Faerie's Champion

by M. H. Johnson

  "Then perhaps I don't belong in Court after all, Father," Jess muttered. "If someone taunts me about how they are going to ruin our family, I'm going to want to slam my fist into his mouth and shatter all his teeth. That would be my alternative to killing him."

  Geoffrey chuckled, gazing fondly at his sister even as he shook his head ruefully. “To tell the truth, Father, there has been a time or two when I have thought that a good punch to the mouth would be a wonderful cure to the more obnoxious hangers-on at Court.”

  Arthur sighed even as he took off his helmet and rubbed his temples. “You are not helping things, Geoff. But I will not gainsay you either. There has been a time or two when I most dearly wanted to do that very thing.”

  Geoffrey grinned. “There now Jess, you see? You will be in good company. You, me, and Father, we will all work together not to punch the more obnoxious lords in the mouth. We could even make a pact of it.”

  Jess couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing, and the accompanying grins of her father and brother made everything all right again. Somehow she would get through this, and survive a year of finishing school. Somehow. And then? Off with her friends on endless adventure, questing through realms of dream and legend for treasures beyond compare, for wonder to last a lifetime in a score of songs and tales, revered by the bards and admired by the common folk alike for glories earned and stories shared.

  The very thought sent a wave of exhilaration coursing through her. Addictions be damned. One day it might kill her, but unlike an excess of poppy extract, or the apple brandy which perhaps she had been drinking to excess once upon a time, Delving would not wither her away to a broken shell of herself. If anything, it was making her stronger, even as it altered her. If it was her doom, so be it. At least she would have the courage to embrace her doom and revel in it. To savor every moment of excitement and danger. To choose her own path through life, and death as well.

  3

  It was two days after she had agreed to renew her lessons that she found herself face to face with Morlekai once more. She had just finished what was for her a complex dance; twirl completed, back arched, held by her brother's sure grip as her gaze fell upon the front door being opened even at that moment by the house seneschal, a frisson of awe and desire racing down her spine as her eyes locked upon the fierce gold-green gaze of the powerfully built man she could see perfectly, even from across the house, dressed in exotic scale covered leathers who had come calling upon her, his dangerous lips instantly curving into a bemused smile.

  “Jess, are you all right?” Her brother asked worriedly as Jess, not yet aware of their guest's presence. With all grace lost, Jess near stumbled out of his grip.

  “I’m fine,” she murmured, finding herself flushing under Morlekai’s measuring stare.

  Surrendering control to another, extremely difficult, had been the most challenging thing for her in learning the woman's role in dancing. It was something she could barely manage with her brother, whom she trusted completely. To be caught in the considering gaze of a man of such fierce presence and potency as the Delver so intently focused upon her, even now, utterly shattered that hard won skill. Her body instantly reverted to its fiercely independent stance as she pulled away from her brother, her hands suddenly aching for the comfort of steel.

  She had known he was coming. That was the thing. She had felt his potent aura crackling like wizard's lightning, the moment he had stepped upon her ancestral lands. Yet to actually be caught in his gaze, the frisson of connection was indescribable.

  "Well, we know one thing for certain. Jess is going to need a lot of work before she's ready to dance at the next gala," Apple noted wryly even as she expertly finished her own twirl in their father's well-practiced arms, and Jess found she couldn't disagree with her sister's assessment in the least.

  "Del Morlekai here to see Jessica de Calenbry," their seneschal formally noted as he led the way to the ballroom, stating the utterly obvious, as far as Jess was concerned.

  For his part, save for his overly familiar smile, the Delver gracefully kept his own counsel, awaiting to be formally invited within their dance chamber and addressed by Jessica’s father before speaking.

  “My thanks once again for allowing me this opportunity to spar with the most potent Spring Delver I have yet to come across,” Morlekai said formally after the initial greetings, as he was made welcome to sit at table with them, fine crystal glass of apple brandy in hand.

  A freshly changed Jessica, knowing her mother still feared her giving into the enticements of brandy once more, had headed off any argument by instead pouring herself a glass from the iced pitcher of light summer punch that her family favored all year round, far more apple and pear juice than wine. Her attention was riveted almost entirely upon the potent man before her, and she wanted to be refreshed and at her best for their upcoming match, the very thought of which sent her heart racing with excitement.

  Though wearing a dress had grown much more tolerable, and she was far less likely to trip than she had been a mere handful of days ago, she still felt a deep sense of relief wearing comfortable clothing once more. And few things felt more comfortable than her custom fitted lamellar armor and the quilted linen gambeson padding it underneath. Jess gave a contented sigh. For all that most shunned armor in repose, she had worn it every day while attending Highrock, and kitting up once more had been a genuine pleasure.

  “I thank you for the compliment, Del Morlekai. But what do you mean by Spring Delver?" Jess queried over a refreshing sip of her drink.

  Morlekai smiled. “A Spring Delver is simply a way of acknowledging one who has been adventuring less than a handful of years. In truth, a fair number of Delvers never progress to the heights of Summer. Folly, mishap, or a simple desire to embrace mundus once more, to raise a family, to resist the seductive call to journey yet again into the realm of dreams, lest that next daring venture should be their last. Less than half of adventurers Delve past the Spring of their power. Death, or desire for a safe existence stays their wanderlust; hunger abated, if never quite sated.”

  Morlekai gave her a measuring look. "Though it must be said that few adventurers indeed are able to resist the siren call when they've sipped upon the ephemeral cup of legends, danced upon the halcyon memories of ancient civilizations lost to time, millennium ago. To explore those wonders, to embrace their mystery, their power; to emerge once more breathing deep of the joyously fresh air of day once again, rich in the wealth of ancient artifacts and lost knowledge, brimming with tales of battle and glory to be transcribed, before memory of it all fades again to the dreams from which it all came." Morlekai's smile became wistful. "Such a wild and wondrous life we live, that few indeed have the strength to resist it, once we have partaken of its sweet fruits. Particularly when one has Delved deep into the land of dreams, as have you and I both, Del Jessica."

  “That is Lady Jessica de Calenbry, good sir,” Geoffrey coolly corrected, somewhat offended at the perceived slight to her honor and station, Jess could tell, and made by one he considered a commoner, no doubt.

  "It's all right, Geoffrey," Jess soothed with a smile. "I take no offense when a brother knight or Squire of War calls me Dame Jess, or a fellow Delver calls me Del Jessica. In fact, I take it as a compliment. For those honorifics I had to earn. They were not simply granted by the virtue of my heritage."

  “Indeed.” Morlekai nodded. “It is intended as such. For none of us control the circumstances of our birth, for all that those born to power feel it is an entitlement earned simply by virtue of happenstance. Further, those who Delve acknowledge a talent perhaps as rare as those born to the peerage. And unlike the nobility, we must choose to exercise our gifts. To embrace them, to accept the calling, and indeed, to survive it as well. Rest assured, Lord Geoffrey, Del is the highest compliment I can give your sister.”

  Geoffrey, face carefully fixed in an expression of neutral politeness such as he would wear at Court, merely nodded in polite acknowledgment of the
Delver’s clarification. Jess smirked, well able to guess what his true feelings were.

  “It sounds as if Delving is dangerous work, Del Morlekai, and one that inspires a compulsion one might consider quite unhealthy, should it lead one to unnecessary peril,” Jessica’s mother noted, giving Jess a measuring look that made her squirm uncomfortably.

  Jess knew where her mother was going, and was dreading future ‘for your own good' ultimatums. Valiant martial skills aside, Jess knew she tended to fold pretty quickly, when on the receiving end of her mother's disapproving glares. At that moment Jess made the firm resolution that no matter how her mother hinted or cajoled, she would not allow herself to be compelled to give her word to adventure no more. Delving, if no place else, was where she drew the line. Even now, she found herself craving the clarion call of adventure, excitement, immersing herself in living tales of glory and derring-do.

  She ached for it like a man ached to capture the lost fragments of a perfect dream. Knowing it was just beyond the horizon, yet for her and those few like her, it was a glorious dream just within reach, should she but have the courage to journey toward it. To behold forgotten treasures wrapped in darkest mystery, to embrace the mad wonder of it, wherever the dream took her. Jess caught herself sighing, sneaking a glance at her mother before darting her gaze to fix upon the far more appealing countenance of Morlekai, whose own bemused smile was far preferable to her mother's all too knowing look.

  "Indeed, baroness. Delving is dangerous work, perhaps the most perilous of all callings. Not for the weak or faint of heart. Yet those who have the courage to answer the call, and the vitality and heart to survive its trials, may count among their number the most glorious of exploits, the most legendary of feats, bringing home items long thought lost to the realm of legends and dream." Morlekai smiled. "You need only look at your daughter's collection of mithril artifacts, any one of which would serve as the crown jewel of even a noble collector's possessions, after a lifetime of chasing down rumors, and perhaps a fortune spent in following up leads, to say nothing of the cost of the final purchase."

  Morlekai dipped his head in admiration. "And all as a Spring Delver, no less. A phenomenal feat, indeed. To say nothing of saving Highrock from being sundered by the dark necromantic workings of an ancient lich that had made a pit of Shadow its home, or pulling free an entire estate from the clammy grip of nightmare, to name but a few of her exploits. Truly, Del Jessica's deeds are already the stuff of legend, deeds worthy of the most seasoned veteran of the Shadowrealms, let alone a Delver still in her Spring."

  For all that Jess had absolutely no ear for music, or so swore her family entire, the sound of Morlekai's voice was one she found most pleasing to her senses. Hearing his potent words resonate through the chamber sent delightful little shivers up and down her spine. She carefully avoided catching her mother’s too knowing gaze, face flushing at how viscerally she was responding. And how unexpectedly.

  “I thank you for the high praise, Del Morlekai,” Jess got out at last. “And I look forward to the opportunity to train with you. Thank you for the honor.”

  Morlekai caught her stare with his own captivating gaze, his lips flowing into a smile that was all too knowing. “No, Del Jessica, it is I who thank you for this chance to test your mettle. We had met once before your fete, you see, and any challenges had to, regretfully, be postponed, for all that the pretext for our encounter has already been concluded to everyone’s satisfaction.”

  Jess smiled and nodded, understanding that he was referring to the purse heavy with gold that she had securely stashed in her chambers.

  “I think it will be a most enjoyable bout,” Morlekai said, “and sadly, Delvers of our caliber are all too often lacking suitable training partners against which to test our mettle and truly hone our skills without having to hold back all that we are. It is I who thank you for this honor, Jessica.”

  He was savoring her admiration, Jess suddenly realized, and she more than understood the look conveyed by his own brilliant gold-green eyes. He hungered for her as well. The realization sent her heart racing. And here they both were, having their own silent communication even as her entire family gazed on. She felt her cheeks grow hot, a realization that made her blush all the more fiercely.

  “Well, I can tell my dear sister is already eager for a chance to spar with you, Del Morlekai. I do hope you won’t begrudge Father and I watching?”

  Jess flashed her brother a grateful look, eager to be out from under her mother’s too knowing gaze, her brother's slight nod conveying both his skepticism regarding Morlekai being a suitable anything for her, yet acknowledging a debt was owed, her having covered for him and his illicit affair with their serving maid Rena, who Jess was quite certain Geoffrey was developing feelings for that went far beyond an autumn fling.

  Morlekai gave an approving nod. “I look forward to the contest, and by all means, watch and learn to your heart’s content.”

  And almost before Jess knew it, she found herself facing her opponent across the practice yard right outside their manor, several servitors picking several baskets worth of apples and pears from the lower branches heavy with fruit sprouting from all sides of their family home. Morlekai, of course, had forborne any comment save admiring the ripeness of Jessica's bounty, as he had put it, before crunching deeply into a Calenbry Gold that had dropped into his palm as they had left the manor, a gesture so bold that Appolonia herself had blushed a fierce scarlet, Jess chuckling throatily; her mother, oddly enough, forbearing even to comment.

  Fruit long since finished, Morlekai was presently wielding a well-balanced training falchion, just as Jess held one of her favorite sparring blades. Of course, even blunted longsword and falchion were deadly enough in the hands of those trained to kill that her father had refused to allow their match unless both of them were fully armored.

  Much to Jess’s surprise and delight, she had been allowed, once again, to don her mithril armaments, lamellar armor covered by mithril mail allowing for an incredibly strong combination, the mithril mail impervious to having any of its links burst or cut, the thick plates of wax boiled rawhide of which the lamellar was comprised of able to absorb a great deal of the force of any strike, spreading out the impact area, her gambeson underneath further cushioning the force of any blow. Her thick leather boots that also served to protect her shins had hammered bronze greaves fastened to them, expertly smithed and curved around the shin, so as to encourage most any blow to slide away as opposed to biting into the carefully treated metal alloy that was, in fact, only slightly inferior to common steel, perfect gear for any Delver making a foray into the Shadowrealms in any case, as an excess of iron could well spell an adventurer's doom. Her exquisitely forged helmet and gauntlets were also made of mithril, the inner lining of her helmet and the grips of her gloves made of an almost velvety soft material that was nonetheless extremely resilient, near as tough as the mithril itself, and Jess had the sneaking suspicion Twilight had once mentioned that it was, in fact, made of dragonskin.

  Jess's flushed smile of gratitude had caused her father to chuckle indulgently, saying it was the least he could do, considering how well she had endured her mother’s lessons, and her continued commitment to attend the Royal Ladies Academy.

  Twilight, much to Jess’s regret, was not there to share his insights and no doubt wry commentary.

  “I think I have avoided troubling myself with making certain rounds for far too long, my dear Jess. And that is a failing I feel it is time for me to correct,” her familiar had said softly as she was drifting off to sleep the night before, stroking his belly as he lay curled beside her.

  “What do you mean?” she had asked sleepily, half pulled back to wakefulness by the thought of her familiar going on one of his infrequent expeditions away from her side.

  “The arena of mortal politics and intrigues between royalty and the nobility, my dear Jess. Petty as they often are, I have declined from keeping tabs on them for long enough, focusi
ng merely on keeping our own House in order, so to speak, and perhaps it is for the best that your father has forgone all mercantile enterprise save trade in apples, brandy, and your own exotic herbs, and only through diOnni factors, for Duke diOnni, at least, has never forgotten the debt of gratitude he owes the two Delvers he knighted, after you and Malek managed to save father and son both from certain death. Such a stratagem has made our House that much harder to strike against. Yet change is blowing upon the winds of fate, and a new player has already made a move against our clan. It behooves me to see what threats and opportunities are heading our way, and how best to prepare.”

  "We find the threat and we kill it, as we always have," Jess said far more fiercely and directly than she had intended, much of her brain still foggy with sleep. Even then, her hand had ached to caress the hilt of her mithril blade.

  Her familiar flashed a knowing grin. "I would expect no less than the most direct of approaches from you, my beloved mistress. And none can deny that crossing you is the greatest of follies. But there are times when subtlety has facilitated a smooth reign, allowing us to hammer down lumps in the carpet of our empire without tearing up the rugs entirely, so to speak. Just as there are times when the undeniable fist of retribution serves best to keep those beholden to us in line. A true ruler, after all, keeps a variety of tools and tactics at their disposal to handle threats of various natures, as well as opportunities." Twilight gently patted Jess's hand. "Trust me in this, my Jess. Your Hound and I are quite adept at this type of subtle cloak and dagger play, and we are rather good at stifling problems before they become yet another headache for your reign."

  "Um, Twilight, you do know I'm not an empress or anything, right? I know you must have served mighty rulers in your time, but this is Jess, wayward daughter and middle child of the Calenbry clan? Hardly a ruler of anything more than my own bedroom," Jess gently teased her familiar.