Squire of War

by M. H. Johnson

  “Jess!” But Neal's call was unnecessary.

  With a crack, the fifteen foot long spear shafts were abruptly yanked back, many of them flying completely free of their springs or shattering, even as Jess tilted forward, her lance couched and ready, feet firmly planted in her stirrups, braced for impact.

  Time seemed to slow in that curious way it sometimes did for her. After an endless moment, Jess felt her lance plunge into the armored meat carcass before her, bursting links of mail front and back with only a staggered moment of resistance, as armor that almost never broke in hand to hand melee gave way before the terrible fury of her charge.

  And still Jess did not let go until she felt the shock of her weapon plunging into the second rank of mock pikemen, but a split second before her lance plunged right up to the guard. Two men down with one lance, and no strain to her wrist.

  Even as she allowed herself a single burst of elation, she was instantly swept back into the moment with the din and crash of her friends slamming into their own targets, Jess reflexively raising her shield as if to parry any potential assailant even as her right hand snatched mace free of saddle hook to pound down upon the helmets of pitted iron and cracked steel fastened to the carcasses they faced with controlled fury, as if she fought in deadly earnest.

  After a final resounding crack of mace to helm, Jess pivoted back around, giving a sharp whistle to Neal while racing back to their starting position, taking deep breaths of air alive with the scents of pine and wildflowers as well as cured pork and iron. All in all, it was a beautiful day.

  She forced hands trembling ever so slightly with the frenzy of that last pass to carefully re-hook her mace even as she withdrew her estoc. A long tapered sword intended solely for thrusting, its triangular cross-section prevented effective cuts, but allowed it to be used much like a secondary lance after the first shattered in the initial charge.

  Angled death, Jess thought, even as she pivoted Mercy around, the continuous rain of arrows still falling short of their band, Jess keeping an eye on the few stragglers, grimacing as the archers thought to target the Squires furthest from the main body, and for all that most of the arrows missed, one did not.

  Jess couldn't help but glance Eloquin's way, and his icy blue eyes were cold.

  Jess winced and shook away the lecture she knew was in store for her. For everyone knew their band had to be tight at all times. To straggle was to die, for reasons they all understood.

  “On my mark, charge!” Jess cried out the moment everyone was back in formation, Neal nodding his accord, the entire band of Squires drawing free their estocs as they prepared to rush the mock pikemen once more. A full third of the spears had sprung back into place, those that had not been ripped free of their metal braces in the first pass.

  “Blue Pincer!” Jess cried, once more losing herself and reveling in the moment. All of them stood high in their stirrups now, their bodies arched forward, arms bent slightly, a far different style of giving point than with lance. For even as the lance could be used but once, the estoc could be used to spear her enemy over and over.

  There. But a second from her frantic charge was the dummy she chose, her estoc lining up at a slight angle from her body, and she braced for impact even as she felt the spring-loaded spears twist away from their band once more, Jess relaxing her arm the instant she felt the estoc bite into and punch through the mail shirt atop the swine carcass, expertly pivoting so that her wrist and shoulder suffered no strain as her arm was pulled back, the power of her mount spinning the carcass on its post around, her sword effortlessly extracting as Mercy raced past.

  Her band of Squires had struck the left flank of pikemen even as Neal's half struck the right flank, all of them flowing around the cluster of stationary carcasses like a stream flowing around a rock in its center, maintaining the speed and maneuverability they needed to race away for another charge.

  "Reform!" she shouted, Neal blowing a refrain of the command, and this time Jess hung back just a bit, making sure she was at the center of her band at all times. No lead-tipped arrows hit any of her fellows then.

  Neal looked to her as they formed up once more. “How are you?”

  Jess smiled into his hazel eyes. “Never better, Captain.”

  He nodded once. "Excellent. Full on charge, now. We go from estoc to melee."

  Jess nodded once even as she pivoted Mercy around, now leading the vanguard with a wild ululating yell, her fellow Squires to each side of her in a classic wedge.

  And this time, as her sword plunged almost effortlessly into the torso of a pig carcass draped in boiled rawhide, Jess released the estoc's hilt and unsheathed her saber in one practiced motion, lashing out with fierce, practiced strokes designed not simply to hit with force, but to cut through the rawhide armaments before her with vicious slicing blows.

  Perhaps the most common armor on the battlefield, only those who trained diligently in slicing through the hardened rawhide plates with specialized blades would draw blood. Training Jess had received in spades, fiercely devoted to mastering the techniques as she was all elements of swordplay. Her saber lashed out, scoring precise, killing cuts to the necks of her carcasses, Jess carefully aiming for those spots the rough armor did not protect, cleaving straight through cured flesh and bone, helmeted animal heads tumbling to the ground.

  But knowing her mentor as she did, Jess made a point of whipping her blade through straps and plates of rawhide as well as at the armorless gaps, pulling the blade back toward her even as it cleaved through the armor, the blade biting all the deeper with the sawing nature of the slash as Jess drew it through her foe, even as muttered curses let her know that not all her friends had been as successful.

  Several of her fellows forewent fancy saberwork in favor of flanged maces or war hammers that could whip down upon even armored skulls to stunning effect, no matter the other armaments worn. Which was fine, Jess thought. In the heat of battle, all that really mattered was what worked, survival and victory forgiving any number of sins of technique.

  Their mentor blew his whistle, and at once Jess and her fellows wheeled away from their mock foes with final parting slashes and whipping strikes as would have been the case in actual melee, all racing in unison back to where Lords Eloquin and Hyve awaited.

  And there Mord was, staring at her even now. The jubilation Jess always experienced after a good training round instantly dissipated as she caught sight of arrogant features some girls were stupid enough to call handsome, with a too knowing smile Jess knew was meant just for her.

  3

  General Eloquin gazed at them through icy blue eyes that spoke of northern ancestry, contrasting with the light bronze complexion of southern tribes. Their armsmaster appeared grim and ageless as always, an ancient god of battle and wisdom who Jess silently worshiped, finding no greater satisfaction than to be the recipient of praise from those lips.

  His hawklike stare settled upon Jess.

  He did not look pleased.

  “Calenbry. You were distracted. It matters not if Knight Commander Hyve or one of his students has joined us. Your mind must be ever focused on the task at hand. Unless you sense an enemy at our doorstep, you focus should be upon the threat before you. Protect the men counting on you.”

  Jess felt herself flush even as Mord smirked. “Yes, Commander.”

  A curt nod. “What was the second mistake you made today? One that almost cost you a fellow Squire's life?”

  Jess cringed. “Erica. She was too far away for me to protect.”

  Eloquin nodded, before turning to gaze at a shamefaced Erica. "You are a Squire because you are a brilliant tactician, Erica. But you took too long to disengage from the pikemen. In a real battle that could have spelled your death, unseen arrows or no."

  Erica, normally of such sprightly temperament with the most beautiful green eyes, now looked on the verge of tears. She was remarkably strong for her size, yet was the smallest student to join their ranks. Though a more than compet
ent swordsman, as a Squire she just barely made the cut. “Yes, Commander.”

  Eloquin turned to Jess once more. “She was under your care, Calenbry. As are all the Squires, when you take the vanguard. And what is the one precept you are to always follow?”

  “To lead the charge, and stay at the heart of any rally or withdraw.”

  Eloquin nodded. “Your skills allow you to excel where no one else would. But upon the rally, if the troops under your care are split up? I don't think I have to tell you the folly this invites.”

  “No, sir,” Jess softly said.

  Eloquin spent a timeless moment gazing at all of them before giving what appeared to be a nod of quiet satisfaction. “Some of you fools still need to master the techniques of slicing through linen and leather, but you're a damned sight better at it than you were when first you answered my call.” Some quiet chuckles at this, for what he spoke of so casually was a skill few outside blademasters and Squires tended to acquire. Even an expert duelist, well versed in the arts of parry, cut, and thrust, rarely thought to train or had access to masters who taught the tricks of getting past armor. “Fortunately, you all know how to hold a lance and estoc, and the proper ways of fighting with mace and shield, on foot or horse.”

  A long moment of weighty silence.

  “It will do. For it is once again time for you to prove yourselves, Squires. King and Crown once more need your blackened daggers.”

  Murmurs and whispers picked up through the small elite crowd of students. Jess felt her stomach twist in knots equal parts excitement and dread.

  “Hear that, shieldsister? It's that time again.”

  Jess turned and smiled back at her brother-in-arms. Sleek, graceful, and deceptively powerful, only a fool would take his martial skills lightly. Gentle brown eyes gazed at her from a face she had long ago fallen in love with, now relegated to the closest of friends.

  “It is indeed, Malek. Do you feel ready?”

  A glib reply seemed on the tip of his tongue. Instead he gazed thoughtfully at her a moment before giving a slow nod. “If slavers have once more been found slithering upon our lands, then they must be stomped out. No matter if the king refuses even to acknowledge that slavery exists, no matter that our hands and souls will be stained with the blood of those we kill. It is a price I'm more than willing to pay, to spare some child the nightmare of being stolen away to a life of misery and horror.”

  Jess nodded, feeling much the same. It made sense, after all. They had done their best to come to terms with it during the year just past, a year both bitter and sweet that had seemed to stretch without end, much like the very first night Jess had been forced to endure a dying man's screams.

  Lord Hyve coolly looked them over, mustaches carefully oiled, with a tad bit more paunch than would be ideal in a perfect fighting specimen, but so was the case with most lords who took up the blade with a bountiful table to break their fast when the training was done for the day. Still, where Jess had once felt a deep admiration for one of Erovering's premier knights, it had waned as she had gotten to know the man behind the reputation, just as her fierce love for her general had only grown.

  Lord Hyve cleared his throat before addressing them all with a powerful baritone voice, excellent for carrying over the battlefield. “I know well your reputation, the dark tools you are all being forged into, don't think I don't. Still, you serve king and Crown well enough, which is all a man can ask for in the end. If one is not equipped to ride to the heights of glory as a Knight of the Crown, upholding the honor and dignity of chivalry, then it is a more than worthy pursuit to master all the aspects of war below the knightly calling, to soften our foes and pave the way so that we may charge forth in triumph, our foes vanquished by the might of our lances and the allies who smoothed the path to our victory.”

  The knight commander dipped his head, his version of paying them a compliment, and all the Squires bowed in unison, as if they had been esteemed beyond all measure. Just as Eloquin had instructed them to do, both as a test of their discipline and the guile they might one day need. All elements of an army had their purpose, after all, and diplomacy was but one more tool of battle.

  The fact that Lord Hyve smiled as if pleased by their deference was reward all on its own, Jess and her peers having managed yet again to hide from the man how utterly offensive his comments truly were. Either that or he knew all too well, and was playing them as they tried to play him. If nothing else, it was an entertaining practice and allowed the man's words to wash over them like the silly drivel they were.

  Lord Hyve's gaze then turned grave, even as Mord smirked by his side, his mocking smile making it clear that he, at least, was quite aware and pleased to hear Squires relegated to the role of garrote men whose sole purpose was to do the dirty work while the hands and reputations of Knight Aspirants remained spotless.

  “As you all know, at the end of the day our purpose is equal in serving our nation humbly and faithfully. And there are certain crimes that are so heinous, such black stains they are upon Erovering's glory, that it would be blasphemous even to sully our beloved king's ears with the news. And that, my young Squires of War, is where you come in.”

  Jess blinked, gazing at General Eloquin, noting the hard line of his jaw even as he said nothing. Rare was it for Hyve to be the one to direct their assignment. “Yet it is important, I think, for Knight Aspirants to learn the hard lessons that maintaining peace in our kingdom actually entail. Further, many of my students, bright and skilled youths that they are, have never before seen battle, and I fear the tragedy of first blood: The din and cry of their initial engagement being of such intensity that they stand there thunderstruck, prey to any foul miscreant, when all they need are some moments and a gentle guide to ease them through that first terrible, glorious battle, so they may forever after perform their roles in exemplary fashion, as the peerless knights all my charges are destined to be.”

  Hyve gazed solemnly at them all for some moments. “That is why I am entrusting you Squires, favored proteges of my worthy associate Lord Eloquin, with the task of keeping watch over my Aspirants, making sure they survive the challenge to come unmarked, unscathed, and able to perform the duties that will be expected of them in future engagements.”

  General Eloquin gave a cool nod as Lord Hyve stepped back. “You are all to protect your brethren and each other in the campaign to come. Hyve's Aspirants will serve as the main thrust of any direct assault, and I expect you all to provide appropriate auxiliary wing support. But above all, I expect you to protect yourselves and your fellow Squires at all times. Only by protecting yourselves can we deign to protect our fellow Aspirants.”

  Hyve gave the slightest frown then shook it away, before nodding to the Squires he had addressed. Jess and her fellows Squires bowed in turn, leaning their hips back in a practiced maneuver that prevented the weight of their armor from setting them off balance, paying Lord Hyve the respect Eloquin expected of them.

  As Lord Hyve and a still smirking Mord made their way back to the school proper, Jess and her compatriots waited for Eloquin to relax his stance before daring to murmur what was on their minds. Jess smiled, feeling the sudden weight of a creature of shadow and darkest night leaping to her shoulder.

  “My, yet another secret little mission for king and Crown. Not only do we get to cleanup some noble's carelessness, we also get to babysit Mord and his ilk. What fun.”

  Jess couldn't help grinning as the purring feline making himself comfortable upon his favorite perch, much like a falcon would. Jess gazed into sapphire orbs that glittered like dying stars impossibly far away, even as she stroked glossy fur of midnight hue that shimmered even on a cloudless night.

  “Jess?” A single word, tightly said.

  Jess blushed. Her commander shouldn't have had to say anything at all.

  Twilight solemnly shook his head. “Hyve, and our always lovely Mord are long gone, my mistress, as are the archers. I sense no spy left behind, nor does any mage s
cry upon us.” He sighed then. “Not that they have in ages, but I know how you hope.”

  Jess gazed up at Lord Eloquin, giving a solemn shake of her head. “They are gone, sir. No one gazes our way.”

  Several of her peers gave her curious looks, a few shaking their heads.

  “How does she know that?” asked the newest member of their elite band.

  “Her arcane feline senses these things, supposedly,” explained a fellow Squire.

  “Why don't I see her in any of the Wizards Wing courses?”

  “She can't cast a single spell. You must have heard how spectacularly she failed at that.”

  “But she has a talking cat?”

  “It's a delusion.”

  “Delusion or no, we just saw scores of pike and a storm of arrows warp away from us.”

  Lucas, one of the more powerfully built Squires, frowned at Jess before turning back to the newest member of their band. "Our master just accepted you into our ranks, Liam, so you wouldn't know. Jess is one of those warped mages with but a single odd talent, and her knack is wood. That's why Eloquin puts up with her eccentricities and lets her lead the vanguard. But there are no such things as talking cats."

  Liam flashed Jess an approving grin. “A gift so strong we can charge into a forest of pike unscathed? That's a damned useful knack, I'd say.”

  Jess exchanged glances with her supposed delusion who winked back at her. “Shall we tell all of our friends about the naughty little affairs Lucas has been having with not one, but two of the chambermaids, all the while playing one against the other? I'm sure any number of our friends would find that bit of gossip from your favorite delusion quite delicious, don't you think so, my mistress?”

  Jess grinned at that. “Behave,” she murmured before turning to gaze back at Lucas, who for some reason paled and looked away. Jess frowned. Lucas was a prickly sort and was happy to disparage anyone when his dander was up, yet normally they got on quite well. She would hate for that to change now.