The Assassin's Tale (Isle of Dreams)

by Kirsten Jones

  Xerxes made a dismissive gesture, ‘If they want to join us for the fight then I won’t stop them. But if they side with the elves or even attempt to remain neutral, then I shall not particularly care if one of my arrows finds its target in them.’

  The apprentices gazed back, each nodding their silent agreement.

  ‘Brothers. Sister. We are the brave. May we meet again in the Fields of Elysium!’ Xerxes roared the Ri’s battle cry and wheeled his horse around.

  Mistral rolled her eyes, ‘I bet he’s got a wager on that as well.’

  ‘Probably,’ Phantom agreed with sigh.

  ‘Not talking to you yet brother,’ Mistral muttered and rode over to Fabian.

  ‘I assume that your gentle words of comfort to Phantasm have lifted his flagging spirits?’ he enquired politely.

  Mistral scowled, ‘He needed something saying to him, that or a handkerchief to cry into.’

  ‘You have such a caring soul,’ Fabian smiled and leaned across to kiss her.

  Distracted by the touch of his lips, Mistral was left breathless when he suddenly kicked Spirit into a canter and plunged away across the meadow, leaving a cloud of powdery snow rising up in his wake. Feeling recklessness flood through her, Mistral slammed her heels into Cirrus. With a snort of surprise the powerful horse lunged into a gallop. They thundered across the snow covered meadow, quickly catching up with Fabian to ride side by side, their gold and black horses matching each other pace for pace.

  They gathered in the hollow Xerxes had pointed out and dismounted. After a brief discussion they agreed to tether them on one line so that a single sword stroke would release them all should they need to make a rapid exit. Horses were more than transport to the Ri, they were loyal friends and each apprentice took their time settling their horse with a nosebag before covering with their own travelling cloaks to prevent the cold from stiffening them up too much. Despite the care the horses fidgeted nervously, sensing the underlying tension.

  Fabian unstrapped his saddlebag and delved into it for the bottles of poison, handing them to the twins, Xerxes and Brutus with softly spoken instructions on how to handle it. Mistral untied the bag of caltrops from her saddle and carried them over to him.

  ‘I’ll help you lay these,’ she offered.

  Suddenly it was time for each of them to take their positions for the fight. The apprentices were bantering cheerfully with each other to stave off the tension. Mistral looked around at the faces she had seen every day for the last year and felt an odd lurch in her stomach. She locked gazes with Phantasm and his green eyes seemed to reflect her emotions.

  ‘Sister.’

  ‘Brother.’

  Inexplicably, Mistral felt her throat constrict.

  ‘If you cry I have lost so much money,’ warned Phantom and pulled her into a swift hug. ‘Don’t worry Mistral. It’ll take more than a pack of overgrown dogs to stop us all being together again tonight in The Cloak.’

  ‘Let it be so brother.’ Xerxes swung his bow onto his shoulder and clapped Brutus on the back. ‘If I die today, please tell our mother.’

  ‘No chance!’ Brutus snorted. ‘She’ll kill me! You were always her favourite.’

  ‘Glad to know she got something right,’ laughed Xerxes, striding off through the snow to assume his position.

  Mistral watched the two brothers and the twins separate, Phantom to walk with Brutus and Phantasm with Xerxes to take positions near them. It didn’t seem right that they were apart but she could see the need for their skills to be divided. This was no longer a hunt. It was a battlefield.

  ‘Mistral.’

  Saul’s voice dragged her away from watching the twins divide. She met his serious brown eyes and saw no sadness in them, only acceptance.

  ‘You owe me a drink for yesterday Saul.’

  ‘So I do,’ Saul smiled and walked on.

  ‘See you later Mistral.’ Cain flashed his mischievous grin at her and joined Saul to take their positions in the centre of the meadow.

  ‘Mistral.’ Grendel grunted and stomped past her, swinging his battle axe by his side. He suddenly stopped and turned to glower at her. ‘Might bring you a wolverine back to skin for me. I always wanted that wolf pelt of yours.’

  ‘Bring back two Grendel. One won’t cover your modesty.’ Mistral called and grinned when she heard his rumble of laughter.

  Then Fabian and Mistral were alone.

  Fabian smiled slowly and reached up to caress her face. Catching his hand, she held it against her cheek, closing her eyes to savour his touch. She opened them to gaze up at him wistfully.

  ‘I wish I hadn’t let you persuade me to be so virtuous.’

  His smile deepened then he bent his head to kiss her, fleeting and tender.

  ‘It’s time.’

  Taking her by the hand, they walked together to take their positions. They were to be at the centre of the arc, facing whatever the forest would release first, wolverines or elves.

  Suddenly it was real. Fight or die. Mistral gazed around at the white wonderland that would soon become a battlefield and felt her mind detach, becoming cold and emotionless. The assassin. Protected by the shield her mind threw up, she viewed everything differently. Every tree became a potential obstacle, every snowy hollow a life-saving place to leap into. She felt no fear, no excitement. She felt ... nothing.

  ‘We’ll lay the caltrops in a spread in front of us.’ Fabian reached into the bag to draw out one of the four-pronged metal objects. ‘Dip them in poison and then pass them to me. One prong will be sufficient as the others will be on the ground.’

  Mistral and Fabian moved in a steady line across the front of their arcing formation, carefully laying the poisoned caltrops. Once the bag was empty they quickly took up their positions in the line.

  Mere seconds passed before Brutus and Xerxes shouted as one.

  ‘I hear Elven Song!’

  There was no time to register their words before Saul took up the cry, his voice quieter but filled with as much urgency.

  ‘The wolverines are coming!’

  Mistral drew her swords and raised them ready, dropping instinctively into a half-crouch while her eyes raked the dark treeline for the wolverines Saul’s sharp eyes had seen. She heard them before she saw them; a chorus of ragged panting and thudding of heavy paws.

  ‘There!’

  The single word left her lips in a hiss of exhaled air, audible only to herself and Fabian. He drew his sword as the wolverines broke cover and burst into the meadow. Tongues lolling and eyes rolling wildly they bounded through the snow, desperate to escape the intolerable sound of the Elven Song.

  ‘Twelve!’ Saul shouted.

  Mistral’s view was suddenly obstructed by Fabian shifting his position to shield her from the oncoming pack. Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, she leaned around to watch the wolverines running over the section of meadow where she and Fabian had laid the caltrops.

  Yelps of pain rang out as the sharp prongs drove into their pads but they didn’t slow. Suddenly one stumbled, then another and Mistral realised that the twins had started firing. The fallen wolverines clambered to their feet, shaking snow from their coats. High-pitched whines rang again and more bolts thudded into the pack but the impacts seemed to do little to deter the massive beasts. They yelped and faltered but quickly recovered, leaping up with savage growls and bounding forward again.

  Fierce snarls ripped the air. Slowing their flat-out gallop to a more menacing prowl the pack spread out, encircling the apprentices. A second of silence fell then with a rumbling growl the pack attacked.

  Grendel swung his axe at the wolverine that sprang at him, cleaving it almost in two with the force of his stroke. Two more wolverines leapt at him, crashing into his chest. He staggered but didn’t fall. Dropping his axe with a roar of rage he seized the wolverines around their throats and held them aloft. They scrabbled frantically at his thick arms but their claws barely marked his tough skin. Grendel snarled louder than they did
, slowly tightening his crushing grip and shaking them like ragdolls before flinging their lifeless bodies into the snow.

  Cain and Saul were surrounded. Three huge beasts lunged and snapped at them, backing off and circling again, taking it in turns to attack. The two apprentices fought back to back, striking at the wolverines again and again until sweat stung their eyes and the snow around them grew scarlet with blood.

  Mistral was blind to her brothers’ battles. She was transfixed by the sight of Fabian fighting. The rise and fall of his sword, the icy calm of his expression. Time seemed to slow as she watched the blade of his sword slice into a wolverine’s neck. A fine spray of blood arced through the air, spreading crimson droplets onto the white snow. Suddenly everything accelerated. Mistral gasped when the second wolverine made a wild leap at Fabian. He rammed a hand into its throat, holding the wolverine’s slavering jaws mere inches from his face. Raising his sword he drove it in then yanked it swiftly out, stepping back to let the wolverine slump into the bloody snow.

  A low growl rumbled close by, calling her away. Mistral spun around to meet the yellow-eyed stare of a wolverine slinking on its belly towards her. Double whines sang out and two bolts struck the wolverine in the shoulder. The wolverine barely flinched and crawled closer, snarling. Mistral levelled her swords at it and bared her own teeth in response.

  ‘Come on then,’ she hissed and tensed, ready for the wolverine to spring.

  With a savage growl the wolverine lunged for her throat, turning its head sideways and opening its jaws wide. Mistral stood her ground and swiftly jerked both swords inwards, slicing into either side of the wolverine’s neck. Blood gushed over her hands and the wolverine’s severed head rolled over her crossed swords to fall into the snow.

  ‘Mistral!’

  It was Fabian calling her name. His voice edged with panic.

  She looked up and called back, ‘I’m alright Fabian!’ smiling slightly, she stepped over the wolverine’s body and shook the blood from her hands. She was better than alright. She was fighting.

  Spinning both swords by her side, she prepared to meet the next wolverine stalking towards her. Biding her time, she hung back, watching the beast move closer and closer until she could almost smell its hot panting breath. Moving forward in a sudden rush she thrust one sword into the wolverine’s flank. Releasing her grip on the hilt she quickly grabbed her second sword with both hands and swung it with all her might, slicing cleanly through its neck.

  A grating scream rent the air, startling them all. Everyone looked around, searching wildly for the source of the sound. Another screech rang out, coming from the treeline.

  ‘There!’ Saul yelled hoarsely.

  Columbine and Golden suddenly appeared from between the trees and galloped into the meadow. Columbine’s face contorted with another hysterical shriek. She was riding like a crazy woman, flailing madly with her arms and legs, desperately urging her horse through the snow. The spent horse floundered in the drifts at the meadow’s edge and stumbled, throwing Columbine from its back.

  Mistral watched Columbine hurtle through the air and crash heavily into the snow. Her horse lay unmoving and Mistral winced, realising that the animal was badly hurt and would be unable to flee from the wolverines.

  The remaining wolverines instantly froze, their attention drawn by the panic in Columbine’s scream. Four sets of hungry eyes fixed on the injured horse, now struggling pathetically to stand. With a single chilling howl from the leader the pack turned and bounded towards the stricken horse and its fallen rider.

  Golden made no effort to stop and help her companion but leaned low over her horse’s neck, shouting words of encouragement. She galloped past her fellow apprentices without even looking at them. No-one turned to follow her flight; all eyes were riveted on the horror unfolding at the treeline.

  The snarling wolverines pounded towards the helpless horse. Leaping the section of snow where the poisoned caltrops lay they slammed into the terrified animal, knocking it down again. The horse’s squeal of fear ended abruptly in a gurgling sound that made Mistral grimace. Whines sounded again and again as the twins fired into the frenzy of black fur and snapping jaws, but their bolts had little effect. Crazed by the scent of blood the wolverines were immune to pain.

  Saul swore quietly and Mistral jerked her gaze away from the feeding pack to follow his pointing finger. Columbine had staggered to her feet and was swaying drunkenly on the spot, obviously dazed from her fall. They heard her gasp of horror when she saw the wolverines and watched as she began to back away, but it was too late. They had seen her. With hungry growls the pack moved in.

  ‘Sing!’ Cain shouted to Xerxes and Brutus. ‘Or she’ll be killed!’

  The brothers said nothing and watched impassively as Columbine raised her sword and tried to fend off the wolverines. It was hopeless. She slowly sank to her knees, vanishing from sight beneath a mass of black fur.

  Saul looked at Brutus, ‘Do you want that on your conscience brother?’ he asked quietly.

  Just as Mistral began to think that her brothers truly wouldn’t act, Brutus opened his mouth and began to move his lips as though he was singing, but no sound that Mistral could hear came out of his mouth. Looking curiously at Xerxes she saw that his mouth was also moving silently, singing music only they and the wolverines could hear. The effect on the wolverines was instantaneous. With whimpers of pain they cringed away from Columbine and ran for the trees. Their dark forms melting from sight into the gloom of the forests.

  Columbine lay unmoving in a scarlet circle of snow, too far away to see if her chest rose and fell with life. Cain was the first to begin to move towards her.

  ‘Wait!’ Saul’s abrupt hiss stopped Cain in his tracks.

  Mistral felt rather than saw Fabian move, angling his body so that he was once more stood in front of her, shielding her from the danger hidden in the treeline.

  ‘Elves.’ Saul called in a low voice. ‘Six. To the right of Columbine.’

  Mistral snapped her gaze to where he described. She could just make out shadows moving subtly amongst the trunks. Ghostlike and silent, the elves stepped out into the open and formed a line facing them. Mistral was perplexed to see that their bows were not drawn ready as she had expected but slung across their backs, as though in preparation for travel.

  The apprentices tensed, ready to fight. Mistral stole a glance at Xerxes and Brutus to see both brothers had their longbows drawn. The twins were knelt in the snow, still as statues with their crossbows levelled at the line of elves. Saul and Cain had sheathed their swords and also reached for their crossbows, following the twins’ lead to drop quickly onto one knee and take aim. Mistral couldn’t copy them since Fabian was now stood almost completely in front of her, blocking her vision and line of fire. She began to edge out from behind him just as an elf stepped forwards, making her instantly freeze. She was marked. If she moved she would draw his fire and Fabian would undoubtedly move to protect her. And that was unthinkable.

  Mistral peered cautiously around Fabian to look at the elf and recognised him as the same one who had spoken to them in the meadow during the summer, the one that Phantasm had lied to.

  ‘Hail Warrior!’ he called to Fabian, the bell-like tones of his voice carrying easily across the deathly still meadow.

  ‘Hail Brother.’

  ‘We have no quarrel,’ the elf’s voice sang out again. ‘Why do you prepare to attack us?’

  ‘I protect what is mine.’ Fabian replied and shifted slightly to further shield Mistral from sight.

  There was a long pause while the elf stood motionless at the treeline, looking intently at Fabian. Mistral began to reach for her own crossbow, feeling the tension in the air suddenly intensify. The sound of bowstrings being strained back to their furthest point was like a thunderclap in the taut silence.

  ‘The marked ones are released. We have our tithe. Go in peace.’

  The elf delivered his statement and stepped back into line with his kin
smen. Turning as one they moved swiftly back into the protective cover of the trees, fading noiselessly from sight.

  The apprentices remained tensed and ready to fire, none of them daring to believe that the elves had actually gone until Saul called out.

  ‘I can’t see them anymore.’

  At once everyone began to move, lowering weapons and looking around to make sure they were all still standing. Xerxes slung his bow over his shoulder and walked briskly over to his brother.

  ‘Is anyone injured?’

  ‘Why, got a wager on who gets the most bites have you?’ Brutus grinned and greeted his brother with a one-armed hug.

  The other apprentices laughed and moved to join them. Mistral stayed, waiting for Fabian to turn around but he hadn’t moved from his protective stance in front of her. She quietly stepped forward and pressed a hand to his side.

  ‘They’ve gone Fabian. It’s over.’

  ‘Xerxes! Brutus! Can you hear singing?’ Fabian demanded, ignoring her touch.

  ‘None, there is only the sound of an apprentice dying in the snow,’ said Xerxes, glancing disinterestedly over to where Columbine lay.

  ‘Saul! What do you see?’

  Saul wiped the blood from his face and frowned, ‘I see nothing to worry us, only a lot of dead wolverines. It’s over Mage De Winter.’

  Drawing in a sharp breath Fabian dropped his sword and spun round, pulling Mistral into his arms. He held her tightly, almost too tightly then released her with a profound sigh of relief.

  ‘You are safe. Now it is over.’

  Murmured conversations broke out amongst the apprentices, comparing injuries and arguing over wagers. Despite the savagery of the attack only Saul and Cain had sustained bites, leaving everyone else unhurt.

  ‘I think we’ve lost Konrad though.’

  Brutus’ softly spoken words drew everyone’s attention back to dark treeline. Nobody responded while they contemplated the grisly task of going in to retrieve him, or what was left of him.

  ‘We also need to get Columbine,’ Xerxes said without attempting to try and conceal the reluctance in his voice. ‘Cain? Mistral? You’re the best healers. I have to ask this because I would say no, but are you willing to treat her?’