Squire of War

by M. H. Johnson

  “Oh they most certainly will. And I am pleased to see that you have gathered everything we need, as rich and potent as we could possibly have hoped for, before we even thought to call for you. Truly remarkable.” He nodded approvingly over Jess’s basket of freshly plucked herbs. “Thank you again, Jessica. One of my apprentices will let you know if we are in further need of your cuttings.”

  Jess bowed. “It is my pleasure to serve, as always. Though I must confess to something of an ulterior motive in my visit today.”

  Sir Jevon's eyebrows raised a bit at that. “And what pray tell would that be?”

  Jess grinned. “I understand you are still treating a number of Squires and Aspirants recovering from a training accident. I wanted to check up on my brothers-in-arms and see how they were doing.”

  Sir Jevon's lips hardened. “Hardly a training exercise, whatever fictions your bloodthirsty general insists upon. But very well,” he sighed. “The student bears no guilt for the crimes of his teacher. And to be fair, quite a few astounding tales are circulating through our wing regarding rather remarkable feats of derring-do, performed by none other than yourself.”

  Though he was smiling as indulgently as any grandfather by the end of his declaration, Jess's own gaze was as hard as steel. “Anything uttered is to be considered delusional ramblings and no more. You know that, right, Master Jevons?”

  The older man just shook his head and sighed, gaze almost sad. “And already the beautiful girl who had so delighted in her garden but a season ago has been forged into a creature hard as steel, though I wonder how brittle, keen as your edge no doubt is.”

  Jess lowered her gaze, feeling suddenly humbled, realizing she had just committed a massive breach of impropriety.

  A gentle hand patted her shoulder, and she did her best not to flinch, for all that her fists curled. “Very well, young Jessica. Though I should not even have to say it, your secrets are perfectly safe. Delusional ramblings, if you will. We healers take our oaths just as seriously as you do yours. Of course you may visit your friend. My assistant will show you to him.”

  At which point the young healer who had first greeted Jess favored her with a polite bow before taking her down the corridor leading off to a number of well-appointed rooms, very similar in design to the wing relegated to student quarters, most students sharing quarters split off in three or more sections, the wealthiest among them having personal suits of their own. Jess was amused to see that the healers Wing was laid out in much the same way.

  “Of course the drugged ramblings uttered by Squires here are unlikely to circulate very far,” a smirking Twilight noted. “After all, if a healer's reputation for discretion was anything less than absolute, what powerful lord brooding with schemes, old wounds, and endless skeletons in his closet would risk being healed if he had to fear potent secrets slipping into the seas of rumor, should he cry out under the influence of drugs or magic? And those deliciously corrupt lords baring so many scars that pain them, or simply the annoyances of advancing age, their purses ever heavy with the gold of those who fell before them, are all too tasty a prize for any worldly healer to neglect. And who better to receive noble indulgence than healers sworn never to betray the confidences of those they heal? More discrete even than the Royal Healers in the capital, perhaps explaining why our dear Jevons is kept so very busy, and why he is so esteemed by the dean that depends upon his wing for so much of his yearly budget.”

  Jess smiled, stroking lush fur only she could see, “Hush, cynical one. Josie has explained to me more than once that though we can do nothing to turn back the tides of time for our noble guests, we can certainly ease the pain of its passing, and any noble of means is willing to pay in gold for advancing age that hits no harder than any man whose hair has just turned to gray. Twenty years of autumn is forever better than twenty years of blind, hoary winter, is I think how she put it. But it requires infusions that are time consuming and quite draining for our healers, which is why they have so little time for the rest of us, save Squires and Aspirants, of course.”

  Twilight grinned. “There is that, of course. Not that Eloquin's favored students need worry about such things as Winter's hoary grip while serving under his banner. And I do believe I see Liam ahead. Healer's Oath or no, the way he is gazing at a certain girl, and she back at him, their feelings won't be secret for very long.”

  Jess blinked, unable to deny her familiar's words. Her gut clenched to see a normally smiling and cheerful Liam, so vibrant on the training grounds, now pasty-faced and sickly, leg splinted and torso bandaged, the nasty bruises he had suffered giving mute testament to the grievous wounds he must have suffered, with over half a week spent in the care of the best combat healers in Erovering and still a far cry from the vibrant health he had once enjoyed.

  Yet broken lip, cracked tooth and bruised face aside, his brilliant smile lit his face to beautiful affect, giving evidence that, despite his pain, something had filled his heart with joy.

  Jess felt her heart skip a beat to see none other than Sable gazing so tenderly at him, gently stroking his bandaged brow, soft lips whispering a jest that set Liam to laughter before coughing, Sable herself gently holding cup to cracked lips as Liam drunk deep.

  Elegant, beautiful, with heart-shaped features and a sensual elegance that Jess had no doubt would set half the Court aflame with desire, here Sable was, gazing so fondly at Liam, her smile wistful and solemn. Eyes filled with unnamed sorrow and a poignant sort of hope.

  Jess turned her gaze, humbled by what she had seen, catching sight of gentle Ava, Sable's quiet servant, carefully swaddled babe sleeping contentedly in her arms. The warm smile she favored her mistress with touched Jess's heart to see.

  “Jess! It is great to see you, thank you for stopping by.”

  Jess looked down at her friend gazing so fondly at her, his grip strong and sure as Jess gently clasped his hand. She brushed back his light brown locks of sweat soaked hair, sensing a fierce vitality underneath his wan pallor.

  “It's good to see you, Liam. I swear, it stung my heart, hearing you were so badly injured. The last I recall, you were laughing with good cheer, proving my match with the saber, much to my surprise.”

  Liam grinned at that. “And that's the only time I've ever beaten you, with any weapon I can think of. It's great to see you, Jess. Honestly, when I think of what you did for us, how much we owe you, the nightmare that ambush had almost become...” Liam shuddered, gazing at horrors only he could see. “There is no way I can say thank you enough, Jess. No way.”

  Jess flushed and looked away, catching Sable's tender gaze. “He's right, you know. You really did save us, Jessie.” She gazed back at the sleeping child swaddled in Ava's arms. “You saved all of us,” she whispered. “Ava was but a heartbeat from being sold into slavery. And I? I cannot tell you the horror you saved me from.”

  Liam nodded. “Had you not sprung those steel traps, somehow; you, Malek and Mord then daring to take on a score of Velheim chargers...” Her friend shuddered, gaze haunted once more. “We'd all be dead, Jess, I have no doubt.”

  Jess shook her head. “And I don't remember a damned thing. I'd like to think I would have fought just as fiercely and honorably as you say, but...”

  “It's true,” Twilight assured. “Every word. Save that no more than a score of Squires would have perished, had Eloquin not been willing to reveal himself fully. Neal’s contingent would have harried them mercilessly, I have no doubt, but as it stood, half your brethren were in mortal peril. Well done, Jess, if I haven't said it before.”

  Jess flushed at the praise, even as a smiling Sable clasped her hand and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Jess, for giving me a second chance.”

  Jess swallowed, humbled by the praise. “Whatever it is I did, I'm glad I was there for you. All four of you.”

  Sable's tender smile left Jess breathless. “I am so grateful to know you, Jess. I'm only sorry that you have to know Mord at his ugliest. I know it won't make any di
fference but, when we were both young children, before Father did what he did to us... he was actually quite sweet."

  Jess sighed. "I might pity his past, but it doesn't change who he is in the present. I will fight by his side should my master bid it, but if he thinks I will ever marry him, he is more deluded than the most raving patient ever to be brought under Sir Jevon's care." Twilight chuckled softly at that. "I'm just grateful that you, dear Sable, were able to find a man worthy of your heart." She gazed down at Liam who couldn't help a rueful chuckle.

  “Imagine my surprise, Jess, when this vision of beauty is helping to soothe my pain, my terror, all through the awful journey back to Highrock, my broken bones tormenting me as we rode with all haste through forest and field. And imagine my surprise when she refused to leave my side, once the healers had declared her, Ava, and little Julia fit and healthy.”

  Sable smiled. “I easily grow bored, I'm afraid, but with Liam's delightful banter and charming smile, I saw no reason not to quarter myself in this healer's room reserved for noble patrons. And who would they be to deny a Squire of War, fighting for Highrock, equal care to their richest clients? Room enough for a few extra hammocks, and not once has Liam minded little Julia's morning cries.”

  Jess raised her eyebrows at this. Sable chuckled “Don't you dare make me blush, Jess. It is far too late for that. Ava assures propriety is observed and accompanies me to the baths when the whim strikes me to refresh myself. And fear not, Jess, even at odd hours... no scion here is unaware of who my brother is. So however wild the lasses at Highrock are, no boy will try a late night seduction, unless, of course, I want him to.”

  She looked full on at a blushing Liam as she said the last.

  “You jest, beautiful one, but I am more happy and grateful for your company than words can say,” Liam whispered, though when his eyes locked upon Sable's own, Jess couldn't help but note the way his face lit up, pain and tension easing away.

  Jess smiled. “It was good to see you, Liam. I see you are in good hands, and I hope for a speedy recovery.”

  “Thank you, Jess.” Liam grinned back, Sable as well.

  Jess gazed down at her familiar as they left the Healers Wing. “That was interesting, don't you think?”

  Twilight grinned. “A jaded smile from an exotic woman hinting at so many twisted secrets, searching for a way out of the darkness. A sweet idealist shining like the sun, looking for a maiden to save, and what a dark beauty he has found. Fascinating.”

  Jess nodded.

  “And if you care to look out the stained-glass windows cleverly fixed in their frames so as to allow their opening, you can see how the sun just kisses the horizon. It will soon be time for our next circle meeting, if you still wish to attend.”

  Jess blinked. “I had completely forgotten about that. Yes, we should stop by. Alex and Jera are just brimming with secrets, and I, for one, would love to hear what the Wizards Wing is up to these days.”

  Twilight sighed. “Hopefully nothing that will imperil the school, though knowing that group, I won't be placing any coin on the wager.”

  Jess smirked. “Such a cynic! I'm sure it will be interesting either way. It's been our retreat for years. Even if we never did find any wildly grandiose way of shaking the pillars of politics or magic or trade, four of our members found each other, and we've managed to keep the riffraff out of our private little retreat quite well, over the years. Come, we can cut down this corridor to get there faster.”

  “Mistress, I don't think we should...”

  But it was too late. Jess lurched and stumbled back, only remembering why she always took the long way to their hidden library after she heard the scream.

  17

  Please, please don't kill me.”

  Jess shuddered as the panicked words rung through her, memories washing over her as viscerally as the day she had left behind.

  Billy had been his name. Well-padded yet strong, he was no weakling, and Jess was certain she had caught sight of him sparring, once or twice. He had been so curious about Jess and her friends, doing his best to ingratiate himself with her, striving in his awkward way to make her laugh, asking if she and her friends did anything interesting when they wandered off privately together, and letting her know in no uncertain terms that he’d like to be a part of their clique. He had been trying to befriend her for several days, Jess realized, though for the most part she had politely ignored him, keeping up a distracted pretense. She had felt that something was slightly off about him; she just wasn't sure what it was.

  Yet when he had professed his desire to join her, implying that he knew and wanted to embrace the group he suspected she ran, the rotten discord of his intentions had suddenly washed over her. It had been as if he had removed a bandage filled with festering foulness he had kept well covered, which before had given her only the faintest disconcerting whiff, yet when he had dared to face her directly, to gaze into her eyes and declare what an asset he would be to her coterie, it was as if he had lifted his shirt, exposing far more than he had intended.

  For she instantly sensed that not only was he lying, but that he was a simpering treacherous snake working to wheedle his way into the bosom of their group, wherein he would take secret delight in spying upon them, reporting to masters unseen who sought their downfall. Even worse, it was as if his malice had opened up a crack into the rotting woodwork of his mind, a crack Jess could peer through as if their minds were momentarily one, and for a shuddering second Jess was overwhelmed by the sick, twisted fantasies she sensed within.

  Jess closed her eyes and shuddered, reliving those furious moments.

  Jess didn't say a word after Billy confessed his desire to join her, his foul gaze confessing so much more. She merely grabbed his arm before leading a still simpering Billy off to one of the less frequently used side hallways, even as his slithery lies and maggoty placation washed over her. His every word rang painfully discordant to her ears; gangrenous, filled with deception. Hearing his foulness filled her with a horrible tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach, her gut clenched so fiercely she feared she’d vomit, but all that came forth was a blistering hot rage.

  She did not even see her fist shatter his nose, only registering the blow after the fact.

  Her hand began to throb ever so pleasantly, his warm blood trickling down her clenched fist.

  The beefy young man collapsed against the wall of the corridor, stunned by her sudden savagery. He quailed, looking up at Jess in sudden horror, whimpering when he caught her gaze.

  “I know your dirty little secrets, Billy,” Jess declared in a voice harsh and raw, barely able to contain the sudden fury coursing through her. “I know about your dark little fantasies you think to keep so well hidden. The things you dream about doing, where no one can see you. And if I ever hear from you again, if I ever even see you, I will make sure that everyone else knows your vile little secrets too. Now get up, Billy!”

  Jess grabbed his lapels with her fiercely clenched fist, and for all that he was actually an inch taller, and strong, her muscles had the sinewy resiliency that hundreds of hours of swordplay had given her, and Billy’s frantically squeezing hands found her wrist harder than oak.

  When she shook him, his teeth snapped together and his head jerked upright. Horror turned to desperation as he writhed and struggled within her vise-like grip.

  "I don't like it when people lie to me, Billy. The putrid stench of their attempts at deception makes me want to vomit. It rings a shrieking discord in my ears, and makes my blood boil! Do you understand me, Billy? Do you bloody well understand me?"

  Her voice had geared up from guttural whisper to a shout, and her poor captive, the would-be spy, was shaking and sobbing in horrified disbelief. She slammed him against the wall so hard he stumbled and fell to the floor with a cry. Jess loomed over him, smacking his tear covered face, grabbing a handful of his greasy curls, struck with the sudden vision of smashing his head repeatedly against the hard stone wall of the cor
ridor, taking a fierce dark delight at the thought of covering the walls with the shattered remnants of his vile crimson treachery.

  Jess yanked the boy's face upward, forcing him to meet her gaze once more. "I'm going to make sure your dreams of hurting those children can never come to fruition, Billy."

  Her laughter, cold and dark, ceased his desperate protests. They died on his lips. “I could rip out your heart out, Billy. Did you know that? Crush your larynx, so no one hears your screams. Crack your skull so hard, all the little lies and peeps of deception are crushed against this stone wall. Forever.” Jess’s voice caressed her victim’s ears. Shuddering violently, he began to moan.

  A delicious fury washed over her. She could feel the sweet sensual caress of righteous wrath coursing through her sinews, filling her with a terrible strength. She started to laugh.

  She could do it, she realized. Deep in her heart, she had always known. She could kill this mewling little worm, shatter his skull like an egg and walk away in blazing triumph. If anyone challenged her she would grab their wrists, yank them forward, and clench their throats. She would squeeze so hard their larynges would crackle to bloody pulp, then slam their wild-eyed, choking visages right into the granite walls, relishing the sickening crack of their skulls shattering before she tossed them to the ground, lifeless heaps of broken flesh.

  She need fear no wizards. Their puny arts would melt before her wrath like morning dew before a blazing hot sun. She realized they were beneath her.

  She craved, hungered for, a darker, deeper, purer magic. She could no more channel the dross of mortal magics than a bull could spear trout on his horns. But what need did a bull have for such trivial tricks? He could bellow his wrath and tear through armored men and mounts alike. Her fury was that of the fiercest minotaur, her nature far beyond the paltry talents of lesser creatures. Few in this school could beat her with a blade even when she held back, and in that moment of terrible, liberating wrath she suddenly understood that she had always been holding back.