Squire of War

by M. H. Johnson

  Always.

  And finally, with the sweetest caress of outrage and blackest fury, she was free.

  “So, dear Jezabelle, are we awake at last? Is it time yet? Are we done with sophistry and ready to begin the killing?”

  Jess blinked.

  From nowhere, her cat’s icy words cooled Jess’s hot fury. “Tell me, beloved mistress, how many of these students, children really, do you think you can butcher before these pathetic excuses for professors realize that something far beyond their ken is in their midst? And all because this one stupid boy had the audacity to scheme against you?”

  Twilight’s caustic commentary cut through her like a whip.

  Jess blinked. Her eyes caught Twilight’s unfathomable gaze, and her gut clenched in sudden shame. She then looked at the shivering, whimpering student before her, little more than a boy really, gurgling and bleeding all over her tightly clenched fist. Every corded sinew stood out upon the arm that was presently choking Billy alive, even as his hands clawed desperately, futilely at her steely wrist.

  She gazed into Billy’s eyes, wide with terror, silently pleading for his life.

  She felt of a sudden horrified and sickened. Stunned by what she had done. What she had in a sick savage moment contemplated doing. Not just to this panicked student, little more than a boy, really, but to anyone who crossed her.

  For one moment, she utterly loathed herself.

  Fighting back hot tears of shame, she tore her hand away from the young man’s supplicating grip, spinning around even as he collapsed to the ground with great heaving breaths. Without a word, she walked away from the broken student behind her, Billy's high pitched sobs echoing through her mind long after she had returned to quarters.

  She couldn't bear to face anyone that day, afraid of what she would see, should she peer too deeply into their gaze. Afraid of what they would see in her. Instead, she curled up in her bed, too depressed to move. All that day she felt the weight of Twilight's heavy gaze upon her, and her eyes were hot with tears of shame, fearing she had broken a sacred trust, horrified by how close she had come to embracing a killer's frenzy.

  And had actually given into that unforgivable madness? She knew her loyal Twilight would not have judged. He would have been by her side, even then. Even though he knew it was wrong, and she would be dragging him into darkness too.

  “I’m sorry Twilight,” she had whispered at last, in the darkest hours of the night. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” Her tears were hot and stinging, and it was an immeasurable relief to feel her warm purring kitty deign to accept her aching need for his touch, the utter relief she felt as her shaking hands gently stroked his fur.

  “There is nothing to apologize for, my dear Jess,” her familiar soothed. “I simply woke you up to what you were doing. Nothing more. It would be a shame to ruin centuries of good behavior for no good reason, in a simple moment of pique. I can only imagine what David would say.”

  Jess abruptly stopped stroking his fur, despite his mew of discontent. “What are you talking about, Twilight? Who is David?”

  Her kitty sighed. “Never you mind, dear Jess. What matters is you made the right decision for you. I know the duality of your nature. And there is no greater crime, I think, than for one to deny one’s true nature. Your fate is tied by two diametrically opposing destinies. Hot with the bile of potent killers that it is, the blood of paladins also flows through your veins. So you must be careful. Always careful. And know in the darkest depths of your heart which path it is you truly wish to cross, whenever the black rage takes hold of you.”

  “Ah yes,” Jess had smiled, once again stroking the fur of her purring cat. “Our raider ancestors, infamous for their ability to fly into a berserker’s fury, who wrested this continent from its original inhabitants. Of course, our ancestor’s clans then mixed and interbred with the natives until we were all one people. Thus, no lord can look too far into his family’s past without finding blood on his ancestral hands. And I have heard of paladins out of legend. I’m sure my father would love to take credit for the blood of heroes as well as raiders being in our family veins.”

  “Something like that,” agreed her purring kitty. “Now sleep, Jess. You’ve had a long day.”

  Strangely, perhaps, Jess had suffered no consequence for her terrible act of intimidation and assault. She was both ashamed and relieved, and felt too discomfited to even inquire as to what had happened to Billy after that day. All she knew was that she had never run into him again, and no one since had ever bothered inquiring too closely as to what Jess and her friends were up to.

  In truth, Jess was just as glad never to face his frightened gaze again, lest she be forced to acknowledge the terrifying rage that lurked within the darkest corners of her own imperfect soul.

  Jess stopped of a sudden and blinked, shaking away her brooding ruminations as she strolled past the very spot where she had almost throttled Billy to death, just last year. She felt an eerie chill flow up and down her spine as she turned to her familiar, gazing back at her with his enigmatic sapphire eyes. “Twilight, it just occurred to me. That incident with Billy.”

  Her cat flashed a dark grin. “I remember it well, my Jess. You were in rare form, that afternoon.”

  “Ha-ha. Anyway, it occurs to me that I never did find out who was behind his pandering. As much as I felt that someone was pulling Billy's strings, I had no real sense of the puppet master himself.”

  Her cat gave a thoughtful nod. “It would be unlikely that you could have, without beating the answer out of him. That you are able to sense deception and malice when someone lies to you with cruel intent is a rare and precious gift, my mistress. But to sense the very origin of the strings pulling the marionettes that are the souls of this realm? Not even the dukes and queens of Hell could perform such a feat without interrogation, or at least careful questioning.”

  Jess shivered. “Sometimes your choice of words chills me, beloved Twilight.”

  Adroitly, her cat leaped to his favorite perch, purring softly, butting her cheek with his own. “My apologies for the poor choice of words, dearest Jess. Let me say instead that you are blessed with your gift, and as you did successfully rout poor Billy, whoever was pulling his strings has been prudent enough to withdraw from that line of attack.”

  Jess blinked, frozen in her tracks as she was hit with a sudden revelation. “Mord de Plaga,” Jess hissed.

  “And what brings his name to your lips, my mistress?” Twilight asked curiously.

  Jess shook her head in disbelief. “His whole bearing changed right after the incident, do you remember? His sly, nasty mockery. His promises to see me sent home in disgrace. The fury he felt when I kept doing so well in the seasonal challenges during our first year, for all that he refused to ever duel me again, even the overseers agreeing to this, citing bad blood between us.”

  Twilight nodded. “It would do the school’s reputation no good to have one of their prize students permanently maim another. And I know that neither General Eloquin nor Knight Commander Hyve want to risk losing their star pupils to something as trivial as a grudge fight. You two are both too well trained at this point for it to be assumed you couldn’t trade fatal blows, despite cares taken to assure the matches are non-lethal duels.”

  Jess grinned. “You so rarely use their titles, my kitty.”

  Twilight sighed. “It is in a commander’s capacity that they make their decisions. Remember, my Jess, the players that matter are not stupid at this college. Why do you think you have such powerful nobles and former commanders taking on the roles of instructors?”

  Jess grimaced. “To ready the newest pieces to take their places upon the board of kings; newly forged commanders ready to protect our nation against the next generation of military threats we face.”

  Twilight nodded. “And it is a piss poor general who allows his pieces to kill each other off, when he’s spent years forging them to take the enemy’s pieces off the field of battle instead.” />
  Jess shook her head. “But regardless of all that, don’t you see? After the incident with Billy, Mord’s attitude changed entirely! He was no longer quite the same caliber of ass.” Jess scowled. “Angels above, he’s made his hunger for me known to any boy who dares show an interest in me.”

  Twilight gazed thoughtfully at Jess, giving a slow nod. “Perhaps he was the mastermind behind Billy’s maneuver. And when he saw how thoroughly you had ruined his pawn, Mord’s contempt did turn to a twisted sort of admiration.” Twilight shrugged. “Of course, his perception of you truly began to change the moment he and a very few of his fellows dared to augment Squire ranks, those nights Eloquin teaches you all what it truly means to be forged in the cauldron of battle. Mord revels in bloodshed, and few men are your equal when it comes to the killing arts."

  Jess felt her guts roil. “So his sick obsession began after I utterly terrified his cat's-paw."

  Twilight grinned. “That and how closely your dark savagery resonates with his own, when your blood is hot with the terror and fury of fighting for your life in earnest. To say nothing of having pounded Billy's nose to a pulp, near crushing his windpipe, and gloating that you could sense his attempts to deceive you.”

  Jess frowned. “I did sort of admit that I could sense his lies, didn’t I?” She shook her head. “And Mord's friends hardly say a word in my presence, I’ve noticed. Very cagey creatures.”

  Her familiar nodded. “No doubt they have all sorts of pustulent secrets, and are savvy enough to utter nothing but the truth in front of she who has become a worthy opponent.” He shook himself, as if clearing his head of troubling thoughts. “Enough of this, dearest Jess. Come. The Circle of Midnight awaits our entrance. Perhaps our friends will have insights of their own, or can at least serve to entertain us.”

  18

  Jess took a deep breath as she gently knocked on the door of the long-abandoned reading room all but hidden in this rarely used corner of the keep, doing her best to dispel the memory of Billy's terrified pleading, eager to escape all brooding ruminations with the twin balms of gossip and friendship that had helped her endure so many stormy days at Highrock.

  Quietly, the library door was opened to reveal Josie, golden hair sparkling in the lamplight, wearing a beautiful sky-blue dress that suited her twinkling eyes and golden locks so perfectly, simple at first glance yet deceptively elegant in its construction, much like its wearer. She smiled warmly and bid her friend enter.

  The forgotten room had been in a state of disrepair before their group's ministrations, but now it looked downright homey. The badly damaged texts had been given to the prime library's scribes who asked no questions as to their origins when told they were gifts to the library. What tomes and scrolls remained were all in excellent condition. As to the reading chairs themselves, most had been in deplorable shape and promptly disposed of, though several leather backed chairs and an old divan had been deemed salvageable; the college's carpenter and tanner each paid a silver talon to restore them all to perfect condition, as well as to assure the craftsmen's discretion. The chairs and divan were now pieces worthy of any parlor, their supple leathers exquisitely comfortable to relax upon.

  They had stocks of brandy, ale, and fresh containers of water they changed regularly, stores of dried biscuits should such ever be needed, and someone always remembered to bring fresh milk and loaves of bread, and most days cheese, meat, and pastries as well. Jess smiled, acknowledging to herself that the sad truth of it was that half the time their group was more about meeting, socializing, having a bit too much to drink and securing a private spot with one's beau in one of the darker corners of the chamber than it was about unearthing lost bits of lore and forgotten knowledge.

  No doubt those piles of blankets ostensibly stored away for emergencies would be the facilitators of a college inspired wedding before too long, the way her friends took to their meetings. Which was quite ironic, Jess thought, as the supposed purpose of the Circle of Midnight was to free themselves from the chains of societal expectation and obligation, not trap themselves in chains of their own making.

  “So the knight has returned to the Circle’s midst. We can begin.” Smiling, Raphael winked at her. His honey brown ringlets, well cared for as always, ran freely down his shoulders in an elegant wave. Tight fitting hosiery showed off finely sculpted legs to excellent effect, Raphael's rich red doublet showcasing wealth and vitality both, and Jess was reminded once again why he had become so popular with the female students of the College, and why, despite the heady scent of his cologne and the warmth of his handsome smile, it would most definitely not be a good idea to fall in love with Raphael diOnni. Besides, as Josie’s heartfelt sigh and Raphael’s gentle gaze reminded her, someone had already lost her heart to him long ago.

  “Here you are,” Josie said, handing Jess a silver plate with an artfully carved ham and cheese sandwich, and a tall mug of cold milk.

  “Thank you, Josie. A meal fit for royalty. We can be grateful to our neighbors for the genius of meats and cheeses on bread and pastry, if nothing else.” Jess smiled her appreciation, having learned long ago that far from finding it demeaning, Josie enjoyed playing hostess, mothering the group with her culinary and banquet skills. Besides, it did give her an excuse to stroke Raphael whenever she passed him, which she did quite regularly, and he’d playfully catch her arm and kiss her palm, winking at her, setting her to giggling.

  Alex rolled his eyes but kept eating his sandwich, long inured to the antics of his circle-mates. Of slender build and unassuming demeanor, his light brown hair and dark eyes made it all too easy for him to blend in, but Jess had long been aware of his piercing intellect and natural flair for the mystic arts that made him one of the rising stars of the College. His residency and future tenure as a wizard here at Highrock were all but assured.

  Alex, at least, could rest easy, knowing he could spend a lifetime studying elemental lore and mastering his ever-growing talents at the college, called upon only by the king to use his future great and terrible magics in defense of the kingdom as needed, compensated by a generous stipend, as were all royal battlemages, for their efforts on the Crown's behalf. Other than that, he would be left to his own devices to do as he pleased. He was utterly free of the worries of politics and arranged marriages, and all the headaches that went with it.

  Jess sighed, remembering youthful dreams of becoming a powerful wizard before embracing the far more realistic and fierce calling of the Squire. She might not be able to cast the simplest cantrip, but she had a knack for the blade few could match, and had far less reason to fear enemy wizards than most.

  They had all been friends for years, and though Alex didn't actually need the Circle, he did enjoy their company. He thought it prudent to always facilitate the exchange of ideas and philosophies between the different disciplines, as he put it, and Jess knew how hungry he was to master whatever magical arts he could.

  At present, he was mostly just hungrily tearing into his ham sandwich, spilling crumbs all over his rich sea blue doublet. Jess wondered, not for the first time, if his studies kept him so distracted that he forgot to eat.

  Jera, with her rich dark curls the color of mahogany, looked up from her own sandwich, favoring Alex with a critical gaze. Not for the first time, Jess thought they made a great pair, sharing a similar obsession with the arcane arts. Besides, she was the only member of their group smaller than Alex. “You really should take better care of your doublet, Alex. You look like a pig.”

  Alex just smiled at Jera, which was sufficient to cause Jess's friend to blush brightly and glare at Alex before he resumed the all-important task of devouring his sandwich and getting up to make himself a second one before Josie could hop up and offer to serve him herself.

  “Never you mind, Josie. If you wish to play hostess, I think Jera could use some more milk. Her mug is almost empty.”

  Jera huffed, looked down at her empty container and shook her head, then busied herself primping her da
rk green velvet dress, determinedly not meeting anyone’s gaze.

  Jess gave a satisfied nod.

  Jera snapped her eyes up to meet Jess’s own. “What?” she demanded.

  “What? Nothing.” Jess raised her hands in meek protest.

  “I know what you’re thinking, so just stop thinking it. Even if Alex and I are sharing quarters, we're both eighteen now, so it’s none of your business, even if you think you have everything figured out. And I don’t care how good you are at reading people, my book is closed to you, so stop looking!”

  “Okay, okay,” Jess agreed. “I’m not saying anything.”

  “Besides, he’s a total jerk who only cares about his studies,” Jera sighed.

  “I heard that,” Alex called out.

  “I certainly hope so,” Jera muttered, and promptly shut her eyes, her way of tuning out the group.

  Jacob, tall and brooding as always, wearing sheer black doublet and hose as was his wont, looked up from the tome he was studying. "Well, if we are finished with the drama portion of the evening, perhaps we can begin discussing matters of actual import?”

  “Ah, dear Jacob, I quite agree," Raphael grinned. "And what could be of greater import than letting our dear Josie know how much we appreciate her wonderful hostessing? To say nothing of being captivated by her alluring beauty." A giggling Josie gasped in playful surprise as his strong arm gently pulled her down to sink into his lap. "You were away from me too long, my sweet blossom. I could not bear it," he whispered playfully into her neck even as he began kissing her there before releasing her to sit next to him.

  “Behave, sir!” she demanded.

  “I am speechless with regret. How may I make it up to you, my queen? I do spy a corner over yonder, away from prying eyes where I may speak my entreaties to you with the deep passionate remorse that I reserve for you alone.” He gently grasped her disciplining hand, capturing it to kiss the palm. She gasped.