The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams) (72 page)

‘Details, details.’ Mistral glowered
at the manticore.  ‘How I hate details.’

Giving a vibrating cry, the
manticore lunged, claws outstretched and teeth bared.

Mistral threw herself at the
creature, swords outthrust.  They met in the air, the manticore’s claws
ripping at Mistral’s armour while her swords plunged deep into its chest. 
They tumbled to the ground as one, rolling over and over, leaving a crimson
trail on the dusty ground until they fell still.  Mistral drew in a
sobbing breath of earth and blood and sweat and knew she was still alive. 
The manticore was laid beside and over her, entwined together like sleeping
lovers.  She clambered from its embrace, streaked with their shared
blood.  Disorientated, Mistral jerked round and instantly met Cain’s
urgent gaze.

‘Go!  You’re the first to
get clear!  Get the rope!  Get the gorgon!  Go Mistral! 
Go!
’

Mistral held his blazing while a
grin spread across her face.  She was about to face one of the most feared
creatures on the Isle.  A gorgon. 

Sheaving her bloody swords,
Mistral sprinted over to the cage and hauled herself up.  She crouched on
the top and glanced quickly around.  The centaur, Dravite, was cantering
around the chimera firing arrows at it.  Further across the Arena Mistral
could see Bryden’s tribe member, Ares, fending off a gryphon with his
sword.  A familiar roar drew her gaze to Grendel and she almost
laughed.  The huge warrior had been pitted against a gargoyle.  It
was a hardly a fair match.  He had already speared it with his sarisas and
was in the process of plucking its lifeless body from the spiked end. 
Saul stood motionlessly beside him, his eyes fixed on her.  Their eyes met
and Mistral felt the inexplicable fear implode in her stomach again.  She
froze.  It was him.  The fear was for him.  

A hand gripped her ankle, pulling
her back towards the ground.  Mistral gasped and grabbed at the cage,
curling her fingers through the meshing to hold on.  She twisted to try
and see who or what had grabbed her and immediately swore.  Bellona glared
back.  Keeping a tight hold on Mistral’s ankle, the amazon began to pull
her off the cage.

‘Get off me!’ 

Mistral stamped down hard with
her free boot, crushing the amazon’s fingers against the metal cage. 
Bellona’s face contorted but she didn’t release her grip.  Giving a harsh
snarl she yanked savagely at Mistral’s ankle with both hands.  Mistral
clenched her teeth and held on tightly, ignoring the stinging pain of the
meshing cutting into her fingers.  She lashed out again with her boot,
missing Bellona’s hands and throwing herself off balance.  She clung
desperately to the cage, cursing in frustration as her fingers begin to slip,
wet with her own blood.  Bellona gave another powerful tug and Mistral’s
fingers lost their hold.  She was slammed to the ground and straddled by the
amazon, her throat held in a choking grip.

Mistral writhed, kicking
uselessly while her hands clawed at the amazon’s wrists but Bellona was
stronger.  She smiled evilly and gripped harder, crushing Mistral’s
windpipe.  Spots of colour burst before Mistral’s eyes.  Fire ripped
at her lungs but she had no air to scream, no strength to fight …

A raw scream rang in Mistral’s
ears that seemed to come from a long way off.  Air rushed into her lungs
in a painful gasp.  She rolled onto her side and vomited, every gagging
retch and ragged breath confirming her existence and reminding her she that she
still had a job to do. 

The gorgon.

Mistral staggered to her feet and
stared around wildly for her attacker, her stupefied mind struggling to make
sense of what had just happened.  Where was Bellona?  There! 
Her bloodshot eyes focused on the confusing sight of Ares fighting with
Bellona.

‘Drink!’ 

Cain was suddenly by her side,
forcing a waterskin to her mouth.  Mistral choked as the liquid stung her
sore throat.

‘Why did Ares pull Bellona off
me?’ she gasped hoarsely.

‘The twins are using their
gift!’  Cain hissed under his breath.  He shoved the waterskin back
into his saddlebag he looked around urgently.  ‘Now go! 
Quickly!  Grendel is holding off Dravite!  Go Mistral!’

Mistral spun around, her eyes
raking the Arena until she saw Grendel.  He had positioned himself in
front of the cage and was fending Dravite off with his sarisas.  Saul was
nearby but he was watching her, his face lit with a look of pure jubilation. 
His lips framed words she couldn’t hear but the expression on his face spoke
louder than any yelled encouragement.  

‘GO!’

With Cain’s shout ringing in her
ears Mistral sprinted over to the cage.  She vaulted up and ran towards
the rope coiled at the centre.  She could hear Cain following her, his
booted steps rattling loudly against the metal framework.  Euphoria struck
her in a heady rush.  She reached out for the rope with both hands then
looked over her shoulder at Cain. 

‘Ready to meet your future wife,
brother?’

‘I’m not the marrying kind
Mistral!  Now just pull the damned rope!’  Cain crouched down next to
her, his saddlebag gripped firmly in his hand, the flap already undone.

Mistral braced herself against
the rope and gave it a hard tug but whatever the rope was connected to was
heavier than her.  Her blooded hands slipped, burning painfully against
the rope.  She swore and wrapped a length around her hands to try again
but it didn’t budge. 

‘Come on!’  Cain exploded,
casting anxious glances over his shoulder at Bellona and Ares.  The pair
had stopped fighting and were running towards the cage.

‘I’m trying damn it Cain!’ 

Mistral wedged her heels into the
cage and leant back, pitting her weight against the rope.  It suddenly gave,
throwing Mistral onto her back with a shout of surprise.  A series of
resounding clangs followed and the entire structure began to collapse.
 Mistral heard Cain cursing then joined him as the cage fell away from
beneath them, sending them crashing to the ground amidst a jumble of fallen
metal sides.  At once the air was filled with the roar of the crowd,
urging their respective champions on to face the final challenge.

With a savage shout Mistral leapt
to her feet and had both swords drawn before she was fully upright.  She
spun around to see the last of the metal sides falling away, finally revealing
the hunched figure of the gorgon.

Mistral instantly knew that
something was wrong.  The green-skinned creature lay supine in its
collapsed cell.  The snakes that should have been writhing and twisting on
its head coiled limply around a slack face.

‘What the –?’ 

Mistral’s exclamation was drowned
out by Cain’s shocked cry as a second figure sprang from behind the gorgon’s
lifeless body.  Mistral instantly recognised the wolf-bitten features,
black-eyed with malice.

‘Columbine!’

She spat her name and Columbine
flew at her, screaming maniacally.  Mistral just had time to register that
her enemy was dressed in rags and armed with mismatched swords before her
instincts kicked in and she threw herself to the side, narrowly avoiding
Columbine’s lunging attack.  Rolling swiftly, Mistral heard Columbine’s
swords strike metal where she had been only moments before. 

‘Keep moving!’

She didn’t need Cain to tell her
twice.  Holding her swords close to her body Mistral rolled again then
made to leap to her feet only to be jerked back again.  Something was
holding her tight against the cage.  With a flash of alarm Mistral
realised that her armour buckles had caught in the metal meshing.  She was
trapped.

Mistral immediately shouted for
Cain, her voice unnaturally high with panic.  When he didn’t reply she
craned her neck up to look for him and immediately saw him struggling with
Columbine.  They grappled for a few seconds then Columbine shoved him off
with an angry scream and rammed her boot into his mid-section, knocking him to
his knees.  Turning to see Mistral trapped on the cage, Columbine’ scarred
face twisted into something like a smile.  She grabbed her dropped swords
and began to run towards Mistral, her grin suddenly changing to a snarl when
Cain lunged for her legs, sending her sprawling.  Time seemed to
slow.  Mistral didn’t see Columbine’s face contort as she lost balance or
hear her shriek of fury.  She was watching the swords leave Columbine’s
outstretched hands, heading straight for her helplessly trapped body. 

She felt no fear, no panic. 
Unreality flooded through Mistral, stupefying and heavy, like a drug, detaching
her from the moment.  She gave up struggling and lay still, watching the
swords arc in slow motion through the air, hypnotised by the sunlight glinting
on the bright steel points falling towards her.  Her mind was suddenly
filled with an image of Fabian.  Every detail so perfectly clear that she
knew with absolute certainty that she was about to die.  She drew in a
single, final breath, savouring the scent of parched grass and sun warmed earth
before closing her eyes to see all she ever wanted to.

Fabian. 

Something heavy crashed into her,
crushing the air from her lungs with the force of its landing.  For a
confused moment Mistral thought the manticore had launched itself at her again
then a double thud struck the mass laying over her and she felt convulsions
wrack the body covering hers.

‘Mistral!’  Cain’s desperate
cry forced her to open her eyes.

She choked and forced air into
her winded lungs, staring around wildly until she focussed on Cain’s stricken
face.  She felt the buckles on her armour give as he wrenched her out from
beneath the deadweight laying on her, then he was gone, leaving Mistral lying
dazedly on the ground.

Disconnected sounds reached her
ears; shouting, a gurgling scream, the distinctive sound of something heavy
striking the ground and closer, the laboured breathing of someone dying.

Was the breathing hers? 
Panic stabbed through her stupor.  She didn’t want to die.  Forcing
her leaden body to move she dragged herself onto her knees and stared with
uncomprehending eyes at the chaos in the Arena.  Her brothers were crowded
around something on the ground a short distance away, but she couldn’t make out
what it was, the twins’ blonde heads were bent close together, shielding it
from her view.  Cain was knelt close by, leaning over a tall figure laid
out on the ground with two horrific gaping wounds in his chest.  Her gaze
travelled up to the waxen face where two brown eyes stared unseeingly up at the
blue sky. 

‘No!  Oh, please no!’
 Mistral crawled over on hands and knees, reaching out with trembling
hands for his still face.  ‘Saul.’

Saul’s eyes suddenly
rolled.  He gasped for breath, bubbles of blood breaking from his open
mouth.

‘Saul!  Saul!  Look at
me!  I’m here, see me … I’m here … look at me!’  Mistral wiped the
blood from his lips with a shaking hand.

‘Mistral?’ 

‘I’m here.’  Mistral’s voice
cracked.  ‘Hold on Saul, just hold on.  Cain’s here too, we’re going
to fix you up.  You’ll be fine –’

She glanced quickly at Cain
working silently beside her.  His hands glistened with blood, the thick
gauze he was holding over the wounds in Saul’s chest were sodden.  She
swallowed hard.  Cain met her frightened stare and shook his head
imperceptibly.

‘Mistral –’

‘I’m still here Saul.  I
haven’t left … I’m here.  It’s all going to be fine –’

‘Terrible liar.’  Saul laughed
and coughed.  More bubbles of blood broke on his lips.

Mistral gazed into his eyes and
began to cry.

‘Don’t,’ he whispered
faintly.  ‘I want to remember you … angry … the Mistral I love –’

‘Don’t die Saul!  Oh, please
don’t die!  You can’t die yet!  I wanted to see you happy!’

‘I have been.’  Saul raised
a finger and slowly stroked it down her cheek then his hand fell lifelessly to
the ground. 

‘No!’  Mistral sobbed but
only glazed eyes stared back.  Saul was gone. 

‘Come away.’

Mistral felt hands pulling her
upright, dragging her away.  Blinded by tears she was aware of nothing
until she felt warm arms taking hold of her then she gave way to the grief that
tore at her, wrenching the breath from her lungs in uncontrollable sobs.

Voices spoke around her. 
She felt herself being lifted and carried but she closed her eyes and buried
her head against Fabian’s chest and let her tears fall.  She refused to
hear anything but the beat of his heart and the rise and fall of every breath,
the sound of life.  His voice echoed softly through his chest but she
heard only the sound, not the words they made.  Nothing made sense
anymore. 

‘Cain.  Do you have any
valerian?’

‘Yes.’

‘I think it would be best.’

Silence, the clinking sounds of
glass bottles then a voice calling her name registered distantly somewhere in
Mistral’s numbed mind.

‘Mistral?  Look at me. 
I want you to drink this.  It will help.  I will be here.  I
won’t leave you.’

Mistral stared dully into
Fabian’s deep gaze and nodded.  She obediently drank the cup of liquid he
pressed to her lips then let her head sink back onto his chest; her mind blank,
her body limp.  A heart was beating.  She listened numbly to the
sound while the drug pulled her down into oblivion.

‘Is she under?’  Phantasm
asked quietly.

Fabian glanced down at Mistral
curled in his arms, ‘Yes.’

‘Good.  We need to tend to
Saul.  I think it’s best she doesn’t see.’

‘What of Columbine?’

‘In the Arena.  She will
burn later.’

‘No.  No warrior’s death for
her.’  Fabian looked at Phantasm, his black stare cold.  ‘Leave her
body for carrion.’

Phantasm nodded expressionlessly
and walked over to stand with his brother and Grendel, waiting  in
respectful silence for Saul to join them for the last time.  Cain emerged
from the tent, buttoning up a clean shirt.  He took his place beside
Grendel, watching Xerxes and Brutus walking slowly towards them carrying Saul’s
body between them. 

‘Ah, brother.’  Cain gazed
sadly down at Saul’s still face.  ‘I will see you again soon.’

‘Let it not be too soon brother.’
 Xerxes murmured. 

Brutus moved amongst them,
passing out cups of strong liquor.  They stood together and raised their
cups, toasting their fallen brother.

‘Cain?  Would you do the
honours?’  Xerxes asked. 

Cain nodded and looked down at
Saul, a hundred memories running through his mind.  What words could sum
up a friendship?  There were none he could think of but he owed it to his
brother to say something.  He suddenly smiled at a memory from his
childhood.

‘My mother always used to say
that life runs faster than time.  I think I know what she meant
now.’  Cain drained his cup, the liquor burning him like grief.  ‘I
bid you farewell brother, but not goodbye.’  

‘Farewell –’ 

The soft echo ran around the
group.  A life passed was honoured.   

Mistral awoke to blackness and
the feel of Fabian’s arms around her.  She lay still, warm and safe,
clinging to the heavy veil of drugged sleep until it slowly gave way to a sharp
pain, tugging at the edges of her consciousness, commanding her not to ignore
it.

Opening her eyes, she looked up
at Fabian.  He was staring out across the campsite at something she
couldn’t see.  Mistral turned her head and followed his gaze to see a
pillar of smoke rising up into the night sky.  She felt her throat constrict. 
Saul’s funeral pyre was burning.

‘Why, Fabian?’ she whispered
hoarsely.  ‘Why did he do it?  It should be me burning.  Not
him.’

Fabian snapped his black gaze
down to meet her tear-filled eyes, ‘Do you really expect me to agree with you?’

Mistral gave a sob and shook her
head.

‘He was Ri, Mistral.’
 Fabian continued in a softer voice.  ‘A brother gave his life for
another.  It is a part of the life.  Do not taint the memory of your
brother with guilt.  He chose freely.’

‘I was so cruel Fabian!  He
told me that he loved me and I – I was cruel to him –’

‘No, Mistral.  If you have
given him false hope then you would have been cruel.’

She gazed at him silently,
finding the strength and solace she needed in the sincerity of his gaze. 

‘I love you Fabian.  There’s
only ever you for me.’

‘And I am eternally grateful to
Saul for giving you back to me.’

Confusion flickered in Mistral’s
face, ‘But I never left you –‘

‘Ah, but you would have.  If
Saul had not taken Columbine’s swords, then you would have left me forever.’

Mistral’s eyes slid out of focus,
staring unseeingly into her memory, ‘Columbine –’

‘A headless corpse left to rot on
the open grassland.’

A hiss escaped Mistral’s
lips.  Her eyes snapped back to meet his, ‘Dead?  By who’s hand?’

‘It would be hard to say. 
However, Phantasm can claim the honour of beheading.’

Mistral nodded slowly and looked
back over at the column of smoke rising up into the black sky. 

‘We should go now Mistral.’ 
Fabian rose quietly to his feet and reached out a hand to help her up. 

She gazed up at him, her eyes
suddenly troubled, ‘Will they blame me?’ 

Fabian shook his head slowly, his
calm black gaze never leaving hers, ‘No Mistral.  Anyone of them would
have done the same; and you for them.’

She drew in a deep breath and let
him pull her upright and into his arms, allowing herself one last moment of
weakness before she had to face her brothers, those alive, and those dead.

The avenue was empty, the tents
dark.  Firelight flickered in the distance, growing nearer with every step
they took.  The sound of the feast reached their ears, making Mistral grip
Fabian’s hand harder, glad of the extra reassurance provided by Prospero
pressed against her leg.  Torches mounted on wooden stakes cast pools of
orange light over the Arena but Mistral’s eyes were instantly drawn to the pyre
burning at the centre.  Her feet stalled, leaving her staring at the
blazing tribute, her eyes stinging from the intense heat.

‘Brothers , sisters.  We
gather at the end of another festival to celebrate the lives of the fallen and
honour their brave passing –’

Mistral blinked as Bryden
Wolfsnare’s deep voice resonated across the Arena and she realised that Saul’s
body was not the only one burning.

‘How many?’ she asked in a choked
whisper.

‘Ten fell this time.’
 Phantasm’s cool voice murmured in her ear.  She turned to meet his
green gaze.  ‘At some festivals it is more, and some less.’

Mistral’s face clouded, ‘Brother,
I –’

Phantasm silenced her with a hard
look, ‘Master your gift Mistral.  Do not let Saul’s sacrifice be in vain.’

‘I swear it!’

Phantasm regarded her for a
moment longer then nodded, ‘Then tonight we honour the fallen and tomorrow we
leave, and your work begins.’

‘No more trouble.  No more
stupid behaviour.’  Mistral vowed in a hissed whisper.  ‘I will focus
on nothing but mastering Sight.’

‘And I promise that you will not
be alone.  We will be there for you Mistral.’  

Phantasm was gone, his voice a
murmured memory in her ear.  She watched him moving gracefully through the
crowd to join his brother, their blonde hair gleaming in the golden
firelight. 

Mistral turned to Fabian, her
face blazing with an intensity to rival the pyre, ‘I need you now Fabian. 
You cannot leave me again!  Swear to me, here and now, that you will not
leave me until I master the Sight!’

Fabian gazed back, his eyes an
oasis of dark when all around was heat, ‘I will never leave you again
Mistral.  I swear it on my life –’

Mistral flinched, ‘No!  Not
that!  I would rather you left me than that!’

‘Then what would you have me
swear on Mistral?  Only you mean anything to me and I will never take you
in vain.’

‘Swear on the pyre.  On
Saul.  My brother.’

His eyes glowed, dark coals of
fire, ‘For you I will swear it, no other.  But I swear on life Mistral,
not death.  For the life we will have, that is the promise I make.’ 

‘Arcanes!  We join together
at the end of another festival to celebrate!’

Bryden’s voice rang out over the
Arena once more, commanding the feasting tables to attention.

‘As ever, the final did not
disappoint, although the gorgon was defeated before the event began, I think
the replacement provided an equal challenge!’

Bryden paused and smiled
benevolently at the resulting burst of laughter.  Mistral stared in
disbelief at the chieftain.  Was he
amused
by what had happened?

Fabian tightened his grip on her
hand, drawing her eyes to meet his, ‘It is the way Mistral, do not be
offended.  Saul was not the only one to die.’

‘But he didn’t die trying to win
this damned festival!  He died saving me!’

‘All the more reason to honour
his passing in the way he would have wanted.  He was Arcane too.’

Arcane.  Saul was so much
more than that.  He was Ri, he was her brother and he was dead. 
Mistral doubted a few drinks shared with some drunken elves could do justice to
the many things her brother had been. 

‘I ask you all to join me now in
our Ceremonial Feast, for we have fallen heroes to drink to and a new champion
to crown!’ 

Bryden finished his speech to
resounding cheers.  The crowd began to move away from the funeral pyre
towards the long row of tables, signalling the start of the feast.

Mistral stared at Fabian, her
eyes wide, ‘I can’t do this!  I – I can’t sit and eat and drink while Saul
lies there burning!’

Fabian gazed steadily at her,
‘You must honour the fallen Mistral.’

She held Fabian’s calming gaze
for a long moment then closed her eyes.  Drawing in a deep breath and
exhaling slowly she opened them again.  She owed Saul so much more, but
this would be a start. 

Mistral allowed herself to be led
to a table, sitting down without noticing who she was near and staring numbly
at the goblet of wine that appeared in front of her.  A voice spoke on her
right and she realised Samson was next to her.  A small wave of relief
washed over her.  She was grateful not be near her brothers.  To see
the blame in their eyes would be more than she could take.  She drank
little and ate nothing, only dimly aware of the raised voices, laughter and ...
there, like another voice in the background ... the constant crackle of the
funeral pyre.  Occasionally one of the Arcanes would stand up and deliver
an impassioned speech to much cheering and raising of goblets.  Mistral
didn’t even try to listen.  She focussed purely on the sound of Fabian’s
voice talking quietly with Samson, letting its velvet tones sooth her raw mind
and fill her with peace.

Another voice spoke to
Fabian.  It was familiar, but not one of her brothers.  Mistral
turned to see the owner and found herself staring blankly at the regal features
of Imperato.  Fabian nodded in response to Imperato’s question and looked
at Mistral.  She blinked and gazed back, unsure of what was expected of
her.

Imperato looked at her, pity and
understanding shone briefly in his eyes before he repeated the request he had
made to Fabian.

‘Will you consent to healing one
of my tribe?’ 

Mistral was instantly taken
aback, ‘Me?  But, I’m not good enough!  Cain is though!’  she
looked around quickly, trying to spot her brother amongst the shadowed faces
along the table.

‘Mistral.’  Fabian’s soft voice
made her stop searching and return her gaze to his.  ‘Imperato has asked
for you, not Cain.’

‘But my kit’s back at the tent –’

‘Use mine.’  Samson slid a
roll of canvas towards her.  ‘Haven’t had much call for it this time.’
 he added in a disappointed sounding voice.

‘Oh, thanks.’  Mistral took
the roll then hesitated and looked at Fabian.  ‘You’re coming with me
aren’t you?’ 

‘Of course, however I think it
would be best if Prospero kept Samson company for the time being.  He may
not understand that the centaur’s pain is not anger at you.’ 

Fabian took her by the hand,
following Imperato away from the heat and noise of the feast.  The centaur
moved quickly and Mistral found herself having to jog to keep up with Fabian’s
long strides, hurrying past silent rows of empty tents towards the centaur
camp.  Imperato did not speak until they reached the large circle of
tents, then he paused and turned to face her.