Jess crowed with laughter at her familiar's soothing words, feeling a fierce dark exultation embrace her. Flashes of madness and battle flickering across her mind's eye, reminiscent of the fierce, focused state of mind she had before any of Eloquin's tests, the moments before she was to ambush any of a dozen enemy camps, Squires and Aspirants by her side, Mord and Malek the only ones to mirror her fierce, bloodthirsty smile. A time when scenes from a score of her favorite treatises on tactics and strategy would percolate through her awareness, and she would sense just how best to take out her foes. Only now there was more. So much more. Shimmering brilliantly, countless crimson flashes of ancient battles stormed across her mind's eye like a rainstorm of blood.
“Oh god, Jess, your eyes! She’s gone mad, I told you she’s gone mad!" Josie began to sob once more, even as Jess caught Malek’s gaze. Her grin was fierce, brilliant. Her blood sang with the exultation of battle to come.
Malek gazed back at her, dumbstruck, before a mad little smile slowly crept across his features as well.
“Is it time, sister of my heart?”
Her smile blazed with terrible knowing. “It is indeed, shieldbrother! Come, let us show those bastards below what it means to cross the crimson flag!”
“Red flag, what the hell does that mean, Alex?” Jess heard Jera whisper even as she and Malek inspected the weaponry they had seized.
“It’s an old term, Jera. Used by the ones who had unified Erovering during the first era.”
“Then what the hell is Jess talking about?” Josie hissed “We have no banner!”
“Perhaps it is a battle cry of some sort?” Raphael mused.
Jess did her best to tune out her companion's muttering, even as she inspected the javelins, sensing minute flaws in the wood that caused so many wooden shafted weapons to shatter upon impact in the charge. She felt as well the connection, the kinship she had with the grain of the shafts, as she had with all wood. An alliance, of sorts. She gave a satisfied nod, knowing, somehow, that just as no enemy's arrow or spear would ever be allowed to scratch her skin, so too the javelins she communed with wouldn't dare to shatter, no matter the force with which they were used, holding fast to an oath that had endured through all the days that the sun had kissed the sky, through all the seasons that gentle clouds above would caress thirsty soil and tender roots with the promise of life and rebirth, through all the millennium that the sun and stars had spun through the vast heavens above.
“The horse spear and javelins will serve you well, shieldbrother,” Jess assured. “They will not shatter with impact, so use the javelins as light lance. Charge full on, and release. No need to angle the blows for retrieval. We each have half a dozen, and the javelin tip is capped with decent quality steel over iron. It can only hope to penetrate the mail full on, and will hopefully break those bastard's ribs, even if it doesn't punch through."
Malek nodded, extending his arm full out in light lance stance, feeling the weight of the javelin leveraged against his wrist. “I can use it as light lance well enough, shieldsister.” He gave a soft chuckle. “If anything, it almost feels too light, for all that I think a lesser man’s wrist would feel the strain. But you and I have received the gift of strength already from our journeys within the Shadowrealms, have we not, Jess?”
Jessica’s grin was fierce. “Eloquin alone could best us, on the field of battle. We shall show no mercy to these enemies, nor shall we underestimate them.” She turned then to face her companions after mounting her restive destrier, soothing her with a familiar pat, checking the draw of the brace of javelins she had secured to Mercy’s side, the horse spear a familiar weight in her hand.
“Jera, Alex, you two will cover defense and ranged attack. I know how skilled you are with wind walls, Alex; and Jera, even though you have yet to be blooded, I have no doubt you shall be able to release lightning, should our lives depend upon it.”
Alex gave a nervous grin, as if it had only sunk home in that moment the madness they were about to charge into, and as much as his practical side loathed the danger, a part of him was caught up in the thrill of it as well. “Yes, Jess. I’ll have the wind wall well in hand.” He turned to his beloved, smiling gently into her nervous eyes. “I have no doubt Jera can do what must be done. We’ll make sure of a clean strike, away from you and Malek. If any get too close after Jera expends herself, you will all get to see firsthand what a true word of power can do against living opposition.”
“Can you truly use such a word while maintaining your spellweb?” Jera asked, worry and doubt plain upon her face.
Features grim, Alex nodded. "Indeed I can, my love. It will drain me considerably, but I can do it at least once, maybe more, if our lives depend upon it. Even the dark defensive magics of diabolists should fall before a primal word."
Jera nodded, though she still appeared far more shaken than excited. “So we’re really going to do it.” Her words were tinged with disbelief. “We’re really going to battle a dozen heavy cavalry, just as we are.”
Josie began to whimper, even as Raphael held her close, his gaze filled with genuine worry as he looked imploringly at Jess. “Do you really think you can do it?”
Jess grinned fiercely. For some reason Raphael did not look reassured. “You’re damn right we can! This is exactly what Eloquin trained us for. Malek and I, serving as the spear tip in deadly charges, crashing through enemy lines. Our own lances will strike true as death, even as our enemies’ arrows and wooden shafts invariably skew and warp away. Only their steel blades will strike true, but I promise you, Raphael, even steel against steel, Malek and I will emerge triumphant! We shall shatter our enemy’s resolve, picking them off with lance strike after lance strike, then mop up the remainder with shield and mace. Any fool that dares to come at you even while Malek and I harry them will experience firsthand what it means to try to walk through a wind wall summoned by a true adept of the elemental arts, giving you plenty of time to strike them, Jera, and they plenty of time to appreciate the folly of approaching a lightning mage, covered as they are in iron mail!"
Jera flashed a nervous smile as Raphael gave a resolute nod. “Very well, then. Let us do what we must. First, let me see if I can persuade those two fellows Rolin had mentioned to retreat from the field.”
Jess chuckled softly. “Of course, Raphael. Whether by intrigue, beguilement, or a good volley of arrows, whatever softens the enemy’s forces before battle is joined is to be embraced.” Her smile turned cold. “So long as we can be sure they relinquish their crossbows and spears and retreat from the field. I won’t trust them at my back, but if you wish to bribe them gold to retreat from our enemy’s front, I will not gainsay your decision.”
With that, they began their light canter down the long sloping road to Raphael’s family estate, and even as Jess's heart began to race with such an odd mixture of exhilaration and fury she knew not the word to describe it, one glance at her brother-in-arms gave her the immeasurable comfort of knowing that he felt exactly the same.
“Long to short. Blue Crab." Malek nodded even as she described the tactics they were to use. Jess took comfort in the knowledge that he at least was ready, utterly certain that not a word would have to be said, that they would move instinctively as one, riding and fighting as two halves of a greater whole.
Malek turned to Jera. “Strike where the enemy is massed, after Jess and I break through them. We will be doing pincer maneuvers, harrying their periphery. Blast right through their center mass when you feel confident that you can do so without the lightning arcing into us.”
Alex gave a confident nod. “Fear not, Malek. We won’t let you down.”
Jera, however, was pale with anxiety, Jess noted when she turned around instinctively, having sensed the odd pause in her response. “Jera? Are you up to this?” Jess quietly asked.
Jera gazed at her, poleaxed, looking on the verge of tears. Jess shook her head reprovingly. "That's the wrong role for you, sister in arms. You're supposed to grin fie
rcely, secretly exhilarated at the thought of pitting yourself against our hated foes below. Josie's already taken the weeping willow spot of our party. Your role is to be a fierce hellion, just like me."
Jera grinned bravely at Jess’s attempt to make light of their pre-battle jitters, but in her heart of hearts, Jess feared that her dear friend would freeze when they needed her the most. Alex’s furrowed brow made it clear that love aside, he too had doubts about her ability to perform as a combat mage, at least under pressure; afraid, perhaps, of her lightning accidentally arcing and killing an ally.
Jess exchanged a knowing glance with Malek, even as they approached the windswept fields before the magnificent chateau, making out at last with naked eyes the near dozen heavily armed and armored guardsmen even at that moment slowly approaching.
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New plan." Malek's voice was curt, aimed not to carry. "Jera, conserve your strength. Only strike any bastard trying to make his way through Alex's windward. You won't risk hitting any of us, and you'll only be acting to save the lives of poor Raphael and Josie. Can you do that for me, Jera?"
Jera gave a relieved smile even as Jess coldly reformulated her plan, realizing her friend would not blaze forth in the hot crucible of war. Rather, if they were not careful, she would instead shatter like the finest porcelain, exquisite yet fragile creature that she was.
Jess turned her full focus on the armsmen, now only a hundred yards or so away, noting that all of them casually held crossbows in hand, in addition to braces of lances and sabers, also strapped to the sides of their steeds.
“Are you ready, shieldbrother?” Her heart began to race.
“Always!” Malek laughed softly, and Jess realized he too was beginning to feel the battlefrenzy take hold.
As per their agreement, they allowed Raphael to speak even as Jess and Malek cantered forward. Alex, supremely focused, sat ready astride his mare, prepared to snap his protective wards into existence the moment Raphael finished speaking.
“Lord diOnni! It is good of you to have come! Wait just a moment, and we shall escort you to all to the chateau!” Cried out the central figure, he who must be Captain Petrie.
Jess snarled, having no doubt that if he were gazing into her eyes and speaking directly to her, she would feel his malice oozing out of every pour. It was all she could do not to give the call to charge at that very instant.
“Approach no closer, Captain Petrie, for I know you are no friend of mine!" Raphael roared with surprising force. "Well do I know you and your men have taken this chateau hostage, for nefarious reasons of your own! This call is to Timothy and Kilton! I know you are both good men, loyal and true to my family, remembering the bounties and munificence my father has always shown those loyal to the diOnni clan. I ask you both, retreat from this field of battle, this scene of woe! Show that you honor my father's house still. I ask not that you fight against these men, for all that you know that Petrie and his cohorts butchered your allies whilst they tried to flee the chateau's growing corruption. I have no doubt prudence alone kept you in the grips of this place, and I give you a chance to redeem yourselves. With the reward for your steadfastness being nothing less than gold!"
Jess looked back for the barest instant to catch a handful of what only could be gold, glimmering in the sun. Raphael allowed the coins to flash in a small leather purse, even as he twisted the leather strands shut, twirled the small satchel, and sent it flying like a sling, far to their left. Jess was certain a burst of Alex’s masterful wind magics sent the bag bobbing in the air quite a ways before gently settling where all could see it, several hundred yards to their left, with pretty pink streamers marking its location.
“Timothy and Kilton! The last loyal soldiers my father has on this holding. I ask you both only to retreat from the field, claim your gold, and head to my father's demesne in the capital with all haste! Let him know you were both inside agents working on my behalf, there to make a full report, and let him know of my presence here straight away! Fear not, he will not ask you to fruitlessly waste your lives. You will receive only his thanks for coming to warn him. But tell him his third son sent you, and he will double the gold in your pockets!"
Jess gave a slight satisfied smile, almost certain that she saw glances exchanged by two of the peripheral guardsmen at the edge of the half circle slowly approaching them. Jess could hear as well the growing furor of the men, many of their eyes having been caught by the gold-laden bag.
“Fear not for your comrades, for every bolt they would release they would do so against men who have trained alongside them, knowing that the next bolt could be from men they too once thought of as allies. And to shoot at you would give them no bolts left to shoot at us! No one would ever trust them again, a king's bounty will be on their heads for using crossbows, and they must accept that one day, treacherous Captain Petrie will betray them as well! So for the sake of all you hold sacred, take the purse, my friends, and warn my father. Take the gold and race straightaway from this field of betrayal, as honored and loyal soldiers of my House!"
Abruptly, two of their number broke off from the rest, charging towards the bag. “We will warn your father!” Cried one baritone voice. And at that moment Jess gave her ululating war cry, her restive destrier Mercy charging forth almost at a gallop, Malek instantly at her side. Only peripherally did she register the final syllables of Alex’s spell snap into place, feeling the massive spell matrix shimmer into being behind her, protecting her friends in a vast and powerful storm of howling wind, for all the world as if they were in the center of a powerful tornado.
Yet her focus was truly on the feel of her horse spear in hand, holding the weapon couched and ready as she would a heavy knight's lance even as she leaned forward, feet firmly braced in stirrups, perfectly braced for the very moment of impact. And the seconds seemed to stretch as she gazed into the shocked expressions of multiple crossbowmen, gazing at her in surprised disbelief as their bolts shot off at odd angles, seeming almost to flow around the charging Squires, more than one man's expression of shock turning to a painful grimace as the crossbows themselves warped and broke in their hands.
Time seemed to slow even further as her gaze locked upon the man before her, as her body registered the instant of shock and impact, resistance that gave away almost instantly, her brutal spear tearing right through the man's shirt of mail, front and back, impaling him straight through. In a single graceful movement Jess released her lance and leaned away as the man toppled off his panicked steed, hands desperately grasping at the spear that had impaled him.
Even as her dying foe was crashing to the ground, Jess was already pulling free a throwing javelin, bracing it just as she would her estoc, adroitly reigning Mercy about and preparing herself for a second charge into the suddenly milling mass of her enemies.
A single glance, but she already knew. Malek beside her, his body arched forward, arm bent slightly, yet holding one of his own javelins straight out in line with his helmet, the entire motion extending his reach and allowing for maximum power the instant before he struck. Jess and her shieldbrother moved as one, turning about in a tight arc, intuitively sensing the milling mass of heavy cavalry recovering from their charge, catching sight of crossbows flung away as sabers or javelins were grabbed, one or two men thinking to arm themselves as well with shields secured to their mount's sides.
Without a word being said they chose their target in unison, Jess leading the charge as they aimed for the rightmost horseman of the milling mass, still pivoting his startled horse around. Lost in battlefrenzy, time had continued its curious distortion, and Jess imagined she could almost see the individual droplets of sweat fly off the brow of the panicked soldier as they rapidly closed the distance. Only at the last moment did the guardsman manage to unsheathe his sword as Jess leaned forward, extending her own precisely held javelin, elbow bent slightly even as she stiffened her body for impact, catching only an instant of the man's surprised gasp as her javelin blasted through her foe
's chest.
She felt the moment of shock, of webbed resistance, the crunch and give of ruptured rivets and shattered ribs, feeling the javelin burst through, abruptly relaxing her arm and releasing the weapon even as her foe collapsed from his horse, eyes wide open with deathly shock, blood spraying from nose and mouth. A maneuver she had practiced hundreds of times in the past, her hands knew all too well how to skewer a live opponent, even when her mind shied away from the bloodsoaked horrors Eloquin's dark missions so often became.
Her psyche might choose to ignore the stains upon her soul, but her body forever remembered.
And Jess raced on past the man newly crashed to the ground, hand still spasming upon his weapon hilt, Malek by her side. As one they led the mass of shouting soldiers helplessly racing behind them on a merry chase, pulling so far ahead as they raced about in a vast circle that they were able to abruptly pivot upon their battle-trained destriers, so prized for their agility and power, and charge straight into the flanks of the rearmost soldiers once more.
Jess and Malek exchanged fierce grins, words unnecessary, once more holding their javelins like lances, secure in their own terrible strength and the strength of the wood in their hands, roaring like hellions as they gazed into the frightened eyes of soldiers they had so expertly maneuvered around, impaling their enemies with javelins in unison, Jess giving point high and Malek low, so that when a shield was desperately raised to intercept, her shieldbrother’s makeshift lance would plunge deep into exposed belly, the enemy able only to gasp as he crashed from his horse, plummeting to the hoof torn hearth below.
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