Squire of War

by M. H. Johnson

  Malek wordlessly gathered Jess in his arms, squeezing her tight as she quietly sobbed. "I know, Jess," Malek soothed. "I know. That's why I never castigated you like Josie or Jera did, before they truly understood how deep the game being played against you was." He gently stepped back, gazing into Jess's tear-filled eyes. "Your mother loves you, you know. Don't for a moment think she doesn't. It's just that she's one of those women who needs to control all the pieces in the board before her. Sadly, her mind can't help but see you as a delicate maiden in a dress, wishing to treat you as such, no matter that you are one of the deadliest knights on the board."

  Jess smirked. "At least Eloquin values me, even if no one else at this bloody school does."

  Malek grinned, giving Jess's shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Hardly Eloquin alone, Jess. I know for a fact that the healers are grateful for your gifts with plants, and your fellow Squires love you. Our lives, after all, are in your hands whenever we blacken our daggers. For all that our training and armor would counter most threats, at least a few of us would have no doubt perished, had you not stood by our side. And don't worry. Together, we'll handle Mord. No nightmare marriages for you. Whether serving under the king directly as Squires of War, or leaving Highrock to explore the world on our own terms, we're not going to let our families dictate our fates."

  Jess nodded wholeheartedly at that sentiment.

  Malek winked. "All right, I'm off. Maybe we'll get a chance to spar later. Now go enjoy missing all your classes.”

  Jess laughed. “I always do. It's just nice that I can do it with the school's blessing for the next few days, at least. Now go take care of your beau. You know how he gets, when we go on these little missions of ours.”

  Malek chuckled softly. "He does get in a mood after our escapades, doesn't he? Oh well, I'd best spend some time with him. He will understand without a word needing to be said."

  Jess smiled sympathetically, well aware of how Jacob would carry on for a bit, castigating Malek before finally embracing him, in the end keeping careful vigil to make sure his lover awakened at the appointed time without fail. Jess doubted Malek would see more than a single night's sleep, but knew she could trust him to knock on her door when it was time for them to make their exit.

  Jess yawned as her door opened of its own accord, closing behind her with a silent act of will even as she fell into her exquisitely inviting bed of cotton sheets and down-filled pillows, her sleepy thoughts turning to Sable, whose sensual eyes had captivated her, dark pools of secrets and sorrow Jess hungered to explore.

  5

  Jess, it's time!”

  Jess instantly woke with her shieldbrother's tentative knock, quickly brushing and tying back hair now dyed the color of night, the door parting to allow her friend entrance. He smiled brightly, his eyes almost seeming to glow in the soft moonlight shining from Jess's ever open windows.

  Jess flashed an answering grin, equipping herself with a Squire's practiced efficiency, her quilted gambeson and mail hauberk slipped on in moments, next donning breastplate and padded helm, those priceless masterworks of steel protecting her most vital organs, even during the charge. She then carefully fastened on armaments of tough boiled rawhide to protect her limbs and back with Malek's assistance, clamping breastplate and backplate together with a tabard as black as night worn over top. The steel would protect her from devastating frontal assaults, and very few warriors would be able to cut through the cuir bouilli protecting the rest of her body, for all that she had trained specifically to perform just such a feat. Fortunately, her gambeson and mail hauberk were full sleeved, giving vital protection, should anything actually manage to cut through the rawhide plates.

  Malek saved precious moments strapping her prized longsword to her back. With a practiced jerk and spin, Jess assured that the blade would slip free and easy from its specially designed backsheath, a maneuver she had mastered over countless hours of practice during her first year under Eloquin's tutelage. Malek gave an approving nod, resheathing the blade as she latched mace to belt hook, both of them carrying cavalry saber and estoc in their sheaths, ready to be secured to their mounts. A final check of inventory and Jess was ready, slipping on gauntlets and securing shield last of all, after she and Malek both double-checked each other's fastenings.

  Visor raised, Jess favored her full length mirror with a final glance. It had been a priceless gift, and she could only wonder what her mother would think of her now. No doubt the baroness had imagined Jess admiring herself in dresses, her bright blue eyes carefully lined with kohl, full lips painted a rich crimson hue, soft cheeks brushed with a hint of pink, her hair a shimmering mass of golden locks cascading like a waterfall down her left shoulder, a heart-stopping beauty sure to fascinate any young noble looking her way.

  Jess smirked at the thought, seeing instead the stormy gaze of a girl fully kitted for war, lustrous tresses dyed the color of night, who knew what it meant to push through the horror and madness of battle, protecting her friends as best she could.

  She had enjoyed the last two days of casual distraction, taking on any and all challengers in the sparring rings, having mastered Eloquin's assigned treatise long ago, and had to fight to keep from training too hard as anxiety and excitement had twisted together into an almost impossible knot that had allowed her no rest until she had finally dropped into an exhausted slumber just that morning, now conveniently refreshed as a sunset of burnished crimson and gold blazed from her windows, showing off the forest and fields beyond the academy to glorious effect, like the most magnificent of paintings.

  A single touch assuring that her door would open for none save herself and they were off, all but gliding through the halls as they quickly made their way out of the vast structure that was Highrock, heading to the stables. Those few students scurrying through the halls that caught sight of their fully armored peers carrying cavalry weapons and striding with such deadly purpose all paled and looked away, scampering off without saying a word.

  Mercy was unusually restive when Jess came to her stall. Of course the stable hands knew better than to prepare the horses of Squires or Aspirants when they came to the stables at this hour. If the grooms were not asleep they pretended to be, knowing better than to give a clue that they sensed what was to come. An apple and a gentle pat saw Mercy calmed soon enough, though perhaps she sensed Jess's own excitement. Jess softly blew into Mercy's nose, getting a contented wicker before securing Mercy's armor, comprised of finely made quilted linen padding covered by mail, with added protection for the skull, neck, and chest. The horse armor was as durable as any to be found on the continent, save for that owned by the wealthiest of knights, excellent at protecting Mercy from blows in the heat of melee that would otherwise cripple a horse and send her rider crashing to the ground, instantly vulnerable. Of course, a pike or lance would likely punch through in a charge, which was what made knights such a deadly force on the battlefield, and a disciplined regimen of coordinated pikemen such an effective counter.

  Working as efficiently as any stable hand, Jess made sure the cantled saddle was securely cinched before checking the stirrups and bit, taking care to see that Mercy was untroubled by sores or discomfort, her hocks free of heat and tenderness. Satisfied with her check, Jess secured her weaponry to saddle hooks and straps last of all before straddling her mount.

  Measuring sixteen hands, Mercy had a proud neck, powerful flanks, and was a pleasure to ride. Her stride was like floating on air, Jess patting her mare's mane as they quickly rode over to the training grounds furthest from the massive keep, where both Eloquin and Lord Hyve were silently waiting.

  Icy blue eyes gazed into her own. Jess shivered and nodded before her master's unspoken question. Yes, she was ready for whatever the night would bring. Lord Hyve looked strangely relieved to see her, as if he had feared she wouldn't come.

  Though she had never refused before.

  Whatever the scars to her heart and soul, bandits were a blight upon the face of Erovering
. Though most lords suffering from the depredations of slavers wouldn't dare lose face reporting their woes to the king, everyone knew Highrock was the place to bring such news. Such depredations could never be openly acknowledged, but the king had long ago devised other means to deal with the problem.

  First, a scout would verify the rumors and reports sent their way. Should he vouch for the claim, or should he go missing, Eloquin's Squires of War would do what needed to be done. And Jess would be damned before she allowed her brothers and sisters of the blade to be imperiled by chance arrow or spear, when her presence alone could save their lives.

  She would never fail to blacken her dagger, no matter how fiercely the savagery she embraced would haunt her in the days to come.

  Endless moments later, Eloquin scanned the lonely moonlit fields leading from stables to the field. Everyone who was coming was there. Lord Hyve frowned as he looked over the assembled mass of Squires and Aspirants. There were far more of the former than the latter.

  It appeared that most of his proteges did not want to stain their honor or risk serious injury or death in embracing a black mission, not even for their supposedly beloved master.

  Malek flashed her a cold smile. “When all is said and done, we see who has the stones to do what needs doing, and who would rather sleep in their downy beds, knowing Hyve would never call them out for skipping something as ugly and unorthodox as this.”

  Jess kept her face carefully neutral, feeling Lord Hyve's intense gaze upon her still.

  “Assemble.”

  Jess shivered with that one word, instantly taking her place in orderly rows beside her fellow Squires and Aspirants, accepting both Eloquin's disappointment and cold acceptance of the situation. It was what it was, and all too many Aspirants had failed that most crucial of tests: Being there for a fellow in need, particularly their master, in a venue where they would never formally be reprimanded, allowing their true natures to come to the fore.

  Jess had no doubt that many would have cause to rue their choice, for Eloquin never forgot a face or a slight. He might not take it personally, but where he had influence, Aspirants that could not be bothered to serve could not be bothered to command, and might find the path to becoming a Knight of the Crown far more grueling than they had once imagined. No matter that Lord Hyve was their master, General Eloquin was not a man to take lightly under any circumstances.

  The knight commander scowled before shaking his head. His gaze went to his students, standing at perfect attention. He smiled, looking suddenly relieved when he caught sight of Mord, who did not hesitate to salute his master, fist to chest.

  “The Aspirants are assembled, Commander.”

  Hyve nodded. “Very good, Mord. Very good. I know a number of our fellows sickened earlier today. I shall certainly have a word with our cooks. My Aspirants know I place their well-being and safety above all else, and I will not risk the lives of weakened men. Still, it pleases me to see so many of my Aspirants at full strength, ready to serve Erovering in her time of need.”

  Mord's smile was free of mockery or guile, for all that Jess almost pitied Hyve's need to justify so many of his students' absence. “Those that stand strong beside me are free of stomach cramps, my lord. We will fight with honor and courage to do our master proud.”

  Malek was busy exchanging hand signs with their fellow Squires, before turning to Neal and nodding.

  Neal, their nominal leader, saluted Eloquin, fist to heart. “The Squires stand ready, Commander Eloquin.”

  Eloquin smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. It never did. “Very good, Neal. Standard procedure from here on out. You will refer to me as Hawk. You will refer to Knight Commander Hyve as Lance. You will refer to yourselves by first syllables only, or use hand sign. Are we clear?”

  This was said for the benefit of the Aspirants, Jess knew. It allowed everyone to speak in short, tight, tactical phrases when time and clarity was of the essence, and it made it all the harder for any witness to verify the identity of any Squire or Aspirant engaging in the bloody work they were about to embrace once more.

  Armored fists slammed to breastplates in unison, Squires and Aspirants alike. They were ready.

  Eloquin nodded and turned to Commander Hyve. “My Squires stand ready, Lance.”

  Hyve nodded slowly. “Very good, Hawk.” He turned to Mord. “You have earned the right to lead, Mord. These students are under your care. Prove yourself worthy, and do not disappoint.”

  Fist to chest once more. “No, Lance, I shall not.” Mord turned then, visor raised as all of theirs were, gazing back at them.

  “Neal, take command of your Squires. You will be right flank. Aspirants shall be left. Unless I shout otherwise, do as you see fit. We shall form proper battle plans once we have scouted out the slaver's fortifications.”

  Neal gazed coolly at Mord for several long seconds before slamming fist to chest, bowing his head. “As you command.”

  Jess saw Eloquin give the slightest of nods when Neal glanced his way. So be it. This was to be Lord Hyve's performance, and if he wanted to let Mord steer the reins, they were bound to follow.

  Jess carefully hid her displeasure before looking up once more, eyes instantly caught by Mord's dark gaze. "Jess. Ride beside me and assure no root or branch hinders us as we make our way."

  Jess winced but was not so foolish as to decline, for all that she refused to salute him, no matter how Lord Hyve frowned.

  And shortly after that, Jess found herself leading around three score of Erovering's most elite students by moonlight along the great road that would eventually lead to Krona, the shining Jewel of the capital. It was a sedate pace, all of the Aspirants and most of the Squires proceeding in almost meditative silence under the silvery light of the full moon.

  A quick, professional eye showed most of her fellow Squires with recurved bows secured, taking advantage of the royal edict allowing Squires of War to train with bows and crossbows, weapons normally the province of royal armsmen alone. The secured bows and quivers were of course discretely covered with burlap, easily overlooked by most, as Eloquin was not one to advertise a Squire's privileges. Most of the Aspirants had lances resting in stirrups, and Jess was pleased to see they were prudent enough to bring those of modest size, as they would be riding for a good number of hours, and much of it through woodlands. She'd be surprised if half the Aspirants wouldn't give up their lances in frustration with low hanging branches always knocking them out of hand.

  She then forced herself to face what she had been doing her best to avoid, Mord's smiling countenance, gazing at her so intently.

  “Do our troops meet your exacting standards?”

  Jess scowled. She really didn't want to deal with veiled insults and being the butt of his mockery for hours on end.

  “Jess.”

  One syllable from the man she admired most in the world. Bloody hells. Eloquin expected her to take him seriously.

  Jess sighed. “Yes, Mord. Squires are ready for auxiliary support, whether that means peppering the bastards with arrow fire the moment before you charge, or charging ourselves with estocs in hand, we have you covered.”

  Mord nodded. “Good.”

  Jess blinked. Not mocking at all. Strange. She took a deep breath of the cool nighttime air perfumed with the scents of pine and endless wild blossoms before continuing.

  “My coin is on half of your fellows ditching their lances when we start cutting through the deepwood. For all that they were prudent enough to bring shorter lances, they will weary of carrying them soon enough, when endless branches knock them from their stirrup rests.”

  Mord tilted his head, gazing intently at Jess. “Yet that never stopped you Squires from striking with lances whenever I joined your missions before.”

  Jess frowned. She done her best to be discrete in all the ways she helped her fellows, but Mord was no fool. He had blackened his dagger just as much as she had. Why was he making her say it aloud? “We make fresh lances just prior to an
engagement. You should know this, Mord. You've fought by my side often enough. It's hardly my fault if you weren't paying attention while we did so.”

  Mord nodded thoughtfully, gazing out at the vast fields of grain blowing in the evening breeze. “You used your gifts, then.” It was not a question. “Excellent. I will expect you to do the same for my men, once we make camp and scout out our enemy.”

  Jess nodded, for all that she hated taking orders from he who was her greatest nemesis, save on nights such as these. In truth, she had been planning much the same, though only after the smug satisfaction of watching pugnacious Aspirants fumble with their lances for hours through the deepwood before finally giving up, even as their Squire counterparts grinned at their frustration.

  “Very good reasoning, Mord,” Lord Hyve declared. “Calenbry. You should have thought to mention such in the first place! Save my men the trouble of bringing their own lances, if you were going to use your knack to make them in any case.”

  More than a few Aspirants could be caught grumbling or cursing. “We have to bring these things through the deepwood? Why did no one tell us?”

  Jess stiffened at the chastisement, but did no more than nod her head. “My apologies, sir.”

  Lord Hyve frowned. “And how did you know we would be cutting through the forest, in any case?”

  Mord's dark grin widened. “You figured it out, did you?”

  Jess felt herself flushing, for some odd reason. Lord Hyve appeared almost offended.

  Eloquin's stern voice cut through the air. “Calenbry is no fool. When the head of the Aspirants himself honors my students with his presence, she feared the threat hit close to home. If her hunch is correct, taking the main road there would give any enemy scouts plenty of warning. Cutting through the deepwood would be the most prudent method of stalking our enemies without giving ourselves away.”