The Assassin's Tale (Isle of Dreams) Read Free

had a dying
wife and a daughter that he was sending to become an assassin. 
    Mistral
finally returned to Elnora and Brothertoft’s cottage at sunset two days
later.  Walking slowly up the dirt track that was Nevelte’s only street
she paused outside the small stone cottage that had been her home for so many
years.  Dropping her full saddlebag onto the floor at her feet Mistral
gazed dispassionately up at the smoke spiralling from the tiny chimney. 
Elnora and Brothertoft were obviously at home – but, weren’t they always? 
As her eyes slid over the tiny shuttered windows she reflected darkly that they
might as well have been barred with iron grills; the cottage had always been more
of a prison than a home to her.  Mistral sighed; shifting her bag onto her
shoulder again she lifted the latch on the small garden gate and decided to
make it a short visit.  She had only really been forced to come back to
pick up her wolf pelt.  It was starting to get cold at night in the
forests.
    Stepping
quietly through the front door Mistral found Brothertoft sat alone at the
kitchen table drinking a tankard of the strong sweet cider he brewed. 
Mistral nodded to him and dropped her saddlebag full of rabbits wordlessly on
the table before turning to fetch a sharp knife from the dresser.
    ‘Good
trip?’  Brothertoft asked, taking a drink of cider.
    ‘Not bad,’
replied Mistral returning to the table with a knife in her hand.
    ‘Hunt anything
interesting?’  the old man persisted, watching as Mistral reached into the
bag and pulled out a rabbit.
    Mistral
shrugged and began to skin the rabbit with deft strokes, neatly slicing the
hide away from the carcass, ‘Got a sabre-toothed boar, but I ate that – brought
you back some rabbits though,’ she said, indicating towards the bulging bag
with her knife.
    ‘Elnora could
do with a good stew, she’s a bit under the weather at the moment,’ said
Brothertoft quietly, placing his half-empty tankard back onto the table.
    Mistral looked
up briefly, ‘Where is she?’
    ‘In bed,’ said
Brothertoft shortly, failing to add that Elnora had been there since yesterday
morning.
    Mistral nodded
vaguely and returned her attention to the rabbit, beginning to joint it.
    Brothertoft
studied her as she worked, realising that the strong, resourceful girl he had
thought of as a daughter had in fact become a stranger to him in recent
times.  Physically she bore none of the traits of any of the Arcane races
but resembled more closely someone with sorcering blood.  She was taller
than the other girls in the village, with long dark hair and eyes so deep brown
that they were almost black.  Her restless, independent nature had left
her friendless; not that this bothered Mistral.  She seemed content with
her own company and was rarely talkative unless it was to describe a
particularly challenging hunt. 
    ‘Mistral,’
began Brothertoft in another attempt to draw her into a conversation. 
‘You know it’s the winter solstice next week.’
    Mistral
grunted and reached into the bag for another rabbit.
    ‘It’s when
children of sorcering families traditionally begin their training in the
Craft,’ Brothertoft ploughed on. 
    Mistral didn’t
respond and the silence was filled by the gentle tearing sound of her skinning
another rabbit. 
    ‘You – you
don’t think you have the Craft do you?’  Brothertoft asked hopefully.
    Mistral looked
up at him and suppressed a sigh, trying to keep the irritation she felt from
showing on her face.  What was Brothertoft going on about?
    ‘The
Craft?’  Brothertoft repeated encouragingly.  ‘Do you think you might
have it?’
    ‘No,’ she said
shortly.
    ‘Have you ever
tried to cast a spell?’  he persisted, looking at her intently with his
watery eyes.
    ‘No.’
    ‘I could show
you – If you’d like to try?’
    Mistral sighed
again and placed the knife down beside her half-skinned rabbit before fixing
him with a stony