Midnight's Knight: A Fae War Chronicles Novel (The Fae War Chronicles Book 0)

by Jocelyn Fox

  When sunset washed the sky scarlet, Balaron watched the last grains of sand trickle out of the top of his sandglass for the last time, giving a long, shrill whistle that ended on a high note. It sounded similar to the whistle that the Queen’s Master of Hounds used to call the hunting dogs back to him. The new pages still looked warily about as the older pages stopped drilling them on basic staff movements. The squires paused in their roaming of the training yard, turning to face Balaron. The grizzled Knight stood in the center of the courtyard and raised his arms.

  “To our youngest brothers,” he bellowed, “may you always remember your First Training Day fondly!”

  The newest pages gave a half-hearted, weary cheer in response, with a few just staring blankly in exhaustion at their training master. The older pages and squires chuckled and glanced at one another knowingly.

  “To the hounds,” continued Balaron, “may you continue your hunting with luck and speed!”

  The pages who had served as hounds howled, filling the courtyard with their imitation of a pack of wolves. Kieran winced and Finn pretended to cover his ears, which only caused the young pages nearest them to increase the volume of their shrill howls.

  “To the older pages,” said Balaron, “may you be wearing your new master’s crest proudly the next time you take part in this event!”

  Ramel, his roommate and the other senior pages responded with a hearty cheer.

  Balaron sobered a bit and he looked at the squires. “And to my former charges,” he said with a glimmer in his good eye, “may this be your last First Training Day!”

  At that, all the pages erupted into yells of support for the squires, who either grinned if they’d been put forward for the gauntlet or stoically endured the enthusiastic cheers if they knew they had another year of training ahead of them after the Solstice. Finn smiled at the page’s vocal support, but reminded himself that nothing was certain. The only thing he could control was his training, and he intended to be one of the best-prepared squires that had ever faced the gauntlet.

  Balaron nodded to his assistant training master, who promptly roared at the pages to get into formation. The new pages fairly leapt out of their skins when they realized that they’d be forming up with the older pages, and the assistant training master pretended not to see the hasty corrections made by the senior pages. Balaron made his way over to the gate, nodding to the squires as they made their way out of the courtyard. He would stop one or another occasionally for a few words, and Finn wasn’t surprised when his old training master gripped his forearm in greeting.

  “Squire Finnead,” said Balaron. “Heard you’re up for the gauntlet.” He nodded at Kieran. “You, too, eh?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Finn.

  “All I can say is that it will test you,” said Balaron with another nod. “It’s different for everyone, but if you truly want to make it through, you will.”

  “Or I’ll die trying,” said Kieran with half a grin, but the statement jolted Finn. He looked sharply at the bigger squire, who merely widened his grin and saluted Balaron before moving on. Balaron, too, looked thoughtfully after Kieran before turning back to Finn.

  “Don’t even let it enter your head, lad,” he said sternly. His voice took on the fierce, commanding tone that he’d used with them as pages. “You will survive.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Finn past his suddenly dry throat. He mustered a smile, saluted Balaron and hurried after his training partner. He caught up to Kieran as they entered the passageway into Darkhill that would take them to their quarters. “What was that?” he demanded.

  “What?” Kieran asked offhandedly.

  “Jesting about…that,” said Finn, looking at his friend sternly.

  “It was just a joke,” said Kieran with a shrug.

  “That’s not something to joke about, and you know it.” Finn knew he sounded like a scolding taskmaster, but he couldn’t help it. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You didn’t See anything, did you?”

  Kieran rolled his eyes. “For midnight’s sake, Finn, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, I don’t See anything.”

  “Don’t lie to me,” said Finn.

  “Look, I was a bit weird when we were pages, all right? I know you keep thinking that I have some of the Sight but I don’t, no matter what I used to say.” The humor left Kieran’s voice. “I’m sorry I joked about it, but there’s no need to worry.”

  Finn glanced at his friend in consideration. “All right,” he said slowly, but he couldn’t help the spark of doubt that still wriggled in his chest as he watched the suddenly distant expression on Kieran’s face. They walked the rest of the way to their room in silence, only speaking to greet other squires that passed them in the halls of the barracks.

  “If you did See something,” Finn said finally as they neared the door of their room, “you would tell me, wouldn’t you?”

  “You just want me to tell you that I’ve Seen you with the princess,” said Kieran with a devilish grin.

  Finn almost sighed but restrained himself. They’d be going through the gauntlet together, after all, so he could keep an eye on his roommate. “Well, I wouldn’t be angry if you told me that,” he said lightheartedly.

  “I have a feeling she’ll come down to the practice yards again soon,” Kieran said as they unbuckled their sword belts and hung them on their pegs on the wall. “Despite the look on the Vaelanseld’s face. He can’t do anything to her, and she knows it.” The big squire shook his head.

  Finn chuckled. “It really gets under your skin, doesn’t it?”

  “What does?” Kieran narrowed his eyes.

  “The idea of a girl fighting as well as one of our new pages.”

  “First of all, it’s not a fair comparison. Those lads have only been drilling for a sennight, and she’s had as much time as her leisure allows to practice.”

  “Doesn’t that show a measure of dedication on her part?” asked Finn with a shrug.

  “It’s not the same, Finn!” A note of exasperation entered Kieran’s voice. “She did it on a lark. She was mocking one of our traditions.”

  “I disagree,” replied Finn. “She was testing herself.”

  “Selfishly testing herself,” Kieran corrected. “She didn’t stop to think that her little excursion would interrupt the whole training evolution when she was discovered.”

  “I actually don’t really think it’s noteworthy.” Finn shrugged. “If a girl wants to get knocked down in the dirt same as the boys, why shouldn’t she be able to?”

  “Because it’s not how things are done,” said Kieran hotly.

  “Why?” Finn looked at him calmly. “Should we always be satisfied with ‘how things are done?’ Shouldn’t we decide for ourselves whether there might be a better way to do things?”

  “It’s not our decision anyway! We’re only squires,” said Kieran.

  “But it might be our decision someday,” said Finn, his eyes flashing.

  “First you tell me not to even joke of anything in the future,” said Kieran, “and now you’re talking about changing one of our fundamental tenets of service.”

  “Our tenets of service are truth, honor and loyalty,” countered Finn. “As far as I’m concerned, that doesn’t say anything at all about whether women should be allowed to train.”

  “All right, say that you have it your way on this theoretical day in the future,” said Kieran as they slid out of their squire’s vests and inspected them for dust. “Would you be all right with hitting a woman?”

  Finn chuckled. “If I’m sparring with her and she lets her guard down, why not?”

  “And you’d be all right with wrestling a woman? What if she’s beautiful? What if you feel something for her?”

  Finn shrugged. “There are some among our number who find beautiful men attractive. We don’t disqualify them from service, do we?”

  “It’s not the same,” repeated Kieran.

  “I fail to see why.”

&n
bsp; “Women aren’t strong enough.”

  “Perhaps because they haven’t been given the chance to build that strength through a proper training regimen.” Finn raised his eyebrows at Kieran. “In the North, the ulfdrengr allow both men and women to train as warriors. And, of course, there’s the Bearer.”

  “Now you well and truly sound like a Skirt,” muttered Kieran. “The Bearer is…well, she’s a mortal. They think differently than we do. As do the ulfdrengr. We aren’t barbarians who need to thrust swords into the hands of our women.”

  “Just because they’re different from us doesn’t mean they’re barbarians,” said Finn as he used a small brush to clean the shoulders of his squire’s vest. “And I believe the ulfdrengr favor axes.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind if I ever meet one,” grumbled Kieran.

  “You should,” said Finn. “Especially if it’s a woman. I have a feeling that a woman with an axe would be a dangerous and deadly combination.”

  “I wonder if they wear men’s clothing as well,” said Kieran musingly.

  “So, what if they do? It doesn’t change the fact they’re women.”

  “It just seems very…crude.”

  “Or practical.”

  Kieran sighed. “I can tell I’m going to get nowhere with you, so I’m just going to let this conversation fade into silence.”

  Finn grinned. “I think what you mean to say is you can’t defend your antiquated ideas from my impeccable logic.”

  “I had no idea you were so…”

  “Progressive?” Finn raised his eyebrows and grinned.

  “Whatever you’d like to call it.” Kieran shrugged and went to the wardrobe, carefully hanging up his squire’s vest.

  Finn almost replied but then thought better of it. He didn’t want to sully a friendship by driving a wedge of opinion farther and farther between them. After all, they were both squires and they would both be running the gauntlet his Solstice. They had better things to worry about than one stubborn, defiant young princess…even if that princess seemed to occupy an inordinate amount of Finn’s thoughts when he let his mind drift. He slid the rune-cap into the drawer in his nightstand, and resolved to focus on his studies for the night. Kieran’s words echoed in his head, eliciting another small shiver. Just the thought of one of them not surviving the test that would allow them to be considered for their Knight’s sword was enough for Finnead to firmly put all thoughts of Princess Andraste from his mind.

  “What are we studying tonight?” Kieran asked the familiar question without any hint of irritation, as though their heated conversation hadn’t even happened.

  Finn smiled. “I think some runes to start off the night…”

  Chapter 9

  “I hear there’s a delegation from the North coming for the Solstice,” said Ramel. Murtagh barely glanced up from his desk. Ramel frowned when he saw that the book on the desk wasn’t opened. “Everything alright?”

  “I think so,” said Murtagh slowly.

  Ramel glanced over their room and with a start saw that a black canvas traveling bag sat on Murtagh’s bunk, fat with neatly folded clothes. His stomach dropped but he kept his voice jovial. “Going on a trip without me?”

  Murtagh smiled and turned to face his friend. He looked different somehow. A bit sad, maybe, but also…Ramel contemplated Murtagh’s face.

  “Stop making cow eyes at me,” said Murtagh, raising his eyebrows.

  “I can’t help it, I’m just memorizing the curve of your lips,” said Ramel in an exaggeratedly moonstruck voice, placing his hand over his heart. “If you’re leaving me, I want to remember every detail.”

  Murtagh chuckled. “Just as incorrigible as the day I met you.”

  Ramel grinned. “That’s the truth.” His grin faded. “You look…lighter, somehow.” He pressed his lips together as the pieces began to fall into place. “You look like you’ve finally settled something that’s been bothering you for a while.”

  “That’s actually a very good description,” said Murtagh, picking up the book and crossing the room to slide it into his bag. He looked at Ramel. “I just had a long talk with Knight Balaron. I won’t be fighting at the Solstice to be chosen as a squire.”

  Ramel took a breath. “You’re…leaving?”

  “Quitting,” said Murtagh brightly. “It’s all right, you can say it.” He nodded. “It’s an accurate word.”

  “You’re my friend,” said Ramel in an unusually quiet voice. “I didn’t want to…”

  “Hurt my feelings?” Murtagh smiled. “It was my decision, Ramel. I’ve been offered an opportunity to train with one of the Walkers. It’s not half so organized a training regimen as this, of course, but it’s where my true strength and skill is.”

  Ramel took another deep breath and tried to grin. “So, then. You’re abandoning me, eh?”

  Murtagh shook his head. “Of course not. I just can’t live here if I’m not a page. You know that.”

  “I know.” Ramel shifted his weight uncomfortably and, for once, grasped at the right words. “I never meant to say that you weren’t good enough to be a Knight or a Guard,” he said finally.

  Murtagh walked over and put a hand on Ramel’s shoulder. “You’ve never been anything but a good friend to me,” he said firmly. “Your honesty was part of what helped me realize that not everyone is meant to walk this path.”

  “You sound like one of the Scholars,” said Ramel. His next words sounded plaintive, but he couldn’t think of any other way to say it. “So, I suppose I’ll be by myself now.”

  “Maybe for a couple of weeks,” said Murtagh, “but Balaron seems to think you’ll be moving up to the squires’ barracks soon.”

  A flush of hope at Balaron’s comment warred with sadness and a feeling of abandonment in Ramel’s chest. Then he shook himself slightly. It was childish and selfish to whine about Murtagh’s decision simply because he didn’t want to lose his friend and roommate. “I’m glad you’ve made the decision that’s best for you,” he said honestly. “I hope you’ll still come by every now and again.”

  “Probably more often than now and again,” said Murtagh with a smile.

  “Still want to come watch the gauntlet?” Ramel asked.

  Murtagh nodded. “If the other pages don’t mind, and my new master gives me the time off.”

  “It starts at sundown,” pointed out Ramel. “I doubt that Walkers train that long.”

  “We need to be able to Walk at night as well,” said Murtagh with a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

  “If you’re too busy training, you could just come at the end,” said Ramel with a little shrug.

  “Now you’re just being insulting,” said Murtagh.

  “That’s what I’m best at,” said Ramel with a grin. He sat on his bunk and watched Murtagh check the wardrobe and desk to ensure he’d packed all his belongings. “Maybe we’ll get to serve at a dinner in honor of the Northerners.”

  “From what I’ve heard, there might not be much honoring going on,” said Murtagh.

  “What have you heard?” demanded Ramel. “You may be leaving me, but that doesn’t let you off the hook for telling me the latest gossip!”

  Murtagh chuckled. “I overheard Knight Balaron talking to another Knight as I approached him to speak about my resignation. Apparently, the Northerners are bringing a few of our own back to Court.”

  “The ones that traveled North?”

  “Yes.”

  Ramel hummed thoughtfully. “D’you think they’d teach us what they’ve learned?”

  Murtagh shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Who’s to say they’ve learned anything at all?”

  Ramel shook his head with a grin. “No way you can live with the wolf-warriors for years and not pick up a thing or two.” His eyes lit up as another thought occurred to him. “D’you think any of them have bonded with wolves? I hear they trade souls. Like…they have half a wolf’s soul, the wolf has half of theirs.”

  “Those are just chil
dren’s tales,” said Murtagh. “I don’t really think there’s any sorcery involved. What are wolves but bigger versions of our hunting hounds? They’re probably simply taught to obey the Northerners’ commands.”

  “I’d like to hear you say that to a Northerner’s face,” said Ramel.

  “I will,” replied Murtagh jauntily, “if they do really come to Court.”

  “Deciding you’re going to be a Walker has made you too big for your boots already,” said Ramel, but there was an approving note in his voice. He stood as Murtagh picked up his bag. They gripped forearms – the pages practiced the formal sign of respect in private, mimicking the squires and Knights. Eventually it felt like a true symbol of friendship. “Don’t work too hard with the Walkers,” he said.

  “Don’t sharpen your tongue too much on the unfortunate young ones,” said Murtagh with a smile.

  “I should have a few free hours on Queensday,” said Ramel, naming the day every ten days on which the entire Court rested from their labors, so named because Queen Mab herself had decreed it.

  “That’s what…six days from now? And the last Queensday before Solstice.” Murtagh nodded. “I’ll stop by.”

  “You’d better, before you forget your way around the barracks.” Ramel smiled. He didn’t particularly want Murtagh to see how deeply it wounded him that his roommate was leaving so suddenly. Part of him wondered why Murtagh hadn’t spoken to him about it, even as he reminded himself that it wasn’t anybody’s decision but Murtagh’s. Becoming a Knight wasn’t easy, and to be truthful, he respected Murtagh all the more for making the difficult decision to leave training.

  Murtagh grinned, slung his bag over his shoulder and walked out of the room without looking back. As the door shut, Ramel took a deep breath. A feeling of overwhelming loneliness washed over him, but he picked up his staff and started to run through the complex drills that he’d learned by watching the squires.

  The days until the Solstice seemed to pass as slowly as the sand in Balaron’s hourglass when the pages were being punished. Every moment stretched into an hour as the pages looked longingly toward the fortnight of festivities that surrounded the Winter Solstice, the day most sacred to their Court and their Queen. They were a people of night and winter. The dark and the cold did not frighten them. They basked in the silver moonlight and the kiss of frost. It was why the squires’ gauntlet began at sundown, when the land truly belonged to the Unseelie.