The Assassin's Tale (Isle of Dreams)

by Kirsten Jones

  Something cracked and the wind left Mistral’s body in a painful rush. She gasped and felt Columbine tense to repeat the move. Forcing herself to act Mistral ignored the stabbing ache in her ribs and quickly slipped her hands up and around Columbine’s neck. Locking her fingers together tightly she widened her elbows, forcing Columbine to ease her strangling grip.

  Suddenly they were glaring face to face, locked in each other’s hold.

  Seizing the opportunity literally in front of her face Mistral tilted her head back then drove her forehead into Columbine’s scowling face.

  With a howl of pain Columbine staggered back clutching a hand to her face, now pouring with blood. Mistral lunged forward with her fists raised, looking to end the fight when a hand grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled her over backwards onto the sand.

  ‘Stop when I say!’ Caleb bellowed furiously.

  Mistral blinked up at him. She hadn’t heard him say a word.

  ‘Since when is training about trying to kill each other?’ Caleb roared. ‘Columbine! Get up to the Infirmary now! Mistral! Stay put! I want a word with you after training!’

  Throwing Columbine a cold glare, Mistral nodded curtly to Caleb and walked over to the Arena fence where the twins were sat. Avoiding their looks she sat down and put her head between her knees, struggling to breathe properly. Her ribs were agony.

  ‘Really Mistral! You must learn to control your temper. You could well have ruined that charming girl’s lovely features now,’ Phantom murmured reproachfully.

  Mistral said nothing and feigned interest in watching the other bouts taking place. The rest of the apprentices were called up in pairs to train. There were a couple more injuries but nothing as savage as the bout between Columbine and Mistral. She watched Saul sparring half-heartedly with Golden. Nobody ever really trained hard with Golden. It was uncomfortable being that close to the half-nymph, she made everything too sensual and intimate.

  When Caleb called time on their bout, Saul stepped back with obvious relief and walked over to sit beside Mistral.

  ‘Nice head-butt,’ he commented. ‘Can’t blame you, she had it coming. Caleb didn’t see her elbow you in the face in training yesterday. She’s vicious!’

  Mistral nodded, grateful for his supportive words, ‘Enjoy your cuddle with Golden,’ she asked with an attempt at a smile.

  Saul shuddered, ‘I hate training with her. She blew in my ear today. It was revolting.’

  Mistral started to laugh and immediately stopped when a stabbing pain erupted in her protesting ribs.

  ‘You’d better get up to the Infirmary and get checked out,’ he said, giving her a worried look,

  ‘What, and take up with Columbine where we left off? Tempting as that sounds I don’t think Serenity would like us brawling in there. No, I think that a large drink will do just as well as any of the vile stuff she tries to pour down my throat whenever I show my face up there.’ Mistral stood up painfully and turned to look at the twins. ‘You two coming?’

  ‘Yes, but you aren’t,’ said Phantom in a low voice, indicating with his head to Caleb.

  Mistral watched the Training Lieutenant stomping across the Arena with a black look on his face, ‘Damn, I forgot he wanted to yell at me.’

  ‘See you in a bit.’ Saul gave her a look of commiseration and joined the other apprentices leaving the Arena.

  Mistral watched them go enviously until her view was blocked by the burly figure of Caleb.

  It was dusk before Mistral finally managed to escape to The Cloak and Dagger, wiping flecks of spit from her face where Caleb had yelled at her. She had forced her mind to go blank during his angry tirade, letting the words and insults wash meaninglessly over her until he had shouted himself out and finally let her go with a harsh warning that any more behaviour like that would result in her being thrown out of the Valley.

  She pushed open the door to The Cloak and Dagger and immediately spotted the twins resting on their elbows at the bar, their heads bent closely together in conversation. She made her way towards them and Phantom looked up and grinned, pushing a full tankard along the bar top towards her which she raised gratefully and took a long drink.

  ‘How bad was it?’ he asked sympathetically.

  Mistral shrugged and placed the tankard down on the bar, ‘The usual. I’m too full on, not enough control, if I intend to be invited back for a second year I need to learn to use my brain not my fists, blah, blah – he did say a few impressive swear words that I haven’t heard before though,’ she finished thoughtfully.

  Phantasm turned around and leaned nonchalantly back against the bar, gazing across the half-full room.

  ‘Saul’s planning something,’ he said casually.

  Mistral turned around and followed his gaze. He was right. Saul and most of the other first years were gathered around a couple of small tables. Saul was obviously outlining a plan of some kind, his face was fixed in a look of fierce concentration and he was talking quickly in a low voice.

  ‘I wonder what that’s about,’ said Phantom looking over with keen interest.

  Mistral didn’t care. Training had finished for the day and she was going to try and drink away the pain in her ribs.

  ‘Mistral!’

  Saul called her name across the room and she turned sharply, wincing at the pain the sudden movement caused her.

  ‘Have you got a minute?’ Saul called, beckoning her over.

  Mistral picked up her tankard and walked over to the group of apprentices. Everyone was there except Columbine and Golden, of course. She noted that Grendel was also unusually absent. She sat down on one of the low stools and placed her tankard on the table.

  ‘Do you remember what you said to me in The Desert Lands?’

  Mistral felt her face freeze. She avoided that subject at all costs, it brought back to many uncomfortable memories.

  ‘Which bit?’ she muttered, taking a drink from her tankard to hide her expression.

  ‘About a hunt for that pack of wolverines,’ Saul said in an excited whisper. ‘Leo’s banned us from going after them. He reckons it’s too dangerous – but we’re all up for it. Want to come?’

  A hunt. Anything to escape the prison-like confines of the Valley for a while.

  ‘Definitely! When?’

  ‘Tonight, as soon as it gets dark.’

  Mistral nodded, her ribs were killing her though. She was going to have to persuade the twins to help her strap them up.

  ‘We’ll bind the horses hooves in rags in the stableblock before we ride out, that way we should get out of the North Gate into the meadows without anyone hearing us. It’ll be a good hunt and we should be back well before dawn!’

  Mistral frowned, ‘You reckon they’re that close? Only they were a good day’s ride away last time I saw them.’

  Saul nodded, ‘Yes. Cain was running a wild boar down in the southern outskirts of The Velvet Forests last week and reckons he saw signs of a large pack of wolves having hunted there recently –’

  ‘Or signs of a pack of large wolves,’ interjected Cain with a grin. ‘I saw a bear carcass!’

  ‘That sounds like them,’ Mistral said. ‘I’ll tell the twins – is anyone else coming?’

  Saul read her meaning and gave her a wry smile, ‘Grendel’s out of the Valley on a Contract for Gleacher, which is a good thing since I wouldn’t know how to politely tell him that the wolverines could probably smell him from here. And no, your best friend Columbine won’t be being included – and I’m pretty sure Golden will be otherwise occupied.’

  This drew a few sniggers from around the table and Mistral remembered that they all had bets on where Golden kept mysteriously vanishing off to.

  ‘See you later then,’ she said, rising to leave before being drawn into further speculation about Golden’s out of training activities.

  The twins greeted her with identical looks of resignation.

  ‘What have you agreed to on our behalf now?’ Phantasm demanded with a sigh.


  ‘Wolverine hunt,’ she said shortly, leaning carefully back against the bar. ‘But not before you’ve practised your nursing skills on my ribs.’

  Phantom pulled a face at his brother, ‘Your turn. I treated her last time and she’s a terrible patient.’

  ‘No I’m not,’ snapped Mistral. ‘You’re just squeamish.’

  ‘Well picking poisonous spines out of a bloody wound is enough to put most people off their dinner,’ he muttered defensively.

  Mistral nodded vaguely. She’d forgotten that Phantom had been nominated for the unpleasant task of cleaning her up after she had nearly lost a fight with one of The Velvet Forests many strange creatures, a large rodent covered in poisonous spines that wreaked havoc on the chicken populations in the local villages.

  ‘I’ll strap your ribs,’ said Phantasm frowning at her, ‘but don’t think you should go. They need time to heal.’

  Mistral didn’t even bother to reply.

  Eyeing the stubborn expression on her face, Phantasm sighed and placed his tankard down on the bar top, ‘Come on then.’

  An hour later they were all back in the darkened stableblock where Saul was handing out bundles of cloth.

  ‘Golden’s bedsheets,’ he said with a wink, handing Mistral some.

  ‘Won’t she notice when she goes to bed?’

  ‘Ah, but who’s bed will she be in?’ asked Xerxes with a leer, walking past her with his arms full of tack.

  Mistral ignored him. She was getting bored with their fascination over Golden’s lovelife. Mistral didn’t give a fig if she was tucked up in bed with the Equus every night as long as it kept her out of the way.

  Phantasm had done a good job of binding her ribs. Mistral could barely feel the ache when she pulled herself up into the saddle. Cirrus wheeled impatiently, picking up on the excited vibes. Checking him sharply she joined the others to ride out of the stableyard and across the cobbled village square, their horses’ hoof beats muffled by Golden’s bedsheets.

  Mistral rode beside the twins. She was pleased that they had elected to come, although this wasn’t really their sort of thing. In fact, she’d been surprised by how much enthusiasm Phantom had shown for the idea until she remembered that he had a personal score to settle with the pack. The long white scar he bore on his leg was a permanent reminder of their last encounter with the wolverines.

  They trotted silently out through the North Gate under the watchful gaze of the warrior on guard duty. He didn’t raise the alarm or pass any comment, as though there was nothing unusual in the first years sneaking out of the Valley on an illicit midnight hunt – it was probably something he’d done his own apprenticeship.

  Mistral felt an instant lift in her mood when they left the confines of the Valley but couldn’t drum up the enthusiasm that the other apprentices were obviously feeling. Cain and Xerxes were taking bets on who would hunt down the largest wolverine, Saul was quizzing the twins on everything they could remember about the pack’s hunting style and even the perpetually grouchy Konrad was talking seriously with Brutus about tracking methods. Mistral felt oddly disconnected, as though she were riding in a bubble, cut off from the rest of the apprentices. She felt none of the thrill of danger, the tingle of anticipation that a hunt used to give her. The dead feeling persisted even though she was out of the Valley, making her wonder for the thousandth time what was wrong with her.

  Once they were a safe distance from the North Gate they stopped to unwrap the cloths from the horses’ hooves then gathered in a loose circle around Saul while he outlined the hunting strategy.

  ‘We’ll head for the southern side of the forests – that’s where Cain last saw fresh signs. Blackhearts aren’t particularly stealthy, mainly because they don’t need to be. Konrad reckons he can track this lot blindfold so we should have no problems locating them. Now, once we’ve found fresh tracks I suggest using me and Konrad as bait. We’ll go off into the forests and ride around a bit then come back into the meadow, hopefully with them following us. Then we hunt them. Everyone got their crossbows?’ Saul paused to look around.

  They all nodded, indicating to a short-handled crossbow strapped to the pommel.

  ‘Good, right let’s get on with the hunt! Oh, any questions?’ Saul added, turning in his saddle as he began to ride towards the treeline.

  Everyone laughed and shook their heads. It was typical of Saul to be impatient for action.

  They rode across the moonlit meadow towards the edge of The Velvet Forests. All talk slowly ceased and the atmosphere tightened, gradually becoming charged with a sense of purpose. The apprentices were on full alert, their senses sharpened by the cold night air and the absence of any sound other than the gentle thudding of the horses’ hooves.

  Mistral, the twins, Cain, Brutus and Xerxes reined their horses to a standstill and watched Konrad and Saul ride into the black line of trees. Their ghostly pale outlines were quickly swallowed up by the deep shadows of the forest, leaving the others alone in the meadow. At a wordless signal from Brutus the remaining apprentices fanned out in a straight line facing the treeline.

  Now came the waiting.

  Mistral gazed at the meadow she had ridden over countless times. It was almost unrecognisable by night. The moonlight was deceptive, disguising every hollow and rocky rise to make the meadow appear treacherously smooth. Mistral was glad she knew the ground well; a less familiar rider could easily risk injuring their horse if it came to a chase – and that could be fatal.

  Her survey of the meadows complete, Mistral returned her gaze to the treeline, scanning it carefully for any signs of movement, but the shadowy depths remained resolutely dark and still. In the absence of anything to do but wait Mistral checked and loaded her crossbow, keeping it ready in one hand and holding Cirrus with the other. The minutes ticked by silently. She stole a glance at the other apprentices. They were all staring intently at the treeline, poised for action with their hands resting on the handles of their crossbows. The tension in the air was palpable. Mistral longed again to feel what they were experiencing; the anticipation and the thrill, but she felt only a strange sense of detachment.

  Cirrus fidgeted and twitched his ears nervously. Mistral steadied him with one hand, keeping the other wrapped around the handle of her crossbow. A light breeze sprang up from behind them, lifting her hair and blowing it over the front of her shoulder. Cirrus snorted and wheeled suddenly to face the meadow, pawing the ground anxiously. Mistral hauled one-handed on the reins trying to bring him round but Cirrus tossed his head and fought her, refusing to turn. Cursing him under her breath Mistral dug her heels into his sides and tried to force him round but still he refused. She glared angrily at his snaking head, willing him to move when a faint movement out in the meadow caught her eye. A shadow, no more than a flicker of darkness shifted imperceptibly but Mistral had seen it and stared hard until she could make out the dim outline of a dark shape pressed low to the ground. The air hissed out between her teeth in a low curse. The wolverine pack was in the meadow behind them.

  They were being hunted.

  ‘They’re in the meadow!’

  Immediately the others wheeled their horses around and raised their crossbows. Mistral could almost hear their breathing quicken and their eyes crack as they strained to see the indistinct forms slinking towards them.

  ‘I count eight,’ called Xerxes softly.

  Mistral swore under her breath. Even taking into account the ones she and Fabian had killed the remaining pack had been larger than that.

  ‘That’s not enough! I think they’ve split up!’

  ‘Circle?’ suggested Brutus quickly.

  They immediately backed their horses together in a loose circle, all facing outwards so that every direction could be seen while their exposed backs were protected.

  ‘See them?’ hissed Phantom tensely. He and Phantasm were facing the treeline and couldn’t see the meadow.

  ‘Yes,’ Brutus, Cain and Xerxes all replied softly.


  ‘Choose your target and lock on. Don’t hesitate to fire. If they get close enough to attack it’ll be a tough fight!’ Mistral warned in a low voice.

  The sudden sound of clicks told her that each crossbow was loaded and ready. Mistral raised her own, angling it slightly down towards an inky black form that was still just out of range. A cloud rolled across the moon, plunging the meadow into complete darkness. The horses snorted fearfully and several guttural snarls ripped through the air, signalling the wolverines’ attack.

  ‘Fire!’ Brutus yelled.

  Immediately the air was filled with the sharp hiss of bolts. A loud whine of pain and a satisfying thud told the apprentices that at least one bolt had found its mark. They all hastily reloaded, struggling to control their nervous horses at the same time.

  The moon appeared from behind its veil of cloud and the meadow was once again bathed in an ethereal silver glow, illuminating the vast forms of the Blackheart Wolverines padding silently towards them, their heads held low and yellow eyes gleaming.

  ‘In the trees!’ Phantasm yelled, his voice cracking with panic.

  They all jerked around to see the rest of the wolverine pack slipping silently from between the dark trees. Brutus swore and Xerxes exhaled in a long whistle.

  ‘We’re surrounded!’

  Mistral heard the high-pitched whine of bolts followed by more yelps. A beat of silence fell then growls exploded all around them. The pack in the meadow broke into a loping run at precisely the same moment that the wolverines emerging from the trees sprang forward.

  ‘They’re attacking!’ Xerxes shouted.

  Mistral fired blindly at the oncoming wolverines then looped her crossbow quickly onto her saddle; she would not have time to reload again. Trusting Cirrus to have his head and not bolt she reached for her double-swords. Rasping sounds on her left and right told her that the others had drawn their swords too.

  ‘This is going to get messy,’ Brutus muttered and Mistral couldn’t help but agree.

  Suddenly the wolverine pack halted, each lifting its long snout up to sniff the air. A single low whine echoed across the meadow and without another sound the wolverines melted away, slinking quickly into the heavy shadows of the forests and disappearing from sight.