The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams) (57 page)

Fabian turned to look at her,
‘You are absolutely right.  Because if you did, I would be unable to stop
myself from leaping in to protect you and Bryden would have me forcibly
removed; dead or alive, for violating our agreement.’

‘You’re too overprotective
Fabian!’  Mistral complained.  ‘In fact, I think you’re worse than
Prospero!’

‘I don’t have fleas.’
 Fabian said drily and pulled her on again.

‘Neither does he!’  Mistral
snapped, dropping a hand to rest defensively on her dog’s anvil-sized head.

Fabian laughed quietly and shook
his head, ‘Would you believe that I am occasionally jealous of that dog?’

Mistral gave him an amused look,
‘Why would you be jealous of Prospero?’

Fabian turned and looked at with
her, his black eyes lit with an emotion that instantly made her pulse
quicken. 

‘Because he is permitted to do
all the things I want.  He shares your bed every night and he even swims with
you –’

‘I’m not stopping you from doing
any of those things,’ she whispered.

‘No, I am.’  Fabian said
shortly and pulled her on at a brisk pace.  ‘Which is precisely why we are
going to see Imperato.’

Mistral sighed and allowed
herself to be dragged away from the noise and excitement of the melee, towards
what she could only assume would be something far less interesting, possibly,
she decided gloomily, even dull.

Fabian and Imperato greeted one
another respectfully at the edge of their camp while Mistral hung back,
uncertain of how to behave around the intimidating tribe of centaurs. 
They seemed to have quite firm ideas on how they expected their female tribal
members to behave and she was acutely aware, once again, of her too tight
trousers.

‘Seer.’  Imperato greeted
her solemnly.  ‘Join me.’

Inviting her to walk beside him
with a quiet gesture Imperato turned and strode away towards the back of their
camp where the tents gave way to the steep rise of the Vale wall.  Mistral
hesitated and glanced at Fabian, seeing his smile of gentle encouragement she
drew in a deep breath and hurried after Imperato, catching up with him at the
edge of the encampment where he stopped and gazed up at the azure blue of the
summer sky. 

‘See.’  Imperato entreated
her in a profound voice. 

Mistral obediently followed his
gaze and stared up at the cloudless sky, seeing nothing but the vaguest wisp of
white clouds around the bright sun.  Wondering if she was missing
something obvious, Mistral stole a glance at Imperato out of the corner of her
eye, but his trancelike state offered her no clues.

‘Er … what am I looking
at?’  she eventually asked.

‘The stars.’

‘But … it’s daytime!’

Imperato turned his timeless gaze
onto her, ‘Just because you cannot see something doesn’t mean it isn’t there …
look … see –’

Mistral looked back up at the
blue sky while Imperato began to point out the stars hidden by the blinding
light of the sun.  She listened to his wild voice, rich and sweet as
honey, naming the constellations and describing their cycles.  Lost in a
world that made no sense, she could only gaze in wonderment at the vast empty
space above them and feel awed by the depth of Imperato’s knowledge.  She
found herself struggling against an overwhelming sense of insignificance, a
complete unworthiness to possess the gift that destiny had foolishly bestowed
upon her.

‘Why me?’ she asked in small
voice while Imperato gazed silently up at the deep blue above them.  ‘I
don’t have your knowledge or wisdom.  A Seer should be someone like you,
not me!’

Imperato turned his head slowly
to look at her, ‘It is not for us to question destiny but embrace the challenge
it offers and strive to fulfil the role that we are given.  Do not fear
your fate.  Accept it willingly and begin to live your life.’

Mistral gazed wordlessly back,
thinking only of Fabian and how much she wanted a life with him.  After
that, being a Seer easily fell into second or maybe even, third place. 
She was abruptly filled with powerful yearning then sighed, realising too late
that Imperato had read every thought more clearly than if she had spoken them
aloud.

‘Do not be ashamed of what you
desire, Seer, for the two are inextricably linked.  We do not choose who
we are Bonded to.  Our souls instinctively join with those strong enough
to walk beside us along the path of destiny.  I see your impatient nature
and I know how much you resent the shackles you feel your gift has placed upon
you, but you must alter your perception.  Only when you master your gift
will you truly be free.’

She frowned then gave a half-nod,
‘I understand – sort of.’

Imperato suddenly smiled, his
wild face glowing with a pride that was both pleasing and slightly
puzzling. 

‘And now Seer, I think that you
have learned enough for today.’

Imperato walked her back to where
Fabian was waiting patiently with Prospero sat by his side.  He turned and
studied her for a moment then nodded.

‘You will See, it is written.’

Then he was gone and Fabian was
taking her hand, leading her away from the centaur camp.

‘How did your meeting fare?’

‘Well, it was … different.’
 Mistral muttered back.

‘Imperato has lived a long time
Mistral.  He has much knowledge of gifts such as yours.  We must be
grateful he has taken a personal interest in your destiny.’

‘Yes, mustn’t we.’  Mistral
gave a roll of her eyes.  ‘But on a lighter note it’s only just past noon
and the duelling event won’t have started yet.  If we hurry I can still
enter –’

‘No Mistral.  We have other
plans.’

‘Unless they involve you and me
eloping to some distant land where nobody cares about my damned gift then I
don’t think I’m particularly interested!’

Laughing softly, Fabian pulled
her against his side and steered her firmly away from the Arena.

‘Who are we going to see this
time?’ she demanded grumpily, casting a sour look over to where she could see
her brothers practising by the edge of the Arena.

‘The elves you spoke with the
other night.  I have a strong suspicion that there is more to be learned
from them.’

‘Then you’re going in the wrong
direction because they’re over by the Arena.’  Mistral pointed to where
the five tall elves were also practising their duelling techniques. 

Fabian looked across and frowned,
‘That’s unusual.  Forest elves aren’t known for being particularly good
with swords.’

‘Probably can’t resist the chance
to have a go at the twins.’  Mistral said, affecting concern.  ‘I’d
better get over there and enter.  They’ll need my help –’

‘Entering this event might be a
little difficult without your swords.’

Realising that her swords were
still back at the tent, Mistral spun round to scowl at him, ‘You made me leave
them on purpose!  All that “arriving armed will be offensive to the
centaurs” talk!  It was just a ploy so I wouldn’t have my swords with me!’

‘Would I be so devious?’  

‘Yes!  But never mind, I’ll
just borrow yours.’

Fabian frowned regretfully,
‘Sorry Mistral, I don’t appear to have mine with me.’

‘Fabian!  You never go
anywhere without your sword!’ 

‘Well, it certainly looks like I
have today.’

‘Doesn’t it just!’  Mistral
snapped.

‘Would you be content to just
watch with me?’ he enquired, an inviting smile lifting the corners of his
mouth.

Mistral glared into the soft
darkness of his eyes and sighed, helpless to prevent herself from echoing the
smile on his face.

‘I guess I’ll just have to be,
won’t I?’

While Fabian went to speak with
the elves Mistral hurried over to talk with her brothers, all busy preparing
for the event.

‘Hey Mistral!  I’ll practise
with you!’  Brutus called, brandishing a gleaming new sword.  ‘I’m
looking forward to trying this out.  It’s forged by a tribe of fighting
elves in the Northern Range.  They’re famous for producing good steel.’

‘Sorry Brutus, but today I’m
unarmed and dangerous.’  Mistral folded her arms, casting a meaningfully
dark look in Fabian’s direction.

Brutus offered her a look of
commiseration, ‘Oh dear.  I bet that went down well after missing the
melee too.’

‘Let’s not talk about it shall
we?’ 

She could see the Arena over
Brutus’ shoulder.  Bryden’s tribe were clearing away discarded weapons and
assisting those too badly wounded to walk to the healer’s tent.  It looked
as though the melee had been an event worthy of the festival’s bloody
reputation. 

‘Tell me how the melee went.’
 Mistral made an effort not to sound too sulky.  After all, it wasn’t
Brutus’ fault she couldn’t compete. 

‘Well, Grendel spent most of his
time throwing around those wretched goblins.  They managed to tangle him
up in a weighted net and tried to club him, the nasty little gits.  I
suppose it must have looked quite funny to the onlookers, seeing Grendel stuck
under a net with a load of laughing goblins dancing around him, but I don’t
think Grendel was amused.’

Mistral laughed and looked around
for the huge warrior, ‘Is he injured then?  I can’t see him anywhere.’

Brutus raised an eyebrow and
tilted his head towards the nymph tent.  Mistral followed his gaze to see
that the flap was tightly closed.

‘What?  Again?’

Brutus nodded, ‘His fan club
stormed in and pulled him away as soon as the event was over, all simpering
about consoling their hero.  I thought Xerxes was actually going to be
sick with jealousy.’

‘Oh dear.  He’s not taking
well to losing his crown of “exceptional lover” to Grendel is he?’

Brutus laughed, ‘You could say
that.’  

‘So, if Grendel didn’t win – who
did?’

‘One of the amazons.  I
think her … and I use that description with some reservation … name was
Bellona.’

Mistral nodded
disinterestedly.  Amazons were not her concern.  She glanced across
to where Cain and Saul were duelling, the slide and rasp of their swords
blending with the sound of other competitors practising.

‘So none of you were injured
then?’

Brutus followed her gaze. 
He frowned then looked around to make sure they couldn’t be overheard, ‘No, and
I think it was largely thanks to the twins,’ he muttered in a low voice. 
‘No matter where we were in the Arena we just seemed to avoid the heaviest of
the fighting.  It’s the first time I’ve seen them use their gift properly,
I mean, apart from messing with us during card games and in training that is …
and I tell you what, it’s really impressive!  If you ever sort your gift
out, then the three of you would be one hell of a combination!’

‘You think?’  Mistral
muttered evasively and gazed out across the Arena.  That was a subject she
really didn’t want to discuss.

‘Mistral!  You’re cutting it
fine – er, where are your swords?’  Xerxes strode over twirling his pair
of goblin-forged swords by his side. 

Mistral sighed and gave him a
bleak look.

‘No!’  Xerxes cried, his
face dropping comically.  ‘Please tell me that your Mage hasn’t banned you
from this event too!’

‘Banned and bored, that’s me.’
 Mistral sighed, adding more hopefully.  ‘Unless, that is, you’d
consider lending me your swords?’ 

Xerxes’ face clouded while he
weighed up the various odds he’d offered on both their performances in the
event.  He eventually sighed and shrugged his shoulders apologetically.

‘Sorry Mistral, it’s not a
financially viable option.’

‘How about just one then?’ 
she persisted, walking towards him with her hand outstretched.  ‘You don’t
really need two after all.’

‘Again, not a viable
option.  Sorry.’  

‘Come on brother!’

‘No chance!’  Xerxes backed
swiftly away when she lunged for one of his swords.

‘Damn it!’

‘Look, if it’s any consolation
the Ri usually win this event anyway.  It’s what we do best after
all.  So just try to look pretty and cheer us on.’

Mistral pulled a face at him and
swore.

Xerxes grinned, ‘There,
see?  How can we fail with you radiating all that goodwill?’

Mistral offered him a few
radiating words while he strode off into Arena, his returning bark of laughter
drowned out by Bryden Wolfsnare’s deep voice calling the competitors to
prepare.  She glanced around for Fabian and quickly spotted him, still
deep in conversation with the elves.   

‘Looks like it’s just you and me
boy.’  

Mistral sighed and sat down next
to Prospero.  Her huge dog was already sprawled on the warm ground,
soaking up the heat of the afternoon sun.  Mistral shielded her eyes
against the bright sunlight to watch Bryden walking among the competitors,
inspecting their swords and armour before beginning the first bout.

‘Well, that was interesting.’
 Fabian murmured and dropped down lightly beside her, his dark eyes
following the elves walking into the Arena.

‘Really?’  Mistral didn’t
bother to disguise the doubt in her voice and continued to watch Bryden
matching up the first pair to duel, reiterating the rules to them while he made
a circle of white sand around them.  ‘In fact, forget I said that,’ she
said quickly.  ‘Tell me about the rules of this event.’

Fabian smiled at her impatient
expression and turned to watch Bryden raise his hand, ensuring that the eyes of
both competitors were on him before he bought it down sharply in a signal to
begin.

‘What do you want to know?’

‘Well, why are there so few
competitors compared to the other events for a start?’  Mistral asked, her
eyes glued to the first pair duelling; Xerxes and a sylvad she recognised from
the horse race. 

Fabian shrugged lightly, ‘Swords
are considered a weapon of the Ri and a second choice weapon for Mages, after
the Craft.  They are expensive weapons to purchase and not many tribes
even bother with money, most just use a bartering system – which obviously
makes buying a sword more difficult.’