The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams) (17 page)

Red and black.  Rage and
hatred. 

She watched him carefully, noting
the pair of swords buckled beneath his dark blue robe and the glint of a knife
hilt in his belt. 

Phantasm worked swiftly to make a
fire using the dried sticks they had bought with them from the forests. 
Once it was burning steadily they would be able to feed it with dry peat from
the surrounding moorlands and keep it going through the cold night. 
Antoine stood close to the fire, talking to Fabian in French.  His aura
was a beguiling mix of pale blue, lilac and silver, all positive indicators
that made Mistral want to smile with pride.  The head of the Rochforte
tribe was not only relaxed in Fabian’s company but also liked him and was
excited by the prospect of the meeting they had travelled to attend. 
Fabian’s was resolutely royal blue.  It had not varied throughout the long
afternoon.  She let her gaze wander back to the three delegates to see yet
more blue.  She sighed then an explosion of colour at the edge of her
vision drew her attention sharply back to see a rainbow soaring through
Fabian’s aura.  She blinked in surprise and found herself looking directly
into his familiar black gaze.  Fabian and Antoine were looking at her and
talking in low voices.  She felt herself blush and instantly bent over the
deer she was skinning.

All light had faded from the sky
by the time Mistral had jointed and speared the meat.  She passed the
skewered meat to Phantasm to arrange on the spits.  Once they were in
place he sat back down beside his brother.  As agreed, the task of cooking
the meat was hers.

Mistral knelt beside the fire,
turning the spits and maintaining her constant vigilance of the
delegates.  She was so intent on the three cousins that the sound of a
heavily accented voice in her ear made her jump.  Turning sharply she met
the enquiring gaze of Antoine Rochforte and realised with a burst of panic that
he was addressing her in stilted English.

‘I thank you for this.’
 Antoine gestured towards the roasting meat.  ‘And I wish to offer
you a drink, maybe a little wine?’

Mistral stared back, at a loss
for how to respond.  Wine was definitely out of the question, but how
could she refuse without causing offense? 

Before she could stutter a
response Antoine’s eyes abruptly slid out of focus.  He smiled vaguely
then walked back to Fabian without saying another word.  Mistral watched
him leave, too astounded by his strange behaviour to feel the nudge on her
leg.  The nudge became a pinch and she jerked round with a frown to see
the twins gazing at her.  

The twins. 
She
sighed with relief and turned her attention back to the roasting venison, for
once thankful for their strange gift.  Her relief was quickly vanquished
by sudden worry that the cousins would have noticed Antoine’s odd
behaviour.  She risked a glance at them and was reassured to see them
engrossed in their game, their auras unchanged.  With a grateful lurch she
remembered that Fabian had said they didn’t speak anything but their own
language and wouldn’t know what Antoine had said to her.

Fabian.

Her eyes instinctively sought
his, needing the reassurance in the cool black gaze that met hers.  He
gave the briefest of nods and continued his conversation with Antoine and
Mistral felt the knot of tension in her stomach ease slightly.

When the venison was ready
Mistral divided the meat into small wooden bowls, handing one first to Antoine
who accepted it with a murmured ‘
merci
’.  She served the two fair
haired cousins next who both gave her frankly appraising looks, she flinched at
the corresponding flash of ruby in their auras and quickly moved on to Guillane
who took the bowl she offered without even raising his eyes to look at
her.  Finally she served Fabian but forced her eyes to remain on the
steaming meat in the bowl.  If she looked at him again when he was so
close to her she would be undone.

Mistral and the twins ate
sparingly.  They had agreed a rota of shifts throughout the night and
didn’t want to eat too much in case it made them feel sleepy.  Phantasm
and Mistral took the first watch.  She was so tense she doubted sleep
would come anyway and was amazed to see Phantom roll himself into his wolverine
skin and fall straight to sleep.

The cousins had erected two
shelters made of animal hide and vanished into one almost as soon as they had
finished eating.  Antoine sat talking with Fabian for another couple of
hours before he yawned and bid Fabian goodnight, disappearing into the tent his
cousins had erected for him.

Fabian met her gaze across the
fire.  She didn’t need to read his aura to see the longing that reflected
her own.  She desperately wanted to be next to him, to feel the heat of
his body and his arm around her, to hear the sound of his voice saying her
name.  But she remained beside Phantasm, determined to fulfil her promise.

The night crept by in an aching
series of minutes that slowly became hours.  Mistral and Phantasm slept
for a few hours when Phantom and Fabian took over, waking before dawn to gaze
up at the inky, starless sky.  A heavy dew had fallen and Mistral was glad
of the double warmth of her wolverine skin and the huge form of Prospero
stretched out beside her.  His eyes were closed but Mistral knew that he
was not asleep.  Her dog sensed danger and had not moved from her side all
night. 

Throwing back her wolverine skin
Mistral glanced over at the two tents.  Both flaps were tightly closed,
signifying that the occupants were still asleep.  She heaved a sigh of
relief, glad of a respite from aura reading and the chance to just breathe
without the feeling of being under constant scrutiny.

Fabian and Phantasm had taken the
last watch and were sat a short distance apart, looking out over the grey
landscape.  All was quiet.  Realising that this might be her only
opportunity to have a wash and tend to nature’s other pressing needs without an
audience Mistral stole away from the camp with Prospero padding silently at her
heels.

The lake was still in the dawn
light.  A faint mist hung over the water, promising only cold. 
Mistral quickly shrugged off her shirt and washed, the iciness of the water
shocking her tired mind into alertness.  She was going to the Mage
Council, a prospect that didn’t exactly thrill her but she was intrigued to see
the place where their Isle was governed from.  Combing out her hair and
tying it back Mistral eyed the water longingly.  A swim would be a good
wakeup call but she quickly dismissed the idea.  That definitely
constituted the type of behaviour Fabian had banned.  She dragged her
shirt back on and had just finished doing up the buttons when a low growl from
Prospero made her turn to see one of the fair haired cousins approaching.

Mistral cursed under her breath
and leapt to her feet.  Hadn’t Fabian told them to go everywhere in
pairs?  And yet here she was, all alone.  Prospero growled again and she
smiled.

She was far from alone.  She
had Prospero.

The cousin halted a short
distance from her and smiled.  Mistral nodded a curt greeting and began to
walk back towards the camp with Prospero pressed so closely to her side that he
was nearly pushing her over.  The cousin spoke and Mistral realised that
he had said something directly to her.  She half-turned and saw an
expectant look on his face as he repeated himself.

‘Etienne.’  he smiled and
gestured to himself.

Mistral was dismayed to see a
flash of ruby rocket across the aura of blue surrounding his head. 
Etienne was obviously about to try and live up to the reputation Fabian had
warned her about. 

A savage growl ripped from
Prospero, his lip lifting to reveal a long, curved incisor.  Etienne’s eyes
widened and Mistral was gratified to see fear instantly swamp his aura. 
Dropping a grateful pat onto Prospero’s head Mistral shrugged apologetically at
Etienne and continued back to camp with her huge dog prowling beside her. 

Mistral could read anxiety in
Fabian’s aura the moment she walked back to the camp, although his face
betrayed nothing.  She shook her head fractionally, privately thinking
that it would be a whole lot easier when they could speak to each
other.   

She prepared breakfast then doused
the fire and cleared the camp while they ate.  When everyone had eaten she
fed the leftovers to Prospero and hid a smile when she saw Etienne watching
warily while he made short work of a deer leg. 

It had begun to drizzle. 
They saddled up and continued their journey across the open moorland in
silence.  A heavy wet mist hung in the air, soaking the horses and coating
Prospero’s coat with glistening droplets, like a thousand diamonds.  The
delegates looked miserable and shivered in their fur trimmed robes, pulling up
their hoods and casting disgusted looks up at the flat grey sky. 

Mistral and the twins pulled on
their own cloaks but left their hoods down, knowing they would restrict their
vision.  The twins’ auras showed that they were calm and focussed. 
Mistral knew this was exactly the type of Contract they had trained as warriors
for and wondered what her own aura would reveal.  Hiding a sigh, she
hazarded a guess that it was probably showing frustration and boredom in equal
amounts.

They rode in silence for the next
two hours.  Mistral kept the Rochfortes’ auras constantly in her vision,
occasionally allowing herself to dwell longingly on Fabian’s.  Prospero
padded silently by her side, his watchful eyes fixed on the three cousins. 

The rain began to fall more
heavily as they ascended a steep rise, making the going heavy.  Steam rose
in misty clouds from their horses’ damp flanks and Mistral’s hair hung in a wet
sheet down the back of her cloak.  She glanced out of the corner of her
eye at the twins.  Their faces shone with the rain that ran unchecked over
their pale skin but their auras registered nothing but focus.  She had to
admit, considering that they hated being wet and cold, the twins had impressed
her with their sudden resilience to the elements. 

They gained the top of the rise
and reined to a halt behind the party.  Fabian was pointing something out
to Antoine.  Mistral glanced over to where he was indicating and felt her
eyes widen in awe.  The immense Northern Range dominated the skyline, an
arc of jagged white-topped peaks.  In their shadow lay flat grasslands,
the wide expanse almost entirely filled by the largest city Mistral had ever
seen.  A huge stone wall ringed the sprawling mass of buildings, their
dark slate roofs gleaming ominously in the pouring rain.  Wide avenues and
narrower alleyways criss-crossed the entire city like a spider’s web, all
seeming to emanate from the centre where a vast white building took pride of
place.  Mistral quickly guessed it must be the Mage Council.  Her
eyes roved over the city again, daunted by the sheer scale.  She suddenly
felt completely unprepared for the next part of the Contract.  She had
been raised in a small rural village and had preferred her own company to that
of the other villagers.  Isolation was something she was familiar with,
comfortable even.  Moving to the Valley of the Ri had changed that
somewhat, but nothing could prepare her for the sight of the heaving metropolis
below her.

The delegates were pointing at
the city below them and talking amongst themselves, the sound of their voices
muffled by the heavy cloaks they wore and the constant drumming of the
rain.  Seizing what would probably be her only opportunity to speak
unnoticed, Mistral quickly glanced at Phantasm and then Phantom, drawing their
attention to her.

‘I’m going to need a running
commentary,’ she breathed, keeping her eyes fixed on the delegates. 
Neither twin gave any indication that they had heard her, but she knew they had
when she immediately felt a gentle tug in her mind and a thought that was not
hers rose to the front of her consciousness.

The Mage Council is the huge
white building in the centre.  We will have to ride through the city to
reach it. There’s only one way in and one way out; through that gateway in the
walls.

Only one way in and one way
out.  Mistral drew in a breath to force back the spurt of panic those
words triggered. 

Fabian and Antoine urged their
horses on, descending the far side of the ridge with the cousins following
closely and Mistral and the twins bringing up the rear.  The rain began to
ease as they approached the entrance in the city walls.  Mistral could see
a crowded market street beyond the gate, teeming with hundreds of people. 
She swallowed, feeling again the sharp spasm of claustrophobia.

They approached the gateway at a
walk.  It was guarded on either side by two black cloaked warlocks. 
Mistral could see that the air around them shimmered perpetually, as though
they were stood in a heat haze.

The warlocks on duty cast continually;
protective spells, nothing that will harm us – unless we give them reason to.

They rode between the two
warlocks unchallenged, no doubt on orders from Mage Grapple.  The power of
their casting gave off a distinctive ozone reek that burned Mistral’s dry
throat.  She glanced at the sinister figures, remembering her run-in with
their kind the year before.  Whether they recognised her or not they gave
no sign but stood immobile, silent and sinister in their hooded cloaks. 

And suddenly it was all noise. 
The raucous shouts of venders and street hawkers filled the air, stray dogs
barked and chased each other between the market stalls, making Prospero
growl.  Mistral wished she could draw her hood and hide from the onslaught
to her senses.  Everywhere was busy, loud and foul-smelling.  To give
her mind some respite and abate the panic that was growing she looked up,
beyond the colourful stalls and garish shop fronts to the houses above, but
there was little there to cheer her.  Used to the warm honey-coloured
stone of the Valley she found the grey moor stone bleak and cold to look
at.  Black slate roofs and long narrow windows added to the overall drab
effect, strangely incongruent with the brightly coloured awnings of the shop
fronts and market stalls.  People thronged the streets, talking loudly and
laughing but their party moved forward unhindered with no need of force. 
The crowd seemed to part instinctively and allow them through.  Fabian and
Antoine were easily recognisable for what they were; powerful Mages.