Squire of War

by M. H. Johnson

  Jess nodded, her eyes darting across the room.

  No one. Had any foe been stalking in the shadows, unlikely as that would be, Jess had no doubt she would have spotted it. Or if not her, her familiar at the very least.

  The main chamber and its alcoves were empty.

  Jess turned to the lords baths then, the largest and grandest of the side chambers, and where she herself normally bathed, having no issue with making the most of her rank, for all that she was happily egalitarian in so many aspects of her life. Though she would revel in a contest of arms with anyone, when it came to refreshing herself afterwards, she far preferred the more exclusive baths, soaking to the soothing susurration of a softly beating drum after female servants would wipe off any sweat and grime from her body with damp, scented cloths. Her fellow lords were always welcoming, all of them chatting and taking their ease as smiling servitors served Jess and her fellows from a plate of the cook’s pastries and a carafe of chilled wine as they savored the warm, mineral laden water.

  There were advantages to rescuing grateful musicians and experienced butlers but a hairsbreadth from being sold to Velheim flesh merchants. And tending to noble guests in the baths, with comfortable quarters and full bellies was a life they were happy to embrace, lack of coin aside. Jess grinned. Their musicians and former seneschal had made it quite clear how very much they appreciated their rescuers, and Jess didn’t mind admitting that the baths, at least, were one place where she was more than happy being pampered the same as any noble lady.

  Of course, at this hour, the baths were abandoned.

  Save for the voices

  Jess frowned as her hand hovered over the exquisitely cared for hardwood door separating the common bathing chamber from the lords, understanding at once that the baths were not quite so empty as they had first appeared.

  Jess glared at the door, sensing that it had been bolted shut.

  It could be nothing, of course, merely a fellow female wanting to assure herself a private bath at an hour she felt would inconvenience no one, but the panicked tone in what she realized to be anything but a relaxed conversation occurring in the room beyond melted away any hesitation she might have had.

  She touched the wood and closed her eyes, smiling in satisfaction as the bolt popped out of the lock, strangely making no sound as it fell into the room beyond, the door opening to Jess’s soft push.

  “You have a debt to pay, woman! I care not for your excuses or Mord’s placations. You know what was supposed to happen, what failed to happen, and it is for you to make it right!”

  Jess could taste the bitter hostility in the words, gazing upon the flushed features of none other than Ubel Niedrig, a cold, calculating Aspirant who was just as savage as Mord and as wicked a fighter with the blade, while lacking all Mord's grace. A brutal blood-spattered mace, whereas Mord was the sleekest of stilettos. Both deadly, yet where Mord possessed a certain dark allure many girls found captivating, for all that Jess despised him, Ubel was nothing like that.

  Nothing at all.

  Yellow-grey eyes and a pockmarked face turned to sneer at Jess, Ubel cracking his fists together, arms bulging with twisted muscle that seemed ready to burst out of his felt covered gambeson. Large yellow teeth shone in an ugly grin, his powerful hand now squeezing the hilt of his sheathed messer, a wicked blade that was almost the size of a falchion, and a weapon Jess was absolutely certain he should not be allowed to wear, as only a proctor bribed in gold or terror would regard such a killing instrument as a mere knife. Girls alone were permitted to wear weaponry beyond a defensive baton, just in case they ran into someone like Ubel, wandering the corridors in the dead of night. Yet somehow he was wearing that blade and a buckler as well. Jess, armed with only a wooden stick, was utterly outmatched.

  Ubel was no fool, having trained every bit as hard as Mord, and without that iota of decency that at least marked Mord as other than a complete monster. He looked down at Jess, wearing robe, gloves, and baton, and smirked.

  “Ah, Mord’s little dove. What are you doing here, dove? This conversation does not concern you. Best fly away and be thankful you are Mord’s doxy, for if you weren’t, you’d be paying in teeth and tears for barging into affairs that are none of your concern!”

  "I'm not Mord's anything!" Jess hissed, knowing she was a fool to be so easily baited.

  “Jess!” Twilight’s voice. Urgent. He too understood just how perilous Ubel could be.

  But Jess couldn’t look away from the other inhabitants in the room.

  Sable. Completely naked, towel forgotten, trembling. Gazing at Ubel with a sickening mixture of fear, and despair. Clenching her half-moon necklace tightly, the only thing she wore.

  And behind her, two smirking men in oft-patched tunics. They were of average height, though their muscles looked hardened with work, their eyes cold and hard as any criminal, dirty brown hair and pale blue eyes on one, ginger hair and brown eyes upon the other. And behind them, a servitor splayed out on the damp tiles, either dead or utterly comatose, flask by her side.

  Jess could smell urine and fear both in chambers normally rich with the scents of exotic perfumes and blossoms. Without conscious thought, her hand had unsheathed her baton.

  Ubel snarled, thick powerful fingers curling around his own blade. “Put down the weapon, wench, for if you make me draw mine, I shall make you wish you had never dared a man’s art!

  Jess took a trembling breath, forcing limbs trembling with terror and fury to stillness. She would act when it was time, and not a second sooner. Keeping her peripheral vision fast upon Ubel and his minions, Jess’s words were for Sable alone.

  “Are you all right? Where is Julia?”

  Sable trembled, gazing at an increasingly irate Ubel. “She is… fine. Thank all the gods, she is fine.” Tears streamed down her face.

  Fast as a snake Ubel spun around, jabbing his ham fist at Sable. “You broke covenant, you stupid whore! You know the price to be paid for that!”

  Sable blanched, feature deathly pale. She denied nothing, dark eyes filled with sorrow locked upon Ubel’s own.

  He snarled in Sable’s face, finger pressing her chest. “Make this right, Sable. You and your clan sure as blazes better make this right, or there will be hell to pay!”

  “Back off, Ubel!” Jess roared, terror giving her voice strength, sickening fear she turned to fury even as Ubel spun around, gazing at Jess with what could only be called dark joy, whipping out his messer and shield almost as fast as Jess could, yet now only a wooden baton and thin mail-lined gloves would serve as counter to Ubel’s deadly chopping blade. A blade Ubel knew how to use as well as any knight.

  He towered over her.

  His chuckle was an ugly thing, his two henchmen drawing daggers of their own.

  “Jess! Run!”

  Twilight’s voice. No banter, no jest, deadly serious.

  Deadly as she was fully kitted with saber or long sword in hand, here she was but a girl in her nightshift, holding naught but a club, against a man with thick padded gambeson and killing blade raised high, buckler skillfully held to parry her blows and smash her face should she make the slightest misstep.

  For all her perilous scrapes as a Squire, despite all her hard-won skills, here and now she was truly in over her head.

  For allowing herself to stumble into a situation where her enemy held all the cards, too foolish to retreat on feet far faster than most boys to return and wreak vengeance another day, made her an unforgivable fool.

  But she had seen the way Ubel and his henchmen had looked at Sable.

  She knew exactly what they had planned to do.

  She couldn’t abandon Sable to that,

  but she dared not stay.

  “Well, Calenbry? Are you ready to die?” Mocking laughter, Ubel taunting her with his messer, blade flashing in moulinets before her, forcing her away. “Best you flee like the fragile little flower you are, girl. One last chance, and you can pay me for my mercy later when Mord is done wit
h you.” His twisted grin widened. “Pay with your mouth. Swear to it, Calenbry. Swear I can take you like the savage beast you really are, whenever I please. Swear it upon your soul, and I will let you live.”

  His words began to slow, sound itself warping strange.

  Jess felt her own grin widen in a bleak parody of Ubel’s, heart roaring a staccato rhythm of unbridled fury.

  Something in her smile, perhaps. Ubel blinked once and snarled, Jess darting forth smacking her long baton against the wall as fast as the massive Aspirant could blink.

  The crack of wood against stone.

  He smiled.

  Then swallowed.

  Jess now holding a blade of wood, lined with wickedly sharp thorns.

  “Do you think that twig will save you, bitch?” Ubel roared, even as he stepped back. “This is your last chance, Calenbry. Leave these baths, and count yourself lucky I have other things to do than contend with Mord’s little doxy!”

  “And what would those things be, Ubel?”

  Jess felt a fierce exultation she never imagined she would feel as her nemesis made his presence known; Mord, fully armored, racing into the private bathes, glaring at Ubel with his own longsword held high, ready to lash out with deadly force.

  The Aspirant’s eyes widened even as he spat, turning back to glare at Sable, still guarded by the two underlings watching the byplay with hooded gazes. “You summoned him, didn’t you, bitch?”

  He turned back to glare at Mord. “So afraid of me that you had to burrow deep in your shell. You always were a bit of a coward, Mord.”

  Mord chuckled coldly, handsome face graced with a killer’s smile. “Strange, hearing those words from you, Ubel, considering how desperately you fear becoming part of the High Hunt, reveling in endless kills, blackening your dagger in darkest fury.”

  Ubel paled, stepping back. “You know what that man really is. You are a fool to run with his pack.”

  Mord taunted him with his laughter. “I know exactly what Eloquin is, and I relish butchering alongside his hounds! It is a dark glory more than equal to your pathetic rituals, Ubel.”

  “Watch your words, Plaga!” Ubel roared, glaring at Jess. “You dare much, breaking covenant with an outsider among us!”

  Mord smirked. “You speak to me of breaking covenant, when you bare steel before my woman, bring fear to my sister? Your breach is far more grievous than mine.”

  Ubel tisked, shaking his head. “Ah, Mord. You assume so much. Your filly was in no real danger, so long as she did not strike me first, opening the laws of defense, no matter her status as your soon-to-be wife.” His lips curled up in a cruel smile, yellow-grey eyes alive with a serpentine sort of cleverness Jess would be a fool to underestimate. “And if she had been so foolish as to surrender her body for my pleasure, to swear her soul to it, did I let her walk away, that is her choice. She only assumes that I wouldn’t have simply laughed at her back if she had simply turned around and left. I did not deny her egress, but that her fear made it seem so.”

  “As if it was fear of you that stayed my steps!” Jess roared. “Your threats had nothing to do with it.”

  Ubel ignored her utterly, refusing even to meet her gaze. “Teach your wench proper manners, Mord. Now that we are here, let us say what needs to be said.” Coldly, he resheathed his weapons, arrogant gaze dismissing Mord’s naked steel, his lackeys quickly doing the same, though one hissed, pricking his own thumb with trembling hands, the lighter haired lackey not nearly so calm as his master.

  Mord smirked, unhurriedly sheathing his own blade.

  “Say what you will, Ubel. But be quick about it. My sister needs her rest, and my woman awaits my pleasure.”

  Jess glowered at Mord, startled outraged frozen to stillness, catching Mord’s gaze.

  Outrage later. For now? She had to see this through, deliberately refusing to sheathe her weapon. Besides, she couldn’t sheathe her weapon, what with all the thorns her baton had grown.

  Ubel smirked. “Bold, Mord. Are you declaring that the Calenbrys are with us?”

  Mord only smiled.

  “Very well. My point is simply this. Your clan owes mine a debt, Plaga. You know this, and you dare not deny it.” He turned to Sable, glaring. “This wench was supposed to pay that debt, and somehow, everything has gone to brimstone! People that were supposed to be in play are gone. Such that we know not even who is missing or what became of them. People that must have been lost to Shadow!” Furious hands cracked together. “Plans years in the making, suddenly in disarray. Eloquin’s blackened daggers very much alive, when whispers had it they had met sweet folly at last, though no one recalls the traps laid, or can even find our base in northern Erovering that we know is in Hyve’s territory.”

  He stepped forward, bold as brass, jabbing a finger at Mord’s armored chest.

  Mord only smiled coldly, flinching not an iota, hand casually grasping the hilt of his resheathed blade.

  “What of it?”

  Ubel snarled, gazing at Mord in outraged disbelief. “What of it? What of it? How can you say that, fool? Our base, whatever it was, wherever it was, has been burned free of our very minds! Key spiders weaving intricate plots sundered from their webs, and we have but strands of gossamer, taunting us with skeins of brilliant schemes shredded free of all our minds! We are stumbling in the dark, Mord, half our plans in disarray! This calls for the strongest response, and we don’t even know where to strike!”

  Mord gave the most callous of shrugs, armored torso quite effectively conveying his disdain. “Why do you trouble me with your failures, Ubel? My clan plays its part. Every High Hunt, every soul I cleave from quivering flesh, every life torn free of its mortal coil, and all in the king’s name.”

  “That’s power you garner for yourself, Mord. You still have debts and obligations to the Dark Council, debts I expect paid in full!”

  Mord’s eyes crackled with ire, hypnotic in their intensity. Jess felt a delightful thrill at his trembling fury, swallowing down her exhilaration. He was her opponent, and the worst man her family could have possibly chosen for her, save for Ubel himself. Yet despite that, in this moment she couldn't deny the dark kinship she felt for Mord, both of them eager to protect Sable, and itching to cut their vile opponent in twain.

  Ubel only smirked. “Debts, Mord. All your games, all your damned arrogance, yet still you are your father’s son, and so are chained to his debt, his obligations. Will ye or nil ye, you are bound to him, body and soul.”

  Malek’s hand trembled upon his blade. For one terrifying (exhilarating) heartbeat, Jess though he would draw it and run Ubel through.

  Ubel caught the movement, mocking smile growing wider. “By all means, Mord, run me through. My soul is no longer tied to this mortal shell. Power beyond your ken will be mine, the moment the ritual is complete, and I would happy to add your soul to my collection, your agony fueling my power for centuries, should you dare to break covenant now.”

  Mord’s hand suddenly stilled upon his blade. His voice strangely calm. “Speak the nature of this damned debt you claim my family owes your own. You aren’t the only one who has been affected by unexpected holes in the scheme of things.”

  Twilight hissed. “What games are these fools playing at?”

  Ubel favored Mord with a measuring nod. “Now you understand the true nature of things. Good. I will give you the grace of playing the arrogant fool, not realizing the pieces missing from the board.” He flashed Sable an icy look before shrugging. “Perhaps your sister doesn’t recall either. Now your mutual obstinance and insolence is at least… tolerable.”

  He flashed a cold smile. “No matter the failings of others, my clan is savvy enough to keep our ledger marked with the blood of designator and designee, supplicant and benefactor, such that no debt will be forgotten, no matter the storms of folly and Shadow that would tear all our pieces free."

  Yellow-grey eyes bored into Mord's own. "The blood of Morlin, your father, has kissed that ledger.”

/>   Sable blanched, covering her mouth as if to choke back a horrified scream.

  Ubel twisted in serpentine fashion, chillingly fluid movements in one so massive, gazing into Sable’s eyes.

  “I see you know, dearest Sable. Or at least, you suspect. The firstborn of Morlin’s twin scions is to be sacrificed. Or dare I say, gifted to the Niedrig clan. We will benefit from her strong spirit, coursing through our family, if you will, and she need never trouble herself over life’s daily concerns. We will take care of her… in perpetuity.”

  He flashed Jess an oily smile, and it was everything Jess could do not to lash out with thorny sword of wood, eager to slash open his throat, no matter the consequence, so fiercely she felt the waves of malice rolling off the man.

  He meant those words in the vilest way imaginable.

  Ubel glared down at Mord. “You have a debt to pay, Mord, one that rifts in the webs of our brilliance will not sunder or deny! You will pay this debt, or the Niedrig clan will have Claimance upon Morlin de Plaga and all his heirs, body and soul.”

  Sable sobbed, beautiful features crumpled in despair. “Please, Ubel, there must be some way…” She took a deep breath, smoothing her features, and with the slightest nod she forced herself up, standing proud.

  Jess’s heart pounded from more than just dread. Sable was beautiful. Heartstoppingly beautiful, her piercing eyes and soft lips sure to lance any man’s heart.

  For she had surely lanced Jess’s.

  Slowly she lowered her arms, showing off a body both sensual and supple, lush curves at the peak of ripeness, breasts jutting proudly forward.

  “Anything you want, Ubel. I will be your maiden, your sweet toy that will give you nothing but sharpest bliss, for so long as you attend this school.” She allowed bangs of glossy midnight hair to tumble down, gazing through them like the shyest of nymphs, her smile hinting at a chase she would be eager to lose, showering her captor with endless rapture. “But say the word, master, and I am yours. Just… please...”