The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams) (3 page)

‘But –’ she began only to be
interrupted by one of the first years calling out across the Refectory.

‘Mage De Winter?  Are we
upstairs today?’

Fabian and Mistral spun around to
face the speaker, a stocky apprentice with the distinctive squashed features of
someone with goblin blood.  Fabian’s face was impassive but Mistral glared
daggers at the apprentice.  Why did everyone think it was perfectly
acceptable to interrupt their private conversations?

‘That is correct Ezra.’ 
Fabian replied in a clam voice.  ‘There is too much snow in the Arena to
train.  It will be swords in the third floor Training Room this morning.’
 

‘I’m training with you this
morning.’  Mistral commented as they turned back to face the window.

‘I know,’ said Fabian with a
slight smile.  ‘We had better get you some breakfast then.  You’ll
need some energy for what I’ve got planned today.’

Mistral’s face lit up, ‘Oh good,
something interesting for once!  I’ve had the most boring week of my
life!  Well, maybe not.  Nevelte could be unbelievably dull when the
snows came, but I usually passed the time … er, one way or another,’ she finished
quickly. 

She had been about to say that
she had filled her snowbound days in the tiny sorcering village by picking
fights with the other village teenagers but decided that might be one story
about her past that probably didn’t present her in the best light.

Fabian raised an eyebrow, letting
her know that he had noticed her slip-up and would be questioning her on it
later.  She pulled a face in response and marched over to the counter
where Bernadette had placed a large tureen. 

‘Good morning dearie!’ 
Bernadette called cheerily from the steamy depths of the kitchen.  ‘It’s
porridge this morning,’ she confirmed, catching Mistral’s suspicious glance
under the lid of the tureen.

‘Great, thanks Bernadette,’

‘But I’ve got a lovely liver and
turnip casserole coming up in a bit!’

‘Oh, right,’ said Mistral,
stifling a grin as the twins sidled up to her, both wearing identical
expressions of disgust at the menu.

Mistral quickly filled four
bowls, passing two to the twins and one to Fabian who promptly took hers as
well and carried them both over to a table.  Mistral couldn’t help but
smile as she watched him place the bowls on the table and pull out a bench for
her to sit next to him.  Assassin he may be, but his manners were
impeccable.

Phantom immediately began to talk
excitedly about their morning the moment they all sat down.

‘Master Casterton will be taking
us through the Treaty of the Isle today,’ he began effusively, a fanatical
gleam lighting his eye.  ‘It’s going to be fascinating, I can’t wait!’

‘Sounds riveting.’  Mistral
muttered, privately thinking that Phantom had very strange concepts about what
constituted an interesting way to spend a Saturday morning.

‘You really ought to pay more
interest in the history of the Isle you know Mistral.’  Phantom wagged his
porridge-laden spoon at her.  ‘When you master your gift you’ll be sent to
work in the Council and it might be useful to have some idea of how it actually
functions before you get there!’

Mistral scowled, ‘The
Council?  Oh joy.  I can’t wait for that.’

Fabian said nothing and bent his
head over his bowl of porridge; this was subject it was best not to get Mistral
involved in just before an armed training session.

‘You should be grateful!’
 Phantom snapped, ignoring his brother’s warning look.  ‘It’ll be highly
paid and a lot safer than crawling through the undergrowth with a dagger
between your teeth like those poor first years!’

‘At least that wouldn’t bore me
to death!’  shoving her untouched bowl of porridge away Mistral leapt to
her feet and stormed from the Refectory.

Phantom watched her go with a
furious look on his face, ‘Just what is up with her these days?  Anyone
would think she actually wants to risk her life for a living!’

Phantasm sighed, ‘She does
brother.’

Fabian quietly rose from the table
murmuring an apology to the twins as he left.

‘I wish him luck with trying to
calm her down!’  Phantom muttered darkly and reached for Mistral’s
untouched bowl of porridge.

‘It’s more likely to be a case of
damage limitation,’ said Phantasm watching the first year apprentices looking
at each other apprehensively.  ‘Mage De Winter won’t have any first years
with limbs still attached by the end of the morning if Mistral goes into that
Training Room in her present state of mind.’

Phantom snorted, narrowly
avoiding spraying his brother with porridge.  He finished his mouthful and
sighed, ‘Oh, I know I’m being a bit hard on her at the moment.  But she’s
got such a rare gift and doesn’t even seem to care!  It’s just so
frustrating watching her desperately trying to throw it all away just to be
with her Mage.  I mean, just imagine what we could do with that gift as
well as our own.  The possibilities are endless!’

‘I think you have to give her
some leeway brother.  It’s hard for her not to resent her gift when it
stands between her and Mage De Winter.  I can’t even begin to imagine how
hard that must be for Mistral.  She’s not exactly blessed with limitless
patience is she?’

‘No,’ agreed Phantom, looking
slightly repentant.  ‘Fine, I’ll try to be more understanding.’

Fabian caught up with Mistral as
she stalked along the third floor corridor towards the Training Room. 
Reaching out to grab her arm he spun her around to face him, meeting her
blazing glare with his own cool black gaze.

He offered her a half-smile, ‘I
think you’ve frightened all the first years.’

Mistral glared furiously back but
couldn’t help beginning to melt.  She never seemed to be able to stay
angry with Fabian for long.

‘I’m sorry,’ she finally
muttered, dropping her gaze from his to stare dejectedly at her boots.  ‘I
know that I promised to behave respectfully around you when you became a
Training Lieutenant.’

‘Oh, don’t worry about
them.’  Fabian dismissed her apology with a shrug.  ‘A little fear is
healthy.  And you were being disrespectful to a fellow warrior, not your
Training Lieutenant.’

Mistral snorted disdainfully,
‘Phantom barely warrants that title!  He’s become so lazy!  All he
wants to do is sit in front of Mycroft Casterton’s fire and listen to him
waffle on endlessly about Council gossip and other incredibly pointless stuff
all day long –’

Fabian listened calmly while
Mistral ranted on about Phantom until she had listed all of his failings twice
and was about to begin all over again when he abruptly bent his head and kissed
her.

‘Oh,’ said Mistral breathlessly
when he eventually released her.

‘Where are we going this
afternoon?’ he asked her gently.

‘Er, home?’

He smiled, ‘Exactly.  And
what else matters?’

‘Nothing,’ she sighed then her
eyes narrowed with a devious look.  ‘Except maybe pasting that annoying
half-goblin for interrupting our conversation this morning!  What was him
name?’

‘Ezra.’  Fabian pushed open
the door to the Training Room to allow her to enter before him.

‘Ezra … right.  I’m so going
to hammer him!’

Fabian gave her a stern look, ‘I
don’t think you are.’ 

‘Oh come on!  Just a bit …
please?’  she added hopefully.

Fabian shook his head and drew
his sword, turning swiftly to face her, ‘Leave Ezra alone Mistral. 
However, we have a few minutes before they all arrive … care to practise with
me?’

‘Yes please!’  Mistral
grinned and promptly drew her double swords. 

Laughing recklessly they began to
drill, the ringing of clashing swords drowning out the surprised gasps of the
first years when they arrived. 

By midday the first year
apprentices were dripping with sweat.  Fabian had ordered them to
relentlessly drill attack and defence, repeatedly switching their sword to
their opposite hand to encourage them to be able to fight with both.

‘What would happen if you injured
your sword arm?’ he asked when they complained.  ‘Do you think your
opponent would simply agree to reschedule your fight for a future date?’

While Fabian dismissed the first
years at the end of the session Mistral examined her swords carefully for any
nicks before sheaving them and waiting for him to finish.  He took his
time, speaking to each apprentice in turn, briefly discussing their performance
during training and offering guidance on how to improve.  Mistral watched
him, his beautiful face set in a serious expression while he listened to each
apprentice’s response.  Gazing at him she felt a burst of yearning so
powerful that she was surprised he didn’t feel her desperate need from across
the room and turn to look at her. 

Mistral clenched her fists and
fought back the tears that threatened to fall until the last apprentice had
left the room.  When Fabian finally turned to look at her he met her
stricken gaze and immediately crossed the room to take her in his arms.

‘What is it?’  he demanded
anxiously.

‘I – I don’t really know how to
explain it –’

‘Try,’ he urged, gently wiping
the tears from her face with his fingertips.

‘I just want to be with you so
much that sometimes I almost can’t bear it.’

Fabian sighed and held her tightly,
‘I know, I know,’ he murmured soothingly into her hair.  ‘But this isn’t
how our lives are always going to be.  You have my word on that.’

‘But how can I have?’ 
Mistral demanded, turning her tear-streaked face up to gaze imploringly at
him.  ‘What if I don’t master the Sight this year … or next … or
never!  Will we stay like this forever?’

‘No.’ Fabian’s eyes burned into
hers with a startling intensity.  ‘I promised Leo a year.  No more.’

Mistral gazed back at him for a
long moment before nodding miserably, ‘A year then.’

‘It may be less Mistral.’

‘Oh, I hope so,’ Mistral sighed
heavily and laid her head against his chest.

‘Would you like to go home now?’
he murmured, dropping the ghost of a kiss on the top of her head.

‘Yes please.’

They rode out of the Valley side
by side.  Both horses were excited by the snow and pulled strongly against
their riders.  Fabian’s bright palomino dancing skittishly through the
powdery snow while she kept pace with Cirrus’ long strides.  As Fabian had
predicted, the snow lay less thickly over the wide meadows than in the Valley
and there was little or no snowfall to speak of on the trail through the
forests.  Before the middle of the afternoon they were riding into the
small courtyard outside their home. 

‘It’s too late to hunt
today.’  Fabian decided as he led Spirit into the stables.  ‘We’ll go
out tomorrow, we can head north if you wish and go further; make a day of it.’

‘Sounds good.’  Mistral
leapt from Cirrus and led him into a stall next to Spirit.  ‘We might run
into some wolves!’

‘That reminds me.  Did I
tell you that I found the remains of the last four Blackheart Wolverines when I
was hunting a couple of weeks ago?’  Fabian called from Spirit’s
stall.  ‘The poisoned bolts finished them off in the end.’

‘No!  So the twins actually
managed to kill something did they?’

Fabian leaned over to speak with
her while she pulled a rug over Cirrus, ‘Mistral, be more generous towards your
brothers; they care for you more than you know.’

‘Oh Phantasm’s alright … but Phantom!’ 
she exclaimed with an angry shake of her head. 

‘You must understand how
frustrating he finds your attitude towards your gift.’  Fabian
continued.  ‘He cannot comprehend that you would willingly throw it away
just to be with me.’

‘I would you know.’  she
suddenly turned to face him over the wooden partition between the stalls. 
‘I’d give it all up, right here and now, if it meant I could be with you.’

He leaned over and kissed her
gently, ‘Then it’s fortunate that I have considerably more restraint than
you.’ 

‘Unfortunate more like.’
 Mistral muttered and finished buckling the leather straps on Cirrus’ rug.

Fabian laughed, ‘Come on, let’s
get something to eat,’ he turned and walked to the doorway of the stables,
waiting for her as she gave Cirrus a final pat and walked over to take his
outstretched hand.

‘Then there’s something I have to
tell in a bit,’ Mistral sighed while they walked across the snow-covered
courtyard towards the steps leading up to the front door.

Fabian nodded but didn’t comment
and they walked up the steps together in silence.

‘You know,’ he murmured while he
unlocked the door to the house and opened it wide, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever
traditionally carried you over the threshold of our home have I?’

Mistral laughed as Fabian swept
her up and carried her into the house.  Kicking the door shut behind him
he walked over to place her down on the sofa.  Mistral sank back against
the cushions and gazed happily out of the long glass-fronted doors leading onto
the balcony.  She never tired of the stunning view of thickly wooded
slopes rising steeply to meet the sweeping grandeur of the snow-capped Western
Range, their distant peaks lost in wreaths of heavy white cloud.

‘I’ll make us something to eat,’ she
offered, leaping lightly from the sofa and heading to the small kitchen at the
back of the room while Fabian lit the iron stove.

‘There’s some cold meat in the
larder,’ Fabian called, feeding logs into the brightly burning flames.

Mistral moved around the kitchen,
the simple domestic task of preparing a meal for them filling her with a
happiness that obliterated her earlier misery.  She watched Fabian stoke
the fire then set the poker down and move across the room to the dresser. 
He moved like a hunting panther, lean and dark.  There was grace in his
motion yet something powerful and inherently dangerous too.  Mistral
almost wished the shiver she felt was one of fear, but it was quite the
opposite and a year was fast becoming a life sentence.