The Assassin's Tale (Isle of Dreams) (36 page)

A small sound
behind her made her turn, reaching instinctively for the pair of swords lying
next to her.  Fabian De Winter stood a few paces behind her, a solemn
expression on his pale face.

‘I apologise
if I startled you,’ he said, walking towards her across the flat rocks with an
easy loping grace.  ‘I have spoken with Eximius and thought you would be
interested to know his decision.’

Mistral looked
at him expectantly, although she already knew what he was about to say.

Fabian sighed
and, to Mistral’s surprise, sat down lightly beside her.

‘He
understands the situation … fully.  But, as I am sure you suspected, he is
planning to travel to The Desert Lands anyway.’

‘I knew he
would,’ sighed Mistral, looking back out across the water.  

They sat in
silence for a few minutes with the tranquillity of the river.  The
forthcoming battle seemed a lifetime away from this moment. 

‘Why did you
come back?’  Mistral suddenly asked, turning to look at Fabian. 

He didn’t look
at her but continued to gaze at the river.  Mistral was abruptly struck by
how perfect his profile was, the clean line of his jaw, the strong straight
nose, the high cheekbones framed by dark, tousled hair.  He turned his
head and gazed at her, a small furrow had appeared between his eyebrows.

‘I told you I
would return to you.  I never break my word.’

‘No, I meant
this morning.  You were gone when we woke up,’ Mistral said and saw
something shift in his expression.

‘Couldn’t
sleep,’ said Fabian shortly.  He tossed a small stone into the river; it
skipped three times before sinking into the clear water.  ‘I went hunting
for some rabbits for breakfast.  I wanted to make amends in the hope you
would give me the opportunity to explain myself.’  he gazed at her, his
dark eyes filled with complete sincerity.

‘Oh,’ Mistral
breathed, dropping her gaze.  Such a simple explanation, yet she had been
all too ready to think the worst of him …

Fabian read
her expression and was instantly riled, ‘Did you think I had gone?  Run
away like a coward and left you all to go on this godforsaken Contract alone?’

‘No!’ 
Mistral shook her head quickly.  ‘I – er, I mean
we
didn’t think
that –’her voice trailed off and she looked away, unable to finish the
lie. 

Fabian
snorted, ‘The twins.  Those two have devious minds!  But,’ his tone
changed and grew incredulous, ‘did you really think that I would betray Leo?’

Mistral said
nothing and stared out at the water, hiding the shame in her eyes.

Fabian’s voice
was low but it shook with suppressed anger, ‘I would never betray Leo.  He
is like a brother to me.’

Mistral turned
to look at him.  His eyes were blazing with an emotion so powerful that it
took her breath away.  She held his scorching gaze for as long as she
could before lowering her eyes.

‘Sorry,’ she
murmured, meeting his gaze again to see the burning light die from his eyes,
seeming to drain his face of colour as it left, leaving him looking utterly exhausted. 
Mistral suddenly realised that it had been a long day for him too.

‘So, what
exactly did you tell Mage Grapple?’ she asked, changing the subject abruptly.

‘The truth, or
at least a version of it,’ he smiled to himself.  ‘Eximius is well aware
of Count Putreo’s scheming ways and suspected that he had a hand in this whole
affair anyway.  I just confirmed his suspicions.’

‘But how did
you explain me being here?  And how did you leave Leo out of it?’

Fabian
shrugged lightly, ‘I told him I had found the information out through my own
sources.  He didn’t enquire any further … and as to you,’ he glanced
swiftly at her out of the corner of his eye.  ‘I told him that I rescued
you from a Wolverine attack on the way and you were shaken by the experience
and begged for my company.’ 

Mistral stared
at him speechlessly.  She didn’t know what was worse, that he claimed to
have rescued her, or that Mage Grapple thought she was some kind of pathetic
female that wandered around needing to be saved by random passers-by. 

‘Please tell
me you are joking!’ she managed in a choked voice.

‘Sorry,’
Fabian said, looking anything but apologetic.  ‘But it was nearly the
truth.’

Mistral seemed
to struggle with herself for a moment, fighting the urge to punch him, or stab
him, or worse. 

‘Well I’m glad
you told him the truth,’ she finally spat through her teeth.

‘You are?’ he
looked surprised.

‘Yes, because
I’m a terrible liar and now I won’t have to, which makes it simpler for me to
get on the ship.’

Fabian stared
at her wordlessly, anger flickered across his face, ‘You don’t have to go
now!  I have told Eximius the truth!  You can return to the Valley
knowing you’ve done as much as you can!’

‘I have to
go,’ she stated flatly.

His face
furrowed in frustration, ‘Did you not see the warlocks?  The size of
them?  Their sheer numbers?  They don’t
fight
with their
enemies, they annihilate them!’

‘Who happen to
include my brothers!’  she hissed back at him.  ‘Don’t you see that I
have to go?  I’ve let them all down!  Instead of deflecting Mage
Grapple I’ve sent him and an army of warlocks right to them!  They’ll all
be killed, and it’s my fault!  The least I can do is fight and die with
them.’

Fabian stared
at her incredulously, ‘And what would you achieve by dying too?’

Mistral glared
at him, ‘I’d die knowing I did the right thing.’ 

‘Don’t be
ridiculous!  It’s a suicide mission!  I cannot allow you to go!’

She riled,
stung by his patronising tone, ‘It’s not up to you,
Mage
.  My
Captain sent me on this Contract, and I
will
go.’

Fabian’s jaw
clenched, ‘You will not go.  I refuse to have your death on my
conscience.’

‘Your
conscience?  I don’t give a damn for your conscience!  You
refuse?  Huh!  Well I
refuse
to go running back to the Valley
just to ease your precious conscience!’  Mistral was shouting now, shaking
with anger.  It felt like she was eight years old again and being told
what to do.

‘Then die for
your damn stupid pride!’  Fabian stood up abruptly and stalked across the
rocks away from her.

Mistral
mouthed wordlessly, momentarily dumbstruck, ‘My pride?’ she seethed, leaping to
her feet.  ‘At least I’m not charging off on some lovesick crusade to moon
over someone that doesn’t want me!’

Fabian spun
around to face her, his face a frozen mask of anger, ‘You know nothing!’

‘Oh don’t I?’
she whispered with a dangerous look in her eyes and, without even trying, she
called up the vision of his aura. 

Maybe her
anger had sharpened her senses, or maybe the time she’d spent with him had made
him easier to read, either way his aura swam into view almost instantly. 
A halo of copper coloured stubbornness swirled around him, tinged at the outer
edges with an angry scarlet glow.  Fiery tongues of pain flickered across
her vision and right at the innermost edge, nearest to his body, a brief glow
of pale pink swam into view.  Love, again.

Mistral made a
scornful noise and turned away from him.  Her anger draining from her as
suddenly as it had come, leaving her feeling empty and oddly sad.

‘You know
nothing,’ Fabian repeated softly.

Mistral didn’t
move until she heard his retreating footsteps fade away into the
distance.  She felt strangely bereft, even lonely.  For the first
time in her living memory, she felt like crying.

Fabian walked
quickly back to the where the warlock army had gathered, his black gaze
sweeping their massed ranks for Mage Grapple.  He did not have to look
very far.  Even amongst the burly figures of the warlocks Mage Grapple
stood out.  He turned as Fabian approached and raised a scarred eyebrow
questioningly.

‘The Ri
warrior will not be requiring a guard anymore,’ Fabian informed him
tersely. 

Mage Grapple
noted the tension in Fabian’s expression and regarded him for a long moment
before replying.

‘She is
returning to the Valley?’

Fabian nodded
once, not meeting Mage Grapple’s piecing stare. 

‘Then I am
sorry that you will no longer be travelling with us.’  Mage Grapple turned
abruptly and began to walk away.

Fabian looked
up sharply, his eyes narrowing with suspicion, ‘What?’

Mage Grapple
turned, his scarred face coldly polite, ‘I assume that you will be escorting
her back?  Considering, of course, her recent mishap and resulting fear of
travelling alone?’

Fabian
clenched his teeth as he realised that he had trapped himself with his own
lie.  Before he could reply, Mistral’s voice cut across his thoughts.

‘Mage Grapple,
forgive my intrusion, but could we speak, alone?’

Mage Grapple
looked up sharply, his expression irritated.  Fabian spun around to face
Mistral, his face clouding with anger.

Ignoring their
looks of displeasure, Mistral continued in a clear voice, ‘Grateful as I have
been to Mage De Winter for his heroic actions and admirable chivalry,’ she
paused to give Fabian a black look.  ‘I wish to request passage on your
ship to The Desert Lands.’

Mage Grapple
said nothing but studied her face intently.  His oddly mismatched eyes
narrowed thoughtfully.  Fabian stared furiously at her, but kept silent.

Mistral took a
step forward, ‘Mage Grapple?’

Reacting to
her movement two warlocks immediately moved closer to Mage Grapple, their hands
reaching inside their robes for their swords.  Without breaking his eye
contact with Mistral, Mage Grapple raised a placating hand to his bodyguards.

‘Leave your
weapons here,’ he said to Mistral, and turning on his heel began to walk away
towards the river.

After a
moment’s hesitation, Mistral reluctantly left her swords on the ground and
strode after him, ignoring Fabian’s look of cold fury when she passed
him.  She quickly caught Mage Grapple up but was careful to walk a few
paces behind him.  She had grown up listening to tales of his exploits on
the battlefield and was awed by being in the presence of the intimidating Head
of the Isle.  They reached the bank of the river without speaking.
 Mage Grapple halted and stood looking silently out over the water, his
hands clasped behind his back, seemingly lost in thought. 

‘I am sure you
appreciate my reluctance to allow a Ri warrior to sail with my army, given as when
we reach our destination we will, in effect, be enemies,’ he said at
length. 

Mistral
thought privately that she should be the one to be reluctant to get on the
ship, given that the terrifying warlock army would also be on board. 
Taking a deep breath, she forced her voice to remain calm and confident.

‘You have my
solemn word that I will not be any trouble.’

‘The word of
an assassin, how reassuring,’ murmured Mage Grapple.  He turned towards
her, his expression hard.  ‘You will not attempt to sabotage my army, or
my warship, in any way?’

For a split
second Mistral thought that she had misheard him, but the severe expression on
his ravaged face told her that he was deadly serious.  What did he really
think one Ri apprentice could do against that vast army?  Challenge them
all to knucklebones and the loser jumps overboard?  And, how stupid would
she be to sink the only form of transport she had of reaching her destination?

‘Mage Grapple,
I have no intention of trying to sabotage your army or your warship, I only
wish to travel on it,’ she said sincerely.  ‘I have failed to complete the
aims of the Contract and I have failed my brothers.  To fight and die
beside them on the battlefield is the very least I can do.’

Mage Grapple
eyed her speculatively for a long moment, ‘A touch dramatic,’ he
murmured.  ‘Let’s hope it does not come to that. 

‘I am not
willing to underestimate you, however sincere you appear now.  You have
just freely admitted that you do not care for your own life, not that I needed
your words to know that … taking on a pack of Blackheart Wolverines
single-handed was proof enough!  Oh, I am well aware of what De Winter
told me,’ he said, holding up a hand to stop her objection.  ‘Please
forgive me, but you hardly seem the type to need rescuing.’

‘He did rescue
me actually,’ Mistral admitted grudgingly.

Mage Grapple
regarded her silently, his disfigured face unreadable.  Mistral was struck
by the sudden thought that she could try to read his aura and gauge what he was
feeling then remembered Leo’s warning and quickly decided against
it.  

‘We leave
within the hour.  You may stable your horse below but you will remain on
deck for the entire journey.’ 

He turned
abruptly and strode off back to his waiting army.

‘Mage
Grapple?’  Mistral called after him.

He paused and
turned to look enquiringly at her.

‘I don’t
suppose there is any chance that you’ll reconsider sending your army?’ she
asked hopefully.

Mage Grapple
favoured her with a contemptuous look before continuing on his way. 

‘Er, Mage Grapple?’ 

The Mage spun
on his heel and glared furiously at her, ‘You are seriously trying my patience
apprentice!’

‘Do I have
your word that your army won’t try to throw me overboard during the night?’

‘Not unless I
order them to,’ he growled and stalked off. 

By the time
Mistral had collected Cirrus from the horse enclosure the warlock army were
assembled ready to ride the short distance to the Port of Blackneath.  She
held Cirrus back tightly to let the huge warhorses and their silent riders
surge past, moving with the same measured purpose she’d seen when they crossed
the ford.  They emanated a hostility that was almost palpable, unsettling
Cirrus and, if Mistral were truthful, her too.  She urged her nervous
horse away and took refuge under the long fronds of the willow trees growing
along the river bank.  When the last row of warlocks had ridden off
Mistral patted Cirrus and prepared to follow after them.  She peered
between the willowy curtains of her hiding place and was surprised to see that
Mage Grapple and Fabian had remained behind. 

Both were on
foot, their horses tethered at the ford’s edge.  Hidden by the willow
trees, Mistral stared at them intently, intrigued to know what they were
discussing.  Mage Grapple had his back towards her, shielding Fabian from
her view.  She was tempted again to read Mage Grapple’s aura.  It was
the perfect opportunity, although she knew it would only reveal to her his
emotions, not his thoughts.  Frustrated, she wished she had hearing as sharp
as the half-elves, Brutus and Xerxes, or even Saul’s keen sight to be able to
read their lips.  Suddenly Mage Grapple began to pace back and forth while
he laboured some point he was making.  When he moved away from Fabian her
gaze locked with his.  He stared straight into her eyes, his face suddenly
rigid with tension when he realised that she was spying on their
conversation.  Mage Grapple paced between them, briefly breaking the
contact.  When he moved again Fabian’s black gaze burned into hers with a
cold fury.  She stared defiantly back, determined not to be
intimidated.  Besides, if she broke cover now Mage Grapple would surely
hear her and realise what she’d been doing.  Suddenly Fabian’s gaze
snapped back to Mage Grapple and his expression abruptly changed to one of
acquiescence.  Something in the way he glanced towards where she was made
her think they were discussing her and she frowned, straining her ears to catch
any fragments of their conversation, but the sound of the river and the distant
rumble of the warlock army on the move drowned out any words she may have been
able to catch.  Mage Grapple stopped pacing and stood before Fabian with
his head bowed, listening closely to whatever Fabian was saying to him. 
After a short while he nodded briefly and abruptly left, mounting his warhorse
and pushing the huge beast into a heavy gallop after his army.  Fabian
watched him leave before throwing a blistering look in her direction and
walking over to Spirit, swinging himself up into the saddle.

She tugged
Cirrus from the shelter of the willow trees and quickly pulled herself up into
the saddle as Fabian rode up to her, his face a hard mask of anger.

‘Do you really
have such little regard for your own life?’ he demanded in a cold voice.  ‘Eximius
would not take kindly to being spied upon!’

‘I was not
spying!’  Mistral snapped defensively.  ‘I was merely waiting here
until his friendly army of doom had moved out of the way!’

Fabian glared
at her for a moment longer and narrowed his eyes suspiciously, ‘Please tell me
you didn’t attempt to read his aura!’

‘The thought
never entered my mind!’  Mistral retorted, trying to look affronted.

Fabian
glowered at her for a moment longer, ‘You are a terrible liar,’ he said. 
A glimmer of humour flickered across his pale face that vanished as soon as it
had come.  ‘If you are ready to leave now Eximius has requested that I
escort you to the port.’  

‘Please
yourself,’ Mistral shrugged dismissively, immediately urging Cirrus into a fast
canter along the track the army had taken.

She scowled to
herself as she heard hoof beats following her.  Fabian’s condescending
attitude was becoming more than a little irritating.  Who was he to tell
her not to read Mage Grapple’s aura?  She fumed, conveniently forgetting
that Leo had expressly forbidden exactly that in Fabian’s presence.  And
since when did she require an escort?  Mistral snorted out loud at such a
ridiculous notion and pushed Cirrus on into a gallop, desiring nothing more
than to leave the annoying Mage far behind her.

The port of
Blackneath soon came into view.  Mistral slowed Cirrus to a more measured
canter and gazed out at the wide blue of the ocean.  She could hear the
distant sound of the waves and smell salt on the faint breeze.  Blackneath
was really nothing more than a few small stone houses clustered around a
surprisingly large square harbour, now filled with the black-robed warlock
army.  They were assembled in neatly ordered rows waiting to board a huge
vessel docked at the quayside, dwarfing the crude fishing skiffs moored
alongside it.    

She rode down
the track into the small village and made her way quickly along the narrow
cobbled street leading straight to the harbour without waiting for Fabian to
catch her up.  Entering the open space of the quay she dismounted Cirrus
and joined the back of a line of warlocks waiting to lead their horses into the
cargo deck of the warship.  As she drew steadily closer to Mage Grapple’s
warship Mistral found herself staring up at it in amazement.  She had
never seen a ship of such magnitude before, never mind sailed in one.  Its
steep wooden sides rose majestically out of the water and curved around to a
distant bow hidden from her sight by the sheer width of the vessel.  Twin
masts towered over the huge open deck, which was mostly empty apart from a few
orderly coils of heavy rope and barrels of supplies neatly secured in the
centre.  She peered around the warlocks in front of her and glimpsed the
dark cavernous interior of the cargo deck but before she could step onto the
ramp a hand clamped heavily over hers, trying to take Cirrus’ reins.

‘Mage Grapple
has instructed me to load your horse,’ a hooded warlock rasped.

‘No chance,’
Mistral snarled, instantly forgetting Fabian’s earlier warning.

She pulled her
hand from his grasp and dropped the reins so that Cirrus was free.  Cirrus
tossed his head and swung his hindquarters around to barge the warlock out of
the way.  The warlock cursed and slapped the big horse hard, making him
move.  A wave of sheer rage engulfed Mistral.  She stepped forward so
quickly that the warlock didn’t see her move until she was so close to his
hidden face that she could smell his sour breath.

‘Touch my
horse again and I will slit your throat,’ she threatened in an icy hiss.

For a split
second the warlock was too taken aback to react but quickly regained his
composure and reached for his sword with an angry growl.  Mistral had both
of hers drawn in a flash and they faced each other, swords poised to
strike. 

‘I will stable
Cirrus.’

Fabian’s quiet
voice seemed to come from a long way away.  Mistral blinked and turned to
see him holding Cirrus, who was stood calmly swishing his tail and nibbling at
Fabian’s sleeve.  Mistral suddenly realised that all the warlocks had
stopped and were watching them intently.  She slowly lowered her swords
and looked back at Fabian again. 

‘Thank you,’
she muttered. 

Sheathing her
swords and keeping her head down Mistral walked quickly up the wooden loading
ramp.  At the top another faceless warlock pointed to a ladder leading to
the top deck.  She climbed up rapidly, grateful not to be in their company
a moment longer. 

The deck
stretched out before her in an endless expanse of wooden planks, bleached a
silvery-grey by salt and sun.  Mistral had only ever been in small river
boats before and she staggered a little when she moved along the deck, unused
to the rolling motion of the sea.  She walked the length of the deck,
keeping one hand on the heavy wooden rail running around the entire deck until
she reached the tip of the bow.  There she stopped and gazed down at the
calm sea far below her, watching the waves gently tug at the thick metal anchor
chain stretching down into the clear water.  It was early evening, the sun
had dropped below the western horizon and pale stars were starting to appear in
the dusky sky.  There was barely a breeze lifting Mistral’s long
hair.  She wondered vaguely how they were going to sail with no wind and
suddenly hoped the warlocks would have to row.  Placing both hands on the
smooth wooden rail, she leaned further over, hoping to see banks of oars
sticking out into the water.

‘I do hope you
aren’t going to jump or rescuing you is going to become a full time job.’
 Fabian appeared at her side and gazed out to sea, his face as unsmiling
and set as ever.

Mistral pulled
herself back and turned around.  Rudely ignoring Fabian she leaned back
against the rail looked down the length of the ship, studying the massive
structure with interest.  Turning her gaze upwards, she noticed something
that made her frown.  Twin masts soared up into the darkening sky, the
summits topped with a tiny lookout.  A complicated network of ropes hung
from each mast, swinging gently with the rocking motion of the ship, but she
could see no sails ready to be dropped open.

Mistral was
completely at a loss to see how they would even leave the harbour, never mind
get over a vast ocean; she hadn’t seen any oars and she couldn’t see any
sails.  Beside her, Fabian sensed her confusion and sighed, she could
almost hear him rolling his eyes.

‘It’s a
sorcerer’s ship,’ he muttered disdainfully.

Mistral looked
at him, surprised at his tone and realised with a start that she’d never seen
him use the Craft, not even when they were attacked by the Wolverine
pack.  Before she could frame the question she wanted to ask a barked
instruction came from somewhere below them followed by the unmistakable
grinding sounds of the anchor chain being winched back into the depths of the
ship.  Mage Grapple’s warship was making ready to leave harbour.

The wooden
ramp was drawn up with an echoing thud and suddenly the quayside was alive with
activity, people were running, throwing and gathering ropes, all the time
shouting instructions to each other that had no meaning to Mistral.  If
she had not been watching the quayside with such interest she wouldn’t have
realised that they were moving, so smooth was the motion with which the warship
was propelled forward.  The people and the quayside rapidly shrank away as
the ship glided smoothly towards the harbour entrance and out into the open
sea.  Once out of the protected confines of the tall harbour walls the sea
was rougher and the ship forged ahead at a greater pace.  The bow lifted
and banged down repeatedly, forcing its way through rolling waves and sending
white-flecked foam flying up into the air.  The warship was moving at an
incredible pace now, the salty air rushed at them, noisy, fresh, and
exhilarating.  Mistral had never sailed out on the ocean before and was
mesmerised.  Forgetting her earlier irritation at him she turned to ask
Fabian a question and instantly her curiosity died. 

Fabian was
staring at the foam-whipped ocean, his face glowing with a wild elation.
 Mistral gazed silently at him, captivated by the expression on his
face.  Gone was the serious and dark Mage and in his place was someone ...
yes, there was no denying it.  Fabian De Winter was like her.  She
could see that danger set him alive in the same insane way it did her.  A
bitter smile touched the corners of her lips when she mused that alike as they
were, they would probably be facing each other across a battlefield
tomorrow. 

They were out
on the open ocean now, surrounded by a churning black mass of sea topped with
glistening heads of white foam.  The moon had not yet risen and the only
light came from stars, clusters of bright pin-pricks that stretched endlessly
over their heads in every direction.  Faced with the vast emptiness that
surrounded them, Mistral suddenly felt overwhelmed with a sense of her own
insignificance.  Out here, in the middle of nowhere, it didn’t matter who
or what she was or even that she might die soon.  All that mattered was
this very second of being.  She was acutely aware of a peculiar sensation
of something falling into place, completing some part of her that she hadn’t
even realised was lacking.

The warship’s
deck lifted sharply as it climbed a huge swell and dropped over the crest with
a shuddering bang, knocking Mistral off balance and sending her crashing into
Fabian.  His hands were around her in an instant, holding her
tightly.  He looked down at her, his face bleached silver under the
starlight, the expression in his black eyes unfathomable.  Inexplicably,
Mistral felt herself blush. 

‘It’s no longer
safe to stay on the bow,’ he said, raising his voice over the rushing wind.

Mistral nodded
wordlessly.  He dropped his hands from her waist, leaving a burning
imprint on her skin through the cotton of her shirt.