The Assassin's Tale (Isle of Dreams) (24 page)

‘That troll
today,’ he growled.

‘Yes,’ said
Mistral tersely, sliding one foot back half a pace and preparing to duck under
Grendel’s raised arm.

‘Did Bali say
who he was?’

Mistral
hesitated, she was a terrible liar.  Even Grendel would immediately see
that she was trying to conceal something.  Mistral decided to tell the
truth and face the consequences. 

‘He may have
mentioned something –’

Grendel’s face
screwed up into a grotesque mask, he threw back his head and let out a
roar.  Mistral reached for a sword with her free hand, her fingers curled
around the hilt as Grendel’s face drew level with hers once more.  She
froze.  His face was wet with tears.

‘Thank you,’
he grunted hoarsely.

She stared at
him blankly.

‘I have waited
years to hear this.  What he does … what he did to my mother … I have
hated him ever since I knew the truth about my birth.  I spent years
hunting him but I didn’t have the skills to find him – it’s why I came to the
Valley.  And now my mother is avenged.  I won’t forget what you did
today Mistral.’

Grendel
abruptly dropped his hand from her shoulder and stomped away, leaving Mistral
rooted to the spot with a shocked look on her face.  She had never
considered how Grendel must have felt about his mother not being able to
survive giving birth to him.  Suddenly she was utterly exhausted. 
Her head ached and her muscles were sore from the long day.  Leaving the
smoking remnants of the fallen warrior behind her, she walked wearily up the
path towards the dorms and her bed.

‘Good morning
Mistral.  Are you assigned to me today or are you in need of
treatment?’ 

Serenity’s
polite question was more than perfunctory.  Mistral was so often in the
Infirmary for treatment of injuries sustained during training that Serenity had
good reason to check. 

‘Assigned,’
confirmed Mistral glumly.

Serenity
nodded and was suddenly business-like.  ‘We have two concussions,’ she
nodded to where Mistral could see Brutus and Saul stretched out on beds. 
‘Courtesy of Grendel’s over enthusiasm during training this morning.’  her
tone held a distinct note of disapproval.  ‘And one other case.’  Her
kind face saddened as she motioned wordlessly to the bed nearest to the window.

Mistral
glanced over and her first thought was that the bed was unoccupied.  She
frowned and looked more closely, realising that the figure in the bed was so
slight they hardly made a bump beneath the pristine white sheets.  Mistral
could see from her waxen face that it was a woman, but terribly
emaciated. 

She looked
questioningly at Serenity, ‘What’s wrong with her?’

Serenity sighed
and signalled for Mistral to follow her into the small apothecary
storeroom.  Once inside, she closed the door quietly and turned to face
Mistral, her gentle brown eyes full of compassion.

‘Her name is
Isadora.  She was Bali’s Bonded partner.’

Mistral looked
blank.  She’d never heard of the term and didn’t understand why that would
mean the woman was so ill.

‘Bonded? 
Like married?  She was his wife?’

Serenity
sighed again and gazed sorrowfully into space for a moment before replying,
‘Bonding is a deep commitment, more binding than tradition or ceremony. 
It is the instinctive and unalterable joining of two souls.’

 ‘Like
... love?’  Mistral asked, feeling stupid.

Serenity gazed
thoughtfully at the rows of brightly coloured glass bottles before she replied,
‘Love.  Yes, but more powerful.’  she paused and looked intently at
Mistral.  ‘Sorcerers call it love, but they temper their emotions with
reason, ambition and self-interest.’ 

‘Is it just
Arcanes that Bond then?’

Serenity shook
her head, ‘No.  Bonding is not affected by what blood you have, whether
full or mixed.  Despite their disdain for the term, sorcerers can all
instinctively Bond ... and their half-breed offspring too,’ she added
quietly.  

‘Is that
what’s wrong with her?’  Mistral asked in a quietly horrified voice.

Serenity
nodded, her eyes never leaving Mistral’s, ‘Her Bonded mate is dead and a part
of her soul died with him.  She has nothing tying her to life anymore.’

‘Family?’
asked Mistral with a desperate raise of her eyebrows.

‘Half-breeds
cannot have children, I sometimes wonder if that’s why we Bond so strongly.’

Mistral looked
at the shrunken figure in the bed and shuddered ... to die for want of another
... to be dependent ... vulnerable, was a concept abhorrent to her. 

‘What will
become of her?’ she asked in a hushed voice.

‘We will care
for her until the end.  She chose to come to the Valley to die.  This
is where her soulmate’s pyre burned and she feels close to him here.’ 
Serenity looked at Mistral, her brown eyes suddenly business-like again. 
‘Anyway, it will do you good to nurse the dying, help you to get in touch with
your compassionate side.’

Mistral said
nothing but privately thought that it would be more compassionate to put the
poor woman out of her misery. 

‘Can’t she
recover?  What if she met someone else?’  Mistral persisted. 

Serenity gazed
pityingly at Mistral, ‘Do not underestimate the irresistible force of
Bonding.  The commitment is absolutely binding for that person’s lifetime;
they could not break it even if they wanted to.’

Mistral
absorbed this frightening piece of information while Serenity began filling
glass vials from one of the large bottles on the shelf.  The clinking of
glass made her think of the sound of chains.  Bonding in chains. 
Bonding sounded more like a death sentence than a lifetime commitment to
her.  She was struck by a sudden terrifying thought.

‘Does everyone
Bond?’

Hearing the
note of panic in her voice, Serenity carefully set down the glass vials and
turned to face Mistral.  She smiled reassuringly, ‘It is not that rare for
Arcane races.  Most of them Bond by their twentieth year.’  she
paused and a wistful look came over her face.  ‘But for the Ri it is more
unusual.  Warriors tend to lead solitary lives due to the nature of the
work they undertake.’ 

‘Oh,
right.’  Mistral said with obvious relief.

Serenity
looked more closely into Mistral’s face, a small furrow of concern dividing the
ivory skin between her eyebrows, ‘Bonding is not something to fear
Mistral.  To find your soulmate … to complete each other … is
glorious.’ 

Mistral was
dubious about that but kept her thoughts to herself and resolved to read the
dying Isadora’s aura and get a true perspective on how it felt to be Bonded.

‘I’ll go check
on Brutus and Saul,’ she said and quickly let herself out of the storeroom
before Serenity could tell her any more horror stories.

It had been a
brutal day, even by Ri standards.  Mistral and the twins were making their
way back down the narrow pass that led to the Valley’s smaller Southern Gate in
exhausted silence.  On the instructions of their Training Captain they had
spent the day tracking a knucker in the low lying marshlands a few miles south
of the valley.  August had proven unseasonably wet and recent rainfalls
had turned the heavy clay land to thick mire.  All three horses had
quickly cast shoes in the heavy ground and hunting the knucker on foot had
proved impossible.  The swamp dragon had proved itself to be far more at
home in the dreary and boggy conditions than the three apprentices. 
Driven on by the need to complete the task and impress their Training Captain,
they had persevered long into the early evening until the failing light had
made it impossible to continue. 

Muddy and
bedraggled, the three apprentices trudged wearily through the open gate into
the Valley. 

‘A
knucker!  Outwitted by a slimy worm!  Huh!’  Mistral grumbled.

‘It did have a
slight advantage over us today,’ said Phantom testily.  ‘Knuckers are
designed to crawl around in the mud, we, on the other hand, are not.’

‘I swear the
damned thing was laughing at us!’

‘At least one
found today amusing,’ muttered Phantom sourly.

They walked in
silence for a while, slowly leading their lame horses down the path towards the
village square. 

‘Do you think
this’ll go against us?’  Mistral eventually asked.

The twins
looked at her glumly. 

‘Well, going
by today’s performance, I don’t think that Master Sphinx will be recommending
us for a second year, do you?’ muttered Phantasm moodily.

‘He might
recommend that we retake the first year though,’ sighed Phantom.  He
raised his mud-splattered face to squint up at the darkening sky.  ‘Come
on, we’d better hurry up a bit or the Equus will be in The Cloak and Dagger for
the night.’

After some enthusiastic
encouragement Cirrus, Mars and Jupiter broke into a grudging trot and the
stableyard soon appeared out of the growing darkness.  They were relieved
to see lights blazing in the forge, the Equus was still working.

‘What the hell
d’you think you’re doing trotting those horses?’ bellowed the Equus angrily,
ducking out from the low doorway of the forge.  ‘They’re lamer than
one-legged goblins!  Which is what you’ll all be if I ever see you doing
that again!’ 

Wiping his
hands on his leather apron, the Equus strode up to them and ran a large
calloused hand gently first down Jupiter’s leg, then the other two horses.

‘Hmm,’ he
finally growled, standing up and taking the reins from the three
apprentices.  ‘Nothing to worry about ... just need a new shoe
apiece.  Expect you’ll be wanting me to do it right away then?’  he
demanded, raising his craggy eyebrows and glaring beadily at them.

‘Our only
concern is for the welfare of our horses,’ replied Phantasm smoothly.
 ‘Not with the timescale.’ 

The Equus grunted
and turned away from them, leading the horses towards the yard, ‘Good, because
I’ve got a rush on tonight,’ he muttered gruffly.  ‘I’ll see they’re fixed
up proper in the morning.’

Phantasm and
Phantom exchanged a look of frank disbelief but said nothing until the Equus
was safely out of earshot.

‘Since when
has he got a rush on?’  Phantasm muttered scathingly.

‘Only when
it’s nearly closing time,’ murmured Phantom in reply.

Mistral was
exhausted and filthy; the last thing she wanted to do was play guessing games
with the twins.  Their love of intrigue and gossip was amusing when she
had the energy, but tonight all she wanted was a shower followed by a meal.

‘I’m going to
get cleaned up,’ she said shortly and walked off in the direction of the dorms.

The rain
started to fall again as Mistral trudged up the path to the Main
Building.  She bowed her head against the needle sharp drops and raised
the hood of her cloak.  As though defying her, a sharp wind promptly
sprang up and drove the rain beneath the drooping brim of her hood. 
Mistral scowled to herself and wondered if the day could get any worse.

‘Hello
Mistral, you’re looking glamorous as usual I see,’ a voice called mocking.

Apparently her
day had just managed to get worse. 

Cain and
Grendel were heading down the path towards her.  Mistral ignored them and
made to barge between them but Cain stepped in front of her, blocking her
way. 

‘Phew! 
What is that whiff?’ he grinned mischievously and peered around, looking for
the source of the smell. 

Mistral
ignored him and tried to move around him.  Cain was irritating without
even trying, but when he did try he took her patience to the limit.  He
moved to block her path again and Mistral considered punching him.

‘Oh dear,’ he
sighed and shook his head.  ‘It is you that smells like a walking
dung-heap.  I’d take a shower if I was you or you’ll be the only one not
taking the Contract for hygiene reasons!’

‘What
Contract?’  Mistral snarled through gritted teeth.

Cain laughed
and started walking down the hill towards the village again, ‘Be in The Cloak
and Dagger and you’ll find out,’ he called cheerfully over his shoulder. 
‘I’ll even get you a drink in!’

Grendel
stayed, blocking Mistral’s path and blinking stupidly, ‘Are you coming then?’
he asked slowly.

‘Not if you
two are going to be there!’ she snapped and stormed off up the hill.

Grendel looked
hurt and turned, as if to follow her but Cain’s voice called him from further
down the path.  Heaving a sigh, Grendel shrugged and lumbered after Cain.

‘I couldn’t
smell anything bad,’ he mumbled when he caught up with Cain.

Cain favoured
him with an exasperated look, ‘No brother, you wouldn’t, because you smell
worse than twenty dung-heaps in a row!  Now
please
hurry up or
Gleacher will have fulfilled his quota before we get there!’

Mistral’s mood
was not improved by being clean.  The hot shower she had dreamed of on the
long trek home had, in fact, been as cold as ice.  She towelled herself
dry energetically to get her circulation going again and reflected angrily that
Golden must have been in before her on another epic pampering session and used
all the hot water.  Combing the knots from her long hair, Mistral mused to
herself that if she ever got bored and decided to rewrite the dictionary she
would simply put the word ‘Golden’ in as the definition of selfish. 

Clean, dry if
not a little cold, Mistral felt marginally better when she left the showers and
ran straight into Phantasm and Phantom having an excited whispered conversation
in the corridor.

‘Finally!’
said Phantasm looking up.

‘How long does
it take to wash a little mud off?’  Phantom demanded, grinning at her from
under a slick of wet hair. 

‘Do I need
your approval on my bathing regime?’  Mistral demanded, a little
bewildered by the greeting party waiting for her outside the bathroom.

‘No, but you
should, that soap you use – ’

‘Removes
dirt,’ said Mistral flatly.  ‘Was there something you wanted?  Only
I’m not dressed for company,’ she said, motioning at her wet hair and bare
feet.

Phantasm and
Phantom moved closer to her and spoke as one in a low urgent voice. 
Mistral hated it when they did that, she found it hard to understand them, plus
it was a bit creepy.

‘Master
Shacklock is in The Cloak and Dagger.  He’s got a massive Contract for mercenaries. 
It’s really good money Mistral!  We need to get down there now to get
signed up – now!’

‘Wait a
minute, Mercenary Contract?  For a bunch of unqualified first years?’

Phantasm and
Phantom nodded enthusiastically. 

‘I think
whoever has bought the Contract is after quantity, not quality,’ Phantom
quipped with an ironic raise of his eyebrows.

Mistral
frowned at them for a moment and then gave a sigh of understanding, ‘So that’s
the Contract Cain was on about.’

The twins
shared a look of urgency, ‘We need to get down there now Mistral, or Master
Shacklock might fulfil his quota without us!’ 

‘Oh alright
then, I could do with a drink after the day we’ve had – but let me get some
boots on first,’ sighed Mistral.

Phantom
grinned and held out a pair of socks and boots from behind his back.

Mistral ground
her teeth together and snatched them from him, ‘I really hate it when you go
through my room to get stuff,’ she muttered angrily.

‘So
ungrateful,’ gasped Phantom with a wounded look on his face. 

Phantasm and
Phantom fell back to whispering amongst themselves while Mistral laced her
boots.  Their murmured conversation was too rapid for her to catch but she
thought she heard the word ‘coin’ mentioned more than once.  The twins had
no money and hated it.  They were also extremely intelligent and
ambitious.  It surprised Mistral slightly that they would be interested in
mercenary work at all.  It was usually the kind of work undertaken by
low-grade warriors. 

Mistral felt
her flagging spirits lift as they all walked out of the dorms and along the
path down to the village.  It was hard to be glum around the twins, their
natural exuberance was infectious.

‘So, why are
you interested in taking a Mercenary Contract then?  I mean, it’s hardly
your sort of thing is it?  Loads of fighting for something you don’t even
believe in and all that,’ she asked conversationally.

‘Money,
Mistral.  We believe in money,’ said Phantasm with a wide grin.  ‘You
know, of course, that most Contracts are unpaid for the first year after
finishing training?’

Mistral
nodded, ‘Course I do.  The Ri has to recoup their training costs somehow,
I suppose.  So we work for them until the debt is paid.  Which will
be two years for us – if we get invited to stay on that is,’ she added darkly,
thinking of their disastrous day. 

‘Exactly!’ 
Phantom cried enthusiastically.  ‘Well this Contract is
money up front
!’

‘It’d be nice
to have some money,’ Mistral conceded, thinking of the worryingly large debt
she was racking up in The Cloak and Dagger.

‘Definitely.’ 
Phantom gave an emphatic nod.  ‘You can get those awful butterfly knives
you dream about and my brother and I are going to save the money and pay our
debt to the Ri back as quickly as possible.’

‘Oh yes,’
agreed Phantasm.  ‘There is no way I’m spending two years of my life
dispatching smelly swamp dragons for the Ri!  We need to be getting on
with our careers!  The bright lights of the Mage Council beckon!’

Mistral smiled
and rolled her eyes.  The twins had ambitions of undertaking diplomatic work,
highly paid and a lot cleaner than most Contracts, but mind numbingly boring in
her opinion.  The very idea of spending hours stuck in tedious Council
meetings made Mistral want to die but she thought too much of their friendship
to belittle their dream.

The
brilliantly lit windows of The Cloak and Dagger beckoned them as they strode
purposefully across the cobbled village square.  A loud hubbub of voices
and laughter could clearly be heard when they paused briefly outside the closed
door.

‘Ready to make
some money brother?’  Phantasm asked his twin, his green eyes glistening
with excitement.

‘Always! 
Lead on brother,’ responded Phantom with a grin.

Mistral hid a
smile and followed the twins into the packed tavern.  A fragrant blue haze
of tobacco smoke hung in the air, masking the less pleasant smell of the mass
of unwashed warriors all crammed together.  Mistral scanned the room,
trying to make out the faces through the drifting smoke.  Amongst the more
familiar faces of the apprentices there were warriors she had never seen
before, many of which bore the traces of long healed scars on their faces and
exposed forearms.  She realised that this Contract was not just for a few
mercenaries; it was for an army. 

Mistral
followed the twins and pushed her way through the crowd to the bar.  They
elbowed in beside a warrior none of them knew and instantly noticed the
straight-backed figure of their Contracts Officer close by, talking quietly to
a swarthy faced man dressed in white robes. 

‘Have we
missed the details?’  Phantom murmured anxiously to his brother.

Phantasm
quickly assessed the room, examining the expressions on the faces gathered
before him.

‘No,’ he said
slowly.  ‘Nobody knows what’s in the Contract yet.  Look, see? 
They’ll all watching Master Shacklock.  They’re still waiting to find out
what it’s all about.’

‘Good!’ said
Phantasm, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

Mistral spied
Columbine hovering unhappily next to Konrad at the back of the room.  She
scanned the room again and frowned; she couldn’t see Golden anywhere.