Malek nodded. “True. All true. No one I’d rather have at my back than you, Jess. And when we spar against each other, it’s like we are each seeing the moves we are going to make three steps ahead, our bodies and blades racing to catch up, and at least with each other, we don’t have to hold back!”
Jess gave a surprised smile at that, nodding her head in absolute agreement, knowing exactly what her shieldbrother meant. “I’m just sorry I lost my cool there, at the end. Honestly, I don’t even recall what had possessed me.”
Malek winked. “No worries, sister. No harm done, save to my pride, not that anyone would dare berate me for losing to you! Now clean yourself up a bit, shieldsister, you look like a tired mess. Slept solid since our fight yesterday, am I right?" Malek's gentle smile turned to a grim look of sudden concern. "Saints above, I'm an idiot! Here you are recovering from cracked ribs and hip and the gods above know how many other injuries inflicted by that bastard Mord, and there I was pummeling you full force yesterday. Seriously, Jess, are you okay?"
Jess nodded. "Surprisingly, except for being madly thirsty, I feel completely fine. Vibrant, in fact. I know I was slightly sore from the other day even before we sparred, but today I feel great. Probably because I've slept well over a full day." Jess favored her closest friend with an impish grin. "Unlike some people who I bet were celebrating their notorious reputation in other ways."
Malek had the grace to flush. “What can I say? Jacob appreciates a man who knows how to use his sword.”
Jess laughed. “Give me just a minute to slake my thirst and throw on something that doesn’t smell like I was just in battle, and I’ll be right out.”
Some moments later, a refreshed Jess accompanied her closest friend to the Wizards Wing. Dressed in similar doublet, tunic, and hose, hers was dark blue on burgundy as his was forest green on dark gray. The main difference being that, in addition to the telltale creases of a certain mail shirt underneath Jess’s doublet, Jess carried a pair of truncheons at her side. Her mail lined calfskin gloves didn’t show the links of reinforcing armor under the buttery soft leather as readily as the doublet revealed, having been crafted specifically as a gentleman duelist’s discrete article of reinforced clothing. Her hands did feel uncomfortably hot, however, but slight discomfort one would soon grow used to was a small price to pay for added safety, as Eloquin had drummed into her admittedly thick skull on numerous occasions.
It was school policy that, with a few well-connected exceptions, boys must be unarmed or wear overtly peace-bound blades, save for an eating knife. Girls, on the other hand, were allowed to wear naked steel if their safety was deemed at risk, and all females were allowed to carry truncheons and whistles, not that such had been needed in recent memory. Nonetheless, it served as a natural deterrent and safeguard to protect a girl's honor in a school filled with aggressive, battle-trained young men. The fact that Jess was the equal of most any student in the college didn't prevent her from taking advantage of her sex when it suited her, even as she wore the comfortable clothing of a man that left her legs free of restraint and ready to act at a moment's notice. Fighting in a dress, after all, was much more difficult than in hosiery.
“You look wonderful as always, my mistress, but we really should pick up our pace.” A curiously restless Twilight insisted, sniffing the air as he did so. “A storm is brewing, and dear master Rens, I believe, may be at the heart of it.”
Jess grinned, stroking her ruffled familiar’s silky fur. “Of course, dear one. Whatever light Rens can shed on the goings on of this school can only help us, after all.”
Malek nodded approvingly as Jess made her way out of her quarters. “Much better, sis, and here.” With that he handed her a sandwich wrapped in wax paper. “Cook was concerned since you hadn’t visited her for treats or gossip as I know you do on the regular, and she wanted to make sure you were eating.” He grinned. “She cares for you like a mother hen, doesn’t she?”
Jess nodded. "She's an honorable woman, and I know she has a soft spot for all the girls who risk themselves training in men's sport, as she puts it. But the heart of her care, I think, is that I was there for her and her helpers when the fevers hit during our first year here. As you know, our servants suffer from ailments or injury just as students do, but the Healers Wing tends to be filled with either students, or men of means desperate for cures for one sort of ailment or another, even if it's just the wear of old age. And visiting nobles or merchants provide the school a steady stream of income that keeps the entire institution… quite healthy, as Sir Jevons puts it."
Jess gave Malek a wry glance. "From his point of view, treating the common folk is the blessing and duty of herb women, like Lady Vaila and myself, and he knows our servants are grateful to have at their disposal the ministrations of someone so naturally talented in harnessing the healing potential of the fields and forest. And when the plague hit, the Healers Wing could barely keep up, for all that Dean Echobart himself implored us all to do our part to heal the sick."
Malek nodded. "You had mentioned that your father had you learning herbal lore under a wise woman at about the same time as he started to train you with the longsword." Her friend flashed a knowing smile. "No doubt he had hoped your love of nature and gifts with plants would supersede your natural proclivities for the fighting arts. But my shieldsister would not be tamed so easily!"
Jess laughed at that. "More or less, though the more honest tutors back home quickly conceded to Mother that I already understood the ways of growing things as intimately as anyone could. Still, I did learn a bit about preparing tinctures, and I did continue my studies under Lady Vaila in the rooftop garden once I came here." Jess smiled. "At least the Healers Wing is grateful for the potency of our herbs, and I'm never for want of praise after I visit them. In any case, when Eloquin's regimen allows, you know that I try to accompany Lady Vaila and her students at least once a week when they go on rounds to check on sick and injured servants, using my herbs and salves as I see fit."
She shook her head in wry bemusement as they continued on their way down the college corridors. “I’ve been told more than once that the healing arts are my true calling, whether or not I can channel magics, and that preserving life should hold greater weight in my heart than mastering death.” She shrugged. “At least Lady Vaila understands my heart. She never seems to judge me when I shy away from committing to her path of absolute dedication. She’s more than once compared me to a wild animal. The most dangerous thing to do is trap and contain them, lest they turn on you. Best to befriend them and let them roam free, as she puts it.” She grinned at her friend. “Do I look like a wild animal to you, dear Malek?”
Malek smirked. “The wildest. Oh look, a few students not sure what to do about the lion in their den.”
And such was the wryness of his tone that Jess found it within her to laugh with her friend even as a cluster of the more hostile students glared at them both, hovering near the stairwell for some odd reason, well out of the way of most daily goings on.
“Jess, have a care,” cautioned her familiar from his preferred perch, Jess tilting her head in acknowledgment.
“Bloody cheating pricks, the lot of ‘em,” one of the students muttered, beady eyes and a mop of greasy hair glaring balefully at the pair of them.
"Hyve's boys," Malek noted, Jess giving a cool nod. For all that the rivalry between Eloquin’s Squires of War and Lord Hyve’s Knight Aspirants was generally friendly, tempers were still high, so soon after the hotly disputed tournament outcome.
Another aspirant smirked. “Can’t believe Mord wants to poke that chit. Soft as a sledgehammer, and dresses like a man.”
She could sense the change in her friend instantly. Jess could feel Malek trembling when she lightly touched his arm.
“Watch your tongue sirrah, lest you’d have me cut it out!” Malek roared.
“Easy, brother,” Jess said.
The sandy-haired young man who had uttered the insult smirked at Malek.
"Or what, little black sheep? Will you go scurrying back to your teacher? Bleating piteously when no brought overseers are there to fix the fight for you?"
As if the insult had been a subtle queue, the cluster of students suddenly took on serious, deliberate expressions, the look of men ready for violence as they slowly approached the pair of them. Their eyes looked hungry.
Jess could tell they were looking for a fight.
She smiled.
One of the aspirants laughed mockingly. "I just noticed. There are no overseers here now to save these two lost sheep, wandering where they don't belong."
Another youth smirked underneath his icy stare. "Yeah, it's a shame what happens when cheaters go wandering around stone corridors. Their sins tend to catch up with them. I hear lots of broken bones happen when drunken fools fall down stairs."
A low chuckle, and Jess realized how close they were to the steps, and how very out of the way the most direct path to Master Rens’s laboratories happened to be. How unlikely it would be to find students hanging around some of these corridors. Unless they should happen to have a reason to be there.
“So Malek, who was this messenger who brought you news of Rens’ request?”
The beady eyed student smirked. “Someone who knew which way the wind was blowing is all you need to know, wench. Now let’s see how tough you are without your magic blade.”
And in that moment when there was no longer any doubt, Jess allowed herself to feel the waves of malice resonating from those young men. They planned to hurt Malek and Jess if they could, and most dangerous of all, whatever reservations they might have had, Jess had no doubt it had been lost in the heat of their growing passion for violence. Violence and darker lusts.
Jess felt a soft chuckle bubble from her lips, time itself seeming to slow ever so slightly as she gently eased the tight restraints she confined her darker nature to, letting her battlefrenzy take hold.
The Knight Aspirants had finished goading themselves, and were racing to jump them en masse, fists upraised. Without even a word needing to be said, Jess could feel her shieldbrother spring to action in perfect synchronicity with her own movements, the instant their enemies charged into range.
Jess lashed out with the heel of her palm to her nearest opponent's chin, even as her offhand smacked away a flailing fist, and she could feel the crack of teeth as her enemy’s jaw snapped shut, head jerking back so abruptly the boy stumbled back on wobbly feet before collapsing to the ground with a soft sigh. Fluid as thought, Jess was moving, adroitly sliding past frantically grabbing hands, dodging yet another flailing strike, even as her fist lashed out, catching another Aspirant in his gut.
Her enemy crumpled to the ground with an agonized groan as Jess adroitly pivoted around him, sending a roaring young man tripping over her, though not before slamming her boot into his ankle as he rocked past, the abrupt give of ruptured flesh in conjunction with his sharp scream letting her know she had dislodged his ankle or snapped bone. She smiled in fierce satisfaction even as she twisted around to slam her fist into the roaring face of the beady eyed Aspirant who Jess instantly knew had been the mastermind to the impromptu little melee, shattering his nose into a pulpy mass and sending him stumbling back, the right hook he had attempted to score against her flopping open harmlessly, and Jess heard the clank of stone against stone.
Her gut twisted in horror and fury as she caught sight of the granite spike.
“Jess!” Twilight hissed in alarm, but Jess already knew.
They hadn’t been planning on humiliating Jess and Malek. Instantly her inner tactician understood their plan. They had been intending to pound that stone fragment into her and her shieldbrother's skulls, before or after sending them tumbling down the stairs.
These Aspirants were not trying to humiliate or break her and her shieldbrother.
They wanted to kill her.
“Weapons in play, Malek!”
With a bloodcurdling roar Jess charged into the regrouping mass of aspirants. Her fists, alongside Malek’s, lashed out with cold, vicious accuracy, even as they made a point of slamming away flailing fists or catching and twisting their enemy’s wild strikes, snapping wrists and elbows with the very techniques Eloquin had taught them for fighting men armed with daggers.
Together they made brutal work of their foes, no longer holding back their fury, knowing just how treacherous the young rats truly were. This was not a casual fight between students, but a calculated military strike, where Jess and her shieldbrother must fight fast, hard, and with overwhelming force, so as to utterly demoralize and break their opponents before they themselves could be taken down.
“Jess! What the hell are you doing? We won!”
Jess blinked at the sound of alarm coming from Malek’s voice, realizing she was holding a piteously screaming student over her head, preparing to throw him with all her force down the hard granite steps. To send him crashing below, very likely to an agonized death.
“These bastards weren’t trying to break us, Malek. They were armed!”
Malek grimaced. “I know, Jess. I caught your warning. Whatever play you make, you know I’ll back you. But Jess? We already won,” Malek soothed. “That’s why you didn’t draw your truncheons, after all. You and I both know that the moment you would have done so, lost in battlefrenzy, it would have been a slaughter.”
Jess nodded even as she contemptuously threw the shrieking young man back into the pile of his demoralized, shaking peers. In truth, she was sickened underneath her fury at how close she had come to killing the foolish young man in a fit of wrath.
Jess glared furiously at the lot of would-be knights, collapsed upon the stone corridor in moaning bloody heaps. Fingers had been viciously yanked back and broken, elbows and ankles shattered, more than one boy moaning from broken ribs. They were more lucky than they realized, Jess thought, as none were spasming their last; clutching shattered windpipes and suffocating to death, or lying utterly still with broken necks. Killing blows that would have sent the lot of them to their deaths, had they been anyone else save fellow students.
Jess felt an odd grin come over her features, imagining the look of horror upon her mother's oh so proper features if she only realized just how dangerous a weapon her daughter had been forged into, even unarmed.
For all that their primary purpose involved leading squads, regiments, or entire armies to deadly effect during times of war, at the king's need, Squires of War were also expected to serve as the most ruthless of Crown Agents, even in times of peace.
Jess noted that more than one chunk of stone had dropped from insensate hands.
“Look at that granite spike, Malek. The sharp one. This jackass was going to ram that into my skull!”
Malek nodded. "And that's not the only stone spike they possessed. Three of these rocks come to a point." Her shieldbrother chuckled darkly. “Maybe we should throw the lot of them down the stairs, after all." He turned to the group of wounded and moaning students, and perhaps there was something in his eyes, for they all started scuttling back.
“Stay away! You freaks aren't even human!" The sandy-haired boy screamed.
Jess’s smile was cold. “And yet it was you who picked a fight with us. You who wanted to kill us. I’m sure you fools know the first rule of warfare, do you not?”
Cold laughter rang down the corridor at that very moment, and Jess felt her blood boil with searing fury even as she snapped into battle focus once more, recognizing instantly the source of that mocking laughter.
“Ah. The plot thickens. Though I fear we really are pressed for time, my Jess,” Twilight noted.
“To strike with utter savagery, is it not, my sweet bride-to-be? To strike with such brutal force that your foe is utterly broken. Show no mercy. Butcher your enemies so thoroughly that the few broken survivors you allow to flee do your work for you. Spreading tales of such horror that the seeds of dread work to demoralize your foe's entire army!"
A grinning Mord dressed in tunic,
cape, and hose of richest burgundy strolled upon the scene, gazing at his fallen peers with bemused contempt, his loyal sycophants but several orchestrated steps behind, following like a pair of hounds. Whipcord thin in a school full of bulky students, a smirking Erno de Vilde would be all too easy to underestimate, if one didn't note how well defined his musculature was under his tight fitting tunic, or know his reputation with the side-sword. By his side stood the bulbous and bloated Vaki de Slaktare, gazing almost hungrily at the bloody scene before him.
Jess hissed her displeasure at the sight of Mord and his flunkies, and was somehow not surprised to see her old nemesis wearing a blade, being one of the few students with sufficient connections and pull so as to be granted dispensation to wear naked steel, never mind the fact that he had savagely assaulted Jess and Erica both, escaping reprisals by the flimsiest of pretexts.
Mord flashed a jaded smile that did not reach his icy dark gaze even as he peered at Jess and Malek’s handiwork, nodding his head in cold approval. “They were fools to so underestimate you.”
“Lord Plaga,” moaned one of the fallen students, “she does not wear her magic blade here. We only thought to avenge ourselves of the insult she and her scurrilous crew have given us.”
Mord lifted one jaded eye, even as he snapped his booted foot into the boy’s groin. The young man shrieked. “Did I give you leave to speak, fool?”
“No, Lord Plaga,” the boy whimpered.
Mord’s cold smile and the boy’s panicked cry made it all too clear that both knew the young man had been trapped by his own words, yet with a single mocking shake of his head, Mord condescended not to kick the shuddering aspirant a second time. “That is right, fool. I did not.”
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