Squire of War

by M. H. Johnson

  “The hell with all that, are we really to be babysitters for those damned arrogant Aspirants?” Yet another of their number voiced the frustration they all felt. Immediately the Squires' murmurs took on a brooding tone, her fellows less than pleased with Lord Hyve's offhanded attempts to commandeer their role and function, as if they were little more house servitors, and he their master. Nothing further was said about talking cats, the rest of them having known Jess for years.

  “Silence.” At Eloquin's command, all the muttering stopped. “It matters not the style of presentation. All that matters is that there is a blight upon our nation, a smear upon the king's honor, and it is for us to burn out every last trace of the vermin that dare to think they can make our nation their cesspool!” His gaze turned fierce, his students paling before him.

  He took a measured breath. “Diplomacy is but one of the skills you must master. For future tacticians, you are fools to allow a rough tongue to deny you the opportunity of doubling the units at your disposal, potentially tripling your effectiveness, if you deploy your men appropriately.”

  Eloquin's icy blue eyes hardened. “You know this. All of you do. If you didn't, I would have dismissed you long ago.”

  More than one student swallowed, gazing at their armored feet.

  "Now, let us look to the heart of what has been said. Lord Hyve is extending his men to us, as he has more than once before, though always informally. This time he wishes his own men to retain command, and our own to provide auxiliary support. In turn, he is committing the entirety of his force to this endeavor, unorthodox as it is, at a time when absolute stealth, discretion, and the grimmest of intentions are needed. Now can anyone tell me why this would be?"

  All the Squires spent some moments gazing at one another.

  “Bloody hells, Jess, what game is Hyve playing at, do you think?”

  Jess gazed at Malek, a cold chill coming over her. She could only think of one possibility.

  Malek frowned. “Jess?”

  Jess blanched and looked away. For some reason, she didn't want to say a thing.

  “Jess?”

  The hushed murmurs silenced once more, and Jess felt her eyes pulled by Eloquin's gaze. Somehow, he knew that she knew.

  “Speak.”

  “It's just a guess, sir.”

  His cold gaze speared her. Jess blushed.

  “I think, sir, I think that there is only one explanation. The slaver camp. It somehow puts Hyve or someone he is close to in jeopardy. Guilt by proxy, if not actual involvement. If I had to guess, I would have to say that the camp was sighted on his grounds.” Jess swallowed, her peers deathly silent.

  “Well, go on.”

  Jess shrugged. “If we had received word by regular channels, it would have looked bad for him. Why did he allow it to happen? Slothfulness? Involvement? This way, he himself seems proactive. He sets the tone of being willing to clean up his own mess. Nay, more so, a wronged man who will do all he can to smash the vile affront to his dignity with all haste and fury. And, of course, he wants the honor of leading his men to justice and glory, expunging this vile threat upon his land, we but auxiliaries to his little campaign. But valued auxiliaries, I suppose. He did go to the trouble of addressing us, seeking rapport and striving to motivate and commend us... in his own way.”

  Jess ignored the few quiet snickers this comment inspired.

  “Frankly, if he could get away with just using his Knight Aspirants, I think he would. So that it almost seems to be his own force that he would be using to clean house. But for all that he is a bit arrogant, if you will forgive my tactical observation, he is no fool. Why wouldn't he make use of the resources at his disposal? For when it comes to taking out a fortified encampment, why not make use of the students who have been training for such since their first days at this school?”

  Eloquin gave a cool nod. “Well done, Calenbry. Well done.”

  Malek nodded. “It only makes sense. Save for flowery words that mean nothing, he has never bothered taking a personal interest in our missions before. Not like this. So really, what else could it be, save trouble close to home?”

  The most reviled and hated general on the continent flashed his Squires a bleak smile. “You all know how this works. First preparations shall be made, and you all will do and say absolutely nothing to anyone about what is to come. Those of you truly ready to embrace what it means to be a Squire of War and serve your country, I will see back here two nights from now, at sunset. In the meantime, you will ignore all other courses, seeking only to master Veltsor's treatise on how best to take out a heavily fortified encampment. You will train vigorously, but not arduously. If any of you have any sores or injuries, you will see the healers at once, without delay. They will treat you without a single question asked. You will imbibe no mead or wine, and get all the sleep you can stand.”

  “As for those of you who will not blacken your daggers for me?” Cold eyes gazed intently at a number of pale-faced youths, none of whom could meet their beloved commander's stare. Youths who Jess loved dearly as fellow students, who would graduate from Highrock with honors one day, and perhaps lead troops with distinction when war was eventually declared. They would benefit immensely from their training under the deadliest tactician to lead Erovering's forces in decades. But they would not lead as Squires of War. Jess sensed this already.

  "The rest of you will train beside your brothers-in-arms, as always. Lock stares with them as you test their mettle, and they test yours. See the fire that burns within them. Then look into your own mirror and ask yourself if you truly have what it takes to be a Squire of War." His voice turned cold as a winter gale. "Those who have hesitated up to now, if you wish to redeem yourselves in my eyes, this will be your last chance."

  Eloquin then flashed the bleakest of smiles. “Upon your oath, upon your life, you keep the faith. Should anyone, even your lover, seek to entice a confession as to what you are preparing for, particularly the name of your target... you know exactly what you must do.”

  All of them paled and swallowed at that. Visors raised, their expressions were a mixture of fear, exhilaration, and grim resolve. Jess felt a moment's fierce exultation. Cheers and boasting once the deed was done was one thing, but no Squire would reveal specific names or places, no matter how they otherwise flaunted their kills. Jess knew Lord Hyve's plight would be one rumor never to circulate through Highrock. Not from their mouths, at least.

  Though not all of her fellows had the heart or temperament to accept the Crown's ugliest missions, Jess knew that none of them would betray their cause.

  4

  So what do you think, Jess?” Malek queried, ruffling her hair as they finished caring for their mounts, Jess giving her piebald warhorse a double handful of oats and a friendly pat farewell, Mercy nickering contentedly as Jess left the stables.

  Jess stretched and smiled, taking a deep breath of the fragrant spring air, loving the sight of the massive fortress carved into the mountainside. Highrock, most esteemed war academy in all of Erovering, and her home from the moment she had first glimpsed its vast granite walls glowing faintly in the afternoon sunlight, air gently perfumed by the lush green fields full of wildflowers leading up to it, exactly as it was at this moment, what seemed a lifetime ago.

  She turned and peered into the warm brown eyes of the youth beside her, kissing him softly on the cheek before he could blink or protest. Jess laughed as he blushed, then sighed. “I think, beloved brother-in-arms, that the trill of birdsong will soon be replaced by the clash of steel and the screams of men fighting for their lives, just as surely as this beautiful afternoon will be replaced with darkest night.”

  Malek's gentle smile turned bleak. "You cut to the heart of it, as always, shieldsister. Hyve's demesne is conveniently close to Highrock, only a day's journey away. We will travel at night, set camp in deepwood at first light, scout it at dusk, then strike at deepest night." Malek frowned. "Strange to think about it, but no matter how far away the ban
dit sightings are reported, it never seems to take us that long to get there."

  Jess nodded as they made their way to the keep proper. "I know what you mean. Sometimes, riding by Eloquin's side, our brothers behind us as we race through the night, it feels almost as if we are flying through a dream." She grinned. "As if those bizarre rumors that swirl about us actually had a grain of truth."

  Malek smirked. "The High Hunt indeed. As if Eloquin were a living god of battle, and we his mad merry men. And we will do nothing to dispel those rumors, wild as they are. For the more our enemies fear us, the greater will be their hesitation, allowing us to seize the Vor and crush them utterly."

  Jess nodded at the mention of one of Eloquin's first lessons. To master your enemies' minds was to win the battle before blood had even been spilled.

  She loved Highrock with all her heart, yet for all that she had devoted herself to study of the battlefield, she had never been the most scholarly of students, and so was quite happy for the excuse to cut all her classes for the next couple of days. Not that she saw classrooms as more than a convenient place to catch naps in between sparring sessions, but at least this way her professors were less likely to yell at her.

  Jess shuddered for a moment, abruptly forced out of her happy reverie, most definitely not thinking about the shrieks made by men impaled upon charging lance or spear, the coppery stench of blood searing her nostrils, desperate eyes locking upon her own as ragged men sobbed and spasmed their last against her blade.

  No. Those awful memories she had long since quenched in the glorious feasts and revels discretely permitted as if they truly were knights on crusade, all matter of savory treats and vices prepared for them in secret luxurious chambers tucked away in the heart of the school. Revels and decadent feasts normally only seen in titillating tales read by noblewomen in their parlors, for Jess and her fellow Squires, they were as real as blood and steel. Rewards for all of Highrock's heroes, returning from dark, savage little missions that would never see the light of day.

  And she certainly was not trembling with thoughts of fresh battles to come.

  She did her best to ignore her friend's sudden concern, the way his arm wrapped around her so protectively.

  Malek didn't understand. She was smiling. Delighting in yet another excuse to smirk at her scowling professors as she and every other Squire cut classes and took their ease. Now that was a thought well worth savoring, and she couldn't wait to meditate within the rooftop garden, her little sanctuary away from the too knowing gazes of more than a few students staring just a bit too long at them even now, before flashing apologetic, frightened smiles and darting quickly away.

  Jess frowned, feeling the strange tension present even after they had bathed and changed into their Highrock uniforms alongside their fellow Squires, all of them trickling into the main dining hall and heading to their regular tables, just a few too many furtive glances sent their way.

  “Jess, look out!”

  But Jess was already moving, weaving back as a shock of red hair and freckles, well-padded and wearing the most sheepish of grins just narrowly missed colliding into her, his soup-laden tray sent flying, the floor a sudden mess of broth, meat, and bread rolls.

  “Oh, hi, Jess! I, um, sorry about that. Oh bother, Professor Rens won't be at all happy, I'd best get him another tray right away...”

  Jess smiled. “It's quite all right, Abe. Accidents happen, and I see one of the servitors hurrying forward even now.”

  Abe swallowed, poleaxed, soft green eyes locking onto her own. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

  Jess winced.

  Abe's face, if possible, turned an even brighter shade of red. “I'm sorry, I mean... um... yeah, you don't need a dress like the other girls, you look just fine in your Highrock uniform, anyone who says otherwise is a jackanapes! And um... please stay safe when you... you know...” Saying not another word, Abe adroitly turned on his heel and darted back the way he had come, more than one snicker sent after him as he performed what was, for Abe, a remarkable feat of dexterity and speed.

  Jess turned to her friend. “Don't say a word.”

  Malek grinned. “He's not always this clumsy in the classes we share, I promise you. More like a lost puppy than a student, but he can cast a few cantrips, if you give him plenty of time.”

  Jess shook her head. “I've never seen him other than when he's a hairsbreadth away from disaster.”

  Her friend chuckled. “That's because he's madly in love with you.”

  “Gods, Malek, did you have to say it?”

  Her shieldbrother's teasing smile only widened. “You know it's true. He has been since the day you saved him from the most fearsome of opponents, exquisitely sharpened blade but inches from cleaving through his skull.”

  “It was his own sword! It had slipped out of his hand and was windmilling back down towards his own head. And how he had managed to get a hold of live steel...”

  Malek only chuckled. “Your noble feat is no less noteworthy for all of that. Is it not true, after all, that we are our own worst foes?”

  Jess smirked. “You can be your own worst foe. I am getting something to eat.”

  At which point Jess slid into her accustomed seat at the finest table in the heart of the dining hall, perhaps the grandest of all of them with exquisitely crafted and polished chairs of oak as opposed to benches or stools, informally known as the lords table by those who sat there, and by those who looked on. Jess had simply fancied the table, making a beeline for it her first day at school, and no one had ever contested her seat. Of course, the fact that she was herself of noble blood, as were the students smiling back at her even now, was pure coincidence as far as she was concerned.

  “Jess, good to have you with us! How are you and Malek? Your training went well, I take it?”

  Jess smiled back at her friend, admiring his soft honey brown locks, gentle gaze, and graceful poise. Elegantly attired in doublet and tights of deepest burgundy contrasted by a brilliant white cotton shirt, he cut an athletic figure, no matter that he fenced only for sport, focused as he was upon mastering the nuances of diplomacy and trade.

  The scion of perhaps the wealthiest duke in the kingdom, Raphael diOnni was an excellent ally to have in weathering life's choppy seas. Most importantly, he believed in her, always with an encouraging word when she needed it. To her, that was as precious as gold.

  Jess nodded. “Yes, Raph. I froze for a moment, but I did my best to watch my brothers' backs, and I got through the morning with but a single scolding.”

  Malek smirked. “Though without her, we'd no doubt have scores more bruises, and I can promise you that Eloquin would be shouting at us no end.”

  Raphael nodded at that even as the beautiful girl beside him, gentle eyes rich pools of brown, golden blond hair near the same shade as Jess's own, gazed at Jess with keenest sympathy. Josie de Lakare, who Jess privately thought as talented a healer as any in the college, solemnly filled fresh cups with watered wine before passing it to them, wearing her simple sky blue dress with more elegance and poise than most noble ladies could dream of, no matter how many years of finishing school they had taken.

  “So it will soon be time, then.”

  Jess said nothing, instead nodding her thanks for the wine before focusing intently upon her soup.

  She did so love chicken soup; filling, hearty, and great for soothing the tingle of anxiety she felt coursing through her even now, an anxious dread that would no doubt flare to fierce exhilaration once she embraced sparring that afternoon, as she pounded her fears away to rueful chuckles, scoring points against her friends, just as it had every time before.

  “Yes, Josie, it will soon be time,” Malek quietly affirmed.

  The young healer nodded, her eyes never leaving Jess's own. “I always worry about you two. Promise me you'll be careful, all right, Jess?”

  Jess took a deep breath, forcing a smile. “I will do my best, Josie, as always.”

  Malek gri
nned. “Fear not, sweet Josie. I shall take care of my shieldsister, just as you take care of the handsome noble always by your side.”

  Josie blushed at that, but her smile was one of adoration as Raphael held her close, kissing her golden curls.

  “Fear not on our account, worthy Malek. My precious rose will nurture my heart, just as I will nurture hers, both of us stronger for the other's company.” Raphael winked. “The most profitable alliances, bargaining in the most precious of all commodities.”

  “Magic?” Quipped the slender youth seated beside them, his sea blue doublet spotless, for all that his light brown hair was a tousled mess, gazing fondly at his friends.

  Raphael's rich laughter washed over them. “No, my dear Alex, love alone is the commodity I trade with my precious Josie, who has already made me the richest of men, for she has turned my heart to gold.” He dipped his head, smiling back at Alex. “we shall leave feats of high magery to you and your own beau, our lovely Jera, though I do not envy you the stare she is favoring us both with.”

  Alex's gaze widened, quickly turning to meet the gaze of the petite green-eyed beauty sitting by his side, favoring dark green dresses that set off her eyes even as Alex tended to don whatever was on hand. Both of them equally slender, both of them equally dedicated to the mage's art, and, just by the exasperated gaze Jera favored him with, his sheepish smile in turn, Jess did not doubt for a second that they were both very much in love.

  Besides, there was no way he was responsible for his presently unrumpled and rather attractive appearance. No doubt she had dressed him upon their waking.

  “Raphael gets it,” Jera teased. “And if you spent just a bit less time lost in your books, and a bit more time exercising with me in the evening, you might just find that you enjoy swordplay and company both. Then you could wear a gentleman's blade just as elegantly as Raphael does.”

  Alex smirked. “Swords are not my forte. I'm almost as clumsy with them as poor Abe. You, on the other hand, come from a family of warriors, for all that neither of us have a warrior's build, so the side-sword comes naturally to you. Besides, it helps you focus your lightning, much like so many wizards use wands to channel their spells.”