. Instinctively tightening her grip on her saddlebag Mistral walked on a little quicker and tried to keep her wits about her. More nymphs swayed past and instantly fell upon the twins, imploring them to visit their tent in a chorus of soft sighs which swiftly changed to a stream of sharp insults when the twins ignored them.

  ‘Charming!’ Phantom muttered, keeping his gaze fixed on Mistral striding ahead of them.

  ‘Hmm, I’m not sure even Mistral has ever called me that.’ Phantasm remarked with a thoughtful look.

  Mistral had nearly reached the registration tent when her feet stalled and her mouth fell open in astonishment at the sight of a group of fairies heading towards her. She had only briefly glimpsed them in The Velvet Forests before, and certainly never seen so many at the same time. Each was only the size of a small child with blue eyes that glittered with the promise of boundless mischief, their elfin features topped with a crown of tightly curled hair. They hovered a few inches from the ground, fluttering along the avenue on gossamer wings while they chattered away in high-pitched voices. Prospero followed their jerky flight with hungry eyes and let out a low growl. Mistral quickly laid a restraining hand on his neck and hoped he wouldn’t disgrace himself by eating one of her fellow Arcanes during the festival.

  Mistral held Prospero back while the fairies passed then walked over to the registration tent where the two dryads were working through a stack of entry forms, recording the details of each onto one single roll of parchment. Neither looked up as Mistral approached, leaving her to stand by their stable feeling increasingly irritated. Realising that the dryads had been to the same school of customer service as Eudora, Mistral coughed loudly.

  ‘Yes?’ one of them eventually enquired, looking up with a sharply furrowed brow.

  ‘Is there anywhere to have a wash?’

  ‘Females at the waterfall in the north end of the Vale, males at the pool in the south.’ the dryad snapped briskly and waved a hand dismissively to indicate where she meant before returning her attention to the small mountain of entry forms on the table.