The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams)

by Jones, Kirsten

  ‘Sorry Brutus, but today I’m unarmed and dangerous.’ Mistral folded her arms, casting a meaningfully dark look in Fabian’s direction.

  Brutus offered her a look of commiseration, ‘Oh dear. I bet that went down well after missing the melee too.’

  ‘Let’s not talk about it shall we?’

  She could see the Arena over Brutus’ shoulder. Bryden’s tribe were clearing away discarded weapons and assisting those too badly wounded to walk to the healer’s tent. It looked as though the melee had been an event worthy of the festival’s bloody reputation.

  ‘Tell me how the melee went.’ Mistral made an effort not to sound too sulky. After all, it wasn’t Brutus’ fault she couldn’t compete.

  ‘Well, Grendel spent most of his time throwing around those wretched goblins. They managed to tangle him up in a weighted net and tried to club him, the nasty little gits. I suppose it must have looked quite funny to the onlookers, seeing Grendel stuck under a net with a load of laughing goblins dancing around him, but I don’t think Grendel was amused.’

  Mistral laughed and looked around for the huge warrior, ‘Is he injured then? I can’t see him anywhere.’

  Brutus raised an eyebrow and tilted his head towards the nymph tent. Mistral followed his gaze to see that the flap was tightly closed.

  ‘What? Again?’

  Brutus nodded, ‘His fan club stormed in and pulled him away as soon as the event was over, all simpering about consoling their hero. I thought Xerxes was actually going to be sick with jealousy.’

  ‘Oh dear. He’s not taking well to losing his crown of “exceptional lover” to Grendel is he?’

  Brutus laughed, ‘You could say that.’

  ‘So, if Grendel didn’t win – who did?’

  ‘One of the amazons. I think her … and I use that description with some reservation … name was Bellona.’

  Mistral nodded disinterestedly. Amazons were not her concern. She glanced across to where Cain and Saul were duelling, the slide and rasp of their swords blending with the sound of other competitors practising.

  ‘So none of you were injured then?’

  Brutus followed her gaze. He frowned then looked around to make sure they couldn’t be overheard, ‘No, and I think it was largely thanks to the twins,’ he muttered in a low voice. ‘No matter where we were in the Arena we just seemed to avoid the heaviest of the fighting. It’s the first time I’ve seen them use their gift properly, I mean, apart from messing with us during card games and in training that is … and I tell you what, it’s really impressive! If you ever sort your gift out, then the three of you would be one hell of a combination!’

  ‘You think?’ Mistral muttered evasively and gazed out across the Arena. That was a subject she really didn’t want to discuss.

  ‘Mistral! You’re cutting it fine – er, where are your swords?’ Xerxes strode over twirling his pair of goblin-forged swords by his side.

  Mistral sighed and gave him a bleak look.

  ‘No!’ Xerxes cried, his face dropping comically. ‘Please tell me that your Mage hasn’t banned you from this event too!’

  ‘Banned and bored, that’s me.’ Mistral sighed, adding more hopefully. ‘Unless, that is, you’d consider lending me your swords?’

  Xerxes’ face clouded while he weighed up the various odds he’d offered on both their performances in the event. He eventually sighed and shrugged his shoulders apologetically.

  ‘Sorry Mistral, it’s not a financially viable option.’

  ‘How about just one then?’ she persisted, walking towards him with her hand outstretched. ‘You don’t really need two after all.’

  ‘Again, not a viable option. Sorry.’

  ‘Come on brother!’

  ‘No chance!’ Xerxes backed swiftly away when she lunged for one of his swords.

  ‘Damn it!’

  ‘Look, if it’s any consolation the Ri usually win this event anyway. It’s what we do best after all. So just try to look pretty and cheer us on.’

  Mistral pulled a face at him and swore.

  Xerxes grinned, ‘There, see? How can we fail with you radiating all that goodwill?’

  Mistral offered him a few radiating words while he strode off into Arena, his returning bark of laughter drowned out by Bryden Wolfsnare’s deep voice calling the competitors to prepare. She glanced around for Fabian and quickly spotted him, still deep in conversation with the elves.

  ‘Looks like it’s just you and me boy.’

  Mistral sighed and sat down next to Prospero. Her huge dog was already sprawled on the warm ground, soaking up the heat of the afternoon sun. Mistral shielded her eyes against the bright sunlight to watch Bryden walking among the competitors, inspecting their swords and armour before beginning the first bout.

  ‘Well, that was interesting.’ Fabian murmured and dropped down lightly beside her, his dark eyes following the elves walking into the Arena.

  ‘Really?’ Mistral didn’t bother to disguise the doubt in her voice and continued to watch Bryden matching up the first pair to duel, reiterating the rules to them while he made a circle of white sand around them. ‘In fact, forget I said that,’ she said quickly. ‘Tell me about the rules of this event.’

  Fabian smiled at her impatient expression and turned to watch Bryden raise his hand, ensuring that the eyes of both competitors were on him before he bought it down sharply in a signal to begin.

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘Well, why are there so few competitors compared to the other events for a start?’ Mistral asked, her eyes glued to the first pair duelling; Xerxes and a sylvad she recognised from the horse race.

  Fabian shrugged lightly, ‘Swords are considered a weapon of the Ri and a second choice weapon for Mages, after the Craft. They are expensive weapons to purchase and not many tribes even bother with money, most just use a bartering system – which obviously makes buying a sword more difficult.’

  Mistral nodded distractedly, her attention fixed on Xerxes. He was duelling well, persistently driving his opponent back until the sylvad’s back foot slipped over the circle of sand.

  ‘Winner!’ Bryden’s voice rang out.

  ‘Why?’ Mistral asked, turning sharply to look at Fabian with a frown. ‘Xerxes barely scratched that sylvad!’

  Fabian smiled and gave his head a slight shake, ‘It’s a duel Mistral, not a fight! The duellists have to stay inside the circle. If either step outside, they forfeit the bout. Xerxes was duelling strategically.’

  ‘Duelling strategically? Not fighting?’ Mistral echoed in a disgusted tone. ‘What’s the point?’

  ‘It’s a test of skill, not savagery. Points are awarded for where each opponent strikes the other. See how they dip their swords in the coloured chalk before they begin the bout?’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ Mistral exclaimed, watching Xerxes turning the ends of his swords in a large leather bucket of blue powder.

  ‘The coloured chalk marks the armour to show clearly where they strike. It saves a lot of arguments.’

  ‘Huh, sounds to me like the arguments would be the most satisfying part!’

  Fabian chuckled softly and rested his elbows on his raised knees, watching Xerxes take on his second opponent; Phantasm.

  They both watched in silence as Phantasm easily outduelled his Ri brother with Bryden stopping the bout after a few minutes to hail him the winner.

  ‘Right.’ Mistral turned to Fabian with a frown. ‘Now I could clearly see that Phantasm was the better swordsman there, but why did Bryden stop the bout at that particular moment? It was just getting good!’

  Fabian smiled and indicated to Xerxes striding bad-temperedly away from the circle of sand, ‘Can you see all the blue marks on the chest plate of Xerxes’ armour?’

  Mistral looked and nodded, ‘Yes, Phantasm would have killed him several times if he hadn’t been wearing his armour. So?’

  ‘Each bout is scored up to a maximum of ten points, which Phantasm just reached, hence the en
d of the bout. Strikes to different areas of the body earn points, some score more highly than others. The chest is the highest scoring part as it is harder to strike.’

  Mistral shook her head, ‘I disagree. The head is harder to strike than the chest.’

  ‘Again, it’s just a duel Mistral. There are no strikes to the neck or head allowed.’

  Mistral made a disgusted sound and watched the next competitor stepping up to meet Phantasm, ‘I’m actually starting to feel glad that you stopped me from entering!’

  ‘Hmm, I think I may have saved you from the disgrace of being disqualified for excessive enthusiasm in your first bout.’

  ‘Probably. But disgrace is something I do quite well.’ Mistral laughed and watched Phantasm skilfully taking apart the defence of one of the forest elves he was duelling against. ‘Damn! He’s a good swordsman now!’ she muttered, narrowing her eyes in frustration at not being able to join in.

  Mistral was too engrossed in watching the bout to see the slight frown on Fabian’s face, ‘I agree. Phantasm is fighting well.’

  ‘I take full credit for forcing him to improve over the last year and a half.’ Mistral declared then gasped. ‘Oh look! He’s got Samson now!’ she watched them duel for a moment. ‘How long will Phantasm have to stay on for?’ she suddenly asked, concerned that he would grow tired and start to make mistakes rather than being outfought.

  ‘Rules are fiercely contested but Bryden allows the winner to remain in the ring for three consecutive bouts before taking a rest. They then compete with the winner of the next bout.’

  Mistral nodded and continued to watch Phantasm duel. With glittering emeralds for eyes and beautiful face lit by a wild smile he looked more like an avenging angel than ever. Mistral couldn’t help the proud smile that spread over her face. He was her brother.

  ‘Look! He’s got Samson on the run!’ she cried happily.

  Fabian nodded silently, watching intently as Phantasm neatly sidestepped, parrying Samson’s blow to deliver a swift counter with razor-sharp precision. A loud clink of metal striking metal rang out when Phantasm’s sword struck Samson’s breast plate.

  ‘He’s going to win!’ Mistral breathed, her eyes shining with excitement.

  Sure enough, Bryden strode into the ring moments later and stopped the fight. Pointing clearly to Phantasm he loudly declared him the winner. Phantasm stepped back from Samson and inclined his head, showing respect to a fellow warrior. Samson’s scarred face remained stony for the briefest of moments before he laughed and clapped Phantasm on the back. Shaking his head ruefully he left the circle to join the other Ri warriors sat watching at the edge of the Arena.

  As the afternoon wore by Mistral became completely engrossed in the bouts, gasping with excitement and shouting in anger when Bryden called a bout against the Ri. Fabian laughed and placed an arm around her tense shoulders to prevent her from doing more than shout abuse at the elf who won against Brutus.

  Phantom and Cain stayed on through their bouts until they each met Phantasm. Cain was outscored during their duel and Phantom capitulated rather than fight his brother. When Saul fought with his usual technical precision, Mistral was careful not to express too much emotion either way and avoiding looking at Fabian until his bouts were over. He eventually lost to Phantasm, who continued to win each of his duels until he was placed in the final bout with an elf from Bryden’s tribe.

  ‘So … if Phantasm beats Bryden’s elf –’

  ‘Ares.’

  ‘Yes, him. Then he’s won the event?’

  Fabian nodded silently.

  ‘Oh come on brother!’ Mistral hissed under her breath, her eyes glued to the duelling pair circling each other with light steps.

  Phantasm’s emerald eyes flashed as he delivered the first strike. Ares parried the blow easily and countered with a well-aimed thrust to the body. Laughing recklessly, Phantasm sprang gracefully away, darting forward again with lighting speed to strike Ares across the thigh. Ares swore and stumbled back, blood seeping through the cut in his leather trousers.

  ‘Ha! First blood!’ Mistral hissed savagely. ‘He’s no match for my brother!’ she was too entranced by the duel to notice that Fabian didn’t respond.

  Ares lunged angrily, lashing out for Phantasm’s mid-section. Phantasm parried the clumsy strike with almost disdainful ease. Then he began to duel in earnest. His sword reflected the sunlight in dazzling flashes of silver as it twirled and spun in series of rapid strikes, relentlessly driving Ares back towards the edge of the circle. Ares was beginning to tire, his defence weakening and allowing Phantasm to land more blows until Ares’ armour was liberally streaked with blue chalk. Mistral held her breath, sharing in the fierceness of her brother’s expression. She frowned slightly when a shadow crossed his face, dimming the wild light in his eyes to their usual cool green. Abruptly, he seemed to falter and slow, allowing Ares time to recover and fight back.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ she cried, turning to stare at Fabian with an incredulous look on her face. ‘Why is he backing down?’

  Fabian didn’t respond but continued to watch the duel. Slowly but surely, Ares was gaining the upper hand. He pushed forwards with a series of heavy, deliberate blows that Mistral knew Phantasm could have parried and countered with ease, but for some strange reason he seemed to struggle with them and backed away, giving ground until his back foot slid an infinitesimal amount over the edge of the sand line.

  ‘Winner!’ Bryden bellowed with obvious pride and raised the hand of his tribe member.

  ‘What!’ Mistral shouted. ‘There is no way he won that bout!’

  ‘Mistral –’

  ‘Oh come on Fabian! You saw the bout! Phantasm was clearly better than Ares!’

  ‘Mistral.’ Fabian repeated in a more insistent tone. ‘Phantasm is quite clearly the more skilled swordsman, now please calm down and listen to me.’

  Mistral turned to face him, he eyes wide with righteous anger, ‘He should have won that Fabian!’

  ‘Yes. Phantasm threw the bout. Anyone could see that –’

  ‘Why the hell would he do that?’

  ‘Because you will be in the final event. He needs to be on the outside with Phantom to use their gift and protect you.’

  Mistral closed her eyes and drew in a sharp breath, ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this.’

  ‘Don’t be angry with him.’ Fabian said quietly. ‘I made the request.’

  ‘Oh Fabian, why?’ Mistral’s eyes flew open to be instantly captivated by his deep black stare. How could she be angry with him when he looked at her like that?

  He smiled softly and raised a hand to touch her cheek, sliding a finger down to trace the curve of her lips, ‘Because I love you.’

  Mistral felt her eyes close involuntarily at the pleasure of Fabian’s touch, ‘Oh, he’s going to be so annoyed with me,’ she murmured vaguely.

  ‘No, Mistral, he will not be annoyed with you. However, he may be somewhat vexed if you fail to praise him on his performance today.’

  Mistral opened her eyes and grinned, ‘You’ve notice the twins’ fragile egos have you?’

  Fabian didn’t reply but couldn’t quite hide the brief look of amusement that flickered across his face.

  ‘I blame their mother.’ Mistral muttered darkly, remembering Melsina De’ath forcing her to endure an hour of being washed and dressed like a bad-tempered doll.

  ‘Yes, she is rather a force to be reckoned with.’ Fabian murmured, his eyes sliding over her trousers.

  Mistral caught his look dropped her gaze to hide her embarrassment, ‘The twins did this to me.’ she explained in a rush. ‘They tricked me. I didn’t choose to dress like this Fabian, honestly. I hate these trousers!’

  ‘I don’t.’

  Mistral looked up to meet his gaze and felt the breath catch in her throat.

  ‘And just how good was I?’ Phantom demanded, swaggering towards them and cruelly shattering another private moment.

  Mistral close
d her eyes with a sigh, ‘Please tell me he’s not going to start doing this again.’

  Fabian laughed softly and stood up, reaching out a hand he pulled her up and whispered in her ear, ‘Remember what they’ve given up to protect you.’

  ‘Yes, yes.’ Mistral muttered and forced a smile onto her face. ‘You were amazing Phantom!’ she gushed.

  ‘Overdoing it!’ Fabian warned softly.

  ‘Oh for heaven’s sake!’

  But Phantom didn’t seem to notice Mistral’s unusually lavish praise and grinned, ‘I was wasn’t I?’ he agreed, preening slightly.

  Phantasm strolled past him, smiling and shaking his head lightly, amused by his twin’s behaviour.

  ‘You fought really well brother.’ Mistral said with genuine warmth in her voice, adding more quietly. ‘You deserved to win.’

  Phantasm met her accusing look and shrugged dismissively, his green gaze sliding from hers to meet Fabian’s, ‘Needs must,’ he replied lightly.

  Mistral raised an eyebrow but was prevented from arguing by the arrival of her brothers, all eagerly reliving their bouts for her to provide appropriately complimentary or derogatory remarks depending on whether they were talking about themselves or the other competitors. Even Saul seemed more upbeat and laughed when she described how one of his opponents had performed an involuntary backwards roll out of the circle in an effort to avoid one of his strikes.

  ‘What can I say? I’ve had good training partners.’ Saul shrugged, smiling easily at her.

  She returned the smile and felt her heart lift. It looked like they were over the awkwardness of the last couple of days.

  ‘Ah, another good day! I think that this calls for a celebration!’ Xerxes roared, already heading towards the huge beer tent.

  It was already filled to bursting with Arcanes, their loud talk and raucous laughter mingling with the victorious cheers of Bryden’s tribe welcoming their champion. More Arcanes were sat on benches and on the ground outside the tent, their faces flushed by drink and the warmth of the late afternoon sunshine.

  Mistral grinned, caught up in the atmosphere. She watched her brothers making their way through the unruly crowd to reach the bar then turned to fling her arms around Fabian’s neck, kissing him until a watching group of goblins heckled them too loudly to ignore.