The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams) (64 page)

Samson studied his old friend carefully, ‘I can see you two are kindred
spirits, in fact, I have never seen two more suited.  It’s almost as
though she were created to be yours.’  he paused and gave a short
laugh.  ‘Like you, she has a reckless streak wider than the Amber River!’

Fabian frowned and shook his head, ‘She has a wild nature Samson.  Do
not be fooled into thinking that I ask this favor of you lightly!  
That recklessness you speak of burns in her like an inferno.
  Despite the assurances she has given me I do not doubt that her
true nature will take control today.  I warn you, she will be trouble.’

Samson held Fabian’s burning stare evenly, ‘I swear to you that I will do
all I can to keep her safe for you.’

Fabian closed his eyes briefly then opened them to look over at Mistral
once again, ‘Thank you.’

The twins kept up a constant stream of lively banter while they rode out of
the Vale, making Mistral laugh.  Once they left the narrow path and
reached the open grasslands the rest of the Ri rode up alongside, converging
into a single noisy group.  Cain passed around his battered hipflask of
manticore potion and before long the mood grew more boisterous with Xerxes
bursting into a rendition of his favorite goblin stuffing song, encouraging
everyone to join in the chorus.  Mistral declined the flask with a quick
shake of her head when it came her way and glanced over her shoulder, looking
for Fabian.  She immediately saw him riding next to Samson a short way
back, deep in conversation.  As though sensing her look, Fabian glanced up
and met her gaze, his brief smile enough to make her heart skip a beat. 
He turned away to speak with Samson again, leaving her gazing wistfully at his
dark hair.  She sighed and turned her head back to see Saul looking at
her.  His brown eyes held hers for a moment before she blinked and quickly
looked away.

‘I am glad his name didn’t come out of the bag.’  Phantasm muttered
quietly.

Mistral glanced sharply at him, ‘Do you miss nothing with those damned
green eyes of yours?’

‘Not very often, and especially not when I’ve been specifically instructed
to keep my damned green eyes on one thing particular.’

Mistral frowned, ‘You mean Saul don’t you?  Damn it!  When did
Fabian ask you to watch Saul?’ 

‘While you were still asleep this morning.’

Irritation flickered across Mistral’s face, ‘You know what brother?  I
never thought I’d say this, but I’ll be glad to get back to the Valley and have
some privacy again!’ 

Phantom sighed longingly, ‘Ah yes, what I’d give for a bathroom door that
locks.’ 

‘Why does that bother you?’  Mistral asked, giving him a bemused look.

‘You try having a wash with a bunch of thieving goblins going through your
stuff the moment you step into the water!  They actually nicked the laces
out of my boots last night!  I had to take Cain’s while he was still
asleep this morning!’

Mistral laughed and Cain spun around to fix Phantom with a blazing look.

‘Is that where they went?’  he demanded angrily.  ‘I thought
Xerxes was having a laugh with me!  I’ve been searching through his
saddlebag all morning because of you!  I want them back!  Right now!’

‘Come on Cain!  I won’t be able to hunt very well if my boots keep
falling off will I?’  Phantom argued.

‘I don’t give a stuff if you head falls off, never mind your boots!  I
want my laces back – or at least be paid some compensation for the loss of my
property!’

‘I don’t think so!’ Phantom snorted.

Mistral and Phantasm smiled and listened to their brothers continuing to
bicker until The Emerald Forests loomed before them in a lush haze of
green.  Cain and Phantom were eventually forced to end their disagreement
when the Ri joined the rest of the tribes waiting quietly at the outskirts of
the forest. 

‘Knows how to set the scene doesn’t he?’  Phantasm whispered when
Bryden Wolfsnare rode into view on a handsome pale grey stallion.

Mistral made a dismissive noise in response.  Bryden’s mannerisms were
too similar to Leo’s for her liking.  

While they waited for Bryden to begin the event Mistral gazed around
curiously at the gathered tribes.  The elves, tall and lithe, dressed in
traditional leather trousers and loose shirts with their long hair tied back
ready for the hunt.  The small tribe of graceful sylvads, fair-haired and
pale skinned, their almost ethereal beauty reminding her instantly of the
twins.  The fearsome amazons, long-limbed and olive-skinned, most wearing
disdainful sneers beneath dark, close-cropped hair.  The goblins,
surly-faced and squat with greedy black eyes that slid covetously over the
anything that didn’t belong to them.  Perhaps not surprisingly a large
space had been left between them and the next tribe of Arcanes; the mischievous
hob, talking and laughing merrily.  The reclusive tribe of centaurs had
stopped a short distance away from all the other tribes, their proud faces
composed and confident while they waited patiently for the hunt to begin. 
Mistral’s eyes moved from the centaur tribe to suddenly lock gazes with
Fabian.  He had halted Spirit a respectful distance away and was staring
at her, his face suffused with an emotion so powerful that she immediately
began to pull Cirrus around to ride over to him.

‘No time Mistral!’  Phantasm hissed, reaching out to grab Cirrus’
bridle.  ‘Look!  Chieftain Wolfsnare is about to speak!’

A respectful hush fell as Bryden held his arms open wide in a gesture of
welcome.  Mistral smiled when Phantom nudged her.  It was a look
painfully reminiscent of Leo, only Bryden wore his regal expression with
natural ease, whereas Leo only ever managed to look pompous.

‘Brothers!  Sisters!  Welcome to the last event before the
winners’ battle for the glory of being crowned ultimate champion.  There
is one place still to be taken in this afternoon’s final.’  Bryden paused
and let his gaze travel slowly around the circle of tribes.  ‘Which of
you, I wonder, is worthy of that honour?’

Bryden’s words heightened the already charged atmosphere.  For the
fiercely proud Arcanes a place in the final was something they had dreamed of
since childhood.  The harpy hunt represented their last opportunity to
fulfill that dream. 

Smiling at the sense of urgency he had created, Bryden continued to speak.

‘Twenty harpies have been released within the confines of The Emerald
Forests.  You have two hours to bring down as many of them as you
can.   

‘When your allotted time has passed, a hunting horn will be blown thrice to
signal the end of the hunt.  The party to bring me the most harpies will
have the honor of nominating one of their own to compete in the final.’

A resounding cheer rang out from the Arcanes.  Bryden smiled
indulgently and raised his hand to call for silence.

‘Now, to the small matter of cheating –’

A ripple of laughter ran through the tribes. 

‘You will all now be issued with bottles of coloured dye to douse your
arrows and bolts in.  Any harpy shot by a member of your party will be
stained with that colour.  Each hunting party has a different colour to
prevent any unlicensed “borrowing” of other hunted prey.’

The few remaining goblins grumbled loudly but were quickly silenced by a
piercing look from Bryden. 

‘If any of you do not feel that you can hunt satisfactorily within my rules
then please, take your leave.’

The goblins fidgeted in sour-faced silence but stayed put.  Mistral
stifled a grin.  They had obviously been planning to do quite a lot of
“borrowing”.

‘Thieving little gits!’  Xerxes muttered, eyeing the goblins with
ill-feeling.

‘Sometime Xerxes, you really are going to have to share your reasons for
disliking our vertically challenged brothers so much.’  Cain said in an
amused voice.

Xerxes scowled darkly at the goblins but didn’t reply.

‘My eleven warriors will position each party at different starting points
around the treeline.  There is no favoritism!  Each tribe has the
chance of an equally successful hunt from any of the starting positions –’

‘Oh, I’ll bet they have.’  Brutus muttered under his breath. 
‘You just watch where his tribe’s hunting party is placed!’

Mistral nodded disinterestedly, she was looking over at Fabian again.
Filled with the sudden desire to feel some sort of contact with him, she
instinctively began to read his aura.  The cloud that swirled obediently
into view around his dark hair fluctuated between a bright amethyst and a heavy
purple, signifying anxiety and frustration. 

‘Mistral?’

She snapped her gaze around to meet Phantom’s.

‘Are you ready?  We’re being led to our starting position.’

She turned to look at Fabian again.  He was staring straight at
her. 

‘Come on Mistral!’

She kicked Cirrus on half-heartedly, continuing to hold Fabian’s dark gaze
until he was lost from sight by the curve of the forests.

They were led around to northern
facing edge of the forest and halted a short distance away from a tribe of
sylvads.  The leader eyed them with open hostility and began muttering
with the others, pointing at Xerxes.

‘I think you upset them with your
antics with the sylvad from the registration tent last night brother.’ 
Brutus whispered.

‘Did I?’  Xerxes replied
airily.  ‘Can’t say I remember her … oh well, point her out to me later
and I’ll see if something about her jogs my memory.’

Mistral rolled her eyes at Cain
who grinned and shook his head.  It was apparent the manticore potion was
doing a lot to help repair Xerxes’ dented ego. 

The Ri halted their horses in a
long line facing the forest.  Mistral stared at The Emerald Forests and
could instantly see why Fabian had likened them to a cave.  Lush and
thick, the treeline formed a solid green wall encircling the living fortress
beyond. 

The elf from Bryden’s tribe
called for the hunting party to ride forward.  Following Samson’s lead,
Mistral and the twins rode up and gave their names, followed by Grendel
stomping up behind on foot.  The elf quickly scribbled down their names,
his pale eyes flickering up when Mistral gave hers.  His task done, he
passed a bottle of dye to Samson and promptly took his leave.  Samson
uncorked the bottle and squinted at the contents.

‘Purple.’ 

He poured some onto the ends of
his crossbow bolts then passed it to Mistral to repeat the process.  By
the time the twins had dowsed their bolts too the bottle was empty.

‘Sorry brother.’  Phantom
held the bottle upside down, indicating to Grendel that it was empty. 

Grendel shrugged, ‘Wasn’t enough
for my axe anyway.’

‘I don’t think there’ll be any
disputes over your kills Grendel.’  Samson remarked drily.  ‘You’ve
got the kind of face people don’t like to argue with.’ 

A chorus of cheers drew their
attention to the starting signal; a single flaming arrow that arced high across
the unblemished blue summer sky.

‘Ready?’  Samson demanded
abruptly.

‘Ready!’

‘Then let’s hunt!’  Samson kicked
his horse into a gallop.

With the Ri roaring at their
backs and Samson at their head they thundered towards The Emerald Forests,
reining to a sharp halt at the treeline.  As its overgrown appearance had
suggested, the greenery was too dense to ride through. 

 ‘Grendel!’  Samson
shouted.  ‘Cut a path!’

The horses wheeled impatiently
while Grendel hacked a path through with his axe.  He stepped back, wiping
his sweating face to let Samson, Mistral and the twins ride in first then
followed, assuming his place at the back of the party.  With a sensation
similar to stepping into a warm shower they were immediately engulfed in the
oppressive heat of the Forests. 

Heavy swathes of dripping moss
hung from the branches and coated every tree trunk in a vivid green
sheaf.  The air was heavy with moisture and even the sunlight that
filtered down through the thick canopy had a liquid quality, creating the
strange impression of being underwater.  The silence was absolute. 
Dense cushions of moss absorbed any natural sounds and muted the horses’ hoof
beats to dull thuds.  With not a single breath of wind to disturb the
sultry air it was unbearably hot.  Before long they were all sweating
profusely.  Even the droplets of water that sprayed back at them when they
pushed through the undergrowth were tepid, like the forest itself was
perspiring.

Occasional muffled sounds reached
their ears; the distant cries of the other tribes calling out encouragement to
their hunting parties; a shouted warning and the high-pitched whine of
arrows.  It was all heard and discounted.  Their focus was set on
hunting harpies.

Mistral’s eyes raked the
interlacing branches above their heads while they rode.  The abundant
foliage gave ideal camouflage for any creature wishing to remain undetected. 
Her skin prickled uncomfortably, feeling the unseen eyes of forest animals
watching them riding past.  Picking up on her tension, Cirrus shied
nervously.  Mistral checked him absently with one hand, keeping the other
gripped around the stock of her crossbow.  Excitement grew inside her with
every step Cirrus took, sending the blood coursing through her veins.  The
recklessness that defined her nature was taking over, her promises to Fabian
already fading to a vague nagging memory, easily ignored.