The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams)

by Jones, Kirsten

  Details.

  She finally realised why she hated details so much. Details outlined responsibilities, something she had been running from her whole life. Thoughts tumbled through her overwrought mind; the festival, the long ride back in virtual silence, Phantasm’s face in the meadows, full of anger, Cain’s face in The Cloak and Dagger, Saul’s face, white and bloodless. Miserable with guilt, Mistral finally succumbed to the tears that had threatened to fall all evening. Saul had died for nothing; she wasn’t capable of mastering her gift. It was a mistake, like the half-breed that she was, an abandoned mistake –

  ‘Mistral? Are you alright?’

  Phantasm’s muffled called through the closed door. Mistral didn’t reply and tried to silence her sobs but only succeeded in making a choking sound. The door quickly opened and Phantasm’s pale face appeared in the gap.

  ‘Can I come in?’

  Her first instinct was to refuse, tell him she was fine and order him to leave her alone – then she met his green eyes and couldn’t lie. She nodded wordlessly and rubbed a sleeve across her eyes.

  Phantasm stole softly across the room and swept Prospero from the bed to sit down beside her.

  ‘Do you want to talk?’

  She shook her head and then immediately nodded, staring down at Prospero now stretched out on the floor at her feet. He gazed back at her reproachfully.

  ‘What you said to me today –’

  Phantasm frowned, ‘Is that why you’re crying? Because I shouted at you? Come on Mistral! You spent most of last year listening to the Training Lieutenants shouting at you!’

  ‘Yes, but none of it was true,’ she muttered, picking miserably at her sleeve. ‘What you said is true. I am selfish.’

  Phantasm sighed and rested his elbows on his knees. Clasping his hands together he turned to look at her with an enquiring expression.

  ‘So, what are you going to do about it?’

  She drew in a deep breath, ‘I don’t know yet –’

  ‘Well let me know when you do.’ Phantasm abruptly rose to his feet, ghosting silently towards the door.

  ‘Wait!’ Mistral cried out, suddenly terrified at being left alone again. ‘Please don’t go! I – I don’t want to be alone!’

  Phantasm paused and turned to regard her with a cold expression on his face.

  ‘What is it Mistral?’ his voice was hard again. ‘You spend half your life craving solitude. Why do you so need company right now?’

  ‘I – I can hear him … talking to me –’

  ‘Who?’ Phantasm frowned.

  ‘Saul.’

  There was a brief silence while Phantasm looked at her strangely, ‘What does he say?’

  ‘The same thing … over and over again.’ Mistral muttered dully. ‘Destiny.’

  Phantasm walked across the room and sat beside her again, ‘Do you ever recall him saying that to you?’ he asked quickly.

  Mistral’s brow creased as she tried to remember ever having a conversation with Saul about destiny but all she could ever recall was light-hearted banter, plans for hunts, Contracts and arguments over preferred weapons and styles of sword fighting.

  ‘No,’ she finally whispered.

  ‘Then it’s not a memory you’re hearing Mistral. It’s Sight.’

  ‘Telling me what? To get on with my destiny? Or that it was Saul’s destiny to die for me? Because that was a pretty poor one if you ask me! Or even worse that it was his destiny to love an ungrateful, selfish creature like me! He deserved so much more than that Phantasm!’

  ‘You loved him Mistral, he was your brother. He knew that.’

  ‘I – I don’t know … maybe if I’d never met Fabian –’

  ‘You were always going to meet Mage De Winter.’ Phantasm interrupted impatiently. ‘Even if you’d run away to live in The Desert Lands he would have found you, one day.’

  Mistral sighed, ‘Yes, I think he probably would have.’

  Phantasm smiled gently, the candlelight turning his flawless skin to marble and his eyes to emeralds.

  ‘You need to sleep Mistral. Move up, I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.’

  He swung his legs onto the bed and lay on his back. Mistral was too exhausted to argue and curled against his side, not even minding when he rested an arm lightly around her. The scent was wrong, and the heart she could hear beating was too fast to be Fabian’s, but she was grateful not to be alone with her dark thoughts anymore and finally allowed herself to drift into sleep.

  She awoke to find the warm bulk of Prospero squashing her against the wall. Phantasm must have left after she had fallen into a deeper sleep. She pushed at her dog and he rolled onto his back, opening one eye to regard her balefully.

  ‘Oh come on Prosp!’ Mistral muttered, finally managing to shove him off the bed. ‘Dogs are actually supposed to sleep on the floor you know!’

  Released from the weight of her dog, Mistral stood up and walked over to the window to gaze meditatively at the breaking dawn. A new day. She stared unseeingly at the delicate pink sky, her thoughts turning inwards, forming the decision that had been revolving in her mind all night.

  How long could she keep hiding from what she had been born to do? Probably forever, she realised with a sigh. Her capacity to hide from the truth and her cursed destiny seemed to be endless. It would be so easy to keep on living the half-life that she had … in just another six months Fabian would have to hold true to his promise and let her give up on attaining Sight, and then she would have everything she ever wanted.

  And Saul would have died for nothing.

  Mistral sighed and rested her forehead against the glass. She didn’t want the gift of Sight, that was for sure. The responsibility that came with it filled her with a clawing panic and a desire to flee the Valley and all the unrealistic expectations everyone seemed to hold for her. It suddenly struck as ironic that most warriors came to the Valley to find freedom whereas she had found enslavement. The thought of the shackles that Sight would place upon her terrified her, plus she wasn’t really too keen on Seeing the contents of peoples’ heads either. With a bitter smile she remembered something that Imperato had said to her.

  Do not fear the light but the shadows that it throws …

  She hadn’t really understood him at the time but now his words made sense. She was not afraid of the gift that lived within her. It was a part of her and she could no more fear it than she could her own heart, but she was afraid of how everything would change when … if … she ever learned how to master it.

  Ah, but there was one thing that would change for the better. Her life with Fabian.

  Nodding once to herself, Mistral had her answer; or two answers really. Fabian … and Saul.

  The miserable hopelessness she had felt was instantly replaced by a strong sense of determination. There was no thrill, no feeling of challenge; just a cold intent born of the knowledge that she must master Sight. She could no longer permit anything, or anyone, to distract her from that one single purpose.

  ‘No more fun Prospero,’ she said quietly to her dog and bent to grab some clean clothes. ‘Just cold showers and lots of work from now on in.’

  Prospero yawned and padded obediently out the room after her towards the bathroom.

  The cold needles of water struck her skin, driving away the last vestiges of sleep and bringing into sharp focus the task ahead. She drew in a shuddering breath and turned her face up to meet the icy jet of water, letting it blast away the hot tears that suddenly flowed. The pain of Saul’s death, of knowing that he had died for her, was nothing compared to the torment she was about to willingly inflict upon herself.

  Mistral stepped quietly out of the bathroom to see Fabian already waiting outside her room. Her heart gave a painful wrench and her feet stalled. She felt her resolve begin to crumble as she stared at the tall, lithe figure leaning casually against the wall, smiling idly down at Prospero while he rubbed the dog’s head. Dust motes sparkled in the air, caught in the same earl
y morning sunlight that cast a halo around his dark hair and made his pale skin glow. Mistral swallowed convulsively, the words she had to speak sticking in her throat. Stumbling slightly, she forced her feet to move towards him once more.

  ‘Good morning,’ he murmured, his velvet eyes meeting hers.

  ‘Can we talk?’

  ‘Of course,’ he turned and pushed open the door to her room.

  ‘No,’ she caught his hand and pulled him back. ‘Not in there – here is fine.’

  Frowning, Fabian turned back to face her.

  ‘I – I don’t want you in my room anymore Fabian.’

  He stared at her, ‘You are banishing me from your room?’

  She nodded jerkily, willing herself to find the strength to continue, forcing out words that cut deeper than any knife ever could.

  ‘And I want you to ban me from our house.’

  Fabian’s eyes flickered, ‘I cannot. It is, as you say, our house.’

  ‘I need you to do this Fabian.’ Mistral whispered, her eyes begging him to understand. ‘Until I get the Sight you have to banish me, because I don’t have the strength to stay away.’

  ‘Why would you want to?’ he snapped.

  ‘I have to! I’ve got to force myself to stay here, in the Valley, until I master my gift.’

  Fabian’s eyes hardened, ‘Then get Leo to forbid you. I cannot.’

  ‘If Leo forbade me to do anything you know I’d want to do it even more!’

  He stared at her, his black gaze cold. A long silence fell.

  ‘Why you are doing this?’ he finally hissed.

  ‘Because –’ Mistral cast around wildly for words to describe why she was doing something that would hurt them both, ‘because ... my life, you, my brothers ... it’s all so nearly complete that I could probably live like this for ever. I’ll never achieve Sight like this! Don’t you see? You all make it so easy for me! You all give and give and give, and I take, but I’ve earned none of it.’

  He stared at her wordlessly; his eyes filled such with pain that Mistral felt her resolve slipping again. She drew in a deep breath and reached up to touch his face, tracing the hard lines with her fingertips.

  ‘I adore you Fabian. Endlessly. I would do absolutely anything for you.’ her gaze moved over his face wonderingly. ‘And I have no idea how I’m finding the strength to do this, but if I don’t I’ll never master my gift, not while I keep bending the rules all the time.’

  ‘Are you asking me to leave you?’ he asked abruptly.

  ‘No.’ Mistral bit her lip, hard enough to taste blood. ‘Oh, what I want is so much worse than that! I’m actually selfish enough to want you to stay here, in the Valley, with me ... but not with me. How can I even ask that of you?’ she stared at him, distraught. ‘But I don’t think I can do this without you. Please understand Fabian. Please say you’ll stay –’

  ‘I could never leave you Mistral. To remain in the place where you are is no hardship for me.’ Fabian’s fingers grazed her cheek. ‘But I fail to see how placing yourself in purgatory will help you focus.’

  Mistral caught his hand and held it against her skin, her eyes closed to stop the tears from falling, ‘How can I achieve Sight when I have everything I want already? I need to deny myself the things I love to give me the incentive to master my gift and get them back.’ She opened her eyes again. ‘And more. I want to give us the life we should be living Fabian.’

  Fabian suddenly pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly that she could feel every ragged breath he drew, ‘However this ends Mistral, we will be together. Sight or no Sight.’

  ‘We have to be Fabian, because that’s the only thing giving me enough courage to do this.’ Mistral tilted her face up, her lips lingering against his before she stepped out of his embrace. She looked at him, her expression wary, her posture tense. Expectant of pain. ‘I’m ready.’

  His eyes met hers, cold and distant as the stars, ‘Then, until you have the Sight, I banish you from our house.’

  She closed her eyes as a single tear rolled down her face.

  ‘And from my room on the third floor.’ His voice was harsh, barely recognisable.

  She swallowed and blinked back more tears, ‘And?’

  A muscle jumped in his jaw, ‘And I accept that I am forbidden from entering your dorm room.’

  Mistral’s head jerked once in response. It was done.

  ‘And now, I think you need to have breakfast.’ Fabian took her hand, drawing her to his side to walk along the corridor.

  ‘Well I never thought she’d do that!’ Phantom exclaimed softly, lifting his head away from the door.

  ‘What?’ Phantasm enquired lazily from his bed.

  ‘Banish her Mage from being alone with her till she gets Sight!’

  ‘Really?’ Phantasm yawned. ‘She won’t last.’

  Phantom pressed his ear to the door again, ‘I think she really means it this time brother. She’s even going to ask Master Sphinx to stop her Training Contracts.’

  ‘Maybe Saul’s sacrifice won’t be in vain after all.’ Phantasm closed his eyes and rolled over.

  All Work and No Play

  July passed in a series of long, hot days, each unnoticed by Mistral. Her new regime was all she knew; rising at dawn to eat breakfast in the Refectory with Fabian before heading straight down to the Training Arena for the morning session. Since Nereus was still claiming to be suffering from his self-inflicted sword injury, most sessions were overseen by Leo, but some were taken by Fabian who had reprised his role of stand-in Training Lieutenant whilst staying in the Valley. Mistral would train until midday, hardly speaking and focussing purely on the drills set. Her lunch was a hurried meal, sometimes eaten with Fabian in The Cloak but more often than not something he bought to her while they walked to her next destination.

  Her afternoons were divided between helping Serenity in the Infirmary and studying brewing with Malachi in his book-lined tower room. Every Wednesday she would spend the afternoon sat on the cold floor of the Divinus’ barren tower room, reading his aura and describing her findings to him. At first Mistral dreaded her sessions with the mysterious Divinus, but she soon came to enjoy his quiet and unassuming company. The hours she spent in the austere calm of his bare room afforded her a welcome respite from her grinding routine. He would listen to her describe his aura, occasionally offering insights on her findings or talk about the Sight, allaying many of the unspoken fears she still harboured about her gift.

  Once her day had finished, she would saddle Cirrus and ride with Fabian through the meadows before returning to spend the evening reading auras in The Cloak whilst they ate. Her newfound dedication had even led her to venture into the dusty realms of the library, returning laden with arms full of any books that so much as mentioned Sight. The heavy books lay on her bedroom floor, her sole companions through the long empty nights.

  Every Saturday afternoon she would ride out of the Valley accompanied by Fabian. He would stay with her until they reached the edge of The Velvet Forests where Imperato, Dravite and Faras would be waiting quietly for her in the shade of the heavy oak trees. Once they had exchanged respectful greetings Fabian would depart, leaving Mistral alone with the centaurs to continue her study of the stars. Fabian’s deliberate display of trust in leaving was not something he was entirely comfortable with, but had agreed to at Mistral’s insistence. To suggest that she would not be safe with three centaurs was to risk causing serious offense to the fiercely proud tribe.

  Mistral did not visit the centaurs’ tribal home but travelled through the forests with them, riding slowly and listening to Imperato describe the slow dance of the planets and the effects their ancient movements had upon the Isle. She soon realised it was a subject so vast that a lifetime dedicated to its study might result in some elementary understanding of the complicated theories Imperato spoke of. For the most part she simply enjoyed being with them, listening to their wild, rough voices telling her stories of the Isle and the hi
story of their ancient race.

  Mistral saw the twins little and her brothers even less. The twins’ initial excitement at Mage Grapple’s assurances of Council work quickly faded when he repeatedly requested their presence. They were often absent from the Valley for weeks at a time, returning full of complaints about the long ride and the even longer meetings. Even the usually starched-polite Phantasm had been heard to mutter dark comments about Mage Grapple trying to wear out their gift before they could charge him for the pleasure.

  Xerxes, Brutus, Cain and Grendel had embraced the concept of work and taken a variety of Contracts that scattered them across the Isle. Mistral couldn’t help but suspect it was partly to avoid her. She missed their company, but was shamefully relieved to be spared suffering the guilt of their accusing looks. Saul’s death still haunted her like a vengeful spirit. Her days were so full she barely had time to think, but her nights were endless. Once Fabian walked her back and completed his respectful goodnight from the doorway of her room, she was alone with only Prospero and her thoughts for company. Thoughts which inevitably returned to her continued failure to master the gift Saul had died for. And to Fabian. Always to Fabian.

  He was being so patient; spending his days either in the Training Arena or in long discussions with Leo and the Divinus about the Rochfortes’ plans. He spoke little about the meetings and when pressed became evasive, fuelling Mistral’s guilty fears that he was growing bored and frustrated. She was frightened he would begin to resent her for making him stay when he so obviously wanted to be gone, acting on whatever information he gleaned from the Divinus’ readings. Despite her fears, Mistral could not bring herself to release him. The time she spent with him was beyond precious to her. It was her reason for existing. She treasured every stolen moment, the seconds alone in the Refectory before the apprentices arrived, a rare walk together, a touch, a look. They barely kissed anymore. She dare not, afraid that her resolve would less weaken than simply dissolve if she permitted herself that one, forbidden act of love.