The Assassin's Tale (Isle of Dreams) (70 page)

‘So.  To
the plan,’ Xerxes looked around, ensuring he had everyone’s attention. 
‘We tether the horses out of arrow range.  We’ll keep them saddled but
cloak them for warmth – we might need to leave fast if things go wrong –’

Mistral
privately thought that things had already gone pretty badly wrong but decided
it probably wasn’t a constructive comment and kept her mouth closed.

‘Brutus and
myself will be positioned on opposite sides of the meadow armed with
longbows.  Our primary targets will be the elves.  The twins will
take flanking positions armed with crossbows to target the wolverines.  As
well as having poisoned bolts, we’re going to scatter poisoned caltrops at the
treeline where we expect the wolverines to appear.  Unfortunately the
effects of the poison won’t be immediate, but it is fatal.  Any that tread
on a caltrop or are nicked with a bolt and manage to flee will die, just not
today. 

‘Grendel, Cain,
Saul, Mistral, and Mage De Winter will be positioned in an arcing formation in
the meadow.  They need to easily visible to draw the wolverines out – but
it also means they’ll be the immediate targets if the elves appear. 
Brutus, myself and the twins will provide cover from either flank should that
happen.

‘And finally,
if the wolverines prove too much for us, Brutus and I will sing to them – er,
Elven Song, of course.’  Xerxes paused to let the few laughs fade then
looked around intently.  ‘Questions?’

There was a
short paused then Cain asked, ‘What about Konrad, Golden, and Columbine?’ 

Xerxes made a
dismissive gesture, ‘If they want to join us for the fight then I won’t stop
them.  But if they side with the elves or even attempt to remain neutral, then
I shall not particularly care if one of my arrows finds its target in
them.’ 

The
apprentices gazed back, each nodding their silent agreement. 

‘Brothers. 
Sister.  We are the brave.  May we meet again in the Fields of
Elysium!’  Xerxes roared the Ri’s battle cry and wheeled his horse around.

Mistral rolled
her eyes, ‘I bet he’s got a wager on that as well.’

‘Probably,’
Phantom agreed with sigh. 

‘Not talking
to you yet brother,’ Mistral muttered and rode over to Fabian.

‘I assume that
your gentle words of comfort to Phantasm have lifted his flagging
spirits?’  he enquired politely.

Mistral
scowled, ‘He needed something saying to him, that or a handkerchief to cry
into.’  

‘You have such
a caring soul,’ Fabian smiled and leaned across to kiss her. 

Distracted by
the touch of his lips, Mistral was left breathless when he suddenly kicked
Spirit into a canter and plunged away across the meadow, leaving a cloud of
powdery snow rising up in his wake.  Feeling recklessness flood through
her, Mistral slammed her heels into Cirrus.  With a snort of surprise the
powerful horse lunged into a gallop.  They thundered across the snow
covered meadow, quickly catching up with Fabian to ride side by side, their
gold and black horses matching each other pace for pace.

They gathered
in the hollow Xerxes had pointed out and dismounted.  After a brief
discussion they agreed to tether them on one line so that a single sword stroke
would release them all should they need to make a rapid exit.  Horses were
more than transport to the Ri, they were loyal friends and each apprentice took
their time settling their horse with a nosebag before covering with their own
travelling cloaks to prevent the cold from stiffening them up too much. 
Despite the care the horses fidgeted nervously, sensing the underlying
tension.   

Fabian
unstrapped his saddlebag and delved into it for the bottles of poison, handing
them to the twins, Xerxes and Brutus with softly spoken instructions on how to
handle it.  Mistral untied the bag of caltrops from her saddle and carried
them over to him.

‘I’ll help you
lay these,’ she offered.

Suddenly it
was time for each of them to take their positions for the fight.  The
apprentices were bantering cheerfully with each other to stave off the
tension.  Mistral looked around at the faces she had seen every day for
the last year and felt an odd lurch in her stomach.  She locked gazes with
Phantasm and his green eyes seemed to reflect her emotions. 

‘Sister.’ 

‘Brother.’

Inexplicably,
Mistral felt her throat constrict.

‘If you cry I
have lost so much money,’ warned Phantom and pulled her into a swift hug. 
‘Don’t worry Mistral.  It’ll take more than a pack of overgrown dogs to
stop us all being together again tonight in The Cloak.’

‘Let it be so
brother.’  Xerxes swung his bow onto his shoulder and clapped Brutus on
the back.  ‘If I die today, please tell our mother.’

‘No
chance!’  Brutus snorted.  ‘She’ll kill me!  You were always her
favourite.’

‘Glad to know
she got something right,’ laughed Xerxes, striding off through the snow to
assume his position.

Mistral
watched the two brothers and the twins separate, Phantom to walk with Brutus
and Phantasm with Xerxes to take positions near them.  It didn’t seem
right that they were apart but she could see the need for their skills to be
divided.  This was no longer a hunt.  It was a battlefield.

‘Mistral.’

Saul’s voice
dragged her away from watching the twins divide.  She met his serious
brown eyes and saw no sadness in them, only acceptance.  

‘You owe me a
drink for yesterday Saul.’    

‘So I do,’
Saul smiled and walked on. 

‘See you later
Mistral.’  Cain flashed his mischievous grin at her and joined Saul to
take their positions in the centre of the meadow.

‘Mistral.’
 Grendel grunted and stomped past her, swinging his battle axe by his
side.  He suddenly stopped and turned to glower at her.  ‘Might bring
you a wolverine back to skin for me.  I always wanted that wolf pelt of
yours.’

‘Bring back
two Grendel.  One won’t cover your modesty.’  Mistral called and
grinned when she heard his rumble of laughter.

Then Fabian
and Mistral were alone. 

Fabian smiled
slowly and reached up to caress her face.  Catching his hand, she held it
against her cheek, closing her eyes to savour his touch.  She opened them
to gaze up at him wistfully.

‘I wish I
hadn’t let you persuade me to be so virtuous.’

His smile
deepened then he bent his head to kiss her, fleeting and tender.

‘It’s
time.’ 

Taking her by
the hand, they walked together to take their positions.  They were to be
at the centre of the arc, facing whatever the forest would release first,
wolverines or elves.

Suddenly it
was real.  Fight or die.  Mistral gazed around at the white
wonderland that would soon become a battlefield and felt her mind detach,
becoming cold and emotionless.  The assassin.  Protected by the
shield her mind threw up, she viewed everything differently.  Every tree
became a potential obstacle, every snowy hollow a life-saving place to leap into. 
She felt no fear, no excitement.  She felt ... nothing.

‘We’ll lay the
caltrops in a spread in front of us.’  Fabian reached into the bag to draw
out one of the four-pronged metal objects.  ‘Dip them in poison and then
pass them to me.  One prong will be sufficient as the others will be on
the ground.’

Mistral and
Fabian moved in a steady line across the front of their arcing formation,
carefully laying the poisoned caltrops.  Once the bag was empty they
quickly took up their positions in the line. 

Mere seconds
passed before Brutus and Xerxes shouted as one.

‘I hear Elven
Song!’ 

There was no
time to register their words before Saul took up the cry, his voice quieter but
filled with as much urgency.

‘The
wolverines are coming!’

Mistral drew
her swords and raised them ready, dropping instinctively into a half-crouch
while her eyes raked the dark treeline for the wolverines Saul’s sharp eyes had
seen.  She heard them before she saw them; a chorus of ragged panting and
thudding of heavy paws.

‘There!’

The single
word left her lips in a hiss of exhaled air, audible only to herself and
Fabian.  He drew his sword as the wolverines broke cover and burst into
the meadow.  Tongues lolling and eyes rolling wildly they bounded through
the snow, desperate to escape the intolerable sound of the Elven Song.

‘Twelve!’ 
Saul shouted.

Mistral’s view
was suddenly obstructed by Fabian shifting his position to shield her from the
oncoming pack.  Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, she leaned around
to watch the wolverines running over the section of meadow where she and Fabian
had laid the caltrops. 

Yelps of pain
rang out as the sharp prongs drove into their pads but they didn’t slow. 
Suddenly one stumbled, then another and Mistral realised that the twins had
started firing.  The fallen wolverines clambered to their feet, shaking
snow from their coats.  High-pitched whines rang again and more bolts
thudded into the pack but the impacts seemed to do little to deter the massive
beasts.  They yelped and faltered but quickly recovered, leaping up with
savage growls and bounding forward again.

Fierce snarls
ripped the air.  Slowing their flat-out gallop to a more menacing prowl
the pack spread out, encircling the apprentices.  A second of silence fell
then with a rumbling growl the pack attacked.

Grendel swung
his axe at the wolverine that sprang at him, cleaving it almost in two with the
force of his stroke.  Two more wolverines leapt at him, crashing into his
chest.  He staggered but didn’t fall.  Dropping his axe with a roar
of rage he seized the wolverines around their throats and held them
aloft.  They scrabbled frantically at his thick arms but their claws
barely marked his tough skin.  Grendel snarled louder than they did,
slowly tightening his crushing grip and shaking them like ragdolls before
flinging their lifeless bodies into the snow.

Cain and Saul
were surrounded.  Three huge beasts lunged and snapped at them, backing
off and circling again, taking it in turns to attack.  The two apprentices
fought back to back, striking at the wolverines again and again until sweat
stung their eyes and the snow around them grew scarlet with blood. 

Mistral was
blind to her brothers’ battles.  She was transfixed by the sight of Fabian
fighting.  The rise and fall of his sword, the icy calm of his
expression.  Time seemed to slow as she watched the blade of his sword
slice into a wolverine’s neck.  A fine spray of blood arced through the
air, spreading crimson droplets onto the white snow.  Suddenly everything
accelerated.  Mistral gasped when the second wolverine made a wild leap at
Fabian.  He rammed a hand into its throat, holding the wolverine’s
slavering jaws mere inches from his face.  Raising his sword he drove it
in then yanked it swiftly out, stepping back to let the wolverine slump into
the bloody snow.  

A low growl
rumbled close by, calling her away.  Mistral spun around to meet the
yellow-eyed stare of a wolverine slinking on its belly towards her. 
Double whines sang out and two bolts struck the wolverine in the
shoulder.  The wolverine barely flinched and crawled closer,
snarling.  Mistral levelled her swords at it and bared her own teeth in
response.

‘Come on
then,’ she hissed and tensed, ready for the wolverine to spring.

With a savage growl
the wolverine lunged for her throat, turning its head sideways and opening its
jaws wide.  Mistral stood her ground and swiftly jerked both swords
inwards, slicing into either side of the wolverine’s neck.  Blood gushed
over her hands and the wolverine’s severed head rolled over her crossed swords
to fall into the snow. 

‘Mistral!
’ 

It was Fabian
calling her name.  His voice edged with panic.

She looked up
and called back, ‘I’m alright Fabian!’  smiling slightly, she stepped over
the wolverine’s body and shook the blood from her hands.  She was better
than alright.  She was fighting. 

Spinning both
swords by her side, she prepared to meet the next wolverine stalking towards
her.  Biding her time, she hung back, watching the beast move closer and
closer until she could almost smell its hot panting breath.  Moving
forward in a sudden rush she thrust one sword into the wolverine’s flank. 
Releasing her grip on the hilt she quickly grabbed her second sword with both
hands and swung it with all her might, slicing cleanly through its neck.

A grating
scream rent the air, startling them all.  Everyone looked around,
searching wildly for the source of the sound.  Another screech rang out,
coming from the treeline. 

‘There!’ 
Saul yelled hoarsely.

Columbine and
Golden suddenly appeared from between the trees and galloped into the
meadow.  Columbine’s face contorted with another hysterical shriek. 
She was riding like a crazy woman, flailing madly with her arms and legs,
desperately urging her horse through the snow.  The spent horse floundered
in the drifts at the meadow’s edge and stumbled, throwing Columbine from its
back.

Mistral
watched Columbine hurtle through the air and crash heavily into the snow. 
Her horse lay unmoving and Mistral winced, realising that the animal was badly
hurt and would be unable to flee from the wolverines.

The remaining
wolverines instantly froze, their attention drawn by the panic in Columbine’s
scream.  Four sets of hungry eyes fixed on the injured horse, now
struggling pathetically to stand.  With a single chilling howl from the
leader the pack turned and bounded towards the stricken horse and its fallen
rider.

Golden made no
effort to stop and help her companion but leaned low over her horse’s neck,
shouting words of encouragement.  She galloped past her fellow apprentices
without even looking at them.  No-one turned to follow her flight; all
eyes were riveted on the horror unfolding at the treeline.