The Assassin's Tale (Isle of Dreams)

by Kirsten Jones

  A movement in the grass drew her attention. It was Bali. He had also seen what the boys intended to do and had rolled across the ground to place himself back in the troll’s path. Rising swiftly to his feet with his crossbow raised ready he fired a bolt directly into the troll’s face. Tossing his spent crossbow to the ground he drew his sword and faced the troll. With a roar of pain the troll rubbed a hand over its face but only succeeding in breaking the bolt off and driving the head in deeper. Half crazed by pain and the effects of the poison, the troll lunged for Bali with outstretched hands. Undaunted, Bali stood firm with his sword poised, ready to fight.

  The troll staggered drunkenly, striking Bali a crunching blow with its flailing arms that knocked his sword from his grasp and sent him crashing to the ground.

  Mistral reacted instinctively, firing her crossbow then flinging it down while she swung herself over the side of the ledge. Her aim was true and the bolt thudded deeply into the troll’s neck but Mistral wasn’t interested in her shot; she was desperate to get to Bali, who was unarmed and probably unconscious. She dropped down to the ground and landed awkwardly, twisting her ankle painfully. Mistral ignored the stabbing ache in her ankle and forced herself into a sprint, drawing both swords and shouting for the twins at the same time.

  The troll stood over Bali’s stricken body, swaying violently and breathing in great shuddering gasps. Giving a long groan it slowly pitched forwards and fell onto Bali.

  ‘NO!’

  Mistral tore across the meadow and reached the troll’s prone body at the same time as the twins, both ashen faced and panting for breath.

  ‘Roll it off him!’ she cried and plunged the blade of her sword into the troll’s neck. A thick stream of black blood oozed out around her blade but didn’t spurt with the force of a beating heart. The troll was already dead.

  Letting her sword fall beside her, Mistral swiftly knelt and helped the twins heave the troll off Bali. He lay unmoving, his expression almost calm. Mistral pressed her fingers to his throat to feel for a pulse. His closed eyes didn’t flicker at the contact and the skin felt slack beneath her touch, lifeless.

  She rocked back on her heels and stared into the twins’ white faces.

  ‘He’s dead.’

  A Warrior’s Passing

  The twins looked at her, their faces blank with shock. Mistral stared back at them, feeling the familiar sensation of anger burning away the numbness. She stood up quickly and spun around in a circle, searching wildly for the three young sorcerers, the reason that their brother lay broken in the dirt. There was no-one in sight. The boys had fled. Without anyone to vent her sudden rage on Mistral abruptly became organised.

  ‘Can you manage to carry Bali?’ she asked the twins bluntly.

  They nodded once.

  ‘Good. As soon as you’ve gathered your things together we’ll leave.’

  Mistral quickly collected her discarded crossbow from the base of the cliff and strode back to the where the troll lay. Stooping briefly to pick up her sword she began to hack through the thick skin and sinews of the troll’s neck, letting her anger mask her repulsion at the grisly task. When she finished, Mistral dropped the severed head into Bali’s saddlebag. She felt it was somehow fitting that he should carry the trophy home.

  The twins watched her while she wiped her sword clean on the grass, their faces pale and taut. They were stood at either end of Bali’s body, one supporting his feet, the other his shoulders.

  ‘Ready?’ asked Mistral quietly.

  ‘Yes.’

  Their voices were barely above a whisper but at least they were steady. Mistral was pleased that the normally squeamish twins were managing to keep control. She needed them to be strong enough to get through the next part of the journey.

  Mistral barely noticed the walk back down to the village, her mind was a turmoil of anger and disbelief but her body functioned automatically; stepping around boulders and helping the twins carry Bali’s body down the steeper parts of the path. They reached the barn and laid Bali’s body down in the straw while they saddled the horses. Nobody had spoken a word since they’d left the meadow. Mistral was still too angry to trust herself to say anything coherent; angry at the unknown villagers, angry at her missing with her first shot, even angry at Bali for giving his life to save three boys he didn’t know. Mistral clenched her fists and fought to control the rage that threated to overwhelm her. She needed to be calm and rational. She was in charge now.

  She held Bali’s horse for the twins to lift his lifeless body over the saddle. The gelding snorted and shied at the strange burden but Mistral held him steady, whispering soothing words that had no meaning to her.

  They rode in silence out of the deserted village and began their slow descent down the narrow mountain path with Mistral in front leading Bali’s horse and the twins following in single file. Still no-one spoke. They rode instead to the steady rhythm of the horses' hooves, a ceaseless thudding sound, like the beat of a funeral drum.

  The afternoon had blurred unnoticed into early evening by the time they reached the meadows bordering the Valley of the Ri. The sun had dropped low in the sky and begun to set when they finally neared the North Gate and Mistral suddenly found herself wishing that they could ride forever, staying in the limbo state of not having to explain what had happened. She didn’t think she could face the endless questions that their arrival in the Valley would unleash.

  The drifting clouds caught the sun’s dying rays, staining the sky crimson and turning them to black silhouettes moving slowly beneath a blood red sky. They entered the Valley through the looming North Gate and the guard immediately began to sound the warning bell, its ringing peals alerting everyone in the Valley to their arrival.

  Mistral didn’t even look up but rode steadily forward, leading Bali’s horse beside her. The twins silently urged their horses forward so that they rode to face the gathered crowd together. Mistral didn’t look at either of them but felt a surge of gratitude for their unspoken act of solidarity.

  There was no drama, no cries or shouts when they rode towards the crowd that had gathered in the village square. Even in the inky light of dusk the outline of Bali’s body slumped over the pommel of his saddle spoke clearly of what had happened. The silence of the crowd was both respectful and resigned; death for them was an inevitable part of the life they had chosen.

  Leo Sphinx moved quickly to the front of the crowd flanked by Gleacher Shacklock and his three Training Lieutenants. His face wore a tightly controlled expression while he looked steadily at the three apprentices.

  ‘Dismount and come with me,’ he said curtly.

  While Mistral and the twins swung themselves stiffly out of their saddles, Leo turned briefly towards the stableblock and called out in a loud voice.

  ‘Clovis!’

  The Equus appeared from one of the stables and strode rapidly towards where Leo was standing.

  ‘Tend these horses.’

  The Equus nodded in response to Leo’s terse order and immediately led the four horses away.

  ‘Caleb, Barak; go with Clovis and do what is required for Bali.’

  Two of the Lieutenants slipped wordlessly from his side and strode after the Equus while Leo turned and spoke briefly to his last remaining Lieutenant.

  ‘Cyrus, go to see Floris and have a barrel ready. We will join you shortly.’

  Without another word to the three waiting apprentices Leo abruptly turned on his heel and walked swiftly towards the dorms, closely followed by Gleacher Shacklock.

  Voices suddenly broke out around them, curious and disbelieving. Mistral threw a quick glance at the twins; their pale faces were set in unfamiliar hard expressions. Phantasm turned his head to look at her, his eyes unreadable in the dim light.

  ‘We must meet with our Training Captain,’ he said softly.

  Mistral nodded mutely and the three of them walked up the path together, leaving behind the raised voices and persistent questions. The numbing shock and anger
at the day’s events was wearing off and Mistral was suddenly aware of her legs aching from the long ride. The climb up the twisting stone staircase to Leo’s tower room seemed to go on forever. They paused briefly outside the heavy wooden door then Phantasm drew a deep breath then raised his fist and knocked.

  Footsteps sounded from the other side. The door was quickly opened and Leo appeared, framed by the light of several torches blazing on the walls inside his room.

  ‘Come in and be seated,’ he said coldly.

  Mistral followed the twins into the room. She had never been up here before and was surprised by the size of the room. The high vaulted ceiling was lost in shadow but the rest of the circular room was well-lit by torches hung on the rough stone walls. Various weapons and pieces of armour were stacked everywhere; against the walls, on the deep ledge of the long narrow windows and even on the huge four poster bed that took up one side of the room.

  Leo gestured towards a large wooden table that had a number of mismatched stools and chairs gathered haphazardly around it. Mistral noticed with a start that Gleacher Shacklock was already seated at the table, his expression stony.

  Leo closed the door and Mistral heard the key turn in the lock with a soft click. He walked quickly over to the table and sat down lightly beside Gleacher.

  ‘Now,’ he said, leaning forward onto his elbows. ‘Tell me what has happened today.’

  Mistral instantly felt her mind go blank and her throat close up; she didn’t think she could utter a sound.

  ‘Master Sphinx, Master Shacklock; if I may relate the events on behalf of all of us –’

  Mistral half-turned her head in surprise when Phantasm began speaking in a clear voice. As she listened to him relaying the events of the day accurately and unemotionally she felt a fresh wave of anger at the untrained sorcerers for what their selfish actions had caused. Phantasm betrayed none of the emotion that Mistral knew he had felt and hesitated only briefly when he described the moment they had established that Bali was dead. Mistral’s respect for her brother grew with every word he spoke. She suddenly realised the he possessed a strength that she did not, and it had nothing to do with using a sword or a longbow. Despite what he had been through he was eloquent and composed, whilst she could barely think straight. Mistral remained silent after Phantasm had finished speaking and hoped that Leo wouldn’t ask her any questions, knowing that if she managed to utter a word it would probably only be to swear and rant about the three unknown boys.

  There was a long pause while Leo gazed thoughtfully into space.

  ‘Gleacher, has there been a breach of Contract?’ he asked softly, turning his head towards the Contracts Officer.

  Torchlight flickered across Gleacher’s hard face then he shook his head fractionally.

  ‘Even if they were of age?’ Leo persisted.

  ‘We have no proof, and I doubt the villagers will be inclined to offer up three of their sons for punishment – if the boys ever admit that they were there that is. Bali’s actions ultimately resulted in his death. He chose to step between the troll and the three boys. The troll was already poisoned when Bali confronted him but we cannot be certain whose bolt delivered the fatal blow. Poison is a notoriously unpredictable choice of weapon; I doubt even Malachi could reliably predict the dose and length of time it would take to incapacitate an adult troll. The apprentices are not to blame.’

  Leo nodded, satisfied with the Contract Officer’s reply. He sighed deeply and looked at the apprentices across the table.

  ‘You have learned a valuable lesson today, but it has come at a high price. Now you must honour the fallen. Your respect will be appreciated by those who knew and trained alongside him. You may go,’ he rose from his chair and walked to the door.

  Mistral realised dimly that they were being dismissed. The twins had risen from their chairs and were half way across the room before she managed to force herself to move. They filed silently past their Training Captain and out through the door he held open for them. Mistral felt an odd sense of unreality wash over her when she heard the door shut behind her.

  ‘Is that it then?’

  Neither twin replied but started to walk quietly down the stairs. After a moment’s pause she followed them. At the second flight of stairs leading to their dorms Mistral suddenly felt a burst of longing for the sanctuary of her room. She wanted solitude and the chance to make sense of the day’s events.

  ‘Where are you going Mistral?’ Phantasm asked when she automatically turned left at the base of the stairs.

  ‘I need to be alone,’ she muttered, walking towards her room.

  ‘No Mistral. You must come to The Cloak and Dagger.’ Phantasm’s voice held an unfamiliar hard edge to it.

  Mistral spun to face him, her expression incredulous, ‘The Cloak and Dagger? How can you even think of having a drink at a time like this?’

  ‘You must come,’ he persisted. ‘It is expected.’

  ‘I’ll show my respects at the funeral,’ snapped Mistral, feeling badgered.

  ‘Mistral, this is his funeral.’

  ‘And, if you don’t come now you will look guilty,’ added Phantom quietly.

  Mistral blinked, she hadn’t thought of that. It was one of the golden rules of training; a warrior is only as good as the warrior standing beside him. If she hid in her room it would be tantamount to saying that she had caused Bali’s death in some way.

  Mistral looked at the twins, at their beautiful faces now set in expressions she had never seen before; hard and uncompromising. She nodded slowly and drew in a deep breath. If the twins had the strength to do this then so did she.

  ‘Lead the way brothers.’

  Mistral followed the twins down the last flight of stairs into the Entrance Hall. They stepped out into the cool night ahead of her and halted a short distance apart, wordlessly inviting her to walk between them. She smiled with sudden affection and began the long walk down into the village flanked by her two angel-faced guardians. To avoid thinking about what lay ahead Mistral looked up at the night sky as she walked. There was no moon but stars had come out, shining jewel bright in the vast black sky above her. Lights blazed ahead of them, drawing her attention to the brightly lit windows of The Cloak and Dagger. Mistral noticed with a small frown that there were no other lights on in any of the surrounding houses.

  ‘Why is it so dark? Where are all the villagers?’ she whispered.

  Phantasm turned his head to look at her, his face bleached ghostly white by the starlight.

  ‘They’re in The Cloak and Dagger,’ he said softly.

  Mistral’s heart faltered. She stopped walking and stared fixedly at the twins as they too paused and turned to face her.

  ‘No! I can’t go in there,’ she shook her head.

  Phantom raised his eyebrows, ‘So, let me get this right. You will happily run at a troll armed with just a sword but you can’t face walking into a tavern full of people?’

  ‘Yes! I mean no! They’ll all ask questions about today and I’m no good at explaining things. I can’t talk like you can!’ she said in a panicky voice.

  ‘You’re doing fine right now,’ muttered Phantom sarcastically.

  ‘You know what I mean! I can’t be calm about it like you are – what happened today – I can’t even get it clear in my own head!’ she wailed.

  The twins gazed steadily at her, almost instantly she felt a sense of calm flood through her, washing away the panic. Mistral knew they were using their gift to influence her and for once, she was grateful for their interference in her mind.

  ‘I know what you’re doing,’ she said quietly, watching the tight fists of her hands slowly relax and uncurl as the tension in her body slipped away.

  ‘Glad to be of service,’ Phantasm murmured with a small smile. ‘Now, I will do all the talking so all you have to do is have a drink. Do you think you can manage that?’

  ‘One drink … no talking. I can do that,’ she nodded grimly.

  They had reache
d the door to The Cloak and Dagger. The unlit entrance was shadowed and the door closed but the amber glow of torchlight spilled out from the windows, pooling on the cobbles either side of them, inviting them in.

  Mistral’s eyes were drawn to the brightly lit windows and she felt her heart stall again when she glimpsed the interior of the tavern. It was packed with people; villagers, apprentices, warriors – everybody that called the Valley home was stood or sat in The Cloak and Dagger. She was suddenly struck by how quiet it was. That amount of people should be making a considerable amount of noise.

  Before she could start panicking again Phantasm unlatched the heavy door and pushed it open. He paused on the threshold then stepped confidently into the tavern with his brother half a pace behind him. Mistral followed more hesitantly, keeping her eyes down to avoid the curious glances and expectant looks of the assembled crowd. The room was strangely hushed, even the sound of tankards striking table tops was missing. Mistral kept her eyes glued to the stained wooden floor and followed the twins. They moved unhurriedly to the bar then turned to face the silent mass of people.

  Mistral hovered uncertainly by their side, lifting her eyes briefly she took in the sea of faces before her. Every table, ever chair, ever stool was occupied. People were stood at the bar and also around the walls. Mistral was taken aback by the sheer number of people who had come to mark the passing of a warrior but there was no sense of mourning, if anything, there was a tangible air of anticipation in the room. She was slightly puzzled to note that each person had an empty tankard either in their hand or resting on the table in front of them yet no-one was getting up to buy another drink.

  Mistral glanced at Phantasm, expecting him to begin speaking, but he was oddly silent. A horrible thought crossed her mind. Had he lost his nerve? Suddenly anxious, she looked at him again but was reassured to see that he was perfectly collected, leaning against the bar in a relaxed pose. She realised that he also looked like he was waiting for something – or someone. Mistral looked around the room again, wondering who he was waiting for when the door opened, bringing with it a gust of cool evening air. The torches around the tavern guttered and flared, sending wild shadows fleeing across the walls and casting into darkness the imposing figure of Leo Sphinx standing in the doorway. Straight-backed and square-shouldered he surveyed the gathering of people coolly before speaking.