The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams) (54 page)

‘You don’t have to do this you
know,’ she whispered while she watched him buckle his own sword belt on. 
‘You could stay.  I’d be fine.’

He frowned at her, his green eyes
bleached grey by the moonlight, ‘Maybe you would, and maybe you wouldn’t. 
But let’s not take that chance shall we?  This is you we’re talking about
after all.’

‘Yes it is.’  Mistral agreed
and patted her leg, signalling for Prospero to follow.

The lush grass muffled the thud
of hooves as they led their horses from the enclosure.  Mounting swiftly
Mistral urged her tired horse into a trot along the avenue, the twins fresher
horses jogged energetically on either side.  Light and noise spilled from
the open mouths of every tent they passed, each providing a torchlit scene of
celebration or downright debauchery.  Mistral kept her eyes fixed straight
ahead, oblivious to the mayhem going on around her.  Half-dressed nymphs
ran giggling from tent to tent, chased by leering, drunken elves and scurrying
goblins.  Prospero growled warningly when a troupe of gnomes suddenly
emerged from beneath the side of a tent, all wearing shifty expressions and
blatantly up to no good. 

‘Thieves.’  Phantom muttered
disdainfully.

‘Takes one to know one,
Ri!’  chirped one the gnomes and scuttled past clutching a heavy
broadsword that obviously wasn’t his. 

They rode by several brawls
without a second glance and innumerable intensely silent card games.  A
group of drows were holding a dreary-looking party around a smoky campfire and
stared morbidly at them as they passed.  Disjointed segments of
conversations drifted to them with the noise and laughter, most of the talk seemed
to be concerned solely with the day’s two events and Mistral heard her name
mentioned more than once but couldn’t care less.  She was focussed on
leaving, not staying.

At the end of the avenue they
passed a tribe of forest elves eating at a long table outside their tent. 
It was quieter here and their conversation carried clearly on the still night
air.

‘Have you seen that mare tethered
outside Bryden’s tent?’

‘Hmm, didn’t see her racing today
though.’

‘Can’t think why, she looks
fast!’

‘Huh, flashy colouring like that
is no good for hunting.’

‘Gold and cream … what’s that
called?’

‘Palomino.’

Mistral inhaled sharply and
pulled Cirrus to an abrupt halt.  She turned to the elf, forcing herself to
be polite when she really wanted to leap down and shake the answer from
him. 

‘Excuse me for interrupting you
meal, but could you please show me the way to Chieftain Wolfsnare’s
tent?’ 

The elves fell silent and eyed
her coldly.  One of them suddenly pointed at her accusingly.

‘I recognise you!  You
knocked me off my horse today!’

Mistral grimaced.  The last
thing she wanted was to be delayed by an argument, or a fight. 

‘Sorry about that … heat of the
moment thing,’ she mumbled and quickly kicked Cirrus on.  He lumbered
forward, slightly lame.

‘Wait!’  the elf called.

Mistral pulled Cirrus up and
looked over her shoulder at the elf, one hand reaching for the dagger hidden in
her belt.  Out of the corner of her eye she could see the twins mimicking
her action.

‘It was good riding sister.’
 the elf conceded, smiling reluctantly.  ‘Bryden’s tent is that way …
but he’s got company.’

‘Thanks!’  Mistral called
and promptly slipped from Cirrus, throwing the reins to Phantasm.  ‘I’ll
get there quicker on foot!’ she hissed, her voice vibrating with a mixture
impatience and excitement.  Abandoning her horse, she began to run in the
direction the elf had indicated, swiftly followed by Prospero. 

Could it really be?  Was it
possible?  She didn’t give her wheeling mind time to doubt but ran,
stumbling over guide ropes, cursing breathlessly until her heart leapt and her
feet stalled.  There, in the shadows of a huge dark red tent stood a horse
she would know anywhere.  Her gold flanks glowed in the moonlight, her mane
and tale could have been stolen from the stars.

‘Spirit!’ 

Mistral ran up to the nervous
mare, laughed joyously.  Spirit tossed her head and began to fidget
anxiously, moving with familiar light dancing footsteps while Mistral stroked a
hand down her neck, drinking in the sight of the worn leather saddle and
bundled travelling cloak attached to the back.  She glanced at the large
red tent; the flap was sealed and she didn’t dare burst in unannounced. 
She hesitated uncertainly by the closed entrance.  A light glowed inside
turning the occupants to silhouettes.  Mistral stared at the shadowy
shapes flickering against the tent walls, trying to make out the one she so
longed to see.

Their voices were low, muffled by
the celebrating going on all around.  Mistral strained to hear, feeling
her heart lurch with every half-heard word, desperately trying to separate the
sound of his voice from Bryden’s rich tones.  She could hear another
voice, rougher and wilder than Bryden’s but vaguely familiar.  She leaned
closer to the tent flap and recognised Bryden’s voice.

‘… unacceptable!  A blatant
violation!’

He was obviously angry about
something.  She inched closer, kneeling down in the shadows and pressing
her ear to the tent wall.

‘My tribe will undertake to escort
you as a guest during the festival.’

The wilder voice was
speaking.  Mistral frowned, trying to place where she had heard him speak
before … then a third voice spoke, so quietly that it was barely above a murmur
but Mistral immediately felt her heart stall.  She leapt to her feet with
a gasp of joy and stumbled towards the tent mouth, reaching out with a shaking
hand to pull open the flap … only for it to inexplicably be suddenly out of her
reach.

‘Shh!’

Phantasm hissed in her ear and
pressed a hand over her mouth while he and Phantom hauled her back from the
tent mouth.  Phantom kept a firm grip on her while Phantasm knelt down to
gaze intently into her face.  Still keeping his hand pressed over her
mouth he met her outraged glare with a warning look.   

‘I know Mage De Winter is in
there and it must be killing you to be this close, but you must wait!’

Her eyes flashed angrily and a
muffled noise erupted against his hand.

‘He’s a Mage Mistral!’ 
Phantasm whispered fiercely.  ‘This is The Festival of the Arcane! 
He shouldn’t be here!  I have no idea how he managed to ride into the Vale
without being killed on sight never mind secure a meeting with Chieftain
Wolfsnare!’

More angry muffled noises erupted
which Phantasm listened to carefully then nodded.

‘Yes, I know we’re planning to
leave straight away, but he has already violated the rules and I should think
Chieftain Wolfsnare is very unhappy about it!  I doubt this is a matter
either his pride or his tribe will allow him to simply overlook.’

‘Mmph.’ Mistral conceded with a
deflated look in her eyes.

‘Yes, “Oh”.’  Phantasm
agreed.  He regarded her silently then asked in a hard whisper. 
‘Mistral?  If I take my hand away do you promise not to shout his name out
or do anything equally as impulsive or stupid?  Because if we are caught
eavesdropping outside Chieftain Wolfsnare’s tent we will not live to see the
dawn!’

Mistral nodded her head quickly,
her eyes wide with unspoken promise to behave.

With a hesitant glance at his
brother, Phantasm slowly moved his hand from her mouth and tensed, ready to
slap it back on again if she so much as breathed too loudly.

She drew in a deep breath and
Phantasm lunged forwards, but Mistral merely exhaled again and looked at him
angrily.

‘What?  Can’t I even breathe
now?’

‘If you must!  But do it
more quietly!’

They knelt in tense silence,
straining to hear the imperceptible sounds of the conversation going on inside
the tent until Phantasm suddenly dragged Mistral to her feet and pulled her
back into the deeper shadows.

‘They’re coming out!’

Before he had finished his
whispered warning the flap of the tent was abruptly pulled aside.  Light
pooled out onto the dark ground as the first silhouetted figure stepped
through.

Mistral pulled forwards with a
frantic gasp when the lean dark shape of her Mage appeared in the brightly lit
entrance.  Fabian’s eyes immediately snapped to the source of the sound
and widened when he saw her, straining futilely against the twins’ iron
grip.  His black stare burned into hers with an intense longing before he
moved his hand in a slight gesture, signalling for her to wait.  She
nodded once, rigid in the twins’ hold.  Fabian turned away to face the two
figures emerging from the tent behind him.  Bryden Wolfsnare strode into
view to stand beside Fabian, his expression that of a man forced to agree to
something against his better judgement.  Behind him came the distinctive
figure of Imperato, the chief centaur.

Mistral felt the twins react at
his appearance.  She knew they were thinking the same as her.  What
did Imperato have to do with Fabian being in the Vale?  Barely daring to
breathe, they listened to the conversation being held at the tent mouth.

‘It is based only, and I cannot
stress this enough Mage De Winter, on our previous good relationship that I can
permit your presence here tonight.  For you to remain in the Vale for the
remainder of the festival is a step too far!’

Fabian remained silent while
Imperato responded to Bryden’s words.

‘The Mage does not embrace the
Craft.  He is Ri.  My tribe and I will vouch for the appropriateness
of his behaviour whilst he gratefully accepts your generous hospitality at the
festival.’

Mistral frowned to herself in the
darkness.  Why would Imperato pledge his allegiance to Fabian?  To
her knowledge Fabian had never mentioned having any dealings with The Velvet
Forest centaurs.

‘I am unsure as to why your tribe
would wish to vouchsafe for a Mage, Imperato, perhaps you could enlighten
me?’  Bryden demanded stiffly. 

‘He is Bonded to the Seer.’
 

Bryden’s face cleared, ‘And now I
understand your interest!  Mistral De Winter … the winner of the horse
race … she is a Seer?’ 

‘It is written as such, though
she has yet to master the Sight.’

‘Has she indeed.’  Bryden
murmured and gazed thoughtfully at Fabian.  ‘You are Bonded, and wed too,
yet she has yet to attain Sight?’

‘Yes.’

Bryden raised his eyebrows and
regarded Fabian silently for a long moment, ‘Then I cannot doubt your
integrity.  You are welcome as my guest Mage De Winter.  Enjoy the
festival.’

Mistral watched Bryden retreat
into his tent before her gaze snapped irresistibly back to Fabian.  She
realised she was biting her fist hard enough to draw blood in an effort not to
cry out his name and pulled her hand away sharply, spitting blood onto the
ground.

‘Classy.’  Phantom muttered
under his breath.

Mistral ignored him.  Every
muscle in her body tensed for the split-second that Fabian so much as glanced
in her direction.

‘Do not fail me Mage.’
 Imperato said quietly.

‘I will not.’

‘She will See.’  Imperato
continued, gazing thoughtfully up at the stars.  ‘It is written and cannot
be changed.’

A silence fell and Mistral felt
as though she would snap.  The tension mounting inside her was so strong
that she could barely draw breath.

‘When?’  Fabian finally
whispered.

Imperato slowly turned his
profound gaze to meet Fabian’s black stare.

‘Time is irrelevant to me
Mage.  You must be patient.  She fights her destiny as she fights the
two holding her back from running to your arms right now.’  he smiled
slowly and switched his enigmatic gaze to meet Mistral’s frantic eyes.

Taken beyond the limits of her
restraint, Mistral cried out and wrenched free, running to throw herself in
Fabian’s arms, sobbing with relief when they closed around her, wrapping her so
tightly against him that she could feel the warmth of his breath sighing her
name.

Phantom gazed at his brother in
the darkness.

‘Time to unpack?’

‘It looks that way brother.’

Imperato moved softly away,
leaving Fabian and Mistral alone in the pool of light outside Bryden’s tent.

‘You’re here!’ she whispered,
gazing at him in ecstatic wonderment.  ‘But … how?’

‘The twins.’  Fabian
murmured softly.  ‘I heard their thoughts, or rather I felt them. 
Some strange unbidden desire to add Golden to the Contract and a completely
unwarranted realisation that you would be competing at The Festival of the
Arcane.’

Mistral smiled, safe in the
warmth of his arms, ‘They weren’t sure if they could project their gift onto an
unseen recipient.  But they did.  I’m sorry about the Golden
part.  I’m over that now … but you’re here!  You’re really here!’

Fabian laughed softly and gazed
down at her, his dark eyes eloquent with unspoken words. 

‘Fabian.’  Mistral breathed
his name, her eyes roving hungrily over the face that she had dreamed of every
night since he had left her.  ‘Please,’ she began and faltered, gazing at
him wordlessly.

‘Yes?’ his voice was soft,
drawing the confession from her lips.

‘Please … never leave me again.’

‘But I never left Mistral. 
Surely you heard me?’ he smiled gently, his eyes oceans of blackest night.

‘I heard.’  she
smiled.  ‘Satin ribbons –’

‘Ah,’ he sighed softly and looked
up at the night sky.  ‘Satin ribbons.’ he exhaled and looked down to meet
her gaze once more.  ‘I dreamt every night of satin ribbons.’

Mistral gazed back, lost in the
promises of his eyes, ‘Why aren’t you kissing me?’

He laughed and bent his head,
obeying her wish.   

‘If this is what you consider to
be appropriate behaviour, Mage De Winter, I may be forced to re-think my decision!’