Cain raised his eyebrows, ‘Don’t sound too happy do they?’
‘No.’ Mistral muttered distractedly and looked around for Fabian but couldn’t see him anywhere. ‘Where is he Cain?’ she whispered urgently.
‘Who?’ Cain frowned, then his face cleared. ‘Oh, you mean your Mage? He’s there. Look –’
Mistral followed his pointing finger to see Fabian talking intently to Imperato. The centaur’s face was composed but Fabian’s was drawn into tight lines of stress, reflected in the swirling colours of his aura.
‘Looks pretty intense. What’s it about, I wonder?’ Cain mused softly.
‘Cain!’ Mistral grabbed his arm and pulled him around to face her. ‘I – I’ve had this –’ she faltered, unable to express exactly what she’d felt.
‘What is it Mistral? What have you had?’ Cain suddenly grinned. ‘Is it a vision of me on the winner’s podium?’
‘Oh, it’s nothing . Forget I said anything.’ Mistral muttered quickly when Brutus suddenly appeared and launched a torrent of advice at Cain.
‘Mistral.’ Phantasm was suddenly by her side, his green eyes troubled. ‘If you have felt something, you need to tell us!’
‘I’m getting fed up with saying this brother, it’s nothing. Really. I’m just being a bit overemotional.’ Mistral tried to laugh. ‘Typical woman!’
‘There’s nothing typical about you Mistral.’ Phantasm frowned and gazed over to where Fabian and Imperato were still talking. He watched them for a moment then turned back to her. ‘We are here Mistral. We will be ready.’
She gazed into his eyes, twin pools of emerald, and was unable to hide the fear in her own, ‘Be ready brother. Please. Be ready.’
He nodded once and turned away to speak with his twin and Mistral’s gaze was drawn back to the cage in the centre of the Arena.
‘Looks like each competitor will be entered from individual positions around the edge.’ Cain nudged her and pointed to markers placed around the sides. ‘Do you see how the markers line up with each of the hatches on the cage?’
Mistral forced herself to focus on what Cain was telling her. She could see the markers he was referring to set around the edge of the Arena. Looking over at the cage again she realised that he was right, each one was set to opposite a hatch-like door on the cage.
‘I see.’
‘I wonder how we get to choose our position – ah!’ he exclaimed and pointed to one of the markers. ‘They’re different colours! I bet we have to draw coloured lots to decide our starting positions! But where does the gorgon come into play? There’s only five doors –’
‘Arcanes!’
Bryden Wolfsnare’s commanding voice rang out. Mistral looked up to see him stood on a wooden dais overlooking the Arena.
‘I humbly welcome you all to the final!’ he opened his arms in a distinctive gesture, eliciting a resounding cheer. ‘Tonight we will crown a new champion and honour the fallen. Remember that there is no greater glory than to have competed in the final of The Festival of the Arcane.’ he paused and gazed around, his eyebrows raised in a humorous expression. ‘Except of course, to have won … or died trying.’
The resulting burst of laughter made Mistral feel sick. An inexplicable dread washed over her. She rubbed her temples, trying to sooth the throbbing ache in her skull.
‘Finalists!’
Bryden’s deep voice called the Arcanes to order once more.
‘Your attention for a moment please. You see before you a cage containing five suitably formidable creatures for you to prove your worth against. You will each choose a coloured disc from this bag.’ he held up a white bag ornately embroidered in gold thread with the symbol of Bryden’s tribe, a snarling wolf’s head.
‘You will begin from the marker that corresponds to your chosen colour. The rules are simple. Defeat the creature that is released before you and battle the other finalists to reach the rope on top of the cage –’
‘See it?’ Cain muttered quickly and pointed to a thick length of rope coiled on the roof of the cage, right in the centre.
‘This will release your final challenge. A gorgon!’
A deafening roar of approval reverberated around the Arena. Bryden smiled and raised his arms again, calling for silence.
‘Now, to prevent you from allowing your fellow finalists to do all the hard work of releasing the gorgon and saving your energy for delivering the final blow –’
Laughing shouts of ‘would we?’, ‘how could you!’ and ‘but there’s no goblins in the final!’ rippled through the crowd.
‘Whoever releases the gorgon will be awarded an equal chance of being the champion! Should one finalist release the gorgon and another finally slay it, then we have a stalemate.’
A resounding hush fell across the crowd.
‘What happens then?’ Mistral whispered to Cain.
‘Fight.’ Cain muttered back. ‘To the death –’
Mistral looked up to meet Fabian’s tortured gaze.
‘Finalists! Approach!’
Suddenly Cain was dragging her across the Arena towards Bryden Wolfsnare. Mistral looked over her shoulder, trying to see Fabian but he was lost in the crowd of jostling Arcanes.
‘Looking forward to this glorified hunt then?’
She turned to see Saul walking beside her. Meeting his warm brown gaze she felt a strange lurch of foreboding.
‘Um, Saul?’
‘Yes?’
‘Will you promise me something?’
‘Anything.’
Ignoring the emphasis he had placed on that one word, Mistral looked at him, her expression suddenly hard, ‘I don’t want any heroics Saul. I know Fabian has asked you to try and protect me but I’m telling you not to.’
Saul smiled, ‘You know I’ve always got your back Mistral.’
‘No Saul, please!’ she whispered urgently. ‘Just second Grendel and ignore me! I’ve got Cain –’
‘And what more could any woman want?’ Cain quipped, forcing himself between them like an excited terrier on a walk. ‘Ah, this is more like it brother! Four Ri in the final!’
‘Even if two are seconds.’ Grendel growled and stomped up alongside them, a long sarisas tucked under one arm and his battle axe held in his other hand.
‘Finalists. Welcome.’
Bryden addressed the knot of finalists stood before him, ending any hopes Mistral had of trying to continue her whispered conversation with Saul.
‘I congratulate each of you on earning a place in the winners’ event. Your success has already bought glory to your respective tribes.’
Mistral hid a look of scorn. Glory? She didn’t give a damn for glory! Right now, she would have gladly given her place in the final to quell the gnawing anxiety consuming her. Something wasn’t right. Worse than that. Something was wrong, very, very wrong –
‘And now, I will ask you each to choose a coloured disc. We shall begin with the winner of the first event – ’
Mistral was shaken from her thoughts by Bryden holding the ornate linen bag out to her. She had won the first event, the horse race, so she had the right to choose first.
Reaching slowly into the bag, Mistral closed her fingers around the first disc her fingers brushed against. She could tell by the porous texture that it was made of bone and dropped it into Bryden’s open hand without looking at it.
‘Green!’
Bryden’s shout rang out and the crowd cheered. Mistral glanced quickly at Cain to see where that placed them in the Arena.
‘On the north east side.’ he whispered quickly.
Bryden moved along the line of finalists and held the bag out to Grendel, the winner of the second event.
‘White!’
‘South west.’ Saul murmured to Grendel as he blinked confusedly across the Arena.
The olive-skinned amazon chose next, her long fingers drawing a disc of dyed bone out of the bag and holding it up in the air.
‘Blue!’
Bryden�
��s tribe member, Ares, chose next. Reaching into the bag, he met his chieftain’s gaze with quiet confidence.
‘Red!’
Bryden’s gaze lingered briefly on his kinsman and Mistral shared a brief look with Cain, both of them wondering if Bryden was privately wishing his champion had chosen another disc.
Finally the centaur, Dravite, pulled the last disc from the bag, barely glancing at it before he passed it to Bryden.
‘Black! The finalists have chosen!’ Bryden announced in a ringing voice. ‘It is time for the event to begin!’
‘Good luck brother.’ Mistral muttered quickly to Grendel before they separated to find their markers.
‘No such thing.’ Grendel grunted and stomped off, already twirling his battle axe by his side.
Cain grinned at Saul, ‘I’ll see you in the crowd from the winner’s podium.’
‘Likewise brother.’ Saul laughed then cast a final glance at Mistral before he was gone, running to catch up with Grendel.
Mistral was left staring after him with the strangest feeling of having forgotten to say something when Cain grabbed her arm and yanked her into a brisk walk.
‘Come on Mistral! We’re in the damned final and you’re standing there dreaming your life away!’
Feeling numb, she let Cain almost drag her across the Arena, noting dimly the cheers and tumultuous applause coming from the crowd. She took her place at the painted green stake on the north east side of the Arena and stood there feeling exposed and awkward.
Cain gave her a sharp nudge, ‘Time to get ready.’
She nodded distractedly and began pulling on a pair of leather fingerless gloves, her eyes travelling over to the cage door opposite. She could see something moving inside. Narrowing her eyes to focus more clearly, she felt a sudden leap of excitement.
She, a nobody, just another abandoned half-breed, was in the final of The Festival of the Arcane.
Adrenaline flooded through her, washing away all unnamed fears to leave her filled with fierce excitement. She eyed the creature turning impatiently in its cage. It was big. She grinned over her shoulder at Cain to see him knelt close by with his saddlebag open and a variety of objects already laid out in preparation.
‘Ready brother?’
‘Born ready sister!’ Cain confirmed with a grin. ‘Now, what to start with ... crossbow?’
‘No!’ Mistral snorted, giving him a disgusted look. ‘Not unless whatever we get takes flight!’
‘Fine.’ he reached swiftly into the saddlebag again. ‘I’ll get more throwing knives ready.’
Mistral turned back to face the cage and drew her swords. Dropping into a fighting crouch she slid her right foot back, her boot crunching on the parched grass. She spun both swords by her side, warming up her wrists then angled them forwards, her eyes glued on the metal door facing her.
‘Finalists! Ready!’
Bryden’s voice rang out and a deathly hush fell across the spectators. Even the caged beasts quietened, as though sensing the sudden uplift in tension.
‘Here we go!’ Cain hissed.
Mistral growled and levelled her swords. Five of Bryden’s elves ran towards the cage. They stopped in front of each door and quickly slid back the heavy bolts, sprinting back before the creature within scented freedom.
With a series of shrieks and clangs the cage doors were slammed open by their enraged occupants. Mistral bared her teeth at the sphinx that bounded gracefully from the cage facing her. It saw Mistral and skidded to an abrupt halt, regarding her through slitted eyes. Emitted a low rumbling purr, it began to pace slowly back and forth.
‘Oh, hello.’ Mistral purred back. She ran her eyes over the creature, admiring the muscled flanks and heavy paws, no doubt concealing formidable claws. Her gaze travelled up to the sphinx’s face, shockingly alien to its feline body. It was hairless and unmistakably human in features and shape except for the eyes. Feeling her scrutiny the sphinx opened them wide and stared back, unleashing the full power of its golden stare.
A vision of sands and hot sun suddenly filled Mistral’s mind. She was struck by the odd compulsion to simply lie down and relax, enjoy the heat of the sun’s rays and forget all about fighting. She deserved a rest didn’t she? After all, she was in the final! Mistral sighed and lowered her swords a fraction. She could dimly hear Cain offering her poisoned throwing knives but it was somehow unimportant. She didn’t need throwing knives. What she needed was to lie down in the sun, somewhere like The Desert Lands, where she had fallen in love with Fabian …
Fabian.
‘You’re going to have to do better than that kitty.’ Mistral’s gaze snapped sharply back into focus. ‘I detest sunbathing!’ she lifted her swords and began edging towards the sphinx.
It blinked and tilted its head on one side, its long tail waving sinuously.
‘Seer – ’
A disembodied voice sounded in Mistral’s mind, warm and rich like honey.
‘Tell me. What do you See?’
The beguiling voice tugged irresistibly at Mistral’s thoughts. She felt her eyes close, giving in to images of forests, the trees heavy with golden leaves. Autumn. Her favourite season.
‘Watch out for the telepathic stuff Mistral!’ Cain’s shout ripped through her vision, jarring her back into reality.
Shaking her head irritably, Mistral opened her eyes again to see the sphinx crouched before her, preparing to spring.
‘I’ll tell you what I see shall I? A new rug in front of my fire!’
Mistral suddenly sprinted towards the sphinx at precisely the same moment it sprang for her. Laughing recklessly, she flung herself sideways. Tucking both swords tightly to her body she rolled across the hard ground, tasting dirt and dried grass. She caught a glimpse of golden flanks and huge splayed paws as the sphinx soared over her then quickly sprang to her feet. Ignoring her spinning head, Mistral dropped into a half-crouch, both swords raised ready. The sphinx landed and whipped around, barely pausing before springing at her again.
Mistral watched the creature bound towards her, the human mouth open to reveal teeth that were definitely catlike. The muscles in its hind legs bunched and flexed, pushing the heavy body into a leap. She heard Cain swear and smiled. If he was panicking then it was time to act.
She dropped backwards onto the rock-hard ground and thrust both swords straight up into the sphinx’s exposed belly. Her wrists jarred painfully at the impact, the sphinx screamed and hot blood sluiced down over Mistral’s hands and arms. She rolled quickly to see the sphinx smashing down, its belly dripping blood. It snarled and began to clamber to its feet. Mistral lunged towards it –
‘Cloth!’
Suddenly Cain was rubbing at her hands, clearing away the slick of blood.
‘Not now brother!’
Mistral shook him off but the split second of interruption had cost her dear. The sphinx was upright again. It was weaving unsteadily but experience had taught Mistral that injured creatures were twice as savage. She couldn’t risk it attacking again. Swearing loudly at Cain, Mistral flung herself the few remaining paces, her outstretched arms plunging both sword points deep into the sphinx’s flanks. Blood gushed out, flowing over the golden hide to gather in a dark pool on the ground.
Breathing hard, Mistral sank to her knees beside the dying creature. Her legs and arms ached, sweat stung her eyes, every breath hurt – and it was only the start.
Mere seconds passed but Mistral could feel Cain moving impatiently in the background. It was time to move. She drew herself up and reached for her swords then suddenly halted, her attention claimed by another, oddly familiar sound. Hearing a second too late Cain’s shout of warning, Mistral jerked round to see something huge hurtling towards her. She managed to swear before it crashed into her, wrenching her hands away from the hilts of her swords and slamming her to the ground.
Stunned and winded, she groaned and tried to move. Something heavy was pressing on her chest, suffocating her. Warm liquid trickled down her face an
d into her open mouth, the salty taste instantly telling her that she was bleeding. Her eyes instantly flew open to see the flattened features of a manticore gazing down at her. Mistral swore, short, foul and apt. In the background Cain was shouting, but his voice was lost in the manticore’s cry, low and harmonious. Hungry.
A world of seduction lay within that sound, but Mistral was wise to its tricks. Gritting her teeth she bent her knees and worked her boots up so they were flat against the manticore’s belly. The effort made more blood run down her face and the manticore’s eyes widened greedily. Its mouth opened and a long tongue appeared, running rapidly back and forth over a triple row of sharp teeth.
‘I am not your dinner!’ Mistral hissed. Shoving with every ounce of strength she possessed she pushed with her feet, managing to shift the manticore enough to roll out from beneath its crushing weight.
Swordless and injured, Mistral staggered to her feet and hastily dragged her hand across her eyes, wiping away the blood. She locked gazes with the manticore, now padding softly towards her. It paused and lifted its head to sniff the air, drawing in the scent of fresh blood. Emitting a soft cry the manticore prowled towards her again, its face suffused with intense longing. Not taking her eyes off the manticore, Mistral automatically reached over her shoulder for her swords and swore, realising that they were still lodged in the sphinx.
‘Oh, what the hell.’ she quickly reached for her dagger instead and brandished it at the manticore, smiling invitingly.
‘Swords!’
Cain’s voice hissed urgently in her ear. He snatched her dagger away then shoved both swords into her hands. She was vaguely aware of him quickly dabbing something stinging onto the cut on her head then he was gone.
Mistral adjusted the grip on her swords and spun them experimentally by her side, her eyes glued to the manticore pacing towards her. Ignorant to the roars of the crowd and sounds of the other fights going on around her, Mistral’s world narrowed down to contain only herself and the creature stalking her. Time slowed. She could see every minute detail with perfect clarity, the swirls of dust rising beneath every step the manticore took, the flare of its nostrils drawing in the irresistible scent of her blood and the black pupils dilating with desire.
The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams) Page 55
