The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams) (31 page)

‘Yes.’

Xerxes smirked, ‘I’m liking the
sound of this battle more and more!’

‘Wait!’  Cain said
sharply.  ‘The Craft works both ways doesn’t it?  I mean, it can
attack and defend can’t it?’

Phantasm nodded, ‘Yes.  The
Rochfortes will cast protective spells over themselves.’

‘Will that stop our arrows
getting through?’  Xerxes asked with a worried look.

‘No.  It’s like for
like.  Protective spells are only barriers against other spells.’

A slow grin spread across Xerxes’
face, ‘Ah, now you’re talking.  So while the pompous over-bearing Mages
face-off and lob invisible fireworks at each other we can charge in and use
some good honest steel!’

They all laughed and Mistral
joined them, feeling a sudden rush at the thought battle.  It was a
completely different sensation to taking a Contract, the cold sense of purpose
at being paid to get a job done was replaced by a burning desire to fight and
defend what was rightfully theirs – by any means necessary.  It felt
personal, as though the invading tribe of Rochfortes were trying to steal her
freedom.  She glanced over at her brothers and could see by the gleam in
their eyes that they felt the same. 

‘Ha!  The Rochfortes think
they’re going to be facing a bunch of over-privileged fat Councillors and
instead they’re going to meet us!  This is going to be good!’  Xerxes
roared and promptly launched into a verse of his favourite goblin-stuffing
song.

Mistral laughed and kicked Cirrus
on.  She had heard the crude song enough times and had no desire to hear
it again.  Leaving the twins behind she pushed Cirrus up to ride beside
Gleacher Shacklock and caught Fabian’s eye.  She wished Gleacher and Leo
would have their battle strategy meeting elsewhere so that she and Fabian could
at least have a conversation.  It was their wedding night after all.

Mistral’s wish for some time
alone with her Mage went unfulfilled as Leo pushed on late into the night,
finally calling a halt for an hour at midnight to eat and allow the horses to
rest.  Mistral swung herself out of the saddle and stretched gratefully,
glad of the chance to walk around and ease her stiff legs.

‘We’re making good time.’
 Fabian commented while he passed her some cold meat.  ‘If we can
maintain this pace we should reach Holdridge before dawn.’

‘I wish Leo would ride
elsewhere.’  Mistral grumbled, tearing a piece of meat off and chewing it
bad-temperedly.  ‘He’s so inconsiderate!  This is meant to be our
wedding night and he’s ranting on endlessly about battle strategies.’

Fabian frowned, ‘I don’t think
you understand how important this battle is Mistral.  If the Rochfortes
succeed in their attempt to take power the Ri will be wiped from the face of
the Isle.  Rochfortes are notoriously intolerant of half-breeds. 
They consider them abominations, nothing more than vermin to be drowned in a
bucket at birth.’

‘I’d like to see them try!’ 
Mistral snarled, angrily tossing her food to Prospero.

‘Oh, they’re going to try.’
 Fabian said quietly.  ‘But I think they’re going to get more than
they bargained for.’

Mistral looked up, ‘You mean the
Ri?’ 

Fabian reached out and stroked a
single finger down her cheek, letting it rest on the curve of her lips, ‘I
would fight to the last breath in my body to defend what is mine, and that is
more powerful than any spell.’

Mistral held his gaze, ‘Please
tell me you’re not intending to take them on single-handedly.’

‘No.’  Fabian smiled. 
‘I will fight with the Ri and know that they feel about the Isle as I do about
you.  Here, they can exist without persecution, command respect for the skills
they strove to learn, be paid for the services they provide.  The
Rochfortes threaten their very existence, and there is no stronger cause to
fight for than the right to survive.’

Mistral gazed back
wordlessly.  The fierce light she saw in his eyes echoed perfectly her own
desire to destroy the faceless tribe threatening her right to a life with
Fabian, and even the right to exist.  Wasn’t she exactly what they
detested?  A half-breed?  There and then, with her eyes locked on
Fabian’s, Mistral vowed to die fighting rather than bow to Rochforte
oppression.  There was no fear in that realisation, only a savage sense of
determination. 

‘This was their plan all along
wasn’t it?  To steal control of the Isle.  The meeting was a
sham.  The tribe never wanted to abide by Mage Grapple’s rules and live
here peaceably.  I almost feel sorry for Antoine.  He was used.’

Fabian nodded, ‘I believe so
too.  And I also think that Putreo had more than a helping hand in the
scheme.’  he narrowed his eyes.  ‘I wonder what he was promised for
his assistance.’

‘Mage Grapple’s position?’ 
Mistral suggested. 

‘Possibly, but if he believed
them, then he is even more of a fool than I ever imagined.  He betrayed
the Rochfortes by staying on the Isle when they left and doesn’t even have the
courage to be known by his family name.  I suspect the Rochfortes have
deceived him with empty promises.  Putreo was always a shallow creature,
easily turned by the prospect of some glittering reward.’

Leo’s voice rang out across the
cool night air, summoning the warriors to hear the battle plan.

Mistral sighed, ‘Do I need to
hear this, or can you tell me everything?  Only this is our wedding night
and I would like to spend some of it with you.’

Fabian smiled, ‘I think I can
summarise.’

An hour later the warriors were
riding on towards Holdridge, pushing their horses relentlessly through the
night.  As Fabian had predicted they reached the high cliffs above
Holdridge in the starless black that proceeded the first dawn light. Halting in
a long line the warriors stared silently down at the small port beneath
them.  The quayside was eerily deserted, the sea empty.

‘Saul!’  Leo called in a low
voice.

Instantly Saul dismounted and
strode to the edge of the cliffs.  His yarthkin blood had blessed him with
eyesight far sharper than any of the other warriors possessed.  He gazed
intently out at the sea stretching before them in a blank sheet of
darkness. 

‘There.’  he murmured
softly, raising a hand to point at some invisible object in the black sea. 
‘Four sailing ships are about to enter the harbour.’

Mistral stared at where Saul
indicated but saw nothing but the restless motion of the sea, broken in brief
illuminations by the occasional white flash of a breaking wave.

‘Damn he’s got sharp eyes!’
 she muttered to Fabian.  ‘I can’t see a thing!’

‘You are too impatient, look
Mistral, look at the sea –’

Mistral stared again, fighting
the urge to blink from the strain then let out a sudden gasp when the white
head of a breaking wave smashed against the dark hull of a sailing ship.

‘I see them!’

Fabian frowned, judging the
distance, ‘Too far for our archers.’

Leo began issuing orders in a low
voice and the cliffside was suddenly alive with silent warriors moving quickly
to obey his instructions.  Xerxes and Brutus dismounted and handed their
horses over to the warrior charged with tethering them.  Drawing their
bows the two brothers joined the other elven-blooded warriors in a long line at
the edge of the cliff.

‘Archers ready!’

Leo nodded and turned to Cain,
‘Now.’

Cain reached into this saddlebag
and drew out several black bottles of poison and began passing them to the
archers with murmured instructions on how to handle the potent mix. 
Mistral waited impatiently for her instructions, knowing that she would have to
obey his ridiculous order to stay at the back until the battle began and she
could join in unnoticed. 

Sure enough, when Leo rode past
her and the twins on his way back from briefing the archers he looked at them
and barked out a brisk order.

‘Mistral.  You and the
Gemini will take holding positions at the back of the archers.  Stay
mounted.’

‘See you soon.’  Mistral
muttered meaningfully to Fabian and rode off.

Fabian watched her go, his face
drawn tight.  When she was finally taken from his sight by darkness he
turned and rode after Leo.  Mistral knew the moment he turned away. 
She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him.  She knew he wanted her to
stay where Leo had ordered, but he also knew her well enough to realise that
was never going to happen.  In her mind Mistral imagined him riding away,
the bright gold of his palomino slowly being swallowed by darkness. 
Sighing deeply she whistled for Prospero, her substitute for Fabian.

‘How long have we got to sit here
like ornaments?’  she demanded when the twins rode up alongside.

‘Until Master Sphinx is suitably
distracted by fighting for his life.’  Phantasm replied lightly.

‘Let that be soon.’  Mistral
growled.  ‘He might be related to me now but he’s seriously trying my
patience.’

‘Oh, he’s not your only new
relation.  Do you realise that you are now related to Mage Grapple?’ 
Phantom said casually.

‘What are you going on about
now?’  Mistral muttered, reaching into her saddlebag to extract a roll of
leather strappings.

‘He’s Master Sphinx’s
father.  That makes him some kind of relation to you by marriage.’

Mistral unravelled the leather
strappings with an irritated snap, ‘Oh for crying out loud Phantom, you really
need to get a life!’

‘If it’s alright by you, I’d like
to defend the one I’m currently enjoying.’

Mistral looked up, ‘Yes brother
it is.  That’s just what we’re here to do.’

‘Shh!  The Council are
here!’ 

Phantasm’s hissed whisper cut
across their conversation.  They instantly looked up to where the High
Moors met the cliffs. 

‘How many?’  Mistral asked,
straining to see through the faint light.

‘Looks to be about twenty –’

‘Nice odds.’  Mistral
muttered after quickly calculating that they were going to be severely
outnumbered by the Rochfortes.

‘I’m more interested in our
chance of survival than Xerxes’ damned odds!’

‘Try this for odds then
brother.  We’ll win or die trying.  Either way we won’t have to
suffer a Rochforte rule.  Where’s your problem?’ 

‘Sometimes I seriously wonder
whether you were actually born with an ounce of self-preservation in your body
Mistral!  Don’t you want a life with your Mage?’

‘More than you know.  And
that is precisely why I would rather die today than accept their rule. 
They wouldn’t let a half-breed like me even be in the same room as a pure-blooded
Mage like Fabian.’

Phantom leaned over, ‘Talking of
which, how come he’s left you alone?  I would’ve thought he would be here
protecting you.’

‘I am.’

Mistral turned to see Fabian
riding quietly towards her.

‘What’s happening?’ she asked in an
urgent whisper.

‘Leo is meeting with the
Council’s Captain of the Guard to agree a strategy.  Gleacher has control
of the archers and will begin our assault immediately.’

Mistral continued binding the
leather strapping over her hands and wrists, ‘You know I’m not staying up here
don’t you?’

Fabian watched the wedding ring
he had placed on her finger only hours before vanish beneath the leather battle
strappings and nodded tensely.

‘I know.’

‘Archers!  Give me
light!’ 

Gleacher’s voice rang out across
the cliff top.  The archers immediately drew their bows and released a
shower of flaming arrows, flooding the port with sudden fiery light. 
Mistral hissed at what was revealed.  Lit by a burning arc of arrows a
mass of dark figures could be seen pouring out from the ships now docked in the
harbour, far more than Saul had predicted.  Urgent shouts went up at the
sudden burst of light overhead and rapid battle formations were made. 
Rochforte archers knelt swiftly and drew, aiming for cliff top.

‘This is no hastily organised act
of retaliation!’ exclaimed Phantasm.  ‘Look at them!’

Phantom stared with narrowed eyes
down at the figures swarming onto the quayside, ‘I agree brother.  That
looks more like a carefully planned military operation.’

The Ri’s flaming arrows
extinguished themselves with a soft hiss in the water but they had served their
purpose.  Both sides now had their targets.

‘Reload!  Tipped!’ 

Gleacher’s iron voice rang
out.  The archers immediately reached for the bottles of poison that Cain
had distributed and dipped their arrows.  They drew their bows and waited
for Gleacher’s signal.

‘Fire!’ 

The air was filled again with the
whine of arrows and the Ri archers were rewarded with cries as the hail of
poisoned arrow struck home. 

‘Cover!’

Gleacher’s shouted command was
instantly obeyed.  The Ri archers swiftly knelt and raised their shields,
the whine of incoming arrows swiftly followed by the metallic clangs of arrow
heads striking burnished steel.

‘Reload!’

While Gleacher continued to shout
battle orders to his archers Fabian abruptly grabbed Cirrus’ bridle and hauled
him further back, away from the chance of a stray arrow finding its mark in
Mistral.

‘We will wait here.’

Mistral gritted her teeth and
stared down at the black quayside below them, feeling ready to explode with the
tension of waiting. 

‘What are we waiting for?’

‘Leo.’

Mistral made an impatient noise
and grabbed her crossbow, ‘I think I’ll make myself useful while I’m waiting.’

She had not swung her leg from
the saddle before Fabian grabbed her, yanking her back.

‘You will wait here!’ 

Mistral jerked round, her eyes
blazing, but the cold, uncompromising look on his face instantly made her sink
back into the saddle without further argument.  Fabian looked like the
assassin he had once been and nothing scared her more than turning him into
that person again.