Both of them howled with the delight and terror of battle lust even as they pivoted around yet again, picking off their enemies, one by one, their javelins tearing into their foes in perfect unison that no soldier could hope to counter, the rare saber swing their dying foes managed adroitly parried by Jessica's expert shield work, and only once did she have to clamp Mercy's flank extra tightly to maintain her balance, parrying a fierce dying blow even as she impaled the desperate soldier with her final javelin.
It had been a close thing, yet the instant of terror did not deter Jess. Nor did she count on her armor alone. She fought as if she wore nothing, and skill alone would save her. For she knew that death awaited between each and every heartbeat, and she must always remain vigilant and fierce against enemies both seen and unseen, if she hoped to make it to her next breath in the heat of battle.
“Jess! Our friends!” Malek’s voice snapped out, Jess feeling a sudden surge of dread course through her, heightening her battle intensity to an almost panicked degree as she turned about to see that the surviving armsmen had broken away from them, desperately attempting to penetrate the wind wall Alex still gamely held as the soldiers tried to charge through.
Javelins gone, Jess drew her estoc, and with a shared battle cry, the two galloped for the enemies gamely pushing through Alex's fierce winds. They charged straight on, for they had no intention of harrying any further, with their enemy so close to breaking through Alex's wards.
The screech of steel on steel. A moment's resistance, then the sickening give, as Jessica's estoc plunged completely through her enemy. A deathly gasp, her foe's body seizing fiercely against her blade. Yet such was fine. No angled death and quick withdraw intended here with the specialized weapon. Instead she released it even as her enemy collapsed, Jess immediately grabbing hold of her flanged mace as her horse smashed into the milling group of enemy soldiers all striving to push through a grimly focused Alex's wall of wind.
Jess's heart pounded with battle fury as her mace whipped out in hammering arcs, smashing with furious abandon into the confused mass of helmets and bodies before her. Even as her frenzy grew all the hotter, Jess still possessed the long ingrained instincts to parry poorly angled saber slashes even as her mace shattered shoulder blades and dented helmets, mail of little protection against the weapon’s percussive force, heightened by Jessica’s terrible fury.
She roared then, a roar echoed by her brother-in-arms, and she almost fancied the surviving soldiers shaking in their boots, their awkwardly angled saber strikes flimsy replies against a mithril laden hellion, her pounding rebuttals sending them collapsing from their steeds, flanged mace spraying blood as she smashed in the cheeks and faces of her panicked foes with expertly angled blows. Both consumed by battle-madness and utterly attuned to her foes, it was as if she could sense her enemies' furious swings and desperate counters before they made them.
It was then that Jess felt as much as heard the furious grunt of the man but an instant away from ramming his weapon into her side, even as his steed crashed into her own.
A hiss and twist. His furious thrust tearing through the air where she and her destrier had been but an instant before, Jess and her horse somehow moving in that instant as one. By pure deadly instinct she lashed out with her own shield to catch and force her opponent’s blade down the very instant he pivoted around, desperate to retain the Vor, his panicked backswing just a hair off angle, countered with the slightest pivot. Jess smiled savagely when her foe saw his own death in her gaze. With arm overextended, shield slammed low, he was vulnerable in the moment their eyes connected and Jess took fierce, deadly advantage; pounding the screaming soldier’s helmet in with a reign of frenzied strikes, the man’s panicked features instantly distorting, a crimson spray soaking her front as his helm warped like tin before her furious onslaught.
Jess roared challenge even as she angled her horse away from the collapsing soldier's mount, the coppery tang of blood rich in her throat, her hot-eyed gaze looking for the next victim to fall to her ever-deepening frenzy.
“Jess!” The voices simultaneously roared out. The sharp warning hiss of her familiar, ever present and watching her back, even when she was too lost in battlefrenzy to otherwise respond, and Malek, her beloved brother-in-arms, roaring his warning, terrified that he was somehow too late.
And Jess laughed. For somehow she had sensed the brutal thrust of the charging man behind her, understood that he had waited for the perfect moment to strike even as she pivoted out of her saddle, rolling harmlessly upon the soft grassy earth with the easy grace Eloquin had ingrained in all his Squires. Jess leaped upright and ready even as the man who could only be Captain Petrie roared at her, his own horseman's estoc aimed straight for her heart. "I'm going to gut you like a fish, you damned whore! Even if I fall, I'm taking you with me!"
Jess only laughed in sheer exhilaration, never in all her life having felt so high, so alive, as she did at that moment. Every fiber of her being tingled with awareness, able to feel even the slight tremble of the earth as the wild-eyed stallion charged her, to see the enraged captain's sweat fly free as he thrust down with his blade.
The man gasped as Jess pivoted, her small shield of plain wood angled to catch the inside of the thrusting estoc, angling it away, even as Jessica's own blood-spattered mace arced up and high, slamming Petrie in his breastplate with sufficient force to send him crashing off his mount. Jess snapped back even as the man roared and sprang to his feet, her enemy unsheathing a wicked looking falchion and charging. Jess smiled with pleasure at facing a worthy enemy. He would not have managed to lead a coup of a high-lord's chateau had he not had a certain degree of resourcefulness and battle savvy, after all.
“Hell's bloody balls! It will be good to kill you, woman!” he laughed, lost in his own battlefrenzy, whipping about his falchion and charging.
Jessica’s grin turned savage and bright, knowing she had but an instant to choose and make her move. With an exultant roar she charged as well, shield forward, sensing the man muting his snapping strike aiming for her eyes into a brutal slash designed to tear into her lower thigh and cripple her. Jess abruptly slammed forward and low with her shield, punching forward with it, trapping his hand as he furiously backpedaled, even as she lashed out with her mace, exulting in the moment of raw terror she saw in her enemy’s suddenly panicked gaze, realizing that he had not expected her to charge forward so decisively, so fast, nor for her mace to spell the end of a life he had lived so fiercely, a life he was suddenly terrified of losing, even as he silently screamed in panic.
All of this Jess took in at the very instant her flanged mace hammered into his helmet, a blow so fierce she felt as well as heard bone shatter, his steel helmet collapsing like a crumpled chalice, spurting blood and brains under the force of her terrible blow. Like clipping the strings of a marionette, the man collapsed instantly, dead at her feet.
“Jess! Jess, are you all right?”
The words washed over her. On some level, she recognized Malek’s voice, a comforting sound and feel, like a warm summer shower, soothing her. Her eyes darted around, hot and furious, for all the world like a bird of prey looking for the telltale scurrying of a treacherous rat, worthy of the hot bite of her fierce wrath.
There. Upon the field strewn with corpses impaled by javelins and spears, or mangled beyond recognition with the frenzied blows of a Highrock student lost in battlefrenzy, she saw them. Several men desperately racing after panicked mounts, no doubt seeking to escape the field of battle, to flee the sight where all their comrades had been massacred.
Jess roared in fury. She would not allow her prey to escape her again. Not even realizing it, her shield and mace were abandoned in the field, the comforting grip of her favored weapon of war once more in hand. She could almost feel her longsword whistle through the air, so fast she sprinted, hungering for blood.
Jess roared sharply as she crashed into her foes, expertly slicing off the hand of the panicked soldier spinning
about to face her, ignoring his desperate cry as she cleaved his helmetless head in two, laughing like a madwoman, lost in berserker fury as her foe’s brains and blood showered upon her even as he slumped over in his death, baptizing her in the blood of battle, bathing her like a queen of old.
“That’s right, my mistress,” crooned her familiar softly. “Show these worms no mercy, they who would dare raise arms against you. Let the taste of your steel accompany them to the next life, just recompense for daring to trespass upon your privilege, you to whom they owe all!”
Jess laughed madly at her familiar’s sibilant whispers, resonating dark and delicious within her mind.
Within moments, she was charging before the two remaining survivors of the mad melee, their desperate cries and furious shouts utterly ignored.
Saber contemptuously smacked off line, her nearest foe's upraised sword fell to his feet as her expertly timed follow up strike slammed into his wrist, shattering bone with the tight savage arc of her cut, for all that the finely wrought suit of mail that he wore prevented her blade from cleaving through the arm itself. Suddenly defenseless, the stumbling soldier had time for but a single desperate cry as Jess savagely rammed her blade through the man's open mouth, avoiding his helmet entirely, her Stechen technique flawless as she wrenched free her sword from the skull of the collapsing corpse.
Jess's roar echoed across the field entire as she charged into the last survivor of the engagement, his startled cry for mercy washing over her as little more than noise. Moving with the grace of a ballerina who had mastered every nuance of her deadly dance, she effortlessly shifted her balance away from his desperate swing even as her own blade cleaved completely through his leading leg right under the knee, just beneath the protection of his long shirt of mail.
The man’s terrified eyes locked with Jessica’s own even as he collapsed to the ground, showering her in crimson. Instinctively, Jess blasted her sword into the mail coif protecting his suddenly exposed neck, and it was over. Her icy gaze was void of all mercy as she stared at the man choking and heaving at her feet, panicked eyes windows of terror before glazing over in silent death, the raw stump of his leg spurting out the last of his lifeblood even as he suffocated, windpipe crushed.
And suddenly, the entire field of battle was silent. Eerily so. Jess snapped her blade up in Ochs, ready to lash out at any foe with deadly thrust or decapitating cut, carefully circling about. Her friends she noted, gazing at her so oddly, the wall of wind fading to a gentle breeze. Malek was racing toward her, eyes alight with fierce exultation, bloodied mace up high, giving a howl of triumph. Jess laughed and roared, the two of them howling like a pair of savage beasts, reveling in their savage victory.
“We did it, Jess! Bloody hells, we did it! Butchered the whole damn lot of them!”
Jess stared into her shieldbrother’s ebullient gaze as he crashed into her, gripping her in a fierce, triumphant hug. Heart racing with equal parts panicked exhilaration and bloodlust, she kissed him them, hot and fierce, and didn’t care who saw.
She laughed and pulled away even as Malek gazed at her, blinking with bemused surprise. “We did indeed triumph, brother of blood and battle! Now let's check these bastards and make sure none of these fools is but acting, seeking to stab our friends the moment their defenses are down.”
Malek’s moment of surprise turned to a look of fierce agreement, fixating on a tactical issue he could well understand. “Let's,” he agreed. And grabbing two of the spears discarded about the field of gore and battle, the pair ruthlessly plunged their weapons into the backs and necks of all the fallen men, utterly ignoring the cries of protest made by several of their far more gentle-minded companions. The shared a fierce, satisfied nod when one of the men they prodded did indeed prove guilty of subterfuge, screaming and pleading for his life even as Jess ruthlessly crushed his throat, slamming her spear down with killing force even through mail, putting an end to all enemies on the field.
And suddenly all was still once more. Jess took a deep, shuddering breath, coolly cleaning her weapon, even as her friends approached, gazes filled with wonder and horror in equal measure.
“By Justice, the pair of you actually did it,” Raphael whispered. “You two took down an entire company of heavy cavalry. By yourselves.”
“Not entirely." Malek gave Alex a respectful nod. "If it weren't for our friend's wind wall, they wouldn't have been quite so divided in purpose. Worse, they could have taken some or all of you hostage, forcing our hand. As it stood, they foolishly wasted their bolts shooting at your wards and our own, leaving them ill-prepared to deal with our repeated assaults upon their flanks. And when the time for general melee was upon us, well, let's just say a flanged mace is a damn sight better than a common saber in the crush of horse against horse, if both opponents are fully girded in helm and full suits of mail."
Jessica’s grin turned dark as death. “And once we were in the thick of it, those damn fools didn’t have a chance.” Her shieldbrother joined her in laughter, great guffaws rocking through them, both of them grateful just to be alive. For they had once more survived the stormy waves of battle, riding high upon the heady crest of victory, knowing that they might crash into furrows of shaky exhaustion at any moment.
Strangely enough, it was Josie who looked the most assured at that moment. Their other friends, oddly, looked almost as disturbed as they had before the battle. "You two should rest a moment, before we head into the house proper,” Josie soothed. “I think you might be getting the battle shakes.”
Alex blinked, giving a thoughtful nod of his head. “She’s right. Skilled as you are, that was a fierce fight, and you two were forced to go all out. Let’s rest a moment, shall we?”
Jess opened her lips to protest when Twilight gently patted shut her mouth. "Silence, my mistress. You did not embrace the killing frenzy in the realms of Shadow and dream where the power at your disposal is as limitless as the fierceness of your passions. You fought here, upon the face of Dawn; this planet, this garden you call home, with all its limitations. You and Malek alone, without your fellow Squires and Hyve's Aspirants aiding in the killing, or there to guard you, should exhaustion creep up unawares. You must let your body rest, my mistress, even for but a quarter of a glass. Then, if you are ready, we can chase down whatever miscreants would impede your cause within the manor itself."
Jess bowed her head, humbled, imagining Eloquin castigating her for not taking what rest she could when the heat of battle had died down, and the opportunity presented itself. "You're right, Josie. Thank you." She wordlessly accepted the water flask she was handed with a grateful smile and drunk deep, pausing to gaze at the chateau before her. It really was a beautiful structure, she thought, all the more so in contrast to the fallen corpses upon the bloodied field before it.
The exquisitely wrought building managed to look both whimsical and sturdy, the fine stained glass windows upon the second floor dazzling in the afternoon sunlight, flashing like precious gems, the building entire faced with quartz veined marble, giving the entire structure an almost palatial air. Jessica’s practiced eye made note of rooftop crenellations discretely placed between fanciful angels and gargoyles looking down upon the denizens below. And she couldn’t help but note that for all that the second floor’s windowpanes were glorious affairs, the first floors were little more than narrow slits with bars, the elegantly carved wooden sidings relieving their starkness but not mitigating their defensive design. She and Malek exchanged a knowing look, both certain that, despite its fanciful airs, Raphael’s family demesne was as well fortified as royal edicts allowed a nobleman’s home to be.
Jess closed her eyes and winced, shuddering a moment even as she felt her brother-in-arms gently wrap his protective arms about her, finding it odd that she would be overwhelmed now with the mad rush of a battle just past. She was lost for a moment in Malek's gentle embrace, visualizing every savage thrust and desperately dodged swing with a sickening sense of disbelief that she had n
ot felt at all during the battle. Which was odd, really, she thought to herself as she shook in her companion's arms. For in the height of her battlefrenzy she had never felt more euphoric, never felt more glorious and alive than with each fierce swing of her mace, with each telling strike of her makeshift lances. Yet now, mixed with that euphoria was a sensation that she was sure would be terror if she weren't so numb, if her heart wasn't still racing with the aftereffects of battle, the entirety of her swirling emotions translating into a mad case of the shakes.
Josie’s gaze was now full of a compassion Jess had thought forever consumed by the horror Josie had felt witnessing Jess at her most ruthless, now quietly offering her bread and cheese, and more water as well. “How are you feeling, Jessie?” Her gentle voice was like the soothing rustle of a peaceful grove. Jess couldn’t help but smile.
“I’m all right, Josie. Thank you for looking after me.” She gave a wry chuckle, staring down at her hands. “I’ve trained with lance, estoc, and mace for hundreds of hours in the practice yards, faced down scores of challengers with my longsword in the training circles, and not once during all that time did I feel as I do now. Not even when I fought in Shadow did I find my hands shaking afterwards.”
“Never before were you fighting for your life against such fierce odds on the field of battle, my Jess,” Josie soothed. “All that training was fine. It allowed you to survive the battle just won. And when you fought in Shadow, well, real as it might have been, on some level you were still just fighting in your dreams, even if your life was in peril either way. And all that rehearsed training you had, no matter how unorthodox, can’t mirror the panic and terror all men feel on the field of battle, whether they show it while fighting, or cloak it in rage as you and Malek do, finally allowing it to come through now, when you are safe once more.”
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