The Assassin's Tale (Isle of Dreams) (49 page)

Mistral
shuffled backwards against the cliff face, kicking portions of the nest aside
to clear space for her feet.  Twigs and debris tumbled over the side,
infuriating the gargoyles.  They screamed and began to swoop lower,
heading directly for her.  Mistral slid her right heel back until she felt
it make contact with the rock behind her, angling both her swords upwards she
bent forward into a half crouch and prepared for the attack.

The gargoyles
shrieked and circled, raking at her face and arms with their long talons. 
She ducked and thrust her swords blindly upwards and felt her sword point sink into
something soft.  A scream and a spatter of warm liquid told her that her
aim had been good.  She looked up to see the injured gargoyle give a
feeble flap of its wings then stall and drop into a spinning fall, bouncing off
the sheer sided rock and plunging to the hard ground below.

Mistral
hastily rubbed her forearm across her face to clear the stinging blood from her
eyes.  Curved talons ripped into her raised arm, tearing at the flesh
where seconds before her eyes would have been.  She swore and swung her
right sword across, swiping the avenging gargoyle away with the side of the
blade.  It wheeled through the air, lashing Mistral across the face with
its long tail as it whipped past.  The split second it took to regain its
balance gave Mistral just enough time to spin around to face it.  Giving
an ear-splitting screech of rage the gargoyle lunged for her, smashing into her
chest with a force that flung them both from the platform.

They fell
together, tumbling and twisting through the air.  The gargoyle screamed
and squirmed manically, its black leathery face inches from Mistral’s. 
She could feel its claws ripping at her while they bounced off the rockface,
hurtling towards the ground.  Mistral felt a gut wrenching snap as the
rope pulled her up short and she hung, suspended in the air, still a long way
from the ground.  The snarling gargoyle was on her in a heartbeat, its
needle sharp teeth snapping at her face and neck.  She tried to hold it at
bay with her swords but couldn’t use her arms properly; the rope cutting into
her armpits was too restricting.  With a stab of fear Mistral knew that if
she raised her arms too high she would slip out of the rope and fall.  The
gargoyle circled above her, keeping a safe distance from her sharp swords and
waiting for an opportunity to strike.  Suddenly, Mistral knew what she had
to do.  Stabbing wildly at the gargoyle with one sword she began to saw
desperately at the rope above her with the other.  It quickly began to
fray but Mistral was forced to stop and use both swords to defend herself
again.  She twisted in her rope harness, trying to strike the
gargoyle.  Left and right she turned, feeling the sharp jolt as the rope
fibres tore under her weight.  The gargoyle screamed and dived for her
again.  Mistral jerked away and the rope snapped, sending her plummeting
like a stone towards the rocky ground, arms flailing wildly at the screeching
gargoyle still clawing at her.

With a
sickening thud Mistral hit the hard ground of the plateau and everything went
black.

Something
velvet was pushing itself into Mistral’s face, blowing warm air across her
cheek.  She opened her eyes groggily.  Cirrus’ long face was inches
from hers, sniffing her curiously.

Her eyes flew
open wide and panic flooded through her.  She stared wildly up at the sky,
expecting to see the gargoyle swooping down on her.  She tried to lift
herself up off the ground but her head swam sickeningly and blackness
threatened to engulf her again.  She groaned and slumped down again. 
Something crunched beneath her but she had no strength to investigate and lay
still, breathing shallowly.  Gradually the wave of nausea began to subside
and she became aware of the cold ground beneath her cheek, solid and
real.  How had she survived?  The fall alone should have killed
her.  And where was the gargoyle?

Cirrus nosed
her, snorting impatiently.  Mistral groaned and began to sit up using her
hands to help her.  As she lifted herself slowly up her right shoulder
protested sharply.  Mistral winced and tentatively felt the sore area with
her left hand and almost screamed at what her groping hand touched.

The gargoyle
was on her back.  She could feel its sharp teeth stuck deep into the skin
of her shoulder.  Leaping to her feet Mistral spun wildly, trying to
dislodge it.  The gargoyle fell to the ground with a dull thump and
Mistral instantly looked around for her swords and quickly spotted them lying a
short distance away.  Stumbling in her haste, she grabbed the nearest one
and jerked round, sword raised ready. 

The gargoyle didn’t
react.  It lay unmoving on the ground in a crumpled heap, its long tail
trailing limply away from the black leathery body.

Mistral picked
up her other sword and approached the fallen gargoyle carefully, aiming both
points downwards at its prone body.  It didn’t stir when she drew
close.  Not taking any chances Mistral stopped a short distance away and
poked at the mangled body with the tip of her blade.  It rolled over
lifelessly. 

Mistral nearly
laughed out loud.  There was the answer to her miraculous survival! 
The gargoyle must have clung to her back to bite her and broken her fall. 
It had saved her life and been crushed to death as thanks.  Feeling
ungrateful, Mistral decided to cut its head off anyway, just to make sure.

Cleaning and
sheathing her swords made her shoulder pulse with pain but she couldn’t reach
the wound to treat it.  She decided to get back to the Valley and find the
twins.  Hopefully they would treat her, or failing that she would have to
suffer a trip to the Infirmary.  She moved stiffly around the plateau,
gathering up her scattered belongings and stuffing them into her
saddlebag.  Cirrus followed her, occasionally shoving her impatiently in
the small of the back with his nose.

Doing her best
to hurry, Mistral bent to pick up her tinder box and shoved it down the side of
her saddlebag.  Her fingers grazed against something hard and cold that
seemed to twitch away from her touch.  She peered into her saddlebag and
saw with relief that the gargoyle eggs had also survived the impact.  The
idea of scrubbing broken gargoyle eggs out of her saddlebag was not one that
had filled her with joy. 

Mistral could
feel her shoulder worsening.  A worrying numb sensation was spreading down
her right arm.  Hazily she tried to recall if gargoyle bites were
venomous, but everything was starting to blur at the edges.  She began to
shake uncontrollably.  Wrapping herself loosely in her cloak she grasped
the pommel of the saddle with her good hand and hauled herself up. 
Without waiting for direction, Cirrus immediately broke into a trot towards the
trail leading them over the ridge and off the plateau.  Before he had
reached the top of the short rise Mistral was slumped unconscious against his
neck. 

Pale sunlight
streaming in through the high window woke her.  After a moment of
confusion she sighed.  She was in the Infirmary.  Taking in the all
too familiar surroundings with a bored glance she realised that she now spent
more time here than in her own bed. 

The brightness
of the light made her think it was around midday but she had no recollection of
arriving.  The last thing she could remember was fighting unconsciousness
and trusting in Cirrus to find his way back to the Valley.

‘Mistral,’ a
voice called softly from the end of her bed.

Mistral lifted
her head fractionally to see the gentle brown eyes of Serenity Lightwater
gazing calmly at her.

She moved
gracefully to Mistral’s side and pressed a cool hand to her forehead, ‘The
fever has abated,’ she said in a satisfied tone.  ‘But I want you to rest
here again tonight.’

Again? 
Mistral’s eyes flickered.  Had she been here a night already?

‘Gargoyle
venom is particularly nasty, I don’t want to take any chances.’ 
Serenity’s eyes searched Mistral’s face.  ‘How do you feel?’

Mistral knew she
wasn’t referring to her gargoyle bites and shrugged then immediately
winced.  The movement caused a flare of pain across her right
shoulder.  She reached up with her left hand and gingerly felt around the
offending area.  It was heavily swathed in bandages.

‘Gargoyle
bites,’ Serenity explained, checking the bandages with gentle fingers. 
‘I’ve cleaned them well.  There may be some scarring though.’

Mistral’s
expression was indifferent.  She scratched distractedly at the bandages.

‘The venom
itches,’ Serenity explained, watching her closely.

Mistral nodded
briefly and stared blankly up at the high vaulted ceiling.  She could feel
the fog of exhaustion creeping over her again.

‘I’ll let you
get some sleep,’ Serenity murmured, brushing a hand across her cheek.  

Mistral closed
her eyes and let herself drift, listening to the quiet sounds of Serenity
moving around the Infirmary, the rustle of sheets being folded, the musical
clink of bottles.  Muted voices floated to her from a long distance
away.  Serenity was giving instructions to her assistant in the apothecary
storeroom.

Serenity’s
voice was unusually sharp.  ‘No, not that one, it’s poisonous to some
breeds.’ 

‘Well, it
would help if we knew what breed she was.’

Serenity’s
reply was too quiet for Mistral to hear.  She felt herself float further
towards unconsciousness.

A third voice
pierced the thickening veil of sleep, its unfamiliar clipped tones jarring her
awake.

‘Serenity.’

‘Thank you
Noah, I can finish up here.’  Serenity dismissed her assistant before
responding to the newcomer’s curt greeting.  Mistral heard the sound of
Noah’s footsteps leave the Infirmary and fade down the corridor.

‘Good
afternoon Malachi.’  Serenity’s voice sounded oddly stiff.

Mistral
listened more carefully to the hushed conversation, intrigued.  Malachi
Nox was a member of the Magnate she had not yet met; he taught only second year
apprentices.

‘Did the
apprentice retrieve any gargoyle eggs?’ he enquired briskly.

‘Yes. 
They’re over there.  I’ve packed them in ice to prevent them from
hatching.’  Serenity paused briefly, as if waiting for Malachi to speak,
when he didn’t, she continued in a disapproving voice.  ‘I shall pass on
your gratitude when she has recovered.’ 

Malachi’s
reply was coldly indifferent, ‘First year apprentices are not my concern.’

‘Well I think
you will be tutoring this one next year.’   

‘Really? 
She doesn’t look like she will make it to the end of the week to me.’ 
Malachi’s tone was sceptical.

‘She is made
of strong stuff,’ insisted Serenity, a touch defensively.

‘And what is
she made of exactly?’ 

‘She doesn’t
know,’ Serenity’s voice was apprehensive.  ‘She was a foundling from The
Velvet Forests.  Both her adoptive parents are dead now.’

There was a
brief silence.

‘She doesn’t
resemble any of the Arcanes.  Is she Mage born?’  Malachi mused
speculatively.

‘She doesn’t
have the Craft and,’ Serenity hesitated, ‘she can see auras.’

‘Really?’ 
Malachi’s voice was soft, thoughtful. 

Their murmured
conversation blurred as Mistral slipped once more into oblivion. 

December
arrived, bringing with it cold bright days and the promise of the end of their
long year’s training, yet Mistral’s depression seemed to deepen.  In an
attempt to try and lift her out of her bleak mood the twins dragged her to The
Cloak and Dagger for the night.  It was a Saturday evening and training
had finished for the weekend.  The tavern was heaving with apprentices and
visiting warriors, all bent on enjoying themselves as much as possible. 
Mistral slunk into the darkest corner and sat listlessly on her stool, staring
silently into space.  The twins ordered food and chatted amongst
themselves until it arrived, making occasional attempts to draw a listless
Mistral into their conversation, but to little or no avail.

‘Did you
notice the way Golden was looking at Master Sphinx in training today,’
whispered Phantasm with a knowing look on his face.

‘Hmm,’ agreed
his brother with a smirk.  ‘Do you think she wants to be teacher’s special
pet?’  Phantom dropped a wink in Mistral’s direction, trying to make her
smile.

His attempts
fell on stony ground.  Although she tried to appear interested in their
conversation by nodding occasionally, she couldn’t muster up the energy to join
in and was relieved when the plates of food arrived, giving the twins had
something else to concentrate on.  She pushed the food around her plate
disinterestedly.  The break in the twins’ chatter allowed other sounds to
reach her ears, talk and laughter drifted to her.  In particular a loud,
irritating giggle that kept erupting from a table opposite where they were
sitting.  The twins noticed it too and shot surreptitious glances over
their shoulders.

‘Golden’s
really working it tonight,’ muttered Phantom disdainfully, returning his
attention to his food just in time to catch his brother in the process of
stealing a sausage.

The twins
bickered with each other, hunching protectively over their food like a pair of
schoolchildren, giving Mistral a clear view of Golden’s back across the room.
 She was playing with her long blonde hair while she chatted animatedly,
repeatedly running her fingers through its silky length, swinging it over her
shoulder to let it fall in rippling waves.  Mistral watched without any
real interest and wondered dully whether Fabian would have noticed her if she
had behaved like that. 

Fabian.

She barely
winced at the familiar stab of pain his name caused her and sighed, watching
Golden for a while longer.  She moved like a willow in a summer breeze,
lithe and supple.  There was a certain fluidity to her ceaseless writhing
that was almost hypnotic.  When Golden leaned seductively across the table
to whisper something Mistral suddenly saw who she was flirting with and froze,
locking eyes with the forceful black stare of Fabian De Winter. 

A second, a
single heartbeat, a lifetime passed while Mistral stared motionlessly back into
that compelling, burning stare before her heart, for so long a dead weight
inside her chest, lurched violently into life.

Golden sat
back and threw back her head to let out a peal of laughter, blocking Mistral’s
view once again.  She blinked, suddenly released from the spellbinding eye
contact.  Her heart was pounding frantically.  She could hear the
blood pumping behind her eardrums, deafening her.  Adrenalin coursed
through her trembling body, filling her with the panicky urge to escape the
suddenly claustrophobic room.  Leaping wildly to her feet she knocked her
stool over in her haste to leave.  The twins instantly looked up in
surprise, totally oblivious to what had just happened.  

‘Sorry, got to
go–’ Mistral forced the words out, her voice unnaturally high and
strained. 

She shoved
past the twins and stumbled towards the door, disorientated by shock. 
Ignoring the grunts and complaints of the people she barged into, she forced
her way across the room.  Finally reaching the door, she wrenched it open
and stumbled outside.

The cold night
air hit her like a slap in the face and she gasped, reeling while she tried to
control the panic flooding through her.  Staggering a few steps to lean
shakily against the stone wall of The Cloak and Dagger, Mistral closed her eyes
and forced a lungful of freezing air into her chest.  She drew in a second
breath and could taste the metallic hint of snow on her tongue.  With the
third breath her shock had eased enough to allow her mind to function again,
and her first thought was fear. 

She was
frightened by how forcefully she had reacted to seeing him again.  But
then maybe that was it, she hadn’t expected to see Fabian De Winter again,
ever.  She had resigned herself to that fact, even come to terms with the
shadowy existence that had become her life since realising the depth of her
hopeless feelings for him. 

And now he was
here. 

Emotions
Mistral had fought hard to subdue began to claw their way to the surface,
ripping away at her carefully constructed armour of cold indifference, forcing
her to feel again.  Mistral knew she couldn’t stay there, propped up
against the wall, on display to anyone who walked out.  If she was going
to give in to the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, she needed to do
it in private.

With a huge
effort, Mistral commanded her legs to work and began to walk slowly across the
cobbled square.  Unbidden thoughts rose in her mind like bubbles of
air.  What was Fabian doing here?  And with Golden of all
people?  Phantasm’s description of Emiror came back to her in a rush, ‘
think
of her as a Golden with guts ...
’

Was he
settling for second best if he couldn’t have the real thing?

The door
behind her suddenly banged open and Mistral’s first instinct was to run –
anything to avoid having to face the twins’ questions.  She knew they would
have seen Fabian by now and worked out why she had left so suddenly – but
before Mistral could take a step, a hand seized her arm, pulling her round.

Fabian De
Winter quickly grasped her other arm, holding her firmly to prevent her from
escaping.  His coal-black eyes raked her face before settling on her
eyes.  Mistral stared back, powerless to look away from the dark eyes that
seemed to pierce her soul.  Then he spoke in a voice softer than brushed
velvet and Mistral felt her eyes close involuntarily, savouring the sound,
easing some unrecognised longing inside her.

‘Please, come
back inside with me.’

It took her
dazed mind a moment to fully comprehend his request before her eyes slowly
opened.  She stared wordlessly back at him.  Her instant response was
to refuse.  The stubborn streak protecting her was too well established to
permit her to agree and endure more pain by being near him.  There was no
way on earth she had the self-control to calmly sit opposite him and maintain
any sort of composure.  Everything she had been hiding from was boiling up
inside her with violent force.  Her legs shook with the effort of simply
remaining upright.  Rational thought and speech were utterly impossible.

‘Please …
permit me the chance to explain,’ his jet eyes were eloquent, beseeching her to
comply with his simple request. 

Mistral was
struck by the sudden thought that he was only here to unburden his conscience;
igniting a spark of irritation within her.  Reassuring, familiar anger
welled up inside her, washing away the last remnants of shock and finally
freeing her voice.

‘No.’

Mistral
cringed inwardly at the petulant tone of her voice.  A significant part of
her desperately wanted to follow him anywhere, to the ends of the earth and
beyond.  But the more powerful, stubborn part that had forced her to
survive over the last few months rooted her feet to the spot and made her say
stupid things.   

‘Please,’
Fabian pleaded softly, his voice caressing the word, compelling her to look at
him. 

His ebony eyes
burned into hers, stealing the breath from her lungs.  It had been so long
since she had experienced their intensity that it caught her off guard and her
resistance immediately melted.  Mistral nodded helplessly and the part of
her that longed for him soared with joy when he smiled and gently pulled her
back towards the noisy warmth of The Cloak and Dagger. 

She allowed
herself to be led to a small table at the back.  They attracted a few
stares and a particularly filthy look from Golden, but Mistral was oblivious to
everyone but Fabian.  It was as though she was following him down a dark
tunnel and all she could see was him.  He pulled out a stool and waited
for her to sit before taking one opposite her.  Mistral stared silently
across the table at him, studying the face she had seen in her dreams a
thousand times.  He looked tired.  His hair was longer and more
unkempt, he was unshaven and, she realised with a lurch, utterly perfect. 

‘Mistral,’ his
voice was more of a sigh that a spoken word.  ‘How have you been?’

He was
asking after her health?  Was he joking?
  She could have laughed
at the absurdity of it.

‘Fine.’ 

Her tone was
instantly defensive.  She avoided his eyes and fixed her gaze on the wall
behind him instead.

Fabian’s brow
furrowed briefly.  He leaned across the table, forcing her eyes to meet
his, ‘I’m no expert, but you look far from fine.’

So now he was
telling her that she looked rough.  Great.  Mistral shot him an angry
glare and looked down at her hands, laid flat either side of a goblet of wine
that had appeared unnoticed on the table in front of her.  She gazed
longingly at the ruby liquid, but didn’t dare take a sip lest her trembling
hands betrayed her. 

Fabian sighed
and reached across the table to wrap one of her hands in both of his.  She
was too astounded by the sudden contact to flinch and marvelled instead at the
warmth of his rough, calloused hands, feeling simultaneously a wild surge of
joy struggling against an instinctive urge to yank her hand away.  Her heart
was beating so hard she thought he must feel it through her hand where it lay
unmoving, cradled in his long white fingers. 

‘Mistral –’

His voice
caressed her name and she felt her eyes begin to close once more. 

‘I need to
tell you something ... about what happened in the desert.  Everything
changed for me, but I think you know that already.’

Fabian’s voice
was still soft but with a new, hesitant edge to it.  Mistral opened her
eyes, fearful of what he was going to say, of the pain his words could unleash
inside her.  His raven eyes were fixed on hers, his expression
unfathomable.  Almost instinctively, like a second nature, she read his
aura.  It glowed into view instantly, a halo of deepest pink encircling
his dark head.  Love.  Mistral frowned sharply and drew her hand away
from his.

‘Emiror,’ she
muttered and looked down at her untouched goblet, feeling sudden angry tears
prick her eyes.

‘Yes, Emiror
comes into this –’

To hear him
say Emiror’s name was like being cut by a knife.  Mistral refused to look
at him and let him see the pain she had allowed him to cause.  Rage
flashed through her at her own stupid naivety.  Wasn’t this what she had
been avoiding for months?  And now, here she was, willingly giving him the
power to hurt her.  Physical pain was nothing compared to the agonising
stab of rejection that pierced her soul, but to feel his pity would be
infinitely worse.  How could she have been so stupid to think that he had
any interest in her?  He was just here to explain, to ease his conscience
before going back to Emiror.  Mistral realised with a fresh jolt that he
must have somehow found out how she felt about him and come to put her out of
her misery to soothe his precious conscience.  Who told him? 
Leo?  The twins?  Serenity?  Her mind wheeled as she ran through
a list of people she suspected knew the truth.  A sudden thought struck
her, twisting the knife deeper.  Emiror had been with child.  Was the
child his?  Despair squeezed her heart and the question escaped her lips
before she could stop herself.

‘The baby …
what did she have?’ she asked in an unrecognisable harsh whisper.

‘I haven’t
heard.’

Fabian’s voice
was dismissive.  No, it was more than dismissive, it was completely
disinterested.  Mistral’s head snapped up in response to the unexpected
reply, bewilderment mingling with the anguish on her face.  Fabian’s dark
eyes widened briefly at her expression before understanding flared in their
depths.  He smiled sadly.

‘Did you think
I was the father?’  

Mistral glared
at him to hide her confusion.    

He reached
over to take hold of both of her hands, the smile fading from his pale face to
leave him looking tired.  His raven eyes stared sombrely into hers, ‘Do
you know what I felt when I saw her again?’

Mistral
dropped her gaze to hide another spasm of pain and stared instead at his long
fingers where they lay over hers.  After a moment she shook her head,
steeling herself for more barbed words.