Jess held her sister's hand, not taking offense, sensing the love underneath her sister's words.
They spent some time breathing softly in the quiet, enjoying the solace of each other's company, before Jess broke the silence.
“Apple?”
Her sister stilled. “Don't say anything, Jess. Please. Don't say anything.”
Jess nodded, kissing her sister's forehead, wishing she could still the tears Apple shed even now.
Time, she hoped, would heal her sister's wounds, and gently, holding her sister as she would a child of her own, she stroked Apple's hair, allowing her sister to ease into sleep, safe in her arms.
"You always were good for her, Jessica," her mother declared once Apple was safely asleep, hugging Jess tightly, shedding no few tears herself at Jess's seemingly miraculous recovery.
"I'm glad she has returned to us hale and healthy." Jess turned to her mother, eyes asking a gentle question. Her mother glanced away.
“The healers report that she is in perfect health. She did not suffer under Morlekai or Malek's care, for all that she saw horrors no daughter of mine should ever have to face.”
Jess nodded in silent understanding, even as she sipped the tea her mother had made them, far hungrier than she had been but moments ago. “She went through a hideous ordeal.”
Agda's eyebrow lifted. “She told you then?”
Jess locked gazes with her mother. “I was there. Malek and I, we were one.”
Her mother paled and looked away.
Jess slowly sipped her tea, pretending her cup didn't tremble. “Those slavers won't be returning to Dawn.”
Her mother's tea spilled across the fine hardwood table. “I thought, I thought they were dead.”
Jess nodded solemnly. “They are.”
Her mother shut her eyes and shuddered. “Jessica. The things I saw. The things Malek did to those armsmen.”
Jess's smile turned cold. "The men who were set to burn me alive? Those tainted armsmen set to butcher you all when the jury refused to dance to Franken's tune, no matter how he strove to terrorize and manipulate them? Those men who had sworn themselves to a diabolist in league with a queen of Hell? Those armsmen? Forgive me, Mother, but I think they more than deserved the retribution Malek served them."
Agda nodded solemnly. "I know, my Jess. I know. Were it not for Malek, I would be dead, you would have surely been crucified, and I fear even dear Echobart's powers might not have held them off in the end, opposing Franken's vile blade."
Jess sighed. "But Malek was like a beast out of nightmare. Striking down his foes with a savage fury best relegated to story books and legend. Fearsome figures loved from afar, that just the same would discomfit any lord sitting across from actual living legends during whist and tea. And how comfortable would it be to bluff against a man whose gaze shimmered with the darkest powers of Shadow? The countenance of a man who reveled in laughing at death itself? Not a soothing afternoon's distraction that would be, I am sure."
Her mother flashed a jaded smile. “You have the right of it, my darling. And grateful I am that, upon being assured of your safety by none other than Morlekai, he understood that the best way he could help us all was to embrace his destiny as a Delver, questing for wonders that will no doubt help our nation in the battles to come, beloved from afar for his noble deeds, including saving over a dozen of our fellow noblemen. Given time, the harsher memories will mellow like a fine wine, and what will be remembered is the noble warrior who came to our aid at our most desperate hour."
Jess sighed. "So now the council entire can love me as some druidic symbol of peace and bounty to their mind, knowing I have a powerful guardian to protect me in my most dire hour, wishing only that I would be graceful enough not to flaunt my dark, shadowy hound, lest it stain the pristine, lily-white folds of diaphanous memory we wish to wrap all images of our beloved garden within."
Her mother arched an eyebrow. "He terrifies them, Jess. And for all that he tried so hard to smile and play nice, an act even Judge Ernest, well aware that he lives only because a figure straight out of nightmare saw fit to save him, can appreciate, sometimes he forgets himself. Whether his ire is pricked by an off-color attempt at humor or haunted by his own demons, sometimes our beloved Malek wears the mask of the grimmest of killers. A knight, if you will, well trained to lead the vanguard, slamming down his visor as he prepares to lead the charge once more onto the killingfields. It is a look any number of our veteran lords can recognize, and not one they have any desire to see outside their own darkest memories of a time they would all rather forget."
Jess smiled bitterly. "And that's the role Malek and I were both trained for, as particularly gifted Squires of War." She sighed and shook her head. "We pretty much had free reign to do whatever we wanted, carouse as much as we wanted outside of Eloquin's courses, for everyone whose opinion mattered knew we were training for battle and darkest madness, training to look death right in the face and laugh." Jess looked away, unable to face the sympathy in her mother's eyes. "None of us expected to survive that long, should war ever be declared. We knew we would all be frontline tacticians, especially Malek and I, trained to lead the vanguard, expected to lead the charge even against entire armies bristling with triple rows of pike, thanks to my own odd gifts with wood." Jess chuckled ruefully, shaking her head. "So none of us worried overly about planning for our future, or living beyond the day. To do otherwise was to accept a future that could be precious and missed. And such regrets left one ill-equipped to revel in the next mad rush upon our enemies, hungry only to survive the day, taking as many of our foes down as we possibly could."
Agda squeezed Jess's hand, her voice trembling with emotion. "All too well do I know what they were training you for, my Jess. And by the time I realized you were not coming home after a single semester at Highrock, that instead of learning to regret the harsh realities of a future knight, you were thriving under the training, that you had, in fact, been accepted into the most brutal program of all, it was too late for me to save you. You were already the apple of Eloquin's eye, having caught even the king's notice, and there was not a damned thing I could do, save pray you would always return to us hale and whole, and that war would never be declared."
Jess sighed. "What I'm saying, Mother, is that Malek's gaze isn't that of a raving killer. It is that of a Squire of War. One who has not only survived the most rigorous training, but has put to best effect the lessons so arduously drilled into both our skulls upon the killingfields of Shadow and nightmare, as opposed to the fields and valleys of Erovering. So it is the greatest of hypocrisies, I think, for the Council to abhor the very thing that all of them helped to create!"
Pity. Her mother was definitely looking at her with pity, Jess decided.
"Be that as it may, my Jessica, it is best for all of us that he heeded dear Morlekai's advice and parted company at the best of times. You know how grateful your sister and I are. He will always be welcome under our roof. And he will never be feared or shunned in our demesne. But the Council is another matter. And let us be utterly practical. Far better to be beloved from afar for saving a handful of our own, than feared up close for all the terrible power that seethes from his form."
Jess, ever the tactician, gave a rueful nod of her head, unable to escape the logic of her mother's statement.
Agda flashed a bemused smile. “Besides. Your sister is falling for him. Hard. And that, I think you will agree, is an added complication we do not need at the moment.”
Jess blinked. “But, well, Malek likes boys.”
Her mother's eyes pinned her then.
Jess flushed and looked away.
“Do not think me such a fool as to be unaware of the fact that you and Malek were once far more than friends.”
Jess squeezed her eyes tight, ignoring tears shed long ago. “It doesn't matter. He is the best friend a girl could ever ask for. He rescued Jacob, you know. That poor boy was determined to kill himself, before Malek walked
into his life like a knight in shining armor in truth.”
Agda nodded. "He tried to be the hero for a boy who needed him. And for three years he was loyal, until poor Jacob was murdered by his own father in the end. Then Malek killed Lord Trepass, one more tragic circle of loss and bitterest retribution complete." Agda sighed. "Don't look so surprised, Jess. The pieces are right before those with the wit to see it, whatever Delver magics were used to cover up loose ends."
Her mother gently stroked Jess's cheek. "Malek was bereft and alone. And our beloved Apple, kidnapped and in dire peril, was in desperate need of a hero, a role which, for all his savagery, Malek plays with remarkable gusto, saving you and your sister both from a horrific fate, and earning him Apple's heart in spades. A heart he can feel worthy of claiming, much as he had Jacob's. Can you honestly tell me that if he stayed, he and your sister would not seek solace in each other's arms?"
Jess grimaced and looked away.
“Your mother does have an interesting point,” quipped a cat of shadow and starlight -dark, silky fur- choosing that moment to manifest before her. “Not that there is anything wrong with our hound falling in love with your sister, though the timing leaves much to be desired."
“Twilight!” Jess flashed a relieved smile, grateful for an opportunity to distract herself from her far too perceptive mother. “Where have you been off to, kitty?” she crooned, stroking his soft, ebony fur.
Her cat grinned, purring softly under her touch. “Oh, poking my nose into this and that, examining all the pieces upon the board laid before us while you were resting your eyes for a time.”
Jess shuddered, locking sky blue eyes to Twilight's sapphire orbs. “That dream I had. I remember it only in flashes but, well, it was horrible.”
Twilight gently butted her cheek with his forehead. “What is done is done, my queen. My advice? Let such lingering remnants of dream fade back to the ether where they belong. Best you focus upon the here and now, my Jess, and guests to come.”
Jess blinked. “Guests to come?”
Twilight nodded. "Rulia and her companions, still intent on making it to this college, never mind that our two nations are on the brink of war, and if caught, they could well be executed as spies. Close your eyes and concentrate, Jess. You have, on some level, been leading them through the deepwood, a sojourn through dark primeval forests that few men would dare explore in this day and age, woods that even the royal soldiers only dare patrol the outskirts of."
Sapphire eyes fastened upon her own. “I think, dear Jess, that it is time for you to prepare for their emergence, for the forest ends within sight of the academy, the outskirts of your apple grove but a hop and a skip away.”
Jess flushed and nodded, ignoring for the moment, her mother's increasingly irate gaze. "You are right, Twilight. I feel them, now that you mention it, though I was sort of always aware of them, like my big toe. We hardly think about our toes, directing them naturally. But when we do think of them, we know exactly what they are doing." Jess frowned. "If that makes any sense."
"Well I, for one, would dearly love to know where we are going with our toes in this conversation, Jessica."
Jess flashed her mother an apologetic smile, recalling at that moment a number of prepared packages of clothing she had squirreled away in preparation for a certain meeting, before Franken had nearly ruined everything, almost killing her in the process. "Nothing you need worry about, Mother. I have everything well in hand, I assure you."
Her mother sighed, shaking her head. “That's what I'm afraid of. Please try to stay out of trouble, Jessica.”
Jess had the cheek to grin at that, looking forward to the days ahead.
12
“Elonia…ye gads, don’t glare at me like that. Rulia then! Just how far away are we from your Academy? As grateful as I am for the bounties of this wood, I can’t help feeling like the worst is yet to come.”
Jess found herself smiling gently down at the exasperated young man who looked only remotely like the fop he had seemed, pampered and well fed but a few short weeks ago. Yet almost as if she were compelled, her eyes immediately flowed back to the one who had touched her heart so deeply, a girl whom Jess had loved so fiercely, so intimately, when they were both lost in the mystical realm of Faerie.
Rulia. Her features still achingly beautiful, for all that her cheeks were as hollow as Jess had ever seen them. Her frame was strong and vigorous, shoulders as wide as Jess remembered, yet the toils of their journey had melted away every spare ounce of fat, the trio having to make every bit of food they foraged count, and Jess could tell that they were grateful for each unexpected windfall of sustenance they had found, whether it be a lost pack filled with dried rations, or a forgotten cache of nuts gathered by some forest creature long ago. Fortunately, the steady supply of food they had stumbled across had allowed them to defer the necessity of leaving the deepwood and risk encountering the increasingly common bands of royal patrollers, ostensibly there to keep order on behalf of traders plying the roads, but in reality to report any suspicious peoples or movement, and one could well imagine how they would alight upon anything at all out of the ordinary, unimaginably dull as their days must be.
Jess felt a shiver of awe as her dream only expanded in depth and complexity, the nighttime sounds suddenly more vibrant, the icy breeze making her shiver, as she realized she was there in the flesh.
Or more specifically, in Rulia's flesh. She had only time for one dizzying shake of her head, overwhelmed by a force of thought and awareness alien to her own, before Rulia shook the odd flight of fancy away, as if she were dreaming snug and warm in Jess's quarters at that very moment, instead of struggling for survival with her friends in deepest woods, hoping that by some miracle they could survive the herculean task before them.
“We are less than half a day's travel from the nearest town, Julien,” Rulia said. “As much as I hate to say it, come morning we may well have to expose ourselves to the locals in order to purchase attire more befitting our asserted stations.”
Rulia gazed ruefully down at herself as she scratched her dirt encrusted armaments, now worn so long they felt almost like a second skin, albeit an itchy one, and she shuddered to think how she must smell to a stranger who hadn't had their noses inured to weeks free of bathing of any sort. And how on earth she would convince anyone at the Academy that she was a proper lady and student in good standing in her present state was a most perplexing problem. Particularly as their very lives would be put in peril, should she misplay her hand in any way.
Not for the first time Rulia castigated herself for having left the academy so abruptly, though such an occurrence had not been so unusual for any number of families whose daughters had fallen prey to Faerie abduction, for all that she had heard faintest rumors that it had now become something of a garden paradise, and that any number of highly placed nobles had found pretexts to establish permanent winter quarters there. Though how anyone could manage a blossoming garden in the dead of winter… she could only think of one soul who could possibly be responsible for a miracle like that.
Jessica. It was a name that caused her heart to skip a beat even now, exhausted and worried as she was, pressing ever onward towards a confrontation that might well end with the hangman's noose. But really, what choice did she have? Without that artifact, her family would be butchered, her nation devastated by Erovering's might, as their neighbor tore through Velheim in a mad gambit to take over the continent entire. Rulia had little doubt that war was but a season away, she and her spymaster both dead certain that King Richard and his heirs were determined to forge Erovering into a true empire, no matter how many lives it cost.
Velheim's closest neighbors had grown fat with commerce, treaties, open borders, and defense pacts to the point where trade had become considerably more profitable than war. Their vision had become myopic. They had forgotten the furious hunger for conquest that had fueled their own ancestors overrunning this continent so many centuries ago, conquerin
g and supplanting the original inhabitants so thoroughly that one hardly saw traces of the bronze skin, almond eyes, and glossy black hair that the original peoples had displayed in abundance, their ancient empires entirely lost to time.
That Rulia even knew her history was a rare degree of education in a noble class increasingly willing to forget the lessons of the past. And now Velheim's neighbors, grown fat and complacent, foolishly trusted that their modest sized armies used almost exclusively for routing bandits and joint training exercises would somehow be able to thwart Erovering's growing war machine. Thwart the bloodlust, the furious savagery that had always run particularly hot in the peoples of Erovering, the birthplace of the infamous Red Queen who had first unified Erovering before terrorizing the continent entire, near a thousand years ago.
Velheim's foolish neighbors were more than happy to let Velheim bear the brunt of Erovering's assault, foolishly thinking Erovering would break itself against the Dragonspire Range, or venture no further than Velheim's borders. This silly belief held, even though her father's diplomats had warned those fools time and time again that should Erovering take Velheim, they would then be in a perfect position to launch strikes against all their new neighbors, only to retreat to fortified high ground, rendering Erovering all but immune to retaliation, even as she bled her new neighbors dry.
The added bit of irony was that those mercenary bands Velheim's neighbors were counting on to supplement their armies were more often than not led by graduates of Highrock, Erovering's premier war academy. Those Squires of War and their handpicked horse archers and heavy cavalry were now the elite and highly sought after mercenaries any number of dukes and princes increasingly entrusted with taking out any serious threat, any fractious nobles not following the new rules of profit above all else. And those Squires, rumor had it, had never let their employers down.
Of course, those bands were now the only troops getting any serious battle experience on the continent, and as far as Rulia and her spymaster were concerned, acted as spies and sleeping agents as much as anything else, ready to turn their combined bands against their supposed employers at a moment's notice. And worse, Velheim's neighbors truly believed those Squires were now their own, that they had somehow brought off with coin the furious love for king and Crown that burned in the heart of every Squire. A devotion Rulia had seen for herself, encountering the perfect Squire of war, utterly devoted to her cause, whom Rulia had loved with all her heart.
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