The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams)

by Jones, Kirsten

  A long moment passed before either of them spoke again. With a deep sigh Fabian released her and set her lightly on her feet.

  ‘It’s time to go.’

  Giving Cirrus a final pat and instructing Prospero to stay, Mistral followed Fabian out of the stable. Despite his earlier lecture on propriety he held her hand during the walk back to the Council, only releasing his hold on her when they climbed the stairs and joined the twins waiting beside the double doors leading into the atrium.

  ‘Ready?’

  Fabian nodded to the two warlocks who instantly sprang into action, opening the double doors to allow them to enter.

  Mistral walked by Fabian’s side across the marble floored atrium, their booted steps echoing loudly in the vast emptiness. He strode towards a row of black doors in the back wall and without hesitating opened one of them then stepped aside to allow Mistral to enter first.

  For the second time in as many hours Mistral found herself awestruck by the room she walked into. She was stood at the top of a huge and thankfully empty room. It was circular with marble benches dropping down in arcing tiers to meet the floor. The floors and walls were tiled in white marble like the atrium and it was also just as bright. She looked up, expecting to see hundreds of vast candelabras but saw instead the glass cupola she had noticed from the moors. Light poured in, filling the white room with eye-watering brilliance, providing no dark corners to hide in. Here was a room where every facial expression, every lie and gesture would be starkly exposed. Mistral was suddenly impressed by the clever design of the room and perhaps even a little by the person responsible for its creation; Mage Grapple.

  ‘Eximius will be seated there. His Captain of the Guard will be on his right and Antoine will be on his left.’ Fabian indicated to three chairs placed on the central floor space. The chairs were placed back against the edge of the circle, facing the door with their backs to the second flight of steps running up the marble tiers. ‘They will be visible to all and in return, all will be visible to them. The cousins will be seated nearby on the lowest marble tier. Warlocks are not permitted within the Council chamber during meetings; however two will be guarding the door outside.’

  ‘Does he know we’ve been compromised?’ Phantasm asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  The twins nodded and Mistral gazed around the room speculatively.

  ‘Where do you want us to be?’

  ‘We will be up there.’ Fabian indicated to a row to the right of where Mage Grapple would be seated. ‘And Phantom and Phantasm in direct line of sight on the opposite side.’

  ‘What about Putreo?’

  ‘He holds a seat facing Eximius on the centre bench.’

  She frowned, ‘Will he bring Columbine into the meeting?’

  ‘No. The same rule applies to bodyguards as it does warlocks. This is meant to be a place of negotiation, not bloodshed.’

  Mistral raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

  The door to the chamber suddenly opened, ending their discussion. The first Council officials began to make their way to their seats, talking loudly, their faces flushed from an indulgent lunch.

  Fabian quickly nodded to the twins. They immediately turned and walked down the stairs to take their allocated seats. Taking hold of Mistral’s hand, Fabian guided her to along the row opposite until they reached their seats. They did not speak while the room slowly filled up, the level of noise rising until she and Fabian would have had to shout to hear each other. She felt Fabian stir when Putreo entered and took his seat precisely where Fabian had said he would.

  All noise abruptly ceased when Mage Grapple swept into the room. He strode down the stairs, oblivious to the chill his presence seemed to bring and assumed his seat in silence. Mistral studied his scarred features. He looked exactly the same as when she had first seen him on the ride to Blackneath the previous year. The stern set of his features, the closely cropped grey hair, the unsettling opaque eye beneath the long jagged scar running the length of his face. It was all unnervingly familiar.

  A thickset man took the seat on his left, leaving Mistral to assume that he was the Captain of the Guard. Mage Grapple gave no indication of acknowledging his Captain’s presence but stared rigidly ahead. The atmosphere in the chamber tightened. Everyone joined Mage Grapple in staring at the door, anticipating the Rochfortes’ entrance. As the seconds lengthened into minutes Mistral felt a sudden tension radiating from Fabian and knew that something was wrong.

  Noises filtered through the closed door, shouting voices and running feet, then the chamber door banged violently open. Guillane burst into the room, his dark features flushed with anger. He strode down the steps, shouting and gesticulating wildly. Mistral couldn’t understand his words but she heard Fabian exhale in a sharp hiss. She turned and knew something terrible had happened. His face was rigid with tension, his eyes fixed on the open door. His eyes widened fractionally and Mistral jerked her gaze away to see Etienne and Christophe enter the chamber carrying between them the body of Antoine Rochforte.

  A scandalised gasp ran through the Council. Everyone rose to their feet to watch the two ashen-faced cousins carry their dead kinsman down the steps. Even Guillane fell silent when they carefully laid his body on the white marble floor of the Council chamber. Mage Grapple slowly stood and stepped past Guillane to gaze down at Antoine Rochforte’s dead body. He knelt suddenly and pulled something small and silver from Antoine’s neck. Mistral felt her heart lurch when she instantly recognised the object. It was a throwing knife.

  The silence seemed to thicken as Mage Grapple held the blood-stained knife up to the bright light, studying it carefully.

  ‘”M”,’ he announced heavily and gazed slowly around the Council chamber. ‘This rather distinctive throwing knife is initialled with the letter “M”.’

  Mistral gasped and Fabian immediately gripped her hand tightly.

  Drawn by her shocked exclamation Mage Grapple’s iron grey stare swivelled around to rest on Mistral, ‘Does this knife belong to you, Mistral?’

  Mistral stared frozenly back, her mind reeling. She had no doubt that Putreo was somehow behind this. Rage erupted, hot and cleansing, washing away the shock. Putreo! She uttered his name like a curse in her mind. Not only had he removed the threat to his position and neatly framed her in the process but he was also going to rob Fabian of her life. To kill a Rochforte would surely be a crime punishable only by death.

  ‘Yes.’

  The word escaped her lips in a terse hiss.

  ‘I see.’

  A heavy silence fell while Mage Grapple continued to stare at her.

  ‘And did you kill Antoine Rochforte?’

  Mistral lifted her chin and stared resolutely back.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Lies!’

  Putreo’s abrupt shout shattered the tense silence. He leapt to his feet, pointing accusingly at her, his face twisted in anger.

  ‘We all know De Winter has blood from the Noble line! He has seen this as an opportunity to continue the feud between Nobles and Rochfortes ! Look! See?’ he pointed a furious finger at Mistral. ‘He bought another Ri warrior to the Council to do his dirty work for him! I demand her immediate arrest! This is an –’ Putreo suddenly sat down and fell silent, gazing into space with a vague smile on his face.

  Mistral threw Fabian a confused look but he had locked stares with Guillane. The Frenchman was yelling again, his mouth wide to release a torrent of unintelligible words. He said the same word twice then jabbed a finger at Mistral and spat on the floor.

  Mistral felt the tension in Fabian snap so violently it stung her mind like a whip crack. He jerked forwards, shouting back in French. The room erupted into chaos with everybody clamouring in two different languages. Mistral felt her heart quicken. This was getting out of control. Her gaze flicked anxiously over the shouting faces, double-taking when a flash of red caught her eye. Guillane. His aura exploded in the air above him in flares of scarlet-streaked black. Mistral knew what he wa
s going to do a split-second before the air around him began to shimmer.

  ‘Fabian!’

  Mistral’s warning escaped her lips in a panicked gasp then time seemed to slow and fragment into disjointed segments. Fabian pulled her back. Something bright whistled through the air by them. Guillane gave a high cry and grabbed at his chest, his eyes widening in surprise. Still staring at Fabian he sank slowly to his knees. A booming silence filled the chamber, so loud his rattling breath echoed like a drumroll. He slumped over onto his side and suddenly everything speeded up again.

  ‘No Fabian!’ Mistral whispered in horror staring at the hilt of Fabian’s dagger protruding from the growing stain on blood on the front of Guillane’s robes.

  Christophe and Etienne cried out and threw themselves down beside Guillane, pressing their hands uselessly to the wound and shouting urgently in French. Mistral tore her gaze away from them and turned to Fabian. He was staring down at Guillane’s body with a cold expression on his face. With a burst of shock Mistral realised that his hand had never left hers, he had retrieved and thrown his dagger without her even noticing. For the first time she began to see why the twins feared his reputation so much. The twins! Glancing quickly at them Mistral saw their faces set in expressions of intense concentration. Her gaze darted over the chamber and fell upon Mage Grapple’s Captain, sat alone in on the empty row of chairs with a distant look on his face, utterly oblivious to the pandemonium erupting around him.

  ‘Enough!’

  A wave of energy exploded across the room. Mistral felt her legs buckle and fell back against the marble bench. Winded, she stared around dazedly for the source of the spell to see Mage Grapple stood in the centre of the floor with his arms held out, the air around him still rippling with the remnants of the spell he had cast.

  ‘I will have order in this Council!’

  His ringing shout was met with a few quiet groans from the Councillors sitting up and looking around groggily. Mistral watched them struggling to sit up and wondered how it would have felt if she hadn’t been wearing gorgon skin armour.

  Mage Grapple turned his cold stare to the twins.

  ‘Release my Captain.’

  They nodded and the statue-like Captain of the Guard immediately leapt to his feet and stared around wildly.

  ‘Clear the chamber.’ Mage Grapple ordered sharply.

  His Captain instantly sprang into action and began ushering people from the room. Only Etienne and Christophe took some persuading to leave the bodies of their two kinsmen and had to be forcibly escorted from the room by two silent warlocks.

  ‘You will remain.’ Mage Grapple ordered curtly, looking in turn at Fabian, Mistral and then the twins.

  Mistral stared at the twins. She desperately wanted to tell them how sorry she was to have got them into a mess that had probably ruined their dreams of a career at the Council. They stared back at her, their faces identical masks of resignation, obviously thinking the same as her.

  ‘Let me handle this.’ Fabian muttered, releasing her hand and rising slowly to his feet.

  The door to the chamber closed with an echoing bang, leaving them alone with the two dead Rochfortes and Mage Grapple. He stared down at the body of Antoine for a moment before lifting his cold grey stare to meet Fabian’s.

  ‘Did you really have to kill Guillane?’ he demanded abruptly.

  ‘He insulted Mistral.’

  Mistral stared at him, totally aghast, ‘You killed him because he was rude about me? What the hell did he say that could be that bad?’

  ‘I will never repeat what he said.’ Fabian growled, his black stare not leaving Mage Grapple’s.

  Mage Grapple looked away from Fabian to regard Mistral impassively, ‘You don’t speak French,’ he stated quietly.

  Mistral looked at him and shook her head silently.

  ‘Then how, I wonder, would you have been able to persuade Antoine to accompany you to the secluded chamber where his body was found with your knife in his neck?’

  ‘I – I couldn’t … I didn’t –’

  Mage Grapple continued to regard her for a long moment then switched his iron stare back to Fabian, ‘Who killed Antoine?’

  Fabian’s lip curled, ‘Putreo. Or rather, his new bodyguard. I doubt Putreo would know which end of a throwing knife to hold.’

  ‘What proof do you have?’

  ‘None.’

  ‘Where were you during lunch?’

  ‘The stables.’

  If Mage Grapple thought this was an unusual place to have meal, he gave no sign, ‘Did anyone see you?’

  Fabian’s brow furrowed in concentration before he shook his head angrily, ‘No.’

  ‘Then we have a problem.’

  Mistral turned to Fabian. He continued to stare at Mage Grapple, his face rigid with tension. A wave of sadness washed over her as she looked at the face she loved so much, every contour and hollow so achingly familiar but no less divine. With a burst of panic Mistral realised that she may be looking at him for the last time.

  ‘Am I going to die for this Mage Grapple?’ she blurted desperately.

  ‘You will not die today.’ Mage Grapple responded crisply. ‘However, you do present me with something of a quandary.’ he walked over to stand between the two dead bodies and gazed down at Antoine thoughtfully. ‘The crime of killing Antoine Rochforte cannot go unpunished or there will be a war.’ he paused and switched his attention to the slumped form of Guillane. ‘Guillane is of no consequence. He insulted another Mage and lost the duel that ensued. It happens.’ Mage Grapple shrugged disinterestedly and turned to face the twins.

  ‘You two are assured of work in my Council from now until the end of my time.’

  The twins stared back, astonishment etched on both their faces. They quickly regained their composure and gave double nods of polite acceptance, intoning as one, ‘Thank you, Mage Grapple. It will be an honour.’

  Mage Grapple nodded curtly and turned to face Fabian and Mistral.

  ‘I need you all to leave the Council and travel back to the Ri Valley at once. You will not seek out Putreo or his bodyguard – am I understood?’

  Mistral met his cold stare evenly and nodded.

  ‘I will take a small party of warlocks to escort the Rochfortes back to Holdridge and travel back to France with them. This fiasco is going to take some smoothing over. I may have to lie.’ he paused, holding her gaze. ‘Be prepared for people to believe that you are dead.’

  Mistral blinked then quickly nodded when Fabian squeezed her hand.

  Mage Grapple continued to hold her gaze for a moment then something shifted in their mismatched depths and he looked at Fabian once more.

  ‘If you were so insulted by Guillane’s words then you really should do something about it.’ On that enigmatic note he turned and began to walk up the steps, snapping brusquely. ‘I want you all out of the Council and the city within the hour!’

  Then he was gone, closing the chamber door behind him with a quiet snap. Mistral stared at Fabian, utterly bewildered.

  ‘What just happened?’

  ‘Not now. We need to get out of here. Get to the stables and saddle the horses. Stay together! I will retrieve our weapons – ’

  He leapt lightly down the marble benches and strode over to Guillane’s body. Kneeling swiftly he pulled his dagger from Guillane’s chest and cleaned it the dead man’s robes before slipping it back inside his boot.

  ‘Here.’

  After a moment Mistral realised he was holding her throwing knife out for her to take.

  Her legs felt as though they had been turned to lead. She forced them to respond and clambered down the marble benches to where Fabian was standing. Reaching out wordlessly for her knife she slipped it into her pocket.

  ‘Are you ready to go?’ he asked urgently.

  She nodded and felt the air beside her stir. She glanced around to see the twins appearing silently by her side.

  ‘Don’t be split up for any reason.’ Fabi
an instructed them in a low voice. ‘I will meet you in the stableyard as soon as I’ve retrieved our weapons. Now go!’

  Mistral felt a slight pressure on either arm as the twins took hold of her, forcing her to move. Stumbling up the marble steps with the twins still gripping her arms Mistral realised they would have to leave through an atrium full of angry Council officials that might well include Count Putreo and his faithful bodyguard. Adrenalin pumped through her veins and she welcomed its fire, burning away the numbing shock.

  ‘How the hell are we going to get out of here alive?’

  ‘I have no idea.’ Phantasm hissed back and opened the door a fraction to peer out into the open expanse of the Atrium.

  ‘Oh, thank you Mage Grapple! It’s clear. Let’s go!’

  Dragging Mistral by the hand the twins ran out across the white marble floor. It was eerily deserted, making their booted steps sound unnaturally loud.

  ‘Where is everyone?’ Mistral whispered.

  ‘Don’t know ... don’t care.’ Phantasm muttered back then swore under his breath. Slowing to a walk he nodded towards the two huge warlocks positioned on either side of the closed double doors that lead out to the courtyard.

  ‘How do we get them to open the doors?’ he whispered to his brother.

  ‘No need. Mage Grapple wants us gone as much as we do.’

  The warlocks were already moving to unbolt the heavy doors. They slipped through the moment the gap would allow them through, leaping down the steps and sprinting across the paved courtyard to the stables.

  ‘Talk to me brothers!’ Mistral demanded breathlessly.

  ‘Oh, and is it good to be able to again! That was the longest I’ve ever gone without speaking!’ Phantom exclaimed and grinned at her. ‘Well! Having you around certainly livened up what would have been one long, dull Council meeting!’