Faerie's Champion

by M. H. Johnson

  6

  And so the weeks passed, Jess slowly gaining a tolerance if not an outright liking for dresses, lace, silk slippers and similar apparel. Her dancing quickly became as fleet-footed and graceful as her sister's, much to her mother's delight and Apple's surprise. Grace, speed, and timing, these were not issues for her. The finer points of etiquette, however, became a sticking point for her and her mother.

  “Jess, I wish you would stop being so stubborn! Yes, you are correct. Originally, a curtsy was a way for a woman to show respect and deference to her betters. It is an old custom, and today it serves as nothing more than a polite greeting to those of equal or higher station.”

  Despite her mother’s growing exasperation, lips creased tightly together, frown lines on the forehead, Jess remained resolute, ignoring the warning signs.

  “No, Mother. I will put up with the dancing which isn’t so bad, though it seems odd to dance in concert with my opponent without seeking to best him or even take the lead, and these silly dresses are almost comfortable, if one makes the proper alterations; but curtsying, I'm afraid, is out of the question."

  Her mother gave her a look that as a child would have sent Jess scurrying in tears for her father. "Explain to me your logic one more time."

  Jess nodded. "Simple. I am a student of Highrock who trained at the martial academy with the aspiration of being knighted. Though such did not occur, I was accepted as a Squire of War which is, if anything, an even more prestigious position. Though I am subject to the King's Call, when and if war breaks out, I am also granted the honor and respect due any Squire, particularly one who is trained as a commander, and who will one day lead troops at the king's behest.

  "As you know, Mother, curtsies at one point were considered the most obsequious of genuflections, demanded of serfs and slaves of both sexes. Only in the past few centuries has the custom been modified to simply mean the genuflection of the fairer sex. And by ancient precedent, so that no lord could seek to demean or establish subservience of the king's elite fighting forces, a female knight curtsies to no one, save her liegelord, or the Royal Family. And as a Squire of War I serve no master save my king, so to him alone will I show such genuflection."

  Jess’s voice was firm. Eloquin’s fierce training and powerful personality had left its mark on all of his students, both shaping the finest bladesmen and tacticians Erovering had fielded in decades, as well as doing much to shape his student’s outlook, both overtly and subtly. One thing he had made painfully clear to the original intense embarrassment of the various noble ladies who had earned the right to study the arts of war under him, was that though they must always defer to custom and expectation, they were all Squires of War, and ultimately owed obeisance to no man or woman, save the Royal Family. Even as knights would also show obeisance to their liegelord, a Squire of War had only one master, the king himself. And this held true even though Duke diOnni had honored Jess and Malek both with knighthood, for it had been a mark of honor and distinction for services rendered. As they had accepted the mantle of Squires of War, their only liegelord was the king himself, and by extension, the Royal Family.

  If a Squire was female, however, she was also expected to show the deference and poise her family would expect of her. A proper model lady at all times, save for the hours she was allotted to train as vigorously as any knight, until the King's Call came. Only then was all pretense stripped away, when she embraced her true rank and calling, coming immediately into Royal Service regardless of her family's feelings on the matter. Jess carefully left out the part about her being expected to behave as a model daughter in the meantime, of course.

  Jess would fight for her family and a cause that was just, but she couldn't bear the thought of debasing herself for any school matron who simply wanted to demean students for her own domineering satisfaction. Being forced to sink in status from feted adventurer with tales of her exploits already scribed by the bards in her honor, a respected student of Highrock where she had earned nods of commendation from some of the deadliest tacticians and bladesmen within Erovering, to awkward neophyte looked down upon by those who placed no value in the arts of war was beyond degrading. The thought of genuflecting like a supplicant before bitter harridans who wouldn't last longer than three heartbeats in the nightmare of battle was too galling for Jess to tolerate for even an instant.

  Apparently, her mother sensed a bit of Jess's resolve, gazing upon her daughter's suddenly fierce expression, for she simply sighed and shook her head, conceding the point. "Very well, Jessica. Let's hope the Academy is equally understanding of your unusual circumstances, or I fear it will be a very long year for you indeed, my daughter."

  Jess blinked, surprised to see her mother concede a point of etiquette, which was very much out of character for her, but she was wise enough not to let it show. “Thank you, Mother.”

  "Don't thank me too soon, my dear. Come. It is time for your lesson in household economics. And yes, Jess, I know your quirks. You may speak softly as you read and write, unladylike as it is. Goodness knows trying to make sense of your work when you can’t mutter to yourself is all but impossible.” Her mother sighed. “I fear your studies in those domestic areas expected of a lady went sorely lacking during those years you spent near exclusively hitting people about the head with a sword."

  “There was a little bit more to it than that,” Jess murmured, heaving a great sigh as she followed her mother to the study. Maybe she should have paid more attention in class, but practicing figures and balancing household budgets had been so ungodly frustrating, the way the numbers never properly sorted themselves up in various columns, her professors giving her the oddest stares whenever she gave her answers.

  She was no fool. She had an instinctive feel for basic arithmetic, and could organize supply trains and calculate provisions as long as she could eyeball the troops and get a sense of the mouths to feed. But for her, it was all instinct. She just knew quantities like she knew the weight of a shirt of mail without having to put it on a scale. The moment she tried to put quill to parchment or stylus to wax, letters and numbers both tended to jumble together, unless she spoke the words aloud. Fine when reading battlefield accounts for enjoyment in her quarters, horrible when classmates were snickering at her in class. Just one of the reasons why she had stopped bothering with most classes, save the one that mattered. Her greatest regret with home schooling was that she didn’t have Malek there to cheer her on, keep her company, and of course, pass her the answers.

  The afternoons, however, were rarely boring. Del Morlekai made a point to visit near every afternoon, and Jess couldn’t deny that his wild countenance and fierce demeanor had steadily grown on her. He gave off the aura of a beast but a hairsbreadth from breaking free of all social restraints, yet he always kept a tight rein upon his innate savagery, showing the world naught but the features of a bemused man of means, dressed elegantly in the finest doublets and hosiery.

  Only Morlekai's eyes revealed the savage beast that lurked within. A ferocity unleashed only when he was captivated by the heady exhilaration of the daily martial bouts they partook, each always striving to challenge and best the other, both reveling in the opportunity to spar full force, no longer having to pull their blows, no longer having to rein in the furious urge to pummel their opponent with all their inhuman speed and force.

  Slowly, Jess learned to better counter his deadly falchion and battleglove, mastering keeping him at a range sufficient for her to lash out with lightning fast thrusts to shin or foot, her longsword then spinning about in a tight arc as she followed up with blazing fast overhead strikes, should Morlekai be rocked back by pain or thrown off balance by her leading lunge, Jess as often as not scoring a telling blow with her maneuvers. Of course, Morlekai himself learned the tactics Jess could best use to penetrate his defenses, and at times Morlekai was able to cleverly bluff her into over committing, snagging her blow perfectly, and in a split second they would close to fiercely grapple once more, and at t
imes, overwhelmed by the passions of battle, their struggles would take an entirely different form, and she would lose herself in the sweet, heady rapture of his strong lips pressing hotly against her own.

  At such times her father would always blow his whistle sharply, and they would always break off, before things went too far. Morlekai would always flash her a roguish smile before bowing his head apologetically to her father, and they would then inevitably retire from the field to wash and refresh themselves with a light repast before Morlekai made his way back to whatever mysterious place he inhabited.

  Jess was surprised yet grateful that her father appeared strangely tolerant of the direction their martial bouts sometimes took, though it never did go beyond kissing. Yet Jess found herself plagued by many a sleepless night, aching for that dangerous man who fought so savagely. It was a fierce, painful ache.

  "Really, Arthur, I don't know why you even allow it." Jess, half asleep, overheard her mother comment archly to her father one night, her communion with the very much living colony of trees that now made up their subtly transformed manor sometimes making her privy to surprising bits of information.

  “Jess is more than at an age for courting, Agda. You and I both know exchanging kisses with one’s paramour is quite common, though most often done in more discrete circumstances. Here, at least, we can precisely monitor it, assuring it never goes too far. And in truth, it relieves me to see her passions are as much for the fiercer sex as the fairer.”

  "Yes, agreed, Arthur, though I, for one, am not overly concerned with our daughter's orientation. Her infatuation with Onnika aside, you and I both know that she shared an understanding all too common in youths blooded so young, thanks to Eloquin’s dark methods which I will always detest, no matter how much good you claim he has done for our nation." Agda sighed. “And we both know that she was lost to us for far longer than three years, for all that it seems but a confusing dream, time itself twisted and strange at that college. And why did it affect her so differently than Geoff? I swear, husband, once upon a time I thought I had remembered that Jess was our eldest! But the past is past, thank the heavens we have our daughter back at last. What concerns me now is her present choice of paramour. Del Morlekai? The man's practically a savage, with the arrogance of a foreign prince!"

  Her husband sighed. “A year ago I would have worried about prior commitments, but the Plagas appear to have disappeared entirely from social circles, so as far as I’m concerned, their suit has been dropped. And as to Highrock’s eccentricities, I can’t say. I too am just grateful to have her home, safe and sound, and if Eloquin’s odd talents helped facilitate her survival, well, the past can stretch however it wants to as far as I’m concerned, so long as we have our daughter back. And I certainly won't shame my girl for her experiences as a Squire, bitter or sweet. I know what it takes to make a soldier. I know all too well the price they pay for what they endure, and the steps taken to make life bearable, when the frenzy of battle has passed. As for Morlekai? I agree, he is not who we would pick, but he does seem honorable enough, and our daughter needs a man who can understand her passions, and not judge her for the forging that made her who she is today. Further, the debt we owe him is significant. We might not even be here, having this conversation, had he not done us a considerable service."

  Arthur chuckled ruefully. "Besides, you and I both know that were we to deny Jess his visits, she's as likely as not to give in to her own impulsive nature and run away with him, promises aside, and the heavens only know what the political fallout of that escapade would be. Imagine the king's response, my love, if Jess is formally sworn in as a Delver, giving the Guild control of the only known wielder of the magic of Primacy.”

  “By the gods, that is a chilling thought.” Agda sighed. “Very well, Arthur, I suppose you know best in this matter. I can see that no great harm will come from kissing, so long as Jess understands her limitations, and soon enough the Academy shall start their winter semester.”

  “Indeed. And no doubt Jess will meet many a fine potential match at the many balls and galas they host every year.”

  “Assuming the royal heirs don’t make a bid for Jessica themselves.”

  "Don't worry, my love. I know Jess will make the right decisions, and will do what she must, for the sake of our family."

  “I know you’re right, Arthur. Thank you for the comfort of your words.”

  Jess had stopped listening to the gossipy whispers of her bed of leaves, having drifted off soundly asleep, smiling with the contented knowledge that kissing, in moderation, was a perfectly acceptable way to end their rather exhilarating bouts.

  7

  “So. I understand that this will be our last battle for some time.” Morlekai’s voice was ragged, both of them having pushed themselves to their utmost that afternoon. Jess could swear the training circle still rung with the sound of steel against steel. It had been a brilliant match, both seeing each other’s feints and traps, each giving as well as they got, her lightning fast blade work almost certain death for any foe who did not have Morlekai’s skill. Both felt the glow of satisfaction that comes from striving for true perfection. Their charge toward each other during that final match had been explosive, and both had ignored her father’s whistle when their inevitable grappling bout, always fought fiercely and with full intent to disable the other, turned to a passionate exchange of kisses once more. Bodies entwined, their armor alone preventing them from consummating their battle lust in truth.

  Jess grinned sheepishly up at the fierce looking man astride her, wanting desperately to give in to impulse, grab his hand, pick a direction, and just run as far and fast as her legs could take her, which she knew would be quite a distance indeed. She sighed even as she suppressed the desire. "I'm afraid so. The Royal Ladies Academy awaits me. Supposedly the ideal finishing school to polish any girl to social perfection, even one as roughly hewn as I, though I certainly have my doubts."

  Morlekai's laugh was husky, and sent delightful tingles pulsing through her.

  “If I hadn’t given my word, I’d take your hand and just run for the hills,” Jess thought out loud, catching her breath and looking at the man astride her in sudden embarrassment even as she caught sight of her brother's shocked expression. Morlekai only grinned, winked, and sprung up in a single graceful movement, elegantly bending down to help Jess to her feet with the easy silken grace of the consummate gentleman.

  He said only, “Come, dear Jessica. I do believe our repast awaits.”

  In sharp contrast to their sparring bout, the meal was a sedate affair, Morlekai eating quietly, gazing at Jess with a thoughtful consideration that made her feel a bit awkward.

  “Really, Jess. That is the second time you’ve jostled the soup tureen. Are you perhaps a bit fatigued from your practice?” Agda queried.

  “I’m fine, Mother,” Jess insisted. “Just feeling a bit out of sorts.”

  "Ah," her mother said knowingly. "I understand. Your semester's beginning approaches. It is quite all right to feel a little bit nervous, yet I have no doubt that you will do just fine."

  “Really, Mother?” Apple said archly from across the table. “She can dance, yes, but how will she do with the courses involving embroidery, music, and sketching? To say nothing of philosophy, geometry, and household accounts. And how many of the mistresses will she offend when she refuses to curtsy to any of them?” She gave a sad shake of her head. “I am sorry, Jess. But let’s be honest. Sitting patiently while professors lecture you is something you can only bear when the subject interests you. When you’re bored, you’re so fidgety I can’t even concentrate on Mother’s lessons.”

  Jess smiled impishly. “True. Too true. Apple has the right of it, Mother. This finishing school is a botched idea from the start. What say we put that plan on hold, and I go questing instead? I’ll promise not to overthrow any rulers without the king’s permission.”

  Morlekai barked with laughter and even Apple snickered. Her mother, however, was
having none of it, her tone deadly serious. “You risk putting our House in jeopardy, should you dare shirk your duties, my child. And as for your talents, it is best you not even joke about such things, lest you bring the wrath of powerful people down upon our House, daughter mine."

  “I’m sorry, Mother,” a chastened Jess said softly.

  Her mother allowed her a forgiving smile. "It's all right, Jessica. I know you speak only in jest, and would never shirk your responsibilities. Now do not fret, Jess. I have no doubt that after a few days adjusting to your new environment, you will find the school quite agreeable, and begin to enjoy preparing yourself for a wonderful semester filled with galas, parties, and balls!"

  “Of course, Mother,” Jess said politely, barely able to keep out the sarcasm.

  All too soon the meal had ended, Jess saying her final farewells to the handsome Delver whose presence had so moved her, his every feature etching itself upon her mind's eye. "Fret not, dear Jess. Your father and I have an agreement, and your Academy is not so far away as all that."

  “Do you mean we’ll be able to spar like before?” Jess's eyes lit up with fresh hope as they said their final words at the door.

  Morlekai only smiled, gently stroking a lock of her hair. "We will see what the future will bring, you and I. Other duties call to my attention but, when opportunity permits, I know exactly who I will come calling upon." He turned thoughtful for a moment. "If you find a female visitor requesting your presence at the college and she shows you a sign," he flashed his fingers in a unique gesture that Jess carefully imitated to assure that she would not forget it. "Then agree to whatever pretext she uses for you to join her. And from there? Who knows? Perhaps there shall be further bouts for you and me to partake in." His lips had quirked into a gentleman's smile, but his eyes were hungry with a hot passionate flame that made Jess slightly weak in the knees.