Faerie's Champion

by M. H. Johnson

  Within moments Twilight was before her parent’s door, his eyes conveying to Jess exactly what she needed to do. Sighing, Jess gently stroked the door with her ghostly hands, though it was some moments before the door grudgingly opened for her. Jess certain this was due to her own ambivalence. This was, after all, her parent's room, for all that their great house was in the most visceral sense, hers. Almost a part of her. Jess carefully refrained from focusing her gaze on her parents, who were sleeping softly. Jess felt of a sudden acutely embarrassed, almost as if she were an interloper gazing upon them.

  “Jess, do you remember specifically what you had promised your mother?”

  Jess nodded. “That I would obey father’s edicts regarding my artifacts.”

  “Correct. And do you recall the point your father had conceded those many weeks ago?”

  Jess smiled. “That it was all right if I reclaimed my artifacts in my dreams, if nowhere else.”

  “And do you doubt at all that right now you are in the Dreamrealms?”

  Jess shook her head. "We are definitely in the realm of dreams, just at right angles to our own world, for all that we moved in a direction no navigator could possibly understand."

  "Yet on some level, you do understand." Twilight nodded, flashing his own feline grin. "And just as mistletoe ceremoniously clipped at midnight retains its mystical potency the next day, just as coin earned on workdays is yours to spend even on feastdays, so too it is true that artifacts justly claimed in your dreams are no less yours by right, fully reclaimed, when sun's gentle rays touch upon our garden once more, and you awaken in full."

  Jess nodded. “So the question is, will the oaken cabinet containing my artifacts, warded shut by my will, open equally at my command in the Dreamrealms. And if so, can I don my mithril mail and leathers once more?”

  "That is the question. For the artifacts themselves, though more vital and potent than any mundane weapon, are still artifacts of Regio, and should you wish it badly enough, they will answer your call. Of that, I have no doubt. And as to the gambeson and lamellar armor you have trained in for so many years, to the point that the very leather has taken in and absorbed traces of your sweat, your blood, your very essence, all of this gives even your mundane gear a potent arcane connection to you. One could argue that they are, in a sense, a part of you. Let us put that theory to the test, shall we?"

  Jess felt her heart race, exhilarated with the prospect of reclaiming her treasures once more. Though she ached for her parents' approval, her mithril artifacts were as much a part of her as her own flesh and blood. This she felt in her heart of hearts, so strongly did they resonate with her soul. Armor pristine and perfect, blade exquisitely balanced, forged in fires of a heat and intensity beyond mortal ken, created endless ages ago. Only her father's troubled gaze had compelled her promise, and she had almost been too distraught to wheedle a promise of her own from her father. So this was the test upon which it all rode, for she would refuse to break her oath outright. If she could reclaim her artifacts in the realm of dreams, reclaim them she would. If not, she would leave empty handed.

  Heart hammering with fear and hope, Jess’s trembling hands proceeded to gently stroke the lock on her sealed strongbox. Half expecting it to ignore her plea, Jess had girded herself, her hope a furious burning beacon of light glowing through her.

  Much to her surprise, the strongbox popped open almost before she had touched it, vibrating with the force of its opening. Jess stumbled back, even as she heard her mother mumble fitfully in her sleep.

  “Quietly!” Twilight hissed.

  “I know that! Don’t you think I know that?” Jess snapped.

  Her familiar sighed. “It would be a very awkward thing if your mother woke up just now, you know.”

  “I know! Now shut up, and let me see if I can actually touch my blade once more.” Hungrily, Jess reached down for her blade, exotic scabbard glowing luminously in the reflected moonlight. Her hand stopped, palm wide, fingers outstretched, just before she would be able to touch it, suddenly afraid.

  “What are you waiting for?” Her familiar demanded.

  “I’m… afraid. What if it doesn’t work?”

  “Then we lose nothing. At least we know that only in mortal peril can you break the barrier between the realm of mundus and dream. Come, Jess. Your mother always was a light sleeper, and I do believe she is more aware of things than she lets on. Sometimes I think she halfway senses me, even though she’s careful not to let on that she does. Let’s hurry up!”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised, Twilight. She is at least as perceptive as Father, and holds her cards and insights close.” Jess reached out with painful slowness, shaking with tension from the intense knot of hope and dread roiling through her. She gently stroked with her fingers the place where the hilt would be if she could but touch it.

  And with an almost crushing sense of relief, Jess closed her grasp tightly about the hilt of her mithril blade, hand resting snug against the pommel, as real to her grip as anything had ever been.

  “Thank the angels,” Jess whispered reverently.

  “Yes. Very well done. Now quickly, don your armaments!”

  And as quickly and expertly as she ever had, Jess took off her ethereal night robe and dressed in her battle gear, sweat stained gambeson as real to her fingertips as her artifact of legend. Next, she donned her lamellar, boiled plates of rawhide steeped in years of blood, sweat, tears of victory and pain. It was curiously solid against her ghostly frame. Her mithril hauberk, helm, and gauntlets she donned last of all.

  All of it was as real and vibrant to her touch as it would have been under the light of the morning sun. Even as Jess secured her mithril gauntlets, she flashed her familiar an exultant grin. “We did it!”

  Only then did her mother begin to wake in earnest, blinking her eyes, gazing first at her husband before her gaze began to wander about the room.

  "Quickly!" Twilight hissed, and with a burst of panicked will, Jess silently screamed at the oaken strongbox to close itself once more. Enthusiastically it did so, with a slam so loud that Jess's father also began to awaken.

  “Bloody hells!” Jess hissed, darting to the side of the bed with her familiar, hoping fervently that her parents couldn’t hear her armor’s slight rustle as thousands of interlocking rings of mithril softly rubbed against each other.

  “My love, did you hear that?” Agda whispered curtly to her husband, who murmured, still half asleep.

  “What’s that, my love?” Arthur gave a mighty yawn, clearly exhausted, having been woken from his rest.

  “I’m not sure, but I thought I heard something.”

  “Shall I ring for the guard, love?” Arthur queried, suddenly fully awake and very serious, gripping and drawing free the sheathed blade at the side of the bed in one smooth movement, even as he rolled to his feet and took a quick but thorough study of the room, eyes seeming to pass right over Jess, curled in a sheepish ball right by her father’s feet.

  “This is ridiculous,” Twilight quipped.

  “Well I didn’t think he’d get up and almost stumble atop of me!” Jess hissed.

  “Jessica? Is that you? It's all right if you had a bad dream and wish to sleep in here. Just remember to knock, my child. Are you there, Jess?” Arthur looked back at his wife. “Our door is open. I could almost swear that I closed it last night.” With that Jess’s father rang for the guards even as he continued to carefully search the room, Jess and Twilight darting through the open door at a full sprint the moment her father's back was turned.

  For all that Jess was supposedly dreaming, having successfully donned her most precious prize, she had no desire to take the chance that her father's eagle eyes would catch some measure of her afterimage, or even worse, a suit of ghostly armaments worn without apparent body underneath, racing for his daughter's room. For such a disaster would certainly provoke any number of inconvenient questions in the morning.

  "Well, that went about as horribly as it c
ould, while still being completely successful. Well done. Sort of," Twilight commented, gazing at his fully armed and armored mistress, sparkling brilliantly under the moonlight in her full mithril regalia.

  Jess sighed. “I already told you, I didn’t expect the chest to open quite so enthusiastically, or close so loudly! Frankly, I’m just glad it worked.” Jess patted her armaments happily. “It's so good to have my mithril back.”

  Twilight nodded. “To say nothing of the fact it's admirably useful when it comes to battling various inhuman nightmares that seek to break through the boundaries between Shadow and mundus, from time to time.” Twilight sighed, gazing reflectively at his mistress. “Let's just hope your parents don’t ask you to unlock the oaken chest that only you have the ability to open before we leave, or things might get just a bit… awkward.”

  Jess grinned sheepishly. "Well, we did get it back fair and square, in the realm of dreams."

  Twilight arched an eyebrow.

  "I know. Bad scene if it happens," Jess conceded, gazing down at her thick boots of boiled rawhide reinforced with hammer hardened greaves of bronze, her brilliant mithril hauberk coming down only as far as her knees, her shins relying on more mundane protection. "The only bright side to Morlekai not seeing me again before I'm off to the Academy. I won't be expected to open the chest to retrieve my armaments for sparring with Morlekai that suddenly aren't there. All right, Twilight, what happens now?"

  “What happens now, my mistress, is you got back to sleep and dream sweet dreams about unraveling strange mysteries at the Academy. And when you awaken, your artifacts should remain safe and sound in the realm of dreams.”

  And much to Jess's relief, such was exactly what had occurred, with her familiar's assurance that her artifacts would be available to her whenever she entered the Shadowrealms. Only later, mind refreshed and wide awake, did Jess think to ask how she was to reclaim her armaments to use once more in the waking world.

  Twilight shrugged.

  “We’ll work on that. But rest assured, they are safe and beyond anyone’s reach where they are, and no doubt your blade will come to you in times of need.”

  "That doesn't really inspire confidence, Twilight," Jess said, ignoring her sister's curious look, her familiar far too preoccupied daintily eating his poached masterpiece to pay further attention to Jess, or so his posture clearly implied. Jess had then shaken her head, determined to savor her mother's delicious homemade crepes, knowing it might be quite some time before she would have them again.

  And, Jess thought with some satisfaction sometime later as their gilded carriage made its steady way to the Academy, even as she posed demurely under her mother’s careful gaze while her sister tried fruitlessly to beat their mother at cards, her parents never did get around to asking her to open the oaken strongbox, just to be sure the artifacts were still there.

  9

  “My, lady Agda, it is so good to see you! And these delightful young women would be your daughters Jessica and Appolonia? A pleasure, darlings. I have no doubt that you will both fit in quite splendidly at the Academy.”

  This from a rather stoutly built middle aged women of obvious noble birth who, despite her excellent posture and exquisitely coiffed hair of iron gray, wore a simple dress of charcoal hue which Jess was to learn was, in fact, the typical school instructor's uniform. Appolonia, well versed in matters of etiquette, immediately dipped into an exaggerated curtsy, earning the smallest of nods from the prim matron greeting them, Jess cracking an amused smile until her mother's glare made it quite clear she was expected to follow suit.

  The matron’s cool gaze when Jess hesitated made it quite clear this lady was not one to tolerate anything save utter deference, and Jess had a sudden terrible flash of how truly long and dreadful the semester ahead was looking. And then she remembered. Whether it was stuck in the Dreamrealms for the moment or no, she once again had access to her prized artifacts, a contemplation that brought a relieved grin to her cheeks.

  For the briefest of moments Jess contemplated tearing off her skirt and just running as fast and far away as she could, and the hell with all politics, intrigue, and overbearing family expectations. Her mother’s suddenly widened gaze made it quite clear that she sensed something along those lines flashing through her wayward daughter’s head, and perhaps she should have made a more careful investigation as to the cause of the strange thumps she had heard in the master bedroom some nights back.

  “Jessica!” Her mother mouthed fiercely if silently, even as Apple gave her sister a sharp elbow to the sternum

  “Mystery, secret mission. Maintain cover.” Her sister whispered curtly, at last bringing Jess back to her senses. With a deep breath, Jess forced her head down in a soldier's nod among equals. Cold gray eyes widened in momentary outrage, though Jess's glare made it clear that she would not budge. Perhaps the woman sensed something of her fierce resolve, Jess thought, before suddenly recalling how her bed had once listened in on house staff whispering as to how her crimson eyes seemed to peer into a man's soul at times, just as she had drifted off to sleep. That had been a night of odd and chilling dreams indeed. Whatever the reason, the matron before them did not press Jess further, merely resigning herself to a single disdainful sniff.

  "I see will have our work cut out for us," the matron said at last. "Fear not, baroness. You did the right thing, bringing your lovely daughters under the care of our fine institution. We shall polish their virtues and soften any rough edges, so all may see the true beauty and grace of your beautiful roses, as they blossom into their full glory under our attentive care."

  "Oh, I have no doubt of that, Lady Obelia," Agda assured. "I have heard nothing but high praise in regards both to the exquisite quality of education as well as for the patience of the dedicated staff.”

  Obelia dipped her head respectfully low. "Indeed, Baroness Agda de Calenbry. We pride ourselves in being both gentle with our charges, yet firm in our expectations, so all the young dears brought into our bosom will bloom to their fullest potential, no matter how delicate their constitution, or firm their temperament." The last point was clearly stated for Jess's benefit, her mother nodding in approval.

  “Come, my dears. Let me show you to your new quarters where we can speak at greater length of the goals and expectations we have for you.

  "Thank you, Lady Obelia," Apple said demurely, head down, though Jess could sense her grin. Her sister would enjoy whatever games of etiquette and intrigue were to be found at this academy, that much was clear. Jess blinked, as it suddenly hit her. "Wait, Apple's joining me?"

  Her mother shook her head and sighed. "Well of course you two are attending together, dear. Please tell me you weren't so self-involved that you failed to notice that your bags were not the only ones being packed and loaded on our carriage?"

  Jess’s sudden flush made it quite clear that she hadn’t noticed at all, though to be fair she had been preoccupied with anxiety regarding what lay in store for her, as well as heartfelt relief in having reobtained her most prized treasures, right from under her parents' noses, in an act she only felt the tiniest bit guilty about, while at the same time already missing her co-conspirator.

  “I’m sorry, Jess,” Twilight had purred that final night, curled up against her. “As I said before, I’ve kept my paw out of politics for longer than has been prudent, as much as I enjoyed a break from the game. The situation with Kipu was a nasty one, and with the powers that be paying far too much attention to our clan, it behooves us that someone keep an eye on them in turn.”

  “But you just got back,” Jess pouted, stroking her familiar's ebony fur, so luxurious to the touch.

  Twilight nodded. "More pieces are in play than we realized, I fear," he said after a thoughtful pause. "No, Jess, do not fret. No need to cease tending to my luxurious fur. Rest assured, I am getting a sense for how the game shall unfold, but I have a number prospects I must keep under close watch, for now." He sighed. "In truth, my mistress, I wouldn't have retur
ned until I was fully cognizant of what we might be up against, were recovering your treasures not of vital import before attending this school, so you would not be utterly defenseless when entering the Academy your parents have been compelled to send you to."

  Jess's eyebrow lifted at that. “I was afraid of that. For all that they had painted it in such enthusiastic terms, I had the feeling that my parents had little say in where I was going.” She frowned at that. “Which might mean absolutely anything could happen, or nothing at all. I don't suppose you know what I should expect?”

  "I'm afraid not, Jess, but that is one of the things I intend to look into while I'm gone, I assure you."

  “And it helps that your targets can’t see you,” Jess noted, gently scratching his favorite spots as they said their goodbyes once more.

  Her familiar grinned. “There is something exquisitely delightful about stalking prey that can neither see nor hear you.” He sighed. “Of course, disemboweling our enemies is out of the question, but I shall certainly make note of any that are foolish enough to reveal foul intentions before me. But please do not fret. I will not be gone so long this time, and you need never fear, for I shall always be able to find you.”

  Jess had given his furry head a gentle kiss before drifting off that night, though playful fantasies of him playing spades with the king and queen had helped keep her amused during the days long carriage ride to the very academy they were presently touring, Lady Obelia providing a running commentary in regards to the goings on of the various classes they passed, as often as not filled with demure looking young women possessed of empty eyes and vapid smiles, even as they mastered the fine arts of needlepoint, song, portraiture, poetry, history, and etiquette.

  "In all, you will find we provide our young charges with a most excellent and well-rounded education that will serve them well, both at Court, and in the most sophisticated of galas and drawing rooms," Obelia assured them.