The Assassin's Tale (Isle of Dreams) (58 page)

Phantasm threw
the first strike which Fabian parried easily and immediately counted with a
deft thrust.  Phantasm arced gracefully away, the tip of Fabian’s sword
just grazing the soft leather of his jerkin.  Recovering swiftly, he
retaliated with a swift jab, changing the strike at the last moment to a
downwards slice towards Fabian’s leg. 

Fabian read
the feint easily and parried Phantasm’s blade away, stepping forward and
slicing his own blade upwards, forcing Phantasm to leap swiftly backwards to
avoid the strike.  The tempo quickly increased until the Training Arena
rang to the sound of their sword strikes.  Mistral found herself holding
her breath with every parry and strike.  A different noise forced Mistral
to briefly tear her gaze away to see that they were no longer alone.  The
other apprentices had returned and were watching Phantasm and Fabian with
interest.  Mistral was disgusted to see that Xerxes was already toting for
business, taking bets on who would draw first blood.  

Fabian’s
relentless attack was gradually forcing Phantasm back against the Training
Arena fence, giving him no reprieve until Phantasm’s was pressed right up
against the fence.  When Phantasm raised his sword to block another blow
Fabian held his sword pressed tightly to it, stepping in closely so that they
were face to face over their locked blades.

‘Concede?’ he
enquired in a barely audible murmur.

Phantasm
glared into Fabian’s black stare for a long moment, his chest heaving from the
effort of forcing himself not to pant.  After a long moment he nodded
stiffly.

Fabian smiled
and stepped back, releasing Phantasm from beneath the pressure of his
sword. 

‘You are
correct.  You are a better swordsman than your brother, but you let your
emotions show.  Try to be more objective,’ he advised, calmly sheathing
his sword.

The
apprentices broke into a ragged applause and entered the Arena themselves to
begin practising enthusiastically.  Xerxes quickly studied Phantasm and
Fabian only to be disappointed.  Neither had any blood on them although
Phantasm’s jerkin had a few nicks in it where Fabian’s blade had found its way
through his guard.

They all
stayed in the Arena until the light faded on the short winter day.  To
Mistral’s surprise Fabian stayed and trained with the apprentices.  She
watched him, captivated by the fluidity of his movements and the way his face
glowed with the same exhilarated look she had seen on the deck of Mage
Grapple’s warship.  She was swamped again by a feeling of unreality. 
It seemed unbelievable that he wanted to be with her, this beautiful and dark
Mage.  He was dangerous, of that she had no doubt, but the knowledge gave
her no fear.  She felt only the thrill of facing something wild and
unknowable.

When the light
finally became too poor for them to continue the apprentices retired to The
Cloak and Dagger in an exuberant mood.  Everyone had trained well and
there was a definite feeling of being nearly at the end of their long
year.  Freedom was in sight. 

Strolling up
to her, Fabian wound his arm around her waist and pulled her against him,
walking side by side towards the brightly lit tavern. 

‘That was
rather fun,’ he smiled and turned to kiss her.  ‘By the way, do I have a
rival?’ he added in a soft murmur in her ear.

Mistral shot
him an apologetic look, ‘I don’t know what got into Phantasm today.  He’s
usually so polite, particularly to Council members.’

‘No, not
Phantasm, I think I know what his problem is.  I meant Saul.  I’m sure
you know him.  He’s the unhappy looking apprentice that avoided training
with you for the entire afternoon and also risked being thrown out of the
Valley by defending you from Barak on Monday.’

‘Oh,’ Mistral
bit her lip and felt herself blush.  ‘No, of course you don’t have a rival
in Saul.’

‘Missed his
chance did he?’  Fabian murmured.

‘He never
stood a chance.  But if you must know, he did mention something the other
day.’  Mistral muttered, uncomfortable with the conversation.  She
didn’t want to discuss Saul with Fabian.  She sensed a dark streak in him
that she instinctively knew that this type of talk could ignite. 

‘I see. 
Anyone else I need to be worried about?’  Fabian’s tone was deliberately
light, but his arm tightened around her.

‘Only Grendel
the half-troll, oh, and Konrad, but I think he’s gone off me now I’m happy!’
 Mistral snapped, suddenly growing tired of the conversation.

‘Konrad is
which one?’

‘The
half-drow, you can’t miss him.  He’s the one’s that looks miserable all
the time.’

‘Ah, that
explains why he’s no longer interested in you.  You must have been a
magnet to him over the last couple of months.  But how did you avoid
him?  Drows are formidably tenacious when they have a victim.’
 Fabian scowled and pulling her protectively closer.

‘The twins
buffered me from him a lot, so he never really bothered me,’ Mistral
admitted.  ‘But I’m still going to have a word with Phantasm when we get
to The Cloak.  I don’t know what got into him today.’

Fabian didn’t
reply.  They had reached the entrance to the tavern and he stepped forward
to hold the door open for her.

‘Why thank
you,’ she said with a coy smile and stepped through into the rowdy warmth of
the packed tavern.

The
apprentices had spread themselves around three of the tables.  Only Golden
was conspicuous by her absence, leaving her surly side-kick Columbine
reluctantly talking to Konrad.  Mistral smiled.  Of course Konrad
would be drawn to her now she was miserable at the prospect of losing Golden if
her application for a second year was refused. 

The two second
year apprentices were also there.  They had kept themselves separate for
the duration of the year but now their time was drawing to a close they were
happy to mingle and let their guard down.  Xerxes was noisily coercing one
of them into a game of knucklebones being held on the only table not filled
with tankards.

Fabian
chuckled and wound his arm around Mistral once more to walk with her towards
the bar.

‘Reminds me of
my Qualifying week,’ he said with a reminiscent smile.

Mistral
glanced at him, intrigued.  He hadn’t talked about his two year
apprenticeship with her yet. 

‘Tell me about
it,’ she asked, leaning against him once they reached the bar.

Fabian passed
her the full tankard Floris set before him and collected another for himself
before turning to look at her.

‘When we’re
alone later,’ he promised.  ‘But right now I think Phantasm wants a word
with me.’  Fabian smiled and kissed her briefly before making his way
through the noisy rabble of apprentices to where Phantasm was sat alone at a
table near the back.

Mistral
watched him sit down opposite Phantasm, deliberately placing his back towards
her so that all she could see was Phantasm’s face, which was telling her
nothing, as usual.  It was set in the carefully polite mask he normally
wore.  Mistral strained her eyes to see Phantasm’s lips move, trying to
work out the words they framed, but he was speaking with his mouth tightly
drawn, making it impossible for her to make out anything clearly.  His
aura glowed around his blonde head in a cloud of blue, telling her nothing
other than he was utterly focussed on the conversation he was having with
Fabian.

Mistral
suddenly wondered where Phantom was.  The twins were usually
inseparable.  She scanned the tavern through its perpetual haze of tobacco
smoke.  More people had crammed into the tightly packed room as visiting
warriors drifted in to join in the revelry, but she couldn’t see Phantom’s
sleek blonde head anywhere amongst the crowd.

‘Looking for
me?’  Phantom asked, gliding to her side with ghostly quietness.

‘Yes,’ said
Mistral shortly, turning to face him.  ‘I want you to explain what the
hell got into your brother today and what he’s talking to Fabian about!’

Phantom
avoided her questioning glare, ‘It’s really not for me to say,’ he muttered
unhappily.

‘Phantom!’ 
Mistral exclaimed angrily.  ‘Please don’t play games with me!  I
don’t think I can take any more of Phantasm’s love of intrigue and
conspiracy!  Is this about his theory?’ 

Phantasm shook
his head and continued to avoid her eyes, ‘I’m sure Mage De Winter will tell
you.’

Mistral
gritted her teeth, praying for patience.  She knew that if she really
pushed him then Phantom would tell her, but it was hardly fair for her to force
him to divulge a confidence his brother had shared with him.  She had no
desire to cause a rift between the twins, and Phantom was right, Fabian would
tell her later.  She would make sure of it.

‘Drink?’

‘Please,’
Phantom said with obvious relief at being let off so lightly.

Mistral
ordered him a drink and shoved it unceremoniously towards him when it
arrived.  She may have given up, but she had not forgiven him.

‘You trained
well today,’ she began in an effort at conversation.  ‘Need some work on
your attacking stance though.’

Phantom
gratefully seized the topic of conversation and began an enthusiastic debate on
the merits of different styles.  Mistral listened with half her attention,
making occasional contributions to keep Phantom talking, the rest of her
attention was firmly fixed on the intense conversation happening at the table
across the room.

An hour passed
while Mistral leant against the bar listening to Phantom before Fabian and
Phantasm suddenly stood up at the same time.  Mistral straightened,
watching their body language intently.  Phantasm reached out and grasped
Fabian’s outstretched hand and shook it briefly.  Mistral was relieved to
see that he was smiling, although his expression was still a little reserved.

There was no
mistaking the amused expression on Fabian’s face as he walked back across the
room towards her.  Even though he was not actually smiling Mistral could
see the glint of humour dancing in his dark eyes.  She waited anxiously at
the bar, making no attempt to listen to Phantom’s continued monologue.  He
was on his fourth tankard of ale and would have talked to a stuffed goblin if
nothing else was available.

‘Would you
like to get something to eat?’  Fabian enquired when he drew close enough
to speak without shouting above the noise in the tavern.

Mistral
nodded.  She had no interest in food but was desperate to get out of the
tavern and find out what they had been talking about.  Leaving Phantom
still discoursing freely to the air around him about tracking methods, Mistral
slipped her hand into Fabian’s and followed him through the noisy throng of
half-drunk apprentices and warriors.

‘Leo is going
to be fuming with this lot tomorrow,’ he laughed softly as they stepped out
into the fresh night air.

The last
person Mistral wanted to talk about was her Training Captain, so she said
nothing and waited apprehensively for Fabian to tell her what he had been
discussing for the last hour.

‘You know,’ he
continued thoughtfully, pausing to wrap an arm around her and pull her closer
before walking across the village square.  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen a
group of first years who have knitted quite to tightly as you all have. 
Apart from one or two obvious exceptions, I genuinely think you would die for
each other.’

‘Fabian!’ 
Mistral exploded.  ‘Will you please tell me what you’ve been talking to
Phantasm about!  Or do I have to go back and beat it out of his brother,
who, by the way, has bored me to tears with inane drivel for the past hour –’

Fabian
abruptly turned kissed her, not gently, the way he usually did but forcefully,
surprising her with his intensity.

‘I love you,’
he said fiercely.

‘Fabian! 
You’re scaring me now!  Please tell me what’s going on!’

‘Let’s eat
first,’ he said, almost hauling her up the path towards the Refectory.

Mistral felt her
temper rising and forced it down with a determined effort.  Either he was
deliberately trying to annoy her or he was avoiding the subject.

‘I’ll make you
a compromise,’ she offered through clenched teeth.

‘Oh yes?’ he
murmured politely, not looking at her.

‘We’ll collect
some food from the Refectory and take it up to my room then you can tell me
everything,’ she said in a voice that suggested he had better not argue. 

Fabian didn’t
comment.  She risked a glance at his face and could see that he was smiling. 
What had amused him?  Was it her?  Had Phantasm’s been telling
stories of her mishaps over the year?  She cringed and hoped
not.  

They collected
a plate of something that looked vaguely like food from the kitchen. 
Bernadette was not in a good mood.  She told them at length how Leo had
instructed her to lay on a good meal since the apprentices would be eating
early and heading off to bed when in reality none of them had even bothered to
come in.  Mistral drummed her fingers impatiently on the counter top while
Fabian listened politely to Bernadette moaning.

‘Perhaps if
your food was actually edible they’d have turned up!’  Mistral finally
snapped and dragged Fabian away, leaving Bernadette red-faced.

‘Now that was
just rude,’ Fabian murmured reprovingly as she marched him determinedly out of
the Refectory and into the corridor.

Mistral’s
anger vanished with the strange abruptness that all her moods happened. 
Suddenly she was crying, not an elegant trickle, but from the heart, in deep
wracking sobs.

‘Please,
please, just tell me what Phantasm and you were arguing about!  Are you
leaving again?  Is that it?’

Fabian was
instantly distraught.  The plate of food smashed unnoticed on the stone
floor as his hands cupped her face.