The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams) (48 page)

‘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.

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 meat 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.

‘Our quarrel is finished.’

‘It is.’  the elf agreed
lightly and squatted down by the fire to warm his hands. 

A tense silence fell while the
twins waited for the elf to state his business. 

‘I wish to discuss the events of
our brother’s murder with you.’  the elf said at length.

The twins looked at him
silently.  Konrad has taken a Contract to assassinate one of their kin,
and an elf was an unusual subject for a Contract.  Both the twins and
Fabian had been more than intrigued to know who would have bought such a
Contract.  As the silence lengthened Phantasm realised that the elf was
waiting for him to speak.  He met the elf’s hard gaze evenly, his words
honest. 

‘I know not who bought the
Contract on your kinsman.’  

The elf smiled slightly and shook
his head, ‘You are a consummate liar brother.  You have fooled me before,
so forgive me if I do not believe you now.’

‘Try me then.  Everyone
knows I can’t lie to save my life.’  Mistral emerged from the tent,
meeting the twins’ horrified looks with an unapologetic shrug.  ‘Couldn’t
sleep.’

The elf abruptly stood up and
strode towards her.  The twins tensed and Prospero growled but Mistral
quieted him with a soft pat while she met the elf’s searching gaze with a
slightly hazy smile.

‘Sister, you like to fight.’

‘I do.’  Mistral smiled, her
gaze a little unfocused.

The elf continued to regard her
with a calculating look, ‘You are wilful … passionate … reckless –’

‘I am.’  Mistral held her
hands up in surrender and leaned against Prospero for support.

‘And drunk.’

‘Yes … that too.’

‘Honest … loyal … and in pain –’

‘Yes, yes!’  Mistral agreed
with an impatient wave of her hand.  ‘Tell me something I don’t know!’

The elf frowned thoughtfully,
‘You are truthful with everyone but yourself.’

Mistral gave him an appraising
look, ‘That’s a new one.  Actually, I think you might be right –’