The Assassin's Tale (Isle of Dreams) (55 page)

Fabian
suddenly bent his head and kissed her, effectively ending any argument she was
about to make.

He finally
released her, breathless and dazed, and gazed at her quizzically.

‘So?’

She blinked,
coming back to reality after the intensity of his embrace, ‘Um, oh, alright
then.  I’ll think about it,’ she sighed then frowned.  ‘But I really
don’t want to become Leo’s puppet.’

‘I agree, but
working for the Ri is not the only option you will have with the power of
Sight.  I think that would be a gift that Eximius would value very highly,
very highly indeed,’ said Fabian softly.

‘Great, so I
get to work for the boring Council.  What fun,’ muttered Mistral, looking
mutinous.

Fabian smiled,
‘But you won’t have to work for just anyone Mistral!  Please just think
about this for a moment!  With the power of Sight you will never be forced
into taking a Contract you don’t want to just to make ends meet.  You can
pick and choose any Contract you wish … and you can name your price.’

‘Still sounds
boring.’

‘Would
spending your life with me be boring?’  Fabian asked, stroking a finger
gently down her cheek.

Mistral closed
her eyes, savouring his touch and the promise it held.  When she opened
them again it was to gaze into his liquid black eyes.

‘No,’ she
breathed.

He smiled and
pulled her closer.  She curled up against him listening blissfully to the
crackle of the fire and the steady beating of his heart.  Maybe it
wouldn’t be so bad … another year … especially if she got to spend her weekends
with Fabian.

Mistral was
suddenly struck by an anxious thought, making her sit upright, ‘Does this mean
I can’t come here to see you anymore?’  

Fabian smiled
gently and shook his head, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from her
face.

‘This is your
home too now.  I love you and nothing can change that.  Not Leo’s
ambitions, not Sight, not your erratic mood swings –’

‘I’m not
erratic!’ she snapped and immediately laughed at herself.  ‘Well, maybe I
can be a bit over-passionate about things sometimes,’ she admitted, curling up
against him again.  ‘But surely that’s all just part of my charm.’

‘Part of,’
Fabian murmured.  ‘But I think it’s going to be a long year.’

‘Good morning
Mistral!  And at what time did Mage De Winter return you to us last
night?’  Phantasm called cheerfully while he strolled towards the table
where Mistral was sat, quietly eating breakfast.  Several of the other
apprentices immediately turned to grin at her, some openly sniggering.

‘Early
evening,’ she scowled at him as he sat on the bench opposite her.  ‘And
did you have to announce it to the whole Refectory?’

‘Oh, everybody
already knows!’  Phantom announced breezily, placing two bowls of porridge
onto the table and pushing one towards his brother.  ‘I think the public
display of mutual affection in The Cloak and Dagger was a bit of a giveaway.’

Mistral bent
her head over her bowl of porridge to hide her reddening face and concentrated
on trying to finish it in record time.  Training this morning was going to
be hell. 

‘I’ve just
seen Barak in the corridor and he says that we’re training indoors today. 
Apparently the Arena is full of snow,’ Phantasm announced smugly.  The
twins hated being cold and the chance to spend the day in a warm Training Room
was cause enough for them to be in good spirits.

Mistral nodded
vaguely.  She hadn’t been up in the big Training Room on the third floor
since the night she had sat there reading her own aura.  She couldn’t help
but reflect on how much had changed since then.

‘It’ll be
swords today then,’ Phantom said happily, interrupting Mistrals’ thoughts.

They smiled
contentedly and began to eat their breakfast with relish.  Both were
excellent swordsmen and enjoyed any opportunity to show off their skills.

‘Today just
keeps getting better for you doesn’t it?’  Mistral muttered sourly. 
They were going to be unbearable.  Both were in good moods and no doubt
looking forward to the merciless teasing she was going to get from the other
apprentices.

‘No,’ said
Phantom suddenly leaning forward and fixing her with a hard look.  ‘But it
will when I know what you were doing yesterday.  In detail please’

‘Dream on
brother, I’m not telling you anything.  Anyway, I’m sure what you’re
imagining in your twisted mind is far more sordid than the reality!’ 
Mistral snapped. 

‘Oh come
on!  After all, we are the closest thing you have to family.  Can’t
you share with me?  It’s only because I want to be sure that you’re
happy,’ he wheedled, smiling angelically at her.

Despite her
irritation at him, Mistral found herself grinning back as she recalled the
events of yesterday.  She and Fabian had finally left his house and ridden
back at dusk.  They had sat talking in her room until midnight when he had
eventually gone off to find a bed at The Cloak and Dagger.  Mistral sighed
and looked pensively out of the long narrow windows at the heavy grey sky
outside and wondered if he had left the Valley yet. 

Dragging her
gaze back to meet Phantom’s bright green eyes, still looking at her eagerly,
she shrugged and shoved her empty bowl away. 

‘If you really
must know we rode out to his house and spent the day there.  It was nice.’

Phantom
continued to stare expectantly at her before raising one eyebrow questioningly.

Mistral blew
her cheeks out and looked in exasperation at Phantasm, ‘Can’t you do something
about him?’

‘Behave
Phantom.  I’m sure Mistral has quite a lot to tell us that is probably
best done when there are fewer ears around to catch anything of a sensitive
nature,’ Phantasm said smoothly, giving her a meaningful look.  ‘And I’m
not interested in romantic details.’

‘We did
briefly discuss your theory – let’s talk later,’ she finished quickly when Saul
ambled up to the table, distractedly swinging his sword in circles by his side.

‘Ready for
training?’

‘Definitely,’
said Mistral leaping to her feet, glad of an excuse to escape Phantom’s
interrogation.

She walked up
to the third floor chatting easily with Saul about the latest batch of
goblin-forged swords that Toothe and Nayle had just taken delivery of,
comparing their merits to the elven swords that both he and Mistral owned.

They entered
the vast torchlit room and looked around, surprised to find that they were the first
ones to arrive.  Mistral looked over her shoulder.  She was sure the
twins had been right behind them, but the corridor was empty. 

Shrugging, she
walked over the far wall and sat down with her back against it.  Resting
her swords lightly against her knees she began examining their edges for any
nicks or flaws that would need smoothing out.  Saul sat down lightly
beside her.

‘So,’ he began
after a moment’s hesitation.  ‘Mage De Winter, huh?’

Oh here we
go. 
‘Hmm,’ she said non-committedly.

There was a
short silence.  Mistral ran her finger lightly down the edge of one of her
swords, checking the sharpness.

‘Well he’s a
braver man than me.’

It was meant
to be casual, a throw away comment, but something amiss in Saul’s voice made
Mistral look up at him.  He was gazing at her with an almost wistful
expression on his face and her heart sank.  Surely not ...

‘I never found
the courage to ever ask you and now it’s too late.’

Mistral was
completely at a loss for words.  Too stunned to think up something appeasing
that would make Saul feel better she fell back on the only option.  The
truth. 

‘You are like
a brother to me Saul.’

He nodded and
gave a half-smile, ‘I’ve got your back, always ... and if De Winter ever hurts
you –’ he left the sentence unfinished, the threat to Fabian clear.

Mistral
snorted, ‘I think we both know that Fabian is more at risk from me than the
other way around.’

They both
laughed and the door opened suddenly, making them jump and look up
guiltily.  The twins strolled in wearing identical expressions of
innocence.  Mistral narrowed her eyes at them as they crossed the
room.  Not fooled by their convenient vanishing act she vowed to have
words with them at the very first opportunity. 

Brutus and
Cain entered after the twins and Saul left to go and speak with them. 
Mistral watched him go sadly, knowing that their friendship had been
unalterably changed. 

The arrival of
the twins sitting down next to her broke Mistral’s train of thought, she glared
at them both accusingly.

 ‘Ah, so
Saul finally confessed did he?’  Phantasm sighed.

‘You
knew?’  Mistral demanded in a low whisper.

‘I think it’s
more shocking that you didn’t,’ retorted Phantasm.  ‘You can read auras
can’t you?’

Mistral stared
at him.  She had no answer to that except to say that reading the others’
auras was a bit like walking in on them in the shower.  Some things are
better left unseen. 

‘Is there
anything else I should know?’  she finally spluttered indignantly.

‘Hmm, well I
think Grendel has been carrying a troll-sized torch for you since you offed his
father, which is disturbing when you think about it,’ Phantom mused, rubbing
his chin thoughtfully. 

‘And Konrad
definitely wanted to lock you in his room day and night for the last couple of
months ... but I think you’re safe now that you have that certain glow about
you,’ added Phantasm with a sideways look.

Mercifully,
Mistral’s response was drowned by the sound of Barak banging the door open and
walking in with a large target held under one beefy arm. 

‘Right! 
Split up into two groups!  Throwing knife practise down the far end and
sword work up here by the mirrored wall,’ he barked in a gruff voice. 

The twins and
Mistral instantly got up and walked towards the mirror to join Xerxes and Saul
for sword training, leaving Grendel, Golden, Columbine, Brutus and Cain to take
target practice at the far end of the room. 

‘Morning
Mistral,’ said Xerxes with a wink.  ‘Sleep well?’ 

‘About as well
as you will be in five minutes when I’ve punched you in the head,’ Mistral growled.

Xerxes laughed
loudly, causing Barak to scowl at them. 

‘Any trouble
out of you today Mistral and you are going straight to see the Training
Captain,’ he warned in a loud voice.

‘He’s obviously
been talking to Caleb about your lovely behaviour in training,’ Xerxes grinned.

Mistral
glowered at him and raised her double-swords, ‘Ready,’ she enquired with a
tight smile.

Xerxes’ grin
faltered when he saw the look on her face, he quickly drew his own pair of
shorter goblin-forged blades.

‘New
swords?’  Mistral asked coldly, beginning to circle him.  ‘Shame to
break them so soon.’

The
apprentices paired up and began to practise.  At once the Training Room
was filled with the ringing clang of steel blades striking against one
other.  The twins took it in turns to train with Saul while Mistral
remained partnered with Xerxes.  She was pushing him mercilessly, her face
set in a hard mask of concentration while she tried to break through his
defence. 

‘Don’t think
you can make an example of me and put them off,’ Xerxes grunted breathlessly,
parrying a well-aimed thrust at the last second.  ‘You know they’re going
to torment you for ages about this.’

‘Well … maybe
… I’ll … make … it … one … less … to … torment … me,’ Mistral snarled,
punctuating her words with a series of sharp stabs at Xerxes who backed away
quickly, deftly blocking all but the last shot which pierced the chest plate of
his armour.

‘Steady
Mistral!’ 

‘It’s only
troll skin!  Cheap junk!’ she snorted, stepping back and spinning her
swords in figure of eights by her side while Xerxes bent double and panted for
breath.

‘You know
what?’  Xerxes stood up and wiped the sweat from his brow.  ‘That De
Winter is a brave man!’

‘You’re the
second person to say that to me today and it hasn’t got any funnier,’ retorted
Mistral turning sharply to glare at him.  ‘Now, are we training or –’

Mistral’s last
word froze on her lips at the whistling sound of something small and sharp
flying past her ear, followed by a soft thud of a throwing knife embedding into
the padded floor at her feet.  Xerxes and Mistral stared in disbelief at
the small throwing knife and both immediately spun around to look for the
owner.  They didn’t have to look far.  Columbine and Golden were
stood with their backs to the target they were meant to be aiming for, looking
at Mistral with expressions of intense loathing on their faces.

‘Oh, bad luck
Columbine, you missed!’  Golden sighed sympathetically.

‘Too right she
did!  The training target is facing the other way!’  Saul exclaimed
angrily and made to move towards the openly laughing pair.  He hadn’t
taken one step when something shot past him at full tilt: Mistral, sprinting
across the room towards Columbine, her face livid.

Before she
could reach her target Barak stepped in front of her and slammed a massive hand
into the centre of her chest, knocking her flat onto her back.  She swore
loudly and immediately made to leap up again.  He rammed his boot into her
midriff, trapping her onto the padded floor, winded and furious.

‘Stay down
until you calm down,’ he growled into her enraged face.

With a loud
grunt of pain Barak was abruptly knocked sideways by Saul’s fist connecting
with the side of his jaw.

‘Pick on
someone your own size Barak,’ he warned in a low voice and raised his clenched
fists ready to strike again.

‘He is my
size!’  Mistral screamed furiously, leaping to her feet the second she was
released from beneath Barak’s boot.

‘I got your
back,’ muttered Saul, slowly circling Barak.

‘Suit
yourself!’  Mistral snapped.  Leaving Saul and Barak she started
running at Columbine again.  The Training Room erupted into chaos with the
apprentices yelling their encouragement to both her and Saul.  Golden
slunk to the side of the room and watched Columbine dispassionately.  The
half-gargillian was snarling ferociously, baring her green-tinged teeth while
she crouched forwards with her arms slightly raised, ready for Mistral’s
headlong impact.  Mistral waited until she was almost upon her before
launching herself feet-first into the air, driving both boots with the full
force of her running jump into Columbine’s chest and sending her crashing to
the floor.  They landed together in a tangle of legs and arms. 
Mistral rolled quickly, straddling the winded Columbine and pinning her arms by
her sides with her knees.  It felt good to let anger saturate her,
blanking all thoughts from her mind, leaving only the satisfaction of driving
her fist into Columbine’s face.  Mistral raised her fist again to repeat
the action but before she had the chance hands grabbed her clenched fist,
pulling it back.  Another pair of hands immediately wrapped around her
waist and lifted her off Columbine.