The Assassin's Tale (Isle of Dreams)

by Kirsten Jones

  ‘They look like they’re going to dance, not fight!’ Brutus muttered, causing a few stifled laughs.

  ‘Begin!’ Leo bellowed, glaring furiously at Brutus.

  Golden smiled and beckoned Phantasm forward with a crooked finger. Wooden-faced, Phantasm stepped towards her then slipped to the side to attempt a choke hold similar to the one Mistral had put Saul into, but Golden was too quick for him. Sliding from beneath his grasp with a tinkling laugh she let her fingers trail down his arm as she moved away. Phantasm jerked away from her touch with a look of revulsion and backed off to wait for her to attack. She circled him slowly, smiling seductively then leapt at him with sudden ferociousness, her fingers bent like claws to rake down his face. Phantasm arched backwards so that Golden’s nails snagged uselessly into his shirt then shoved her away.

  Golden landed in an elegant heap on the floor. Tossing her hair away from her face, she glared at Phantasm thought slitted eyes and gathered herself into a crouch. Springing forwards with an angry shriek she grabbed his ankles and pulled them from under him. With a cry of surprise Phantasm overbalanced and fell backwards. In one lithe movement Golden was knelt astride him with her hands wrapped around his throat. Phantasm made no effort to defend himself and kept his gaze averted from hers; he wanted the bout over with as quickly as possible.

  Realising that he was going to submit easily Golden gave another peal of laughter and bent her head close to Phantasm’s. She let her hair fall in a curtain, shielding them from the apprentices but leaving Leo with a clear view. Keeping her sapphire blue eyes locked on Leo’s, she bent and deliberately kissed Phantasm on the lips.

  Phantasm choked and twisted his head to spit onto the floor. Shoving Golden off he sprang to his feet and stalked furiously back to his place against the wall.

  Leo watched Golden walk back to take her place against the wall with a thunderous expression on his face.

  ‘I think she’s overstepped the mark this time,’ Phantom breathed to Mistral while he and the other apprentices eyed Leo’s furious face in awestruck silence.

  ‘Phantom and Cain!’ Leo yelled.

  The morning wore by with each of the apprentices taking part in bouts with each other until they had all been matched. Columbine’s bout with Mistral had been lively but short with Mistral delivering a heavy stamp into Columbine’s knee as her first move, effectively ending the round before it had even begun. When Columbine had crumpled to the floor Cyrus had been ordered to carry her to the Infirmary. She had writhed furiously in his reluctant grip, screaming and cursing at Mistral the whole time. It had been very satisfying.

  By lunchtime all of the apprentices had pounding headaches and would rather have retired to The Cloak and Dagger for a liquid lunch than sample the delights that Bernadette had prepared for them. But, under the wrathful gaze of their Training Captain, they had all dutifully filed down the stairs and into the Refectory, grouping together around the counter to discuss the morning’s events in hushed whispers. Golden’s now obvious affair with Leo was the hot topic of conversation and Mistral smiled while she watched Xerxes collecting money from a rueful-looking Cain.

  ‘What was Golden thinking?’ Phantom muttered to Mistral, shaking his head.

  Phantasm looked as though he had been carved out of stone. He had not spoken since their bout and refused to eat anything until he had rinsed his mouth out several times with water.

  Mistral shrugged dismissively, ‘Don’t ask me, I’ve no idea what’s going on in that empty space between her ears.’

  They collected bowls of vegetable soup and walked to the nearest table, sitting down and continuing their conversation.

  ‘I think she’s trying to make him jealous to make sure he approves her application for a second year.’ Phantom said thoughtfully.

  ‘Leo doesn’t strike me as the possessive type,’ argued Mistral, spooning soup into her mouth.

  ‘He won’t let you go though, will he?’ Phantom pointed out bluntly.

  Mistral scowled, ‘The minute my apprenticeship is served I’m out of here and there’s nothing he can do to stop me.’

  ‘Was she a good kisser Phantasm?’ Xerxes asked, leering at Phantasm across the table.

  Phantasm closed his eyes and shuddered, ‘It was utterly vile. That basilisk in the bottle was preferable.’

  Xerxes roared with laughter and moved off to sit beside Cain and Brutus. Mistral looked up as Saul walked by to join them but he took his seat without even glancing in her direction.

  ‘Bound to happen, let it go,’ Phantom muttered to her under his breath. ‘Leo was just making a cruel point about not letting emotion interfere with work.’

  ‘Well I think that one backfired on him, don’t you?’ Mistral hissed back.

  ‘Can we please just drop that subject?’ Phantasm growled through gritted teeth.

  Columbine appeared half-way through lunch, limping towards a table where Golden was holding a long monologue with a bored looking Konrad. His expression instantly changed to a greedy smile when Columbine sat down beside him.

  ‘Look at that! Konrad’s in heaven when he’s around Columbine,’ Mistral whispered, jerking her head towards the three apprentices. ‘Fabian says drows feed off misery and despair. I bet she’s like starter, main course and dessert to him at the moment!’

  Mistral watched Konrad for a moment then turned to Phantasm and Phantom, her face suddenly serious, ‘Brothers? I want you to know that I know how much you did for me since I got back from The Desert Lands. You put up with my foul moods, you treated my injuries and you kept that parasitical drow away from me – and I never thanked you. I’ve been so ungrateful and I’m sorry.’

  Phantom and Phantasm stared at her in stunned silence for a few seconds before Phantom exhaled noisily.

  ‘Er, you’re not about to die are you Mistral?’

  ‘Depends if I get Columbine in swords this afternoon,’ she said grimly.

  Phantasm looked at her steadily, his green eyes holding hers while he smiled and Mistral knew he understood that her apology had been for him, finishing the conversation they had started on Sunday evening.

  The afternoon’s assessment of sword work passed swiftly. They were in the torchlit third floor room again and the combination of wearing full armour and strenuous bouts soon had everyone dripping with sweat. Before long the unbearable stench of Grendel’s powerful odour filled the windowless room. Golden complained loudly to Leo but he ignored her. When she persisted Leo ordered her to work with Grendel in a fit of vindictiveness. Mistral smiled and easily parried a half-hearted strike from Saul; it looked like Golden was finally falling from grace with their Training Captain.

  Mistral took advantage of the noise of clashing swords to try to speak to Saul. Whether he heard her or not, he gave no sign, but continued to drill with technical precision, blocking and counter-striking like a text-book illustration.

  ‘No passion Saul!’ Leo bellowed across the room.

  Saul shot him a cold stare and continued to work at the same measured pace. Mistral matched him perfectly and didn’t try to up the tempo. She didn’t know how to make it right between them but instinctively felt that trying to kill him was probably not the answer.

  It was with relief that the sweating and exhausted apprentices exited the room, heading straight for the showers and then The Cloak and Dagger. Mistral stayed in her room until she was sure that Golden and Columbine had finished their showers before she entered the bathroom, gritting her teeth against the inevitable sluice of ice cold water.

  The Cloak and Dagger was full when Mistral arrived, clean but tired and slid onto a stool next to Phantom and Phantasm.

  ‘Here,’ said Phantasm, sliding a tankard towards her which Mistral took and raised it gratefully to her mouth.

  ‘One down, four to go,’ said Phantom, raising his tankard in a toast.

  ‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Mistral, privately thinking that was when she would get to see Fabian again. It was startling how much sh
e missed him. Even though her day had been anything but slow, Mistral felt the constant dull ache of yearning that she knew would only be assuaged when she saw him again on Saturday.

  ‘Let’s get to the Arena early tomorrow morning for a practise,’ said Phantom, fretting again about his skills with the longbow again.

  Dragging herself reluctantly out of her Fabian-based reverie, Mistral nodded and took another long drink. Dehydrated and tired from the long day, she could already feel the pleasant buzz of the alcohol in her head. Yawning widely, she ran a hand distractedly through her hair.

  ‘Careful, that’s a sure sign that we’re boring you,’ warned Phantasm.

  ‘Sorry –’ she yawned again, thinking longingly of her bed. ‘But I think an early night is in order for me.’

  Finishing her drink, she placed the tankard onto the table and stood up to leave, ‘I’ll see you at breakfast,’ she said, turning to go.

  ‘Want us to walk you back?’ Phantasm asked.

  ‘Since when?’ Mistral laughed and walked out of the tavern and into the cold December night.

  Revived by the cold air, Mistral walked across the village square and suddenly realised that she hadn’t seen Cirrus all day and decided to take a detour into the stableyard to say goodnight to her horse.

  Walking quickly across the dark stableyard, Mistral slipped into the open doorway of the stableblock and stole over to where Cirrus was dozing in his stall. She greeted her horse softly and spent a few happy moments stroking his velvet nose before the sound of raised voices coming from above reached her ears.

  Someone was having an argument in the hayloft.

  Mistral strained her ears to listen. She could make out two voices, one was the unmistakable granite voice of Leo Sphinx and the second had the annoying musical quality of a bell being rung repeatedly.

  Golden.

  Intrigued, Mistral held her breath and listened intently.

  ‘It was too much this time! You made a fool of me in front of my first years! I cannot have it!’

  ‘Oh, so you’ll let her get away with anything but I can’t even make one tiny mistake! It was only a kiss Leo!’ Golden’s bell-like voice was filled with angry hurt. Mistral could tell she was close to tears.

  ‘She got away with nothing. I failed that bout!’

  Mistral clenched her fists in anger. Leo was talking about her bout with Saul.

  ‘I only did it to make you jealous!’ Golden’s voice was wheedling rather than seductive, making Mistral realise how desperate the half-nymph was. ‘I love you Leo!’

  ‘I have no time for love.’

  Mistral heard the sound of footsteps approaching the ladder. In a sudden panic to hide she dived into the deep banks of straw at the side of Cirrus’ stall, concealing herself quickly before Leo descended the ladder into the stables.

  Ignoring the irritating tickle of straw against her nose, Mistral listened to Leo’s footsteps striding out of the stableblock and across the yard. She waited for Golden to follow but as the seconds lengthened she realised that the half-nymph had stayed in the hayloft.

  Mistral silently cursed Golden and deliberated about whether to try and run for it before she came down or wait until she had gone. She didn’t want to run out of the stableblock straight into Leo. That would be too awkward for words. She decided to remain hidden and resigned herself to being uncomfortable until Golden had gone too. Listening carefully again, Mistral could make out the quiet sounds of sobbing coming from above her. Golden was crying.

  Mistral remained hidden and drifted in and out of an uncomfortable doze for what felt like an age before Golden finally left. Mistral crawled from her hiding place, numb with cold and itching all over from the straw. Yawning tiredly, she walked stiffly towards the dorms, missing Fabian more than ever.

  Mistral relayed her story to the twins over breakfast. Phantasm was disinterested, he was still too scarred by yesterday’s Golden-related events, but Phantom was gratifyingly fascinated.

  They ate a hasty breakfast of something that looked vaguely like a meat stew and hurried down to the Training Arena for a quick practise session.

  ‘Do you think we’ve missed Leo’s morning pep talk by coming down early?’ asked Phantom worriedly before he drew his bow and aimed at the target at the far end of the Arena.

  ‘I hope so,’ said Mistral, reaching over to correct his hand slightly. ‘That man is seriously getting on my nerves.’

  Phantom closed one eye and focussed, exhaling slowly he released the string and let the arrow fly straight to the centre of the target.

  ‘Perfect!’ Mistral cried happily.

  The morning passed quickly and without event. Target practise was fairly mundane compared to the intensity of Monday and everyone performed well. Mistral couldn’t help but think that shooting a static target that didn’t shoot back was completely different firing whilst mounted on a galloping horse, under pressure to reload quicker than the person trying to shoot you.

  Leo was even more glacial than usual and barely spoke during the entire session. Golden looked subdued, her blue eyes red-rimmed and circled with dark rings that spoke of a sleepless night.

  ‘Bit too easy don’t you reckon?’ said Phantom when they walked back to the Refectory for lunch.

  ‘Definitely,’ said Mistral. ‘But who cares if it’s another assessment down.’

  ... and half a day closer to seeing Fabian again …

  After a strange lunch of a fish no-one could identify, despite the prolific amount of identifying bones Bernadette had thoughtfully left in, the apprentices hurried back to the Training Arena for throwing knife assessment.

  Bored by the time she had thrown her second knife straight to the centre of the target, Mistral allowed her mind to wander and gazed distractedly around the Arena. Without realising it, she began to read Leo’s aura while he walked along the line of apprentices.

  She was not surprised to see a russet coloured halo shimmer into view around his blonde head. Leo was undoubtedly ambitious. A wreath of deepest royal blue ringed the russet defining the intent with which Leo was pursuing his ambitions. Smaller blobs of colour, like oil spilled on water, floated across the russet hue. A deep purple dominated, reflecting his frustration and a small amount of lime green marked an underlying greed or envy; either was entirely possible as far as Leo was concerned. When Leo passed by Golden’s lithe figure Mistral almost gasped out aloud at the vast wave of putrid orange that swamped her vision.

  Leo was utterly revolted by his ex-lover.

  ‘Now I know I missed the centre, but it wasn’t that bad!’ hissed Phantom, misreading her response to Leo’s aura as a comment on his knife throwing ability.

  ‘I think someone was seeing something we can’t see,’ said Phantasm with a sly sideways look in Mistral’s direction.

  ‘Oh yes?’ Phantom murmured, looking at her interestedly and randomly lobbing a throwing knife in the direction of the target almost hitting Brutus in the process.

  ‘Sorry Brutus!’ Phantom called, pulling an apologetic face. ‘Mistral knocked me!’ he shrugged and gave Mistral an accusing look.

  Brutus shook his head but smiled and turned back to the target he was aiming at.

  ‘Too much talk!’ Leo’s voice rang out, ending any hopes Phantom had of finding out what Mistral had seen in their Training Captain’s aura.

  The dagger work was mercifully short. They all donned full armour and prepared to drill attacks and disarms with the lethal short goblin-forged daggers that the Ri favoured. They had expected to mix and match with one another until they had all met but Leo only made them work with one partner then abruptly called an end to the afternoon long before the light had faded from the sky.

  ‘That was too easy!’ Phantom exclaimed while they pulled off their armour. ‘Maybe he knows that there’s too much of a chance of Columbine actually succeeding in her heart’s desire to kill one of us if he lets her loose with a dagger in her hand.’

  Mistral shrugged moodily.
She would have welcoming the opportunity to have a knife fight with Columbine, anything to distract herself. The burning need to see Fabian was growing in her by the hour, stifling her ability to reason any more. Her promises of behaving and not getting into trouble were fading. The need to assuage the ache of missing him with another sensation, any sensation, was becoming overwhelming.

  Looking over his shoulder to check that they were alone, Phantasm pulled his chest plate over his head and turned to Mistral.

  ‘So what did you see in Master Sphinx’s aura?’ he demanded in a low undertone.

  Mistral frowned and dragged her mind away from thoughts of seeing Fabian to try and remember exactly what she’d seen.

  ‘Nothing unexpected. A lot of ambition and purpose or intent – they’re very close. Um, some frustration and either greed or envy, either’s entirely possible with him – but what was shocking was when he walked by Golden his aura went bright orange!’

  The twins looked at her blankly.

  ‘Disgust,’ she said with a roll of her eyes. ‘How long have I been describing aura colours to you?’

  ‘Oh, now that is worth a drink! Golden is definitely not coming back for a second year now!’ Phantom crowed.

  ‘Shh!’ Phantasm warned, looking over his shoulder again. ‘Maybe and ... maybe not. He may have always felt that way.’

  ‘What? Come on! He’s been having an affair with her all year! He wouldn’t do that if she disgusted him!’ Phantom exclaimed.

  ‘He might,’ said Phantasm slowly. ‘Golden is beautiful and desirable – to some,’ he added with a repulsed shudder. ‘Master Sphinx would have wanted the best looking female in his bed as some kind of trophy, whether he actually liked her or not. It’s an act of dominance, not love.’

  ‘I’d really hate to be in your head,’ muttered Mistral. ‘That’s horrible!’

  ‘But why didn’t he make a play for Mistral then?’ Phantom argued. ‘She’s easily as attractive as Golden, well when she brushes her hair that is.’

  ‘Too troublesome, too spirited –’