The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams)

by Jones, Kirsten

  ‘You are Ri.’

  It was a statement, not a question and Mistral merely nodded, hoping that her being a female warrior would not offend them any further.

  ‘Where were you raised?’

  ‘Nevelte.’ Mistral answered hesitantly. ‘It’s a sorcering village … but, I’m … I’m not Mage born … I’m sure really sure what I am –’

  Imperato looked at her for a long moment, his deep gaze unfathomable and for a heart-wrenching second Mistral was reminded of the way Fabian looked at her.

  ‘You are Bonded.’

  Mistral swallowed quickly to vanquish the lump in her throat and nodded.

  Imperato suddenly frowned and stared at her with a dark intensity.

  ‘Why do you fear your Sight?’

  ‘I – I’m not sure.’ Mistral stammered helplessly. Something in the centaur’s powerful gaze seemed to make it impossible to hide anything from him, almost as though he could see into the deepest recesses of her soul. ‘I think, maybe, that I’m not up to the responsibility of it, I mean … what everyone expects is just beyond me! I’m not right for something that important –’

  ‘Right?’ Imperato echoed sharply. ‘Who are you to judge what is right or wrong for the Isle?’

  Mistral stared at him in silence, frightened to respond and antagonise him further.

  ‘Sight would not manifest itself in an unworthy vessel.’ Imperato continued in a hard voice. ‘You need not fear your rightness to be honoured with the gift of Sight. What you fear is fear itself, and that is a futile pursuit.

  ‘Our centaur tribe has produced three Seers over the last thousand years.’ Imperato continued in a proud voice. ‘The Divinus may be elven born but I myself schooled him in his gift.’

  Mistral stared at him in frank amazement. Imperato was older than the Divinus? He looked in his prime, strong and healthy with not even a single grey hair showing in his long hair and dark beard.

  ‘We are known as stargazers,’ he paused and looked suddenly disdainful. ‘A term that does not do justice to the lifetimes we dedicate to studying the movement of the planets and the implications their celestial dance has on our fleeting existences.

  ‘However, you, my child,’ he fixed her with a dark gaze that was abruptly kind, almost fatherly, ‘are born to be a Seer. It is written in the stars and in your soul. Do not fear the responsibilities of the role you have been chosen to fulfil. You will not be the next Divinus. That destiny is already filled by another who waits impatiently for his time to arrive.’

  Mistral kept her face expressionless but she instantly knew that Imperato was referring to her fiercely ambitious Training Captain, Leo Sphinx.

  ‘Sight will not change you Mistral. It will complete you.’

  Mistral felt something click inside her. She gazed at Imperato wordlessly, unable to express the sudden feeling of understanding that swept through her in response to his words.

  He nodded and smiled, ‘Come! We will escort you to the feast. Your brothers are growing anxious.’

  Mistral looked up in surprise and realised that evening had fallen. She’d been gone longer than she intended and had no doubt that the twins would be furious with her.

  She was walked between Imperato and Faras, the other centaurs following behind. They moved at an unhurried pace, unspeaking and regal, wending their way through the darkening night towards the blaze of torchlight in the large open space in the middle of the Vale. The fabled Arena. When they entered the torchlit circle Mistral could see long rows of trestle tables had been set out, forming an open-ended rectangle. In their centre was a massive pit of glowing coals where hundreds of spits laden with meat were being slowly turned by sweating elves.

  ‘Mistral!’

  Phantasm’s relieved shout made her look up. She quickly spotted him, frowning anxiously at her from one of the nearby tables. He immediately stood up and began to walk towards her.

  Mistral turned back to Imperato and hesitated, struck by a question she was unsure how to ask.

  ‘Yes Seer, we will meet again.’ Imperato said quietly and nodded. ‘Now go. Your brothers await.’

  ‘Thank you –’

  Imperato smiled and watched her walk away to meet Phantasm.

  ‘Where have you been?’ he demanded, continuing without waiting for her to reply. ‘Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been? We’ve practically searched the whole Vale! Cain even made his cousins help!’

  ‘I was with the centaurs.’

  ‘I can see that!’

  ‘Well, I’m here now and I’m obviously fine, so what’s your problem?’ Mistral snapped, too embarrassed by him telling her off to feel guilty for the trouble she had caused.

  Phantasm closed his eyes and seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, ‘So ungrateful!’ he grabbed her arm and dragged her towards one of the tables. ‘Come on, all the Ri have been sat together over here –’

  ‘All of the Ri? How many of us are here?’ she asked, suddenly intrigued.

  ‘There’s fifteen of us.’

  She brightened, ‘So we could well have a Ri champion this year then!’

  ‘Perhaps. If we don’t all die from the stress of trying to keep track of you!’

  ‘Oh don’t be so dramatic! I was only gone a couple of hours!’

  ‘Yes, and if you remember rightly that was all it took for you to be abducted last time! I would appreciate you being a bit more co-operative over the next three days Mistral, because my brother and I really don’t want to get on the wrong side of Mage Grapple!’

  ‘Yes, how selfish of me! I really must think of your careers!’ Mistral spat, ignoring the space he indicated she moved further along and swung her leg over the bench and sit between Saul and Cain.

  ‘Nice trousers.’ Cain commented appreciatively.

  Mistral swore at him and Saul laughed.

  ‘I take it you made the mistake of letting Phantasm pack for you?’

  ‘Never, ever again!’ Mistral muttered, shooting black looks down the table at Phantasm.

  ‘Here.’ Saul filled a goblet from one of several pitchers set out along the centre of the table. ‘Lighten up and have a drink! The feast is about to begin and we’ve three days of festivities ahead of us.’

  Mistral took a long drink. The wine was rich and good. She finished it quickly and held it out for Saul to refill, raising it solemnly.

  ‘Here’s to glory –’

  ‘– and money!’ Cain finished, smashing his goblet against hers and Saul’s in an exuberant toast.

  The Feast

  A respectful hush fell as a tall figure from the table forming the end of the rectangle rose to his feet.

  ‘Chieftain Wolfsnare!’ Saul muttered.

  Mistral followed his gaze to see an imposing elf standing at the head of the table; Bryden Wolfsnare.

  ‘Brothers! Sisters! I bid you all welcome to The Festival of the Arcane!’

  His voice was deep with a rich, pleasing quality. Mistral found herself looking forward to hearing him speak again and leaned forwards slightly, listening intently while he opened his arms in a welcoming gesture and addressed the gathered tribes.

  ‘We come together to celebrate the unique qualities our each of our proud races … and of course, to compete!’

  A ripple of laughter ran round the tables.

  ‘On the summer solstice we will crown a new champion … may it be an elf!’ he paused and smiled indulgently at the roars of laughter from the tables of elven tribes. ‘I jest!’ Bryden raised his arms to call for silence once more. ‘I embrace you all, my tribal brothers and sisters, and bid you enter into the spirit of the festival. And now, we celebrate! Eat, drink, be as one with your brothers. For the next three days we have no ruling Mage Council caging us in with endless laws. Let us make the most of our brief freedom!’

  A triple fanfare of hunting horns rang out, signalling the start of the feast. It was greeted by a huge cheer from the gathered tribes. The delicious aroma of roasting m
eat hung in the cool night air, mingling with the smell of crushed grass and smoke from the fire.

  ‘Ah, smell that?’ Cain breathed in deeply, his impish face alight.

  ‘What? The food?’

  Cain laughed, ‘You’re too literal Mistral! That intoxicating perfume I refer to is the smell of freedom.’

  ‘Can I eat it?’

  ‘No. But you can live it, well, for the next three days at least –’

  Platters of carved meat were quickly served. Pitchers of wine were bought to the tables in a constant stream and soon the Arena was filled by hundreds of voices all laughing and talking at the same time.

  ‘So which tribe does Bryden lead then?’ Mistral asked Saul distractedly while she watched the nymphs weaving seductively around the tables.

  ‘Honestly Mistral, don’t you ever listen?’ Saul laughed and picked up his goblet to take a drink.

  ‘Only on the rare occasion when one of you lot actually says something worth listening to.’

  ‘Fair point.’ Saul conceded with a smile and reached over to refill her goblet. ‘Anyway, Bryden is chieftain of The Emerald Forests tribe.’

  ‘Oh yes, I remember now,’ she said, nodding vaguely, her attention drawn back to the nymphs when one of them let out a long bell-like peal of laughter.

  Saul followed her gaze and lifted his eyebrows, ‘They’re making you think about Golden aren’t they?’

  Mistral shrugged and dropped her gaze to study her goblet.

  ‘She’ll get what’s due Mistral, there’s too many of us sworn to make sure it happens for it not to.’

  ‘Get in the queue behind me brother.’ Mistral muttered into her goblet. She took a deep drink then lowered it, sighing heavily.

  ‘Ah, now that noise I recognise too easily.’ Saul smiled sadly. ‘You’re worrying about your Mage.’

  ‘Not really.’ Mistral said truthfully, fiddling with the stem of her goblet.

  A short silence fell between them while Mistral swirled the wine in her goblet thoughtfully. She wasn’t worried about Fabian so much as just desperate to see him again. She sighed and picked the goblet up, draining the contents in one swallow.

  ‘Thanks –’

  Saul refilled her goblet again, ignoring the warning look Cain gave him. Mistral suddenly leapt from her seat and rushed over to greet a warrior she recognised as being an old acquaintance of Fabian’s.

  ‘Leave it brother!’ Cain hissed, watching Saul’s eyes follow her.

  ‘I think those trousers might have been a bad idea after all.’ Phantom muttered to his twin, his sharp eyes observing the exchange between Cain and Saul.

  Phantasm nodded and gazed coolly at Saul while he poured himself another goblet of wine.

  ‘Lady De Winter!’

  ‘Samson!’ Mistral grinned at the heavily scarred warrior.

  ‘Where’s Fabian?’ he asked, flashing his gold-toothed grin as he gazed around. ‘I haven’t seen him since your wedding, which was probably the best one I’ve ever been to by the way. It was so thoughtful of you to organise a life-threatening invasion of the Isle as part of the celebrations.’

  ‘Don’t mention it.’ she laughed, adding in a quieter voice. ‘Fabian’s away … on a Contract.’

  Samson raised an eyebrow, ‘Ah, yes, I heard you had some trouble at the Council.’

  ‘You could say that.’

  Samson nodded, noting her tense expression he decided to change the subject, ‘I should thank you for the chimera skin. It has pride of place on my bed.’

  Mistral grinned again. It had been Samson who had told Fabian about the chimera in the southern range.

  ‘You’re welcome. It was a great hunt, the least we could do was give you the trophy –’ Mistral let her voice tail off and gazed wistfully over at the torchlit tables, seeing not the flushed faces of the drunken tribe members but a starlit winter’s night and Fabian sat beside a campfire, smiling at her.

  ‘Are you racing tomorrow?’ Samson asked, bursting her daydream.

  ‘What? Oh yes! Just try and stop me! Well I’m sure you’d like to try, but you won’t see me and Cirrus for dust, especially not if you’re still riding that donkey you keep trying to pass off as a horse!’

  ‘That’s fighting talk Lady De Winter!’

  ‘Ouch, less of the title please!’ Mistral grimaced.

  Samson laughed, ‘Fabian said you wouldn’t like that part.’

  ‘Hmm, he wasn’t wrong there.’ Mistral felt her good humour draining away as she stared down at the gold band on her finger, her mind full of Fabian.

  ‘Come and have a drink with me, bring that elephant-sized dog as well. There’s some warriors you two should meet. They can tell a few stories about Fabian that’ll make you smile … well, maybe not smile exactly … anyway, they’re good stories –’

  Mistral nodded but didn’t smile. She appreciated the gesture Samson was making, though listening to stories of Fabian was probably only going to make her miss him even more. Sighing deeply, she followed him down the table to meet the other warriors.

  ‘Nice work brother.’ Phantasm murmured to his twin, watching Samson respond to their Gemini gift and lead Mistral away.

  Phantom gave a nod of satisfaction when Mistral sat down, ‘Crisis averted – for now. But I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a long three days if we’ve got to keep her away from Saul as well.’

  ‘Not forgetting Hermes too. Although I’m almost tempted to let him try his luck just to see Mistral flatten him!’ Phantasm shook his head disparagingly. ‘Just look at the pint-sized hero showing off!’

  They both gazed along the table to where Hermes was flexing his biceps and encouraging one of the nymphs to feel the slight bump through his shirt.

  ‘Sad.’

  ‘I can see why Cain never talks about his tribe!’

  The soft summer night deepened. The coals in the huge pit burned low, casting a forgiving glow over the shameless celebrations. Under the influence of wine the revelry grew steadily wilder. Shouts, laughter and music filled the air. The nymphs were dancing on the tables, blowing kisses at anyone who caught their eye. Xerxes and Brutus were running a rowdy knucklebones tournament where the aim was not to be caught cheating. Grendel was wrestling with a creature that looked like he had minotaur blood, both being cheered on by a drunken audience of elves. Cain’s hob cousins were performing tricks for money, inviting anyone foolish enough to try their luck at one of the various games set out on the tables.

  Mistral spent the evening sat next to Samson, eating little but drinking plenty while she listened to the warriors reminiscing. She felt edgy and frustrated. The stories of Fabian had, as she knew they would, only sharpened her ache of longing. Before long she found herself gazing around restlessly, looking hopefully for signs of a drunken fight breaking out, anything that would offer her the chance to lose herself in the oblivion of a mindless brawl for a short while. She watched a group of sour-faced goblins lose money at Hermes’ cup and ball game for the fourth time and grinned.

  ‘Here we go!’

  Mistral laughed when one of the goblins suddenly drew a dagger and grabbed Hermes around the throat. Benches overturned and swearing rent the air as the two tribes sprang to their feet.

  ‘Mistral!’

  Laughing and dodging Samson’s grabbing hand Mistral sprinted along the table top with Prospero bounding along in her wake. Kicking goblets and plates aside she launched herself at one of the goblins, knocking him from his feet. They slammed to the ground, the goblin coming off worse with Mistral using him as a landing cushion. She quickly straddled him and drove her fist into his leathery face in a single, satisfying tooth-loosening punch. Raising her throbbing fist, she repeated the action; the resulting mouthful of blood the goblin spat making her laugh.

  ‘Stop it Mistral!’

  ‘Grab her before she kills him!’

  ‘My pleasure –’

  ‘Oh come on brother! I’m just entering into the spirit of the festival! No
rules, wasn’t that what Bryden said?’ Mistral laughed drunkenly while the twins dragged her off.

  ‘I think you’ve been entering into the spirit of wine!’

  ‘Maybe just a little brother.’ Mistral admitted and grinned lopsidedly at the goblin struggling dazedly to his feet. ‘Ready when you are, shorty.’

  ‘I’ll walk her back.’ Saul offered quickly.

  Phantom shook his head stiffly, ‘No, I’d prefer that we did. We’re used to her behaviour.’

  Saul shrugged and stepped back, his face lost in shadow to watch the twins walk away with Mistral held firmly between them.

  ‘Are you sure she hasn’t got amazon blood?’ Hermes asked Cain while he wiped blood from his cut face. ‘Only I quiet like them feisty!’

  ‘Completely sure.’ Cain replied tersely. ‘But she might have your blood if you keep pushing your luck!’

  ‘That was disgraceful behaviour!’ Phantasm hissed to Mistral while they hauled her along the avenue of tents.

  ‘And no way to represent the Ri!’ Phantom continued in a condescending tone.

  Mistral laughed a little wildly, ‘Will you two listen to yourselves! The Ri are a bunch of paid half-breed assassins! Disgraceful is exactly what we are! I think my behaviour was a perfect representation of that, don’t you?’

  The twins shared a look, both realising that reasoning with her drunk was pointless. They reached the tent in silence and pushed her firmly inside and instructed Prospero to guard.

  Phantom sank down onto the ground outside the entrance and watched his brother throwing a log onto the embers of the campfire to encourage it back into life.

  ‘This is a great way to spend the rest of the feast!’

  ‘Hush brother, did you notice that we were followed back?’ Phantasm muttered, staring fixedly into dusky night at the dim shape of four approaching figures.

  Phantom stood up quickly, ‘Elves!’

  Phantasm nodded silently, ‘Hail brothers,’ he called in guarded voice. ‘We salute you in the spirit of the festival.’

  ‘Well met brother.’

  The elf that replied stepped into the campfire light, his three tribe members moved quietly to line up on either side of him. The twins immediately stiffened, recognising the elves that had killed Konrad and threatened to kill them too.