No few of the students saluted a suddenly blushing Jess, even as Neal, his sandy hair blowing in the gentle breeze, flashed her a cheeky grin. “Not all of us forgot what happened that night we almost lost our school to nightmare, Jess.” Jess was humbled to see most of the third and fourth years nodding solemnly. “We learned enough from hearing of your adventures, from studying the plight of Delvers, to know to record our memories of that crazy waking dream once you had used your magic to slap us awake, whereupon we formed up under Eloquin and routed those snakes still scurrying about our school before they could butcher everyone still trapped in dreams. Of course, our quills didn't touch parchment 'til our blades had pierced the last of those craven beasts, but rest assured, our accounts were transcribed in full before we dared lay our heads to pillows and let nod take all memory away.”
Jess felt herself flushing, so many gazes staring at her so intently. “We don’t talk about it much, but we all know it was you who saved our backsides, that day.”
Arlen, a fellow fourth year, nodded. “We somehow found ourselves fighting invaders cloaked in shadowy armor in that dream, and our blades were of no avail. It was only you with your crimson blade and Malek with his magics that had any effect on them. You two led the vanguard, and killed their leader. Without you both, we'd all be dead."
As one the entire class saluted. "To Jess and Malek, shieldbrothers and Delvers of Highrock! Today we are going to crush those damn Aspirants, and claim victory in your honor!"
Jess found herself utterly speechless, gazing at all her peers dressed in their battle armor, helmets by their sides, hair blowing freely in the autumn breeze, their fierce gazes filled with an adoration that sent her heart racing. Awed, humbled, and feeling acutely unworthy. She couldn’t hold back the tears, even as she felt herself grinning like a fool. More than one of her comrades in arms visibly winced, taking in how badly she had been beaten. She heard more than one student mutter about breaking a certain deserving knight in training.
“There will be none of that!” Eloquin sharply reprimanded. “A duel of honor was fought, and as devious and underhanded as Jessica’s foe was, the duel has been resolved, and it would impinge all our honor to seek retribution.” He flashed a grim smile. “However, should any of you see Mord or his allies attempt to approach or hinder Jess or Malek in any way, I am utterly confident you will do everything in your power to protect your friends from a foe they are under oath not to strike, as helpless before him as we were in nightmare, before Jess and Malek came to our aid.”
Neal nodded fiercely. “Yes, Commander Eloquin.” He turned to address the students he would shortly be leading to battle. “Today, we fight for our shieldbrother and sister! We will crush those damn Aspirants, in their honor! And if we see Mord or his allies approach our friends, we will make them pay most dearly for their transgressions.”
Eloquin smiled grimly. "Nothing fatal, Neal. And no one will strike, save in defense of our own. I will not see Highrock or her future commanders weakened by blood-feuds."
Neal snapped a salute, though his gaze normally friendly gaze was quite fierce. “Yes, Lord Eloquin. To me, men! To victory, this day, in Jessica’s honor! Let’s bruise those bastards just as badly as they bruised our sister!”
As one they bowed before Jess, causing her to flush once more, feeling utterly unworthy of being paid such respect, before hopping astride their destriers and trotting over to the tournament field proper, to await the main event of the day, wherein the college’s most elite students would engage in general melee; the future knights of Erovering squaring off against the nation’s future elite tacticians, Squires of War who owed allegiance to none save Erovering herself, ever ready to do battle against all foes, against all odds, at the king's command.
“We’re going to crush them, Jess,” Malek assured fiercely. “Just you wait.”
Jess flashed a tired smile. “I certainly hope so, Malek,” she said, even as Eloquin placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Do you feel strong enough to watch?” her commander’s iron voice was oddly gentle.
Jess smiled, touched by his concern. "Yes, Lord Eloquin. I would love to watch."
Eloquin nodded “Come, Jess. Malek. Let’s bear witness.” With that, their commander led them to the heart of the vast field just beyond the college proper, and Jess was left breathless at the spectacle of hundreds of observers patiently awaiting the grand melee about to commence, spotting no few lords and other esteemed guests among the assembled masses, most comfortably seated upon wooden stands rarely used save for events such as these.
Jess was both captivated by the spectacle and splendor of it all, enjoying the sights and sounds of the pageantry; various musicians strumming or singing what she could tell from Malek’s hum and smile was a sprightly tune as the contestants for the general melee prepared themselves.
“Of course I don't have to tell you that, unlike your peers, it is best you do not pump your fists in salute, or otherwise do anything that could be deemed as signaling your fellows," Eloquin advised.
Malek grimaced. "Lord Hyve again? Bad enough he doesn't want us crushing his damn Aspirants, using the pretext of our Delver's strength to get us excluded from the tournament, but using that as an excuse to say that we can't even advise our fellows, purely as commanders signaling from a distance?" Malek shook his head. "That's just low."
“You will show the professors of this institution respect at all times, whether or not you agree with them." Eloquin's voice was soft with warning. Jess shivered. Malek grimaced in apology.
“My apologies for speaking out of turn, sir," Malek apologized.
Eloquin flashed a humorless grin. “You will note I did not dispute your assertions, young Malek. But they are points to be raised by and between professors of equal station in discrete circumstances, not bandied about in front of the school entire, where rumors and loss of face will only cause rifts and discord where there was none before.”
“Yes, Lord Eloquin,” A chagrined Malek concurred.
Eloquin nodded, clapping them both gently on the shoulder. "The Horn of Challenge has been blown. Now focus on the melee, and take careful note of all you see. Jess? If your hip or other injuries pain you, let me know, and I shall escort you back to your quarters."
Jess blushed and nodded, sincerely touched by the gesture, that her commander would risk missing out on the culmination of his teaching over the entire year, seeing his students perform in this sacred contest, all for her sake. She resolved to herself that she would grin and bear it, no matter how her body throbbed, at least until the very end.
The rules of the contest below were simple. Both teams had a flag born by their captains that the winner would gather upon defeating said captain, or by besting three fourths of their opponents. Captains generally shouted out their orders, though of course Eloquin’s protégés had all been taught the tactician’s hand signals, also quite useful for leading troops, passing information discretely, and quickly signaling commands over long distance from one vantage point to another. Generally, however, in the mad press of melee, commands were shouted out.
Jess observed how Erica, quite the tactician herself, was positioned in the heart of their forces, hand signals quickly conveying that she was to be protected at all costs.
Jess saw how Erica and Neal exchanged nods, and no doubt Neal would take control of a portion of their men, even if Erica was to be their designated captain who held the flag.
Jess and Malek exchanged knowing grins as their teammates prepared themselves, both well aware of the intricacies of this particular play.
The crowd roared as the melee began, and Jess was glad the grounds were such that the contest took place in a slight dip in the field so that the spectators observing from above had a better view of the melee in all its madness and glory.
Jess could hear Erica give out commands even as she saw Neal signal, a squadron of four she knew to be excellent swordsmen breaking free of their main group, ostens
ibly to harry the knightly forces and look for weaknesses in their formation. It was a role Jess and Malek had taken to with exquisite relish, having used their own squad to deadly effect, crippling their opponent’s formation and maneuverability, wedging out their enemy’s leader, and allowing their team to seize the flag and victory every year they had attended.
Jess felt her heart race in excitement, her tactician’s eyes having already seized upon the likely candidate for their opponent’s elected captain, and wondering if Erica or Neal would make out their target in time for their risky gambit without Jess to spot for them. She couldn’t help but wonder as well how their harrying squadron would fair without her and Malek’s blades there to guard their backs.
And then one Knight Aspirant in particular broke free of the host, charging at the squadron of four as they moved to flank around him.
She felt a sickening lurch in her gut when she recognized Mord, roaring incoherently even from here, his blade whipping out in fierce overhand blows, pounding away at her teammates with a savage fury. Jess sucked her breath in sudden alarm when not one, but two of her fellows cried yield and stumbled to the ground, even as Mord continued to hammer blows upon their upraised arms, till a whistle blew and angry yells from what could only be Lord Hyve himself snapped Mord out of it. Without a moment's remorse, he turned to face the other two members of the squad of four who shouted something at him that caused Mord to curse, before the pair darted away from him.
Jess gave a relieved sigh at seeing her two fallen teammates get up of their own volition and make their way out of the pit under the white flag, their harrying squad of four having been neatly broken before they could even begin their probe, thanks to one Mord de Plaga. Or so it seemed.
And even as Mord shouted at Lord Hyve before taking it upon himself to chase down the other two members of that squadron, which Jess now saw were waiting for him, Jess witnessed Erica shouting out a quick command, formally splitting her forces in two; one half engaging the forward units of their knightly opponents, even as the other half, led by Neal, still flashing some final hand signals to Erica, hammered into their enemy's vulnerable flank, the lynchpin of their formation opened when their most powerful defender, Mord, had broken free of his fellows to chase down that squad of four.
Jess chuckled softly to herself, wondering if Mord realized yet that the squad of four that had been sent out, ostensibly to probe and exploit weaknesses in the enemy formation much as Jess and Malek used to do, had in fact been a feint. And one that had deliberately gone right past Mord, who had been perfectly led into that trap.
Jess and Malek exchanged fierce grins, even as Eloquin’s commanders in training, now utterly committed to their offensive gambit, flanked and cracked Lord Hyve's would be knights in their deadly vice, for all that Erica herself was now dangerously exposed, with but a handful of Squires defending her. Yet the battle was far from over, Jess saw. Mord was doing his utmost to make up for in savage fury what he had lacked in forethought and prudence, lashing out with fierce overhand blows at his opponent's openings at every opportunity, and Neal was forced to quickly whistle orders even as Erica shouted commands to contain him, a near futile prospect Jess saw, so lost her enemy was in his mad frenzy.
“Bloody Hells, Jess. Mord fights like a madman,” Malek whispered angrily.
Jess nodded. “He does, Malek. He does.” The sight chilled her. She wondered if that was what she and Malek had looked like when they had taken on all of their peers under Eloquin’s watchful eye, but a handful of days before.
Jess noted with a surreptitious glance that the significance of Mord’s fury was not lost on Eloquin either. His cool gaze froze the words she would utter upon her tongue. Very well, then. She wouldn’t say aloud that Mord fought like Malek and Jess at their maddest, under the very same lord who had moved to have Malek and Jess excluded from the contest.
Eloquin gave the slightest of nods. Good. He saw it too. “Keep an eye on the contest at hand, Jess. Look to your peers, not me.”
Chagrined, Jess did just that, and blinked, awed and gratified by the sight before her.
“Will you look at that,” Malek said softly.
Jess shook her head and grinned, even as the breathless crowd suddenly cheered.
And instantly, Jess understood. Neal had done it. Pulled victory from near defeat, even as his blade was by the enemy commander’s throat, forcing his mock surrender. Somehow, he had known to account for Mord’s inhuman savagery, Erica having cried out for them to split their forces, not only to break through enemy lines, to surround and counter, but also to buy Neal enough time to lead his own squad into the heart of his enemy’s troops and ‘capture the king’ so to speak; a bolder maneuver than their opponents realized at that moment, for reasons that would soon become apparent. Yet Neal had done it, wresting control of the enemy’s nominated leader, and seizing the knightly flag. And so the match was won.
And just in time, as far as Jess was concerned, for Mord had just broken through the ring of men protecting Erica, even as the overseer blew sharply on his whistle, declaring the fight over.
The crowd roared as Neal held up his enemy’s flag in triumph, Jess and Malek roaring right along with them. The feeling of victory, fierce and sweet, buoyed Jess up on a cloud of happiness; all feelings of pain and humiliation easing away as if they had never been.
Then Jess’s eyes caught the flash of steel an instant before her ears heard the clang, and she saw Erica collapse to the ground, even as Mord hammered his sword, thunderstrike style, into her thrashing body with a fierce, terrible savagery. And he continued to do so even as the overseer shrieked his whistle. And he continued to do so even as Jess felt herself, bruises and cracked bones suddenly irrelevant, moving toward the mad melee even as a fierce grip held her in place.
“He’s killing her!” Jess shouted in protest.
“No, Jessica de Calenbry. You will not go down there dressed in nothing but bandages and robes,” Eloquin reproved fiercely, even as Twilight hissed and nipped Jess’s earlobe.
“Ouch, Twilight!”
“Don’t be stupid, mistress!” Twilight caustically replied. “You are as damaged as you have been since time immemorial, defenseless as a kitten, and easy prey for your enemy below. Do not fall into his trap if that is what this is, Jezabelle!”
“But he’s hurting Erica! Deliberately!” Jess cried.
“Be still!” Eloquin roared. “I will not lose you to that man’s machinations, whatever they may be.”
Eloquin's fierce command froze her in her tracks, even as she saw that there was no need for her to step closer, Mord having been grappled to the ground by Aspirants and Squires alike, even as healers were cried out for, and space was made for the fallen Erica.
Jess felt her heart lurch as she gazed at her teammate and friend, her body splayed and unmoving.
And, much to Jessica’s shock, it was Mord crying foul.
“Bloody hells. What is that fool yelling about?” Malek cursed.
Jess felt her lip curl upwards into a snarl. “Twilight says he is protesting the fight being called. He says that precedent has it that once the opposing leader is engaged, the fight can’t be called, that if he was able to grab the opposing leader’s flag, then the fight would be considered a draw.”
Malek hissed. “He wasn’t trying to grab any damn flag. He was thunderstriking poor Erica, trying to break her.”
Jess nodded, not sure her eyes were leaking hot tears out of fear for Erica, or fury. “I know. The smug bastard is pointing out how I thunderstruck their captain before seizing his flag during year one, claiming that there is precedent.”
Malek looked outraged. "That bastard had started hammering you with a flanged mace, an illegal maneuver he had done deliberately, because even if he had been disqualified as captain, the flag would not have been seized if he had beaten you back, and technically the melee would have been a draw. How that bastard had even gotten permission to carry such a weapon is beyond me. Y
ou had half-sworded to parry, and wrenched free his weapon, then slammed his helmet with your hilt. I remember the damn fight like it was yesterday! That was hardly a thunderstrike!"
Jess gazed at the scene playing out below with mounting disbelief. “It doesn’t matter. Twilight says Lord Hyve is choosing to go along with Mord’s interpretation.”
“Bloody hells! He was trying to beat poor Erica half to death, just like he had been beating you, simply because the bastard hates it when anyone gets the better of him! He knew damn well he had been outfoxed, and just wanted to make Erica bleed for it.”
Jess snarled. “That bastard has to pay.”
“And pay he shall,” whispered a voice as cold as the frigid blackness beyond which light would never shine. “But I did not spend years looking after you just to have you fall prey to his traps, and twice in one day! You will not be baited into breaking your oath!” Twilight’s sapphire gaze left Jess breathless, distant stars she gazed upon while lost in the freezing depths of endless night. She shuddered and looked away.
“I know, Twilight. Damn it, I know.”
She felt Eloquin's gentle grip become firm, hissing at the pain in her much-abused shoulder. "Stay." A single word, an inviolate command. With that, Eloquin proceeded at his own grim pace down to the scene playing out below, even as both Mord and Lord Hyve roared their protests at the overseer, while men dressed in the white robes of healers gently tended to poor broken Erica.
Outrageously, Lord Hyve himself abruptly shoved aside one of the healers when they didn't listen to his peremptory commands, roughly patting down Erica's still armored form, ignoring her cries of pain while looking for the flag he expected to find upon her, no doubt, and coming up empty handed even as Lord Eloquin approached.
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