The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams) (30 page)

‘I tell you what!’ she eventually
snapped when Phantom bumped into her for the third time.  ‘Why don’t you
just take my place?  You’ll be able to hear better!’  abruptly
reining Cirrus back, she let them ride on without her. 

‘Ah, the blushing bride, how
lovely of you to join us!’

‘Xerxes.  Make my quota a
five and I want a bonus if I get Columbine too.’  Mistral snapped. 
‘Oh, and make Prospero a two.  I’m sure he won’t want to be left out.’ she
added, glancing down at her huge dog pounding along beside them. 

‘Straight to the point as usual.’
 Xerxes laughed and quickly scribbled her name down on the tatty piece of
parchment balanced on the pommel of his saddle. 

‘Now, this is just my type of
wedding celebration.’  Cain remarked cheerfully, passing her a battered
silver hip flask.  He caught her hesitant look and winked.  ‘Don’t
worry, this one is just good honest alcohol, no manticore poison!’

‘I could have done with some of
that this morning.’  Mistral muttered and took a long swallow from the
flask. 

‘You got there in the end.’ 
Cain gave her a smile less like his usual teasing one then his grin
returned.  ‘Seriously though, this is a going to be great!  A chance
to legitimately batter some pompous, over-bearing Mages –’

‘Careful brother!’  Brutus
warned Cain with a laugh.  ‘Mistral just married one of those pompous
over-bearing Mages we love so much!’ 

Mistral didn’t react.  She
knew how deeply Ri warriors resented the Mage population’s assumed right rule
simply because they were bequeathed with the Craft.  Warriors sweated and
bled to gain their abilities whilst sorcerers were simply born with their gift
already established.  It was the kind of natural injustice that made most
warriors want to batter the nearest pompous over-bearing Mage into the ground.

‘Mage De Winter doesn’t
count!’  Cain waved a hand airily.  ‘He’s more warrior than
Mage.  I’d be happy to fight alongside him any day.’

Mistral hid a smile of
gratitude.  It meant a lot that her brothers had accepted Fabian so
easily.  She couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be if they hadn’t,
which made her immediately think of Saul.  She glanced up quickly to see
him riding silently between Cain and Brutus, his face
expressionless.    

‘How many Rochfortes are we going
to be facing?’  Xerxes asked, holding his parchment up and running finger
down the totals column.  ‘Only, I hope there’s quite a few or we’re going
to have to kill some of them twice to fulfil this quota!’

‘You know what they say; what’s
better than one dead Rochforte?’  Brutus began with a grin.

‘Two dead Rochfortes!’ they
chorused loudly.

Mistral found herself laughing
along with them.  Their boundless enthusiasm never failed to lift her
mood.

‘Saul?’  Xerxes
called.  ‘What’s the tally?’

‘Gleacher reckons the tribe
stands at about fifty, but they will have tried to swell the ranks with a few
paid hands.  So we can assume that we’re going to be facing about eighty.’
 Saul responded in a flat voice.

Mistral stole a quick glance at
him.  It was the first time he’d spoken in her presence all day, although
she could hardly expect him to be leaping up and down and congratulating her on
getting married. 

‘And how many are we?’ 
Xerxes asked with a frown, gazing at the army of warriors around them.

‘Forty three.’  Saul replied
promptly.  ‘Although Grendel really counts as two.’

‘Good, good –’ Xerxes mumbled,
returning his attention to his parchment. 

‘Don’t forget the Council will be
fighting too.’  Brutus reminded him.

‘Damn!  I nearly forgot
about them!  Can that lot actually fight or will they just stand there and
chuck spells at each other?’ 

‘Some of them can fight.’ 
Saul replied.  ‘Mage Grapple is famed for being a fiercesome warrior, but
most of them think that wielding an actual physical weapon is below them.’

Xerxes snorted disdainfully, ‘So
it’ll be down to the Ri to save their Isle for them then.’   

‘It’s our Isle too brother.’
 Brutus said quietly.  ‘It’s like his Leoship said.  We’re
fighting for our freedom, not the Council.’

Mistral threw him a scathing look
but couldn’t argue with the truth in his words.  Despite the fact that she
despised Leo’s fondness for making overly dramatic speeches, he had got that
one exactly right.

‘What about the warlocks?’ 
Xerxes looked up, concern wrinkling his brow.

‘Won’t act without Mage Grapple
apparently.’  Mistral responded, pleased to be the one with some knowledge
for once.  ‘So you can stop worrying about them messing with your quotas.’

‘Ah, excellent!’  Xerxes’
face broke into a beaming grin.  ‘This is going to be one damned good
fight!’

Brutus suddenly grinned at
Mistral, ‘I wish you got married as often as my brother did.  Your wedding
is turning out to be a lot of fun!’ 

Mistral turned to Xerxes,
‘Wait.  You’ve been married?’

Xerxes shrugged, ‘Once or
twice.  Although I’m not sure how legally binding they were.  There
was this girl I met on a mercenary Contract in the East that wouldn’t engage in
any type of fun activity unless I married her, but all we did was say a few
words over a painted stick in front of a priest wearing a carved wooden mask …
anyway, I left the next day and I’ve never been back so that one doesn’t
count.’

Mistral stared at him, her face a
mixture of utter disbelief and amusement, ‘Once or twice?  You’ve been
married more than once?’

‘You know how it is.’
 Xerxes grinned, the shameless oaf she knew and unfortunately liked. 
‘Needs must when the girl needs a little encouragement.’  he paused and
frowned.  ‘But I’m fairly sure the second time didn’t count.’

‘And why is that, dare I ask?’

‘Well, when I got to the wedding
the bride’s mother and I realised that we knew each other a bit better than we
should.  It got a bit heated after that –’

‘Xerxes!’

‘Don’t worry Mistral.’ 
Xerxes held up a placating hand.  ‘I was alright.  I left quickly and
avoided causing any unnecessary bloodshed.’

‘I wasn’t worried about
you!’  Mistral shook her head, laughing despite her disapproval. 
‘You’re a disgrace Xerxes!  I wish I’d never treated your back!  You
deserve to suffer for what you’re doing to the female population!’

‘Hey!  I leave them happy!’

The resulting burst of laughter
made Leo turn and give them a glacial look.

‘Talking of which, his Leoship the
Ever Unhappy is glaring at us.’  Cain muttered.  ‘Oops!  Too
late!  Get ready for the windswept treatment!  Here he comes –’

Wiping the grin from her face,
Mistral ducked her head down and concentrated on fiddling with the coarse black
strands of Cirrus’ mane.

‘I expect my warriors to behave
with more dignity than this!’  Leo hissed.  ‘You are all behaving as
though this is some glorified training session, not a fight for the future of
the Isle!  I cannot stress how important the outcome of this battle will
be!  If the Rochfortes defeat the Council they will seize control of the
Isle, and that includes the Ri!’

Xerxes shrugged, his expression a
study of defiant insolence, ‘If they somehow manage to defeat us their rule
will be short-lived.  Once Mage Grapple gets back he’ll command the
warlock army to squash them like gnats.’

Leo’s voice dropped several
degrees to something beyond glacial, ‘I marvel at the boundless limits of your
ignorance Xerxes.  Allow me to enlighten you and then perhaps you may
begin to understand the magnitude of our situation. 

‘Warlocks are loyal to the Head
of the Mage Council alone, not the Council or even the Isle.  Am I clear
on that?’

‘Crystal.’  Xerxes muttered
sullenly.

‘Good.  Then let me tell you
what will happen if the Rochfortes defeat us tomorrow.  They will assume
control and force the Mage Council to swear in the conquering Rochforte as the
new Head of the Isle.  By the time Mage Grapple returns to our shores it
will be to face his own warlock army, not lead them!’

‘Er, it does sound pretty bad
when you look at it like that.’  Xerxes mumbled. 

‘Bad?  No.  It’s
dire!’ 

There was a brief silence then
Mistral looked up, ‘Master Sphinx?’ 

‘What?’  Leo snapped, still
glaring at Xerxes.  

‘How much of this fight will involve
the Craft?’

Leo favoured her with a
calculating look, ‘That is a question on which our whole battle strategy
hinges.  You all have troll or gorgon skin armour I presume?’

They all nodded wordlessly.

‘Then you are as prepared as you
can be.’

He kicked his heavy warhorse on,
resuming his position beside Fabian.

‘Oh great, and what did Captain
Enigmatic mean by that?’  Xerxes demanded with a disgusted look.

‘Don’t know.’  Cain said
shortly.  ‘But I know someone who does –’

He promptly reached into his saddlebag
and grabbed a chunk of bread then threw it at Phantom, striking him squarely on
the back of the head.

Phantom spun round with an angry
glare and Cain instantly beckoned him to join them.

‘Was that really
necessary?’  Phantom hissed as he pulled his horse back to ride alongside
him.

‘Yes.’  Cain said
unapologetically.  ‘You were raised at the Council weren’t you?’

Phantom looked suddenly
apprehensive, ‘In part.’

‘Did you get to learn about how
the Craft works then?’

‘Bits.’  Phantom muttered
evasively.

‘Well we need to know those bits
right now, or more specifically how the Craft will be used tomorrow so get on
with it!’  Cain hissed impatiently.

‘Oh, hang on – give me a piece of
bread –’

The piece of bread bounced off
Phantasm’s shoulder.  He spun around to give his brother a furious look.

‘Get back here!’  Phantom
mouthed silently.

‘No!’  Phantasm mouthed
back, his eyes sliding left to indicate that he was still eavesdropping on the
battle plans.

Phantom held another chunk of
bread up, threatening to throw it, ‘Don’t make me!’

Giving his brother a filthy look,
Phantasm held his horse back, ‘That was just getting interesting!’  

‘Was it?  What were they
saying?’  Phantom asked eagerly.

‘Never mind that!’  Cain
snapped.  ‘We need to know how the Craft is going to be used
tomorrow!  I’ve got a lot of money riding on my bet – my deposit on that
shop in the village actually, and if anything is going to upset my chances I
need to know about it.’

‘A bet written down on paper
cannot be changed.’  Xerxes intoned heavily.

‘I don’t want to change it
Xerxes, I want to prepare!’  Cain hissed and patted his saddlebag
significantly.

‘Ah yes, shoot the damn lot of
them from a long way off with poisoned arrows then go home, a good day’s work
done.’  Xerxes nodded happily.

‘What specifically do you need to
know?’  Phantasm asked.

‘Only everything!’

‘Fine.’  Phantasm sighed
heavily.  ‘I’ll start with the basics.  So, you know that the Craft
is more powerful in some sorcerers than others.  Well the Council is made up
of only powerful sorcerers.  It’s through their bloodlines that they
originally gained their positions at the Council.’

‘Good to see nepotism is alive
and thriving.’  Cain grunted.    

‘Nepotism, corruption and
bribery.’  Phantasm continued.  ‘Sorcerers look after their
own.  It’s quite literally in their blood.  Any related by blood can
cast jointly and create a more powerful spell.  I’m not sure how many of
the Council are related, my brother is the expert on sorcering genealogy –’

‘Not as many as you might
think.’  Phantom interrupted.  ‘Most families were decimated by the
wars back in the Isle’s early days.  There’s a few cousins, the most
notable being Green and Rosenberg, and there’s the Castledine brothers –’

‘However,’ Phantasm cut in
quickly, ‘all of the Rochfortes are related, which means they will be able to
cast on mass.’

Brutus gave a low whistle,
‘Powerful.’

‘Very.’ 

‘Can the Council equal
that?’  Xerxes asked doubtfully.

Phantasm pulled a face, ‘Without
Mage Grapple and the warlocks they’re going to struggle.’

Mistral frowned, ‘How much
protection will our armour offer?  Only, I had mine on when Mage Grapple
cast and it was still like being thrown against a rock face!’

‘Mage Grapple is probably the
most powerful Mage the sorcering world has ever known.  No other spell
cast would have that effect Mistral, your armour will allow you to continue
fighting –’

‘Mage Grapple’s family tree is
complicated but basically he’s the end product of the meetings of some of the
most famous sorcering bloodlines in history.’  Phantom jumped in again,
keen to show-off his knowledge.  ‘You can trace him right back to Thaddeus
Noble –’

Phantasm gave him a weary look
and continued in a firm voice, ‘The Craft is not simply something that can be
aimed and fired like a crossbow.  It is a force within each sorcerer that
will do anything to protect its vessel from destruction –’

‘So how good is their aim with it
then?’  Xerxes interrupted impatiently.

‘Well, put it like this.  It
would take great skill to direct a spell onto an individual in the melee of
battle.  I would say that the Rochfortes are much more likely to cast in a
cloud.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Quite simply what it says
Xerxes.  They cast jointly over their enemy’s army rather than target
individuals.  It has the benefit of making multiple strikes but seriously
dilutes the spell’s strength.’

‘Aha, quantity not quality.’

‘Crudely put, yes.  The
larger the area the spell has to cover, the weaker it becomes.’

‘Enough for our armour to protect
us?’