Squire of War

by M. H. Johnson

  Mortant scowled. “And you know all this because Jera planted you. In your dream. Wherein you grew to full size in what, a day? Jess, honest to goodness, are you sure this is no dream? Have you been drinking absinthe again? You know you’re not supposed to touch it after the revels.”

  Jess shook her head. “Nothing but water passed my lips last night.”

  Erica nodded. “That’s good enough for me, Jess. However crazy the magic, if you sensed our friends in danger, we’d be lower than dirt, if we didn’t try to save them.”

  Neal caught Jess’s gaze. “Let’s consider the obvious solution right before our faces before we panic. Did we check their rooms? Dare I say it, did we check our revel hall? We all know various students from time to time sneak in and sample drinks best left to those forged in the fury of battle. And if Alex and his beau were eager to embrace the mage’s equivalent of a revel...”

  Jess felt her cheeks flush hot with embarrassment and shame. She hadn’t even thought to check, so compelled by her dream as she had been, neither rooms nor revel hall.

  “Both are clear.” Eloquin’s voice. Ever the pragmatist, of course he had checked. Still, Jess knew she was a fool not to have checked before she had spouted anything about her odd dream to anyone.

  Lucas nodded. “That’s good enough for me. Eloquin’s taking this seriously, and we checked the obvious spots that would have made us look like fools, had we not. But Jess, even if you have some mystic connection to this sprout Jera planted...”

  “It’s a tree now.”

  Lucas grinned. “Impressive, if true. Anyway, unless those students are near the tree, how will we find them once we arrive at the spot?”

  A number of curious frowns were sent Jess’s way.

  Jess smiled. “My ash is smart, for a tree. She dropped leaves upon their heads. They all have my mark. I will know when we get close.”

  Malek whistled even as her friends just stared. “Impressive, Jess. Odd, but impressive.”

  Mortant snorted. “Assuming this isn’t us all just running around like a herd of drunk jackasses. But the hell with it. I’m in.”

  “As am I.” Neal dipped his head to Jess as, one by one, more than half the band pounded fist to chest. The same two score as had blackened their daggers every time Eloquin informed them of the king’s missives, riding under Eloquin's banner for a cause greater than themselves.

  This time, they were riding for the sake of their friends.

  Jess felt a fierce sense of pride as Eloquin dipped his head to her. “This is your mission, Jess. Neal will be your second. Lead our troops until contact is made, or I say otherwise. Then we will do reconnaissance and plan our next move from there.”

  “Yes sir!” The band saluted, Jess all but trembling with excitement as she checked Mercy’s hocks and the fitting of her cantilevered saddle, finding her horse in good spirits, as restless to get moving as Jess herself was.

  Jess fed her an apple, patting her side. “Let’s find our friends, Mercy.”

  Securing weapons to saddle, checking their draw, she gave a satisfied nod, turning to Neal, earning a smile in turn. “We are ready to go, Jess. You take the lead.”

  Nodding, Jess did so, Malek and Neal riding by her side as they left school grounds, the nighttime breeze caressing her skin as they made their way north at a good clip, stars twinkling in the heavens above.

  Jess lost herself in the flow of Mercy’s movements, the road they followed free of obstruction or bramble, moon shining brilliantly down upon them all.

  Her gut twisted in anxious knots, dreading not knowing the fate of her friends.

  “Jess?” Her shieldbrother, soft brown eyes filled with such concern. “It will be okay, you’ll see.”

  Jess could manage only a tight grimace in return, knowing Malek was equally worried, both of them on a desperate race, hoping more than delusions led them.

  Hours passed uneventfully, and as the long night bled with the first rays of the crimson sun, more than one Squire could be heard muttering about the folly of chasing wild dreams.

  Jess grimaced and pressed on, turning abruptly left, off the road they followed.

  “Through here,” she said breathlessly, pointing to an impenetrably thick patch of forest, hostile to more than a single person squeezing through, let alone a mount and her rider.

  Lucas frowned. “You’re kidding, right, Jess? Those trees are so closely pressed together there’s no way...” The young Squire paled and gasped, frowning at Neal. “You saw that, right? There is no way she could twist into the branches like that.”

  Neal smirked. “The trail looks clear enough to me.”

  Lucas swallowed. “That path wasn’t there five seconds before, and you know it.”

  Jess glared at her friends. “Lucas, quit worrying about inconsequentials and come on! You know we are losing time.”

  Lucas grimaced, shaking his head, but clopping behind Jess nonetheless. “You would think that after fighting beside a Druid all summer, I would be used to this. It still feels unnatural,” he murmured.

  Jess smirked, gazing at the rich leafy canopy high overhead, immersed in the trill of birdsong, the rustle of leaves. “What could possibly be more natural than this?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, the natural order of things? The blessings of stability promised by the gods that allows mathematical disciplines to flourish? I could discuss such things with you better if you weren’t always skipping classes.”

  Jess chuckled softly, amused by Lucas’s patter, allowing her at least a few moment’s peace from the terrible anxiety for her friends that only grew as time went on.

  The soft plodding steps of horses making their way along forest paths free of root and stone was slowly replaced with the crack of a whip. The burble of the brook they passed echoing like the screams of desperate students being held down for horrific sacrifice.

  Jess shuddered and shook away the awful reverie, gazing into the wide-eyed countenance of her friends. “We have to move faster!” Her voice was raw, nearing the edge of panic.

  She knew they were running out of time.

  “Control, Calenbry.” Eloquin’s powerful voice. Her commander, a man whose regard was more precious than gold.

  Jess swallowed, jerking her head. “We are running out of time,” she whispered.

  Eloquin’s features hardened. “We will do what needs to be done. Play not the fool, no matter how our enemies seek to bait and goad.”

  Jess squeezed her eyes shut. These were not pawns on the board.

  They were her friends, and they were dying.

  “Jess.”

  The thick canopy overhead began to rustle its agitation.

  Her fellows’ disciplined silence broke into soft murmurs as screams Jess had felt rippling in her gut could at last be heard.

  Screams, and something worse.

  The shrieking howl of the wind.

  “Calenbry!” Eloquin’s icy blue gaze locked upon her own.

  “You are no fool, Calenbry. Don’t play one now!”

  Her heart lurched with panic and relief in equal, awful measure.

  The forest had begun to thin.

  Lips pressed tight for all she would lose.

  A brotherhood she would never have the likes of again.

  A single pained glance shared with her closest friend.

  Malek grimaced and nodded. “I have your back, Jess. Always.”

  Jess turned about, shouting for all she was worth, knowing she had to be quick, Eloquin already knowing the order that must be given.

  “Our friends are just ahead! Trap or no, I am going to save them. Follow me only if you dare!

  “Jess!” Eloquin’s voice cracked through the air. Chilling her to the quick.

  Jera’s soft smile, Alex gazing at her so fondly as he held her close, the pair blazed within her mind.

  “You will halt, Calenbry. That’s an order!”

  Everything, thrown away in a heartbeat. And it mattered not.


  Not if she would ever face her reflection again.

  “Come, dogs of war who dare! Let us show those Velheim cowards the price they pay, kidnapping Highrock’s own!”

  “You will halt, that’s an order!”

  And Jess howled with fury and bitterest regret, exploding through thickest underbrush, gasping as she beheld the vast, windswept planes spreading off endlessly before her, the tiny, desperately struggling figures being led to an altar. The circle of hooded men, one holding a dagger up high even as a score of Velheim lancers watched on.

  And the shrieking howls of the blackest storm she had ever seen assaulted her ears. Miles away, kissing the horizon of the windswept plains with utter darkness, it was coming in fast.

  24

  By all the gods!”

  Malek, by her side as always, and how her heart soared, even while nauseous with dread.

  “The captured students are below!” Jess shrieked. “Twenty lancers and three black mages guard them. They are going to sacrifice our friends! I will lead the vanguard. Join me if you dare, brothers of the sword!”

  And Jess turned about just as Neal and Lucas burst from cover, outrage turning to horror as they gazed at the sight below. Erica but an instant behind, paling at the sight. Others emerging just behind.

  No more time.

  She dare not waste a second.

  “For king and Crown, we are his Hounds of Hell!” Jess roared, even as she charged.

  And time seemed to stretch. Her destrier’s measured pace of hours turning near instantly into a flat-out charge.

  Estoc unsheathed in an instant, Jess riding high on her mount, tilting forward, the thinnest round shield shivering with all the power of the forest, her deadly estoc braced in tierce, ready to deliver angled death once more.

  “Kill them, the barrier must fall!” A far-off voice, accent thick and guttural.

  Hateful yellow eyes in a face shadowed by ebony robes glowered at Jess, black dagger falling with a guttural curse.

  Jess felt the explosion of foulest magics.

  Recognized the scream of the girl who had just been stabbed in her guts, spitting up blood even as bright green eyes locked upon Jess’s own, from so damned far away.

  Abella. Red curly hair billowing in the breeze, her gaze one of agony as she writhed and screamed, the brutal man atop of her sawing his blade. Sawing it with savage fury, laughing as he cut.

  A scream tore through the vast planes, a shriek as great as the howling storm approaching even now. And Jess felt something inside her die.

  Blackest fury rising from the ashes, eyes tinged with crimson hate.

  Charging lances but feet away, guttural curses promising her death.

  She looked into the hostile gaze of the lead lancer seeking to pierce her heart, smiled as he choked and gasped, her estoc plunging through his neck as his own lance tore from fingertips so violently it cartwheeled overhead, Jess lurching back on her saddle and twisting away, her estoc ripping free of the stiffened lancer, near decapitating him as he toppled off his horse in a fountain of blood.

  Malek slamming into a neighboring charger, his foe dismounted with a scream, bloody sword pulled free of his foe’s ruptured hauberk.

  “Pivot and turn!”

  Mercy spun about to desperate heels even as Abella continued to shriek and sob, disemboweled by the most savage of madmen.

  Jess screamed, heart twisting, knowing what she must do.

  Charging into the band of Velheim lancers even now racing towards her friends who did not hesitate to follow, Eloquin’s furious commands aside.

  Jess howled. Letting her foes know she was coming, snarling lancers pivoting to meet her. Less lances aimed at her friends. Legs locked, she tilted forward once more, a straight on charge.

  A snarl transforming into a desperate grunt as iron rimmed shield, core of wood, was torn from desperate hands, the gifts of the woodlands never betraying their mistress, even as her blade plunged through her enemy’s heart, his own lance and those of his fellows torn out of desperate grips as Jess yanked mace free of saddlehook, shrieking and pounding with all her fury and hate, her foes crumpling to her blows. Panicked men roaring, shields tearing free of broken fingers, stunned men slipping free of saddles, hands desperately reaching for sword and war hammer even as they crumpled from their saddles, their helms caving under a berserker’s fury.

  Malek took furious advantage of wood’s retreat, slamming war hammer down upon panicked men whose shields had torn free, raised arms covered in mail shattering to a war hammer’s awful blows, screaming men huddling back before dying, Malek’s strength magnified by a berserker’s fury, helmets caved in with brutal, practiced efficiency.

  Beyond the ken of any mortal warrior.

  Jess understood that now.

  Wondering if they had left their humanity behind when they had first blackened their daggers.

  A lifetime ago.

  “Jess!” She caught her shieldbrother’s gaze, her arms shaking with battlefury. The wreak of blood inflaming their frenzy, crimson spray the warpaint of their vengeance.

  “Jess, Neal's in trouble!”

  Jess turned to gaze at her friend, Neal leading the charge with the band of Squires who had dared the assault, though some distance behind her.

  And they had not been protected by her gifts, two unhorsed by enemy lances, both stumbling to their feet, thank the gods.

  Melee had been engaged, furious and frantic, Velheim soldiers holding their own.

  A fresh scream behind them.

  Jess shuddered to see the robed mages hissing and cursing, shimmering wards of energy surrounding them, having pulled up another bound captive even as Abella spasmed her last upon the stone altar.

  Hot entrails steaming in the icy breeze.

  Her freckled face a rictus of endless agony, piercing green eyes fading to death even as Jess watched.

  “Jess!”

  Jera.

  Jess gasped in horror. The dark mages had chosen Jera as their next sacrifice, even as she shrieked and struggled against her bonds.

  Malek howled.

  Jess caught his gaze. Saw the panicked fire in his eyes.

  She did not think. Only acted.

  Gauntlet torn off, cheek stinging like fire, dirk discarded, her smeared blood caressing his forehead.

  “Kill them, my brother. Kill them all!”

  Malek howled like a wolf in truth, and Jess flinched away, horrified by what she thought she saw.

  Knowing she had to act, or Neal and friends she had fought and bled beside for an eternity would perish.

  And it would be her fault.

  Mace raced high, she charged into the milling mass of Velheim soldiers, striking down with shrieking hate, reveling in the clang of steel against steel, the crunch of shattered metal as imperfectly forged helms crumpled before her masterwork weapon, a dozen Velheim soldiers’ disciplined strikes against an equal number of Squires turning to panicked, desperate cuts as wooden shafted weapons slipped free of their grips, shields spinning to the ground, and still Jess flinched every time she heard the cry of another Squire struck by Velheim blades.

  And how she roared, redoubling her blows, as if to pay in kind for the folly of leading her friends into this place of horror.

  As one, the surviving Velheim forces broke formation and ran, four escaping as a final panicked soldier collapsed to Jess’s furious blow, his helm ringing like a gong from the power of her mace, her eyes locking upon the fleeing soldiers like a bird of prey.

  Shuddering as she caught sight of the massive storm of black brooding clouds approaching even now.

  The reverberating roar of the massive vortex of wind, howling in its center.

  “No, Jess. Retreat! We need to retreat, now!”

  Neal’s panicked gaze.

  Jess gave a hurried nod, hands quickly grabbing enemy mount stirrups before they could flee, even as her fellow Squires hurriedly lifted injured friends upright, putting those on mounts that they c
ould, so panicked they dare not even finish off their crippled foes as the deadly storm approached.

  Jess’s heart was pounding. Terrified by what she would see, but knowing she must face it, pivoting Mercy and the reins of captured mounts in line towards the sight of horrific sacrifice.

  Her guts lurched.

  Acidic bile searing her nose, burning away the stench of blood with stinging agony.

  Her relief beyond words, for all her bitter laughter.

  Jera, alive.

  Trembling with shock, screaming, as were so many of the bound students, but alive. All of them. All of them save red haired Abella, face forever locked in a rictus of agony, tortured body viciously disemboweled, a ghastly remnant of the beautiful girl so full of spunk and mirth who had flirted with Jess so sweetly, just the day before.

  But there was no time for horror at the grisly scene she saw.

  No time at all.

  The storm was approaching, and Jess was sickly certain she understood exactly what it was.

  “Jess, thank all the gods! Please!”

  Alex’s panicked gaze.

  Jess did not think, leaping from her mount, reins still in hand. Horses ready to buck, strangely still upon catching her gaze.

  Jera flinched and whimpered as Jess approached, arms raised as if fearing Jess would kill her herself.

  Jess swallowed, forcing herself to breathe, knowing exactly how she must seem, caught in the warrior’s frenzy.

  First she approached the largest of the struggling students.

  “Be still, damn it!”

  With a hoarse sob, he was.

  Jess forced trembling hands to draw her killing saber slowly, parting the boy’s bonds with an almost delicate slice.

  The boy gasped and wept. “Thank you, by all the gods of heaven, you are an angel from above, thank you!”

  “Shut up and hold these reins!”

  Sobbing, the boy did just that, as Jess quickly went to each of the still panicked mages, carefully cutting their bonds, one by one.

  Jess was careful not to look at the fallen diabolists.

  Heads and limbs torn free, bodies savaged as if having faced the wildest of beasts.

  Their horrific screams had been buried by the din and cry of battle.