The Assassin's Tale (Isle of Dreams) (41 page)

The wind began
to gather strength, whipping the sea into towering foam-topped waves that
threatened to engulf the ship as it bravely ploughed through them. 
Mistral knew she should get below deck where it was safe although a growing
part of her didn’t care.  The rocking of the ship was too violent for her
to stand now.  She clung to the rail, being thrown violently back and
forth like a rag doll until a small grain of stubbornness deep inside her
forced her to move.  Unable to walk upright, she dropped down onto all
fours and crawled to the nearest hatch, hanging onto the looped iron handle to
balance herself against the lurching of the ship, she wrenched it open and
rolled quickly into the dark opening. 

Mistral landed
with a dull thud on something soft and sweet smelling.  Straw.  She
was in the stalls, relief washed over her that she hadn’t landed into the cabin
where the other warriors were celebrating.  Struggling to stand up against
the motion of the ship, Mistral immediately fell down again.  The rocking
of the ship was more pronounced below decks, making it impossible for her to
remain upright.  The thundering crash of waves hurling themselves against
the wooden hull deafened her as she crawled through the straw, her eyes slowly
adjusting to the dimness.  Nausea washed over her every time the ship
rolled.  Battling against the urge to be sick Mistral dragged herself forward,
searching for Cirrus.  The horses were surprisingly quiet; the motion of
the sea and the dark had made them sleepy.  Mistral wished it had the same
effect on her as vomit filled her dry mouth.  Finally she recognised the
solid black rump of her horse and crawled gratefully into his stall, curling up
into a ball in a bank of straw near him.  Cirrus sniffed her curiously as
she groaned and retched; willing him to trample on her and put her out of her
misery.

The storm blew
steadily for the rest of the day and into the evening.  The Captain’s
forecast had been correct, it was a following wind and they made good
time.  He confidently predicted to Gleacher that they would be in dock at
the Isle a day early.  If Mistral had known any of this she might have
felt marginally better.  She lay, stricken with sea sickness for the
duration of the storm but even after it the weather eased her sickness
persisted.  She lay supine in Cirrus’ stall for the entire journey,
forcing down sips of water from his water bucket at infrequent intervals and
drifting in and out of feverish dreams, totally oblivious to the fact that
Grendel and Saul had risked their lives by going out on deck to search for her
during the storm, returning empty handed and convinced that she had been washed
overboard. 

The horses
were checked three times a day, but aside from throwing food in his stall and
refilling his water bucket, none of the warriors dared get too close to the
notoriously bad-tempered horse and Mistral lay undetected, curled in the deep
straw of his stall.

At evening on
the third day the ship docked in the small port on the western side of the Isle
under a heavy sky, grey with the threat of imminent rain.  The Valley was half
a day’s ride from the port and Gleacher did not want to push the horses after
such a rough crossing.  He issued orders for them to disembark, unload the
horses, and set up camp a short distance away from the port.  

The grinding
sound of the solid wooden ramp being lowered woke Mistral from a restless
sleep.  She felt fresh air blowing across her, drying the sweat beading
her clammy forehead.  The sound of voices and footsteps grew closer;
horses whickering and the jingle of bridles as they were tacked up ready to
disembark.

‘Hey!’ she
tried to croak but her throat was completely dry, her mouth and lips sore and
chapped.  She tried to lick her lips, but there was no moisture in her
mouth.  Dragging herself onto all fours she crawled to the water bucket
and pressed her lips to the water.  The cool water stung her lips and
throat as she forced down a tiny sip, feeling her shrivelled stomach rebel she
rolled over onto her back, fighting the wave of nausea that washed over
her.  When it began to pass she called out again in a cracked voice.

‘Hey!’

‘Mistral?’ 
Grendel was peering down into the stall.  He had been the only one to
volunteer to try and unload Cirrus, figuring that his bulk might help restrain
the wilful horse.

Fighting
unconsciousness, Mistral stared blearily up into Grendel’s ugly face.  She
had never been happier to see him.  Smiling weakly, she let the blackness
claim her.

Mistral was
half-asleep.  She was resting under the trees in The Velvet Forests on a beautiful
summer’s day.  She felt warm and contented lying there, with her head
pillowed on a soft bank of moss and her eyes closed, listening to the gentle
sound of the light breeze moving through the leaves.  Sunlight filtered
down through the branches and dappled across her face; it was bliss.  She
drifted deeper into a tranquil doze then the rustling began to grow
louder.  The leaves rattled, piercing her warm veil of sleep. 
Mistral frowned at the noise.  It was too loud, too much like voices,
dragging her out of her peaceful sleep.  Groaning irritably she opened her
eyes a fraction, staring up not at branches and sky as she had expected, but
straight into two pairs of vivid green eyes.

‘At last, the
hero awakes,’ said Phantom. 

‘Heroine,
please brother.  It may be a man’s world but let’s not take that identity
away from her,’ chided Phantasm, gazing concernedly down at Mistral’s bleary
expression. 

Mistral
blinked dazedly at the twins and slowly became aware of her surroundings. 
She was lying in the Infirmary, in the bed nearest to the window and the
sunlight was playing across her bed in golden dapples, mimicking her
dream. 

‘Water?’
 Phantasm asked, courteously offering her a cup from her bedside table.

Mistral nodded
and raised herself up on one elbow, groaning again as the room swam
sickeningly.  She took a couple of sips of water and sank gratefully back
onto her pillows.

‘How do you
feel?’  Phantasm’s perfect face was creased into a text book image of
concern.  Everything they did was so managed, so composed that Mistral
almost smiled; it was good to see them again. 

‘Rough,’ she
admitted in a cracked whisper.  ‘Sea sick,’ she added unnecessarily by way
of explanation for her illness.

The twins
raised their eyebrows in identical expressions of scepticism.

‘Mistral,
you’ve been here for two days; it’s a bit more serious than motion sickness,’
Phantasm said softly. 

‘Just what did
you eat while you were in the desert?’  Phantom asked with a mocking
smile.  ‘A camel?’

Mistral felt
her stomach roll over at the mention of food, she closed her eyes until the
feeling passed. 

‘Don’t mention
food!’  Phantasm warned, catching the look on her face.

‘Sorry, sorry
– won’t happen again,’ said Phantom sounding slightly sulky. 

When the
feeling of nausea subsided Mistral risked opening her eyes again. 

‘Two days?’
she croaked incredulously.

Phantasm
nodded, ‘Grendel found you in Cirrus’ stall and carried you out, in fact he
carried you all the way back to the Valley – which reminds me, you need to take
a shower –’

‘Cirrus!’
 Mistral interrupted in a panicked mumble and tried to sit up again, only
to be overwhelmed once more by light-headedness.

‘Is fine,’
confirmed Phantasm, firmly pushing her back on to the pillow.  ‘Now where was
I before the corpse tried to speak?  Oh yes, Grendel carried you back to
the Valley and Brutus was nominated for the unenviable task of leading Cirrus
back – I think he’s grown rather fond of your stroppy horse by the way – and
you were brought straight here.  Of course, we immediately came to see,
but we were beaten back by Mistress Lightwater –’

‘Skinny, but
scary,’ interjected Phantom with feeling.

‘Which left us
no option but to find our information from other sources –’

‘You left me
here and went to The Cloak and Dagger,’ muttered Mistral, opening her eyes a
fraction to give Phantasm a reproachful glare.

Phantasm
looked supremely unrepentant, ‘Yes, in the interests of unearthing the truth,
we left no stone unturned; and that may have involved spending  the
evening listening to, quite frankly, tall tales in The Cloak and Dagger.’

‘Did you
really travel on Mage Grapple’s warship?’  Phantom butted in, his eyes
shining with curiosity. 

Mistral nodded
and closed her eyes; that felt like a lifetime ago.    

The twins fell
silent and Mistral began to drift gratefully towards oblivion.  Phantasm
spoke, but his voice seemed to be coming to her from a great distance.

‘We’ll leave
you now, but we will be back after lunch tomorrow,’ he murmured with a hint of
a threat in his silken voice.

Mistral slept,
deeply and dreamlessly for the rest of the afternoon.  Serenity woke her
in the early evening to offer her food but Mistral merely groaned and rolled
over, falling straight back into a heavy sleep that lasted until the morning.

True to their
word, the twins were back just after midday.  Sauntering casually through
the Infirmary doors and draping themselves elegantly on the two hard wooden
chairs placed beside her bed.  Mistral felt slightly improved by a good
night’s sleep and the twins were encouraged to see that she was sitting up and
drinking a cup of water when they arrived.

‘Feel up to
talking?’  Phantom asked politely, stealing a piece of apple from the
plate of fruit that Mistral was supposed to be trying to eat for lunch.

‘About what?’
she asked, shoving the plate of fruit towards him with a grimace of
distaste. 

‘Oh, I don’t
know, Mage Grapple, the warship, The Desert Lands, the whole crazy adventure
you had while my brother and I had to suffer the indignity of having
foul-smelling antiseptic dabbed on parts I’d rather not mention by Mistress
Lightwater,’ said Phantasm in an exasperated voice.  ‘You know that
everyone is hailing you as the saviour of the hour?’

Mistral stared
at him, her eyes wide in her deathly pale face, ‘The
what
?’

Phantasm
nodded and bit into a slice of pear, ‘Oh yes,’ he said in a bitter voice. 
‘Mistral the saviour who journeyed across the Isle
alone
, hitched a ride
on Mage Grapple’s warship
alone
, rode
alone
through the desert to
find Rufus’ camp and bring the information so trustingly bestowed upon
only
her by Master Sphinx – do I need to go on?’

Mistral winced
and picked at the hem of her bedsheet.

‘Did we forget
to mention someone?’  Phantasm asked quietly, but his green gaze was piercing.

‘Leo told us
not to mention Fabian’s involvement,’ she muttered lamely.

There was a
long silence in which she could almost feel the twins swelling with righteous
indignation.

‘We meant
us! 
Not
Mage De Winter!’  Phantom exclaimed angrily.

Mistral looked
up, her face contrite, ‘Oh, I told them you were there up until the Wolverine
attack – well I told Saul that anyway, he might not have told the others though
–’ she trailed off when the scornful looks on the twins faces told her that
Saul had obviously forgotten to mention that part.  

‘Thanks to you
the rest of the apprentices thought we were swanning around the Valley doing
not a lot while they were all off risking their necks of some mad mercenary
mission!  Our reputation is in tatters!’

Mistral suppressed
a snort; it was so like the twins to bring everything back to them.

‘Do I hear
raised voices in my Infirmary?’  Serenity’s voice rang out from across the
room.

The twins
jumped and spun round guiltily, their expressions immediately apologetic.

‘Our apologies
Mistress Lightwater, just trying to cheer the patient up with some light
banter,’ said Phantasm smoothly, offering Serenity a dazzling smile.

Oblivious to
Phantasm’s charm, Serenity strode over and rested a cool hand against Mistral’s
forehead.

‘Any more
disruptions to my patient’s recovery and I shall ban you two from visiting,’
she threatened.  Fixing them both with a steely glare she turned on her
heel and swept back across the room.

‘See what I
mean?’  Phantom whispered.  ‘Really scary!’

Mistral pulled
a face at him, ‘Coward!  Your reputation was confetti before that Contract
so don’t go blaming me!  You’re just jealous because I completed it
without you.’

The twins both
leaned back on their chairs and crossed their arms at exactly the same time.

‘That’s
completely untrue,’ Phantom snapped.

Mistral closed
her eyes and sighed.  If the twins were going to be like that she was
going to have to resort to playing dirty to win them round.  She didn’t
have the energy for one of their marathon sulks.

‘It wasn’t
easy you know,’ she said quietly, keeping her eyes down and fiddling with the
bedsheet again.  ‘Doing it all on my own ... without you two I mean.’

‘But you
weren’t on your own were you?  You had the wonderful Mage De Winter
escorting you the whole way!’  Phantom hissed.

Mistral gazed
forlornly at him, ‘No, he left me alone with two warlocks … and they cast on
me,’ she whispered, somehow managing to make her voice sound even more pathetic
than it already did. 

The twins
gasped in horror and instantly leaned forward, erupting in anxious voices at
the same time,

‘No! 
Were you alright?  Did you have your armour on?’

‘I knew we
shouldn’t have let you go with him!’

Mistral hid a
smile; she could play the twins like a musical instrument.  Settling
herself back onto her pillows Mistral let them berate themselves guiltily for a
few minutes before deciding to put them out of their misery.

‘Look, I’m
here now, safe and sound, so no harm done ... but you couldn’t do me a favour
could you?’

‘Anything!’
they chimed in unison.

‘Get me out of
here,’ she begged in a low undertone.  ‘I don’t think I can take another
moment of Serenity trying to feed me to death and, I’m really bored.’

Phantasm
smiled and raised his eyebrows challengingly at his brother.

‘What do you
think?  Should we break her out?’

Phantom
grinned mischievously back, ‘One diversion coming up!’   

He leapt
lightly off his chair and ghosted across the Infirmary to where Serenity was
sat at a table reading a book.

‘Mistress
Lightwater?’  Mistral heard him begin in a silky voice.  ‘I wonder if
you would have two minutes to take a look at this.  It’s been troubling me
a lot recently –’ Phantom began to roll the sleeve up on his shirt.

‘What is
it?’  Mistral whispered to Phantasm, not taking her eyes off Phantom and
Serenity.

‘A knucker
bite ... it has gone a bit green so she’ll have to take it seriously,’ Phantasm
muttered back.

‘Oh dear, that
is rather nasty, stay here a moment and I’ll fetch some ointment from the
apothecary stores.’  Serenity stood up from her table and vanished into
the storeroom behind her.

‘Go!’ hissed
Phantasm in an urgent whisper. 

Mistral didn’t
need telling twice, she swung her legs out of the bed and was relieved to see
that she had trousers on.  The horrifying thought of running half-dressed
out of the Infirmary was more than she could have coped with. 

The moment she
stood upright her legs buckled beneath her but Phantasm instantly wrapped an
arm around her shoulders and half-dragged, half-supported her across the Infirmary. 
Once they were through the doors Mistral couldn’t go a step further and slid to
the floor in a heap.

‘I’ll be fine
in a minute,’ she murmured faintly, resting her spinning head gratefully
against the cool stone floor. 

‘Oh I can’t
believe it!  You can face Mage Grapple, warlocks and battle but you can’t
escape from an unlocked room!  The things I do for you!’  Phantasm
grumbled.  Picking her up from the floor he swung her over his shoulder,
running lightly down the corridor as though she were weightless. 

‘You’re making
me feel sick,’ she groaned into the back of his shoulder.

Phantasm
muttered a few words she couldn’t quite catch but the word ‘ungrateful’ was
clear.

She spent the
rest of the afternoon in their room, drifting in and out of sleep until they
returned after training had ended, armed with a platter of food from the
Refectory.  Mistral murmured her thanks and sat up on the bed, leaning her
back against the wall behind her to pick disinterestedly at the plate of cold
meats Phantom placed in front of her. 

‘How was
training?’  Mistral asked, more to put off the inevitable ordeal of having
to relive the events of the last few days than out of any real interest.

‘Oh great, you
know,’ said Phantom breezily.  ‘Grendel threw me around like a toy for
most of the morning then we spent the afternoon crawling through wet grass
looking for mandragora roots for some potion or other Mistress Lightwater wants
to concoct.’

‘I hope it’s
not for me,’ said Mistral with a grimace.  ‘She’s forced some pretty
revolting stuff down my throat over the last couple of days ... talking of
which, er, what day is it?’

‘Friday,’
confirmed Phantom.  ‘And Master Sphinx says he doesn’t want to see you in
training until Monday – however he does want to see you in his tower room as
soon as you can walk that far.’