Paladin's Oath

by M. H. Johnson

  Twilight purred, settling himself comfortably upon Jess's shoulder. "My scouting didn't reveal anything save a monstrous appetite. My own."

  "It was a pleasure, Lady Turnsby! Can you point me to the buffet table? My invisible cat is starving." She grinned brightly and Sissela blinked, nonplussed, before finally pointing toward the massive table near groaning under the weight of numerous roasts, baked fishes, and soup tureens, besides which various guests appeared to be in deep conversation.

  “Jessica de Calenbry, behave yourself!” her mother hissed as Jess sauntered off with a wave. Jess caught Apple’s disbelieving gaze and winked.

  “My daughter is actually quite the accomplished adventurer,” Jess could hear her mother explaining behind her. “They all have their little eccentricities, I’m afraid. Something of a hero at her college, you know! Saved a dozen of her peers from certain death. Can you believe the bards already have songs about her?”

  Jess, for one, was happy to lose herself in the crowd of gossiping guests, appreciating the elegant cut of the men's doublets and hosiery. Many also wore light jackets or jerkins, shades of gray or sea blue being the preferred colors, it seemed. Several of the nobles wore side-swords, very similar if a bit lighter than the arming swords commonly used by soldiers. Excellent for deadly slashes or fatal thrusts, they were a popular choice for self-defense, and equally as a backup weapon upon the battlefield.

  Other nobles, Jess noted, were equipped with rapiers. Longer and differently balanced than self-swords, their extra length and specialized design made them excellent thrusting weapons against unarmored opponents, with limited cutting capacity if, indeed, they possessed any at all. Though they could be a very effective weapon in agreed upon duels with a single unarmored opponent, that was about all they were good for, in Jess's opinion.

  Rapiers and side-swords alike were equipped with elaborate swept hilts all of a similar design, no doubt the height of fashion in various noble circles, and Jess was pleased to see that the design did offer decent hand protection, if one was otherwise unarmored.

  Despite her attempts to gently squeeze by the crowd of gossiping nobles hovering about the grand buffet table unnoticed, she caught the eye of at least a few of the young men and women resting between the dances taking place upon the main floor to the accompaniment of the soothing sounds of the musicians gracefully playing their lutes, harps, and mandolins.

  "My dear. What an interesting choice of attire you have brought to our little soiree, and what an alarmingly large blade you are wearing. Expecting trouble, are we?" This from a bemused looking young man who was apparently as obnoxious as he was handsome. With eyes like drops of honey, rich caramel hair dressed in a neat bow spilling elegantly down the back of his cashmere jacket, Jess might have thought him quite attractive, if he had bothered to smile at her and show warmth instead of mockery. She might even have forgiven the silver pommeled rapier at his side.

  Several of the ladies tittered at his jest, and Jess flashed him a hostile glare for interfering with her pursuit of food.

  “Hmm… mute, are we? Perhaps we are unable to understand our predicament? This, dear lady, is where the nobles come to play. Mercenaries and guards and such have their own little gathering, in the servants' quarters,” he smirked. “I believe I see the reeve just yonder supervising several of the serving girls. Perhaps he could direct you to more suitable company?”

  "She is an alarmingly dressed young thing, isn't she?" One of the overly made-up girls stage-whispered to her simpering friends. "Is she someone's mercenary, without even the common sense to stick with her kind? Who hired her on? And look at that scar on her cheek. A woman with any sense knows to protect her beauty.”

  Her friend, wearing what Jess thought a particularly awful mixture of yellow and blue, sneered at Jess. “And just look at her eyes and hair. Like blood and rust. You don’t suppose she is a northern berserker, do you? Perhaps she is here to perform a demonstration for us?”

  Jess’s gaze turned cold. “You idiots have three choices. One, challenge me. Two, move. Three, be moved by me. Now choose.”

  The pair of ladies appeared mortally offended, and several of the young man’s friends whistled at this. “You aren’t going to let her talk to you that way, are you, Armand? Challenge that woman who dares to ape her betters, and put her in her place!"

  Jess turned her gaze to the instigator, a smaller saturnine featured man with a rapier sheathed to his side, his finery of a slightly poorer cut than the young Armand’s. “You too are welcome to challenge me, instead of hiding behind a younger man’s back, sirrah,” Jess coolly declared.

  The man in question gasped at Jess’s temerity, eyes flashing his outrage. “Such an insolent whelp! Daring to insult lords and ladies in the bosom of their home, during such sacred festivities. Outrageous! We shall call the guards and have you dragged out forthwith! Rest assured, your employer shall here of your temerity!”

  Jess smirked at the spluttering lord's outrage. "Interesting how you were perfectly happy to goad your ‘friend' to take me on, but when the challenge is directed towards yourself, you attempt to scamper like a rat behind protocol." Jess's smile turned cold. "Pathetic."

  “How dare you!” The angry little man was shaking with fury. “To be insulted by gutter trash such as you! I will see you in irons for your insolence!”

  Jess rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes. Whatever. You are too much of a coward to challenge me directly. Okay, then I challenge you on the grounds of being an obnoxious rat that offends my eyes to see and my ears to hear. Do you have enough pride to demand satisfaction? If not, will you and your friends kindly cease your gossip and move, so I can get to the buffet? Kitty and I are starving!"

  "Damn right," Twilight purred from her shoulders. "Food or a duel. Something to relieve the tediousness of this affair." Twilight yawned, and Jess nodded in agreement.

  "Guards, guards! Arrest this woman!" The hot-tempered little man was roaring, though it came out more a screech. The surrounding nobility's conversation halted at the man's outraged cries, and more than a few eyebrows were raised in their direction.

  “That’s right!” Jess smiled. “Dear lord sour-face here is too much of a coward to accept or offer challenge after insulting me, so now he’s trying to hide behind the Turnsby’s men-at-arms. And that, my friends, is the definition of both a rat, and a coward! Congratulations, sirrah! You have proven that you can be two things simultaneously. The naturalists will look upon you with amazement. Either that, or set traps. We wouldn’t want your kind spreading, after all.”

  More than a few people gazed at Jess with shocked expressions, some chuckling self-consciously at the depth of insult she had just speared the spluttering lordling with.

  "By Justice, Nicolaus! It doesn't matter if she's noble or cur. After that insult, if you have any spine at all, you'll challenge her!" Demanded one gruff voice, many heads nodding in agreement, some gazing at both of them with disgust at their poor decorum and manners, others grinning openly at the prospect of a free show.

  Jess’s grin turned savage. “Yes, Nicolaus. Challenge me. Let’s see if you have anything besides rat piss in your veins.”

  “Very well!” screamed the little man. “You obnoxious little northern harlot! I challenge you! Here and now! Let us fight, to the death!”

  Jess yawned and cracked her neck, her mouth set in a dark little grin. “I accept.” She paused to consider the angry little man, shaking with rage. “But if you plead in earnest, and agree to change your name to Nicolaus Rat-face, I might deign to let you live.”

  “Never, you pox laden whore!” the smaller man screamed, drawing his blade and approaching.

  “Not in here!” cried a gruff voice. “Out on the patio. Let us clear the area!”

  The orchestra had come to a sudden halt, news of the honor duel quickly spreading through the grand hall. Before long everyone’s gaze was locked upon Jess and Lord Nicolaus, the latter sputtering his fury as he was coaxed to the outside patio,
all the guests giving his simmering eyes and unsheathed sword a very wide birth. A vastly more cheerful Jess followed shortly thereafter, and within moments the two were in a chalk ring ten paces wide.

  “By the gods, Jess. Can’t I leave you alone for just ten minutes?” Lady de Calenbry called out plaintively, hugging her younger daughter tightly. Apple’s eyes were wide, her expression unfathomable as she gazed at her madly grinning sister, who in the course of a mere handful of minutes had managed to get herself into a duel.

  Jess ignored them, her eyes only on her opponent save for a single moment she made sure to lock eyes with Armand. “Remember, you and I are next.”

  The handsome young man blinked, nervously rubbing the silver pommel of his rapier as he stared in disbelief. “You are insane.”

  Jess grinned. “I take offense! You all heard the insult! I formally challenge Lord Armand. Let’s hope he’s less of a coward than his dear friend here.”

  The crowd of lords and ladies gasped at this. "Focus on the duel at hand, woman!" shouted one voice among many.

  It was then that Lady Turnsby broke through the crowd of onlookers, her seneschal by her side. “What is the meaning of this? Why, Lord Nicolaus, is your blade naked and pointing at dear Lady Jessica? A duel, you say? I refuse it! There will be no dueling at my daughter’s birthday gala!”

  “But Mother, I don’t mind, really!” the girl in question declared, her golden curls bobbing as she bounced in enthusiasm. “Nicolaus is a bit of a creep. Blood him, Jessica!” Onnika cried, and several of the onlookers started to laugh.

  “There will be enough of that, young lady!” Sissela’s eyes flashed. “There will be no dueling on my estates!”

  “I’m sorry, Lady Sissela. But insults were exchanged, and challenge given. As a matter of honor, I must accept it.” Jess’s voice turned coldly formal as she gazed at her hostess.

  "But Jessica! This is absurd!" Lady Sissela implored. Several of the lords gazed at Jess carefully, far too savvy not to immediately understand the implications of Sissela's tone. She wasn't demanding, she was pleading. Jess, whoever she was, must outrank her, and was thus of Titled Blood. And as there was only one formally titled family to be found within a score of miles of the Turnsby estates in this, the largest barony in all of Erovering, equal in size to most duchies, the exotically attired female at that very moment unsheathing her blade could be none other than Jessica de Calenbry, daughter of Arthur de Calenbry, to whom every noble present had sworn fealty to.

  Jess took a certain dark satisfaction as the implications began to sink into the body of lords presently watching the duel unfold, even as she turned her warrior's gaze to her hostess, refusing to be dissuaded by the way Lady Sissela's eyes seem to widen in sudden fear as she stepped back, the seneschal alone keeping her from tripping over her many skirts. "Lady Sissela. That blustering rat-faced coward called me, what was it? A pox laden whore. Now if you are going to call the daughter of the baron a pox laden whore, you had best be willing and able to back up your assertion with naked steel, wouldn't you agree?"

  Gasps were heard throughout the crowd, Sissela’s complexion turning bone white. She looked ready to faint. “Oh no, Nicolaus. You did no such thing. Please tell me you did no such thing!”

  Nicolaus was still simmering, headless of consequence. “How were we to know? This cross-dressed ragamuffin had the temerity to insult us, lords at your table, looking like nothing so much as a common mercenary! She called me both a rat, and a coward! And I have given challenge and she must answer!”

  “She’s not cross-dressed. That’s the Highrock uniform, you idiot! And if you’ll look at the double crossed swords pinned to her doublet, you’d realize she’s a ranked swordsman!” One of the onlookers coldly pointed out to the still blustering lord.

  “It doesn’t matter!” Nicolaus roared. “I’ve studied under the tutelage of Lord Lousveltier, a master fencer, and he has downed a dozen arrogant would-be knights wielding their longswords!”

  Nicolaus brandished his own blade, showing how light, quick, and thin it was. "My rapier is as well balanced as any side-sword, with an edge to match! It will be the downfall of this would-be tin plated knight, made to my master's very specifications!" His eyes turned calculating. "And by ancient codices, if I should pierce her heart with my blade, her family may seek no vengeance or recompense, as it was a duel freely accepted without coercion, and I have dozens of witnesses to that account!"

  “Yes, yes, of course. Should you actually manage to kill me with your mighty sword, my family will seek no vengeance.” Jess’s voice turned languid with contempt. “Nice filigree upon your blade, Nicolaus. I don’t suppose that is to make up for deficiencies with your other blade? Hmm?” Jess’s smile turned mocking and the crowd broke out in startled laughter. Nicolaus could stand no more. His face turning a mottled purple, he screamed and charged, launching into a furious series of snapping cuts followed by a vicious lunge to the gut.

  Jess grinned. Her heart was hammering, muscles tingling with excitement, bursting with energy. Once more she was dancing on the razor’s edge of oblivion, and she reveled in it like nothing else. Not even a lover's embrace could compare to the exhilaration of the battlefield, how utterly awake and alive she felt, battling for her very existence.

  It took but an instant to snap the thin cord bunching her mithril hauberk tightly under her doublet, the sparkling shirt of mail now rolling down to its full length, stopping at her knees. Save for a helm, she was as well protected as she could hope to be. Her grin was sharp and eyes bright as time seemed literally to stretch like molasses. Jess could all but see the individual drops of sweat fly from her enraged opponent’s hair as he thrust his sword with all his strength even as she sidestepped his lunge, her mithril longsword effortlessly knocking his rapier out of alignment.

  “Come now!” she roared. “You'll have to do better than that!”

  And the panting Nicolaus strove to do so, once again lashing out with a blistering series of cuts and thrusts, his own speed no doubt enhanced by his fury, though his blows were ragged and he was already tiring. Jess exhilarated in the exercise even as she parried his slashes, knocking his blade away from hers effortlessly, and she started to count aloud. “Two! Three! Four!”

  Lord Nicolaus attempted to feint a snap cut at her eyes before darting forward to thrust at her belly. Jess parried it with the strong of her blade, and this time consented to counter attack, whipping her blade Krumphau style, smacking it downward against his side, careful to use the flat of her blade. The lord yelped and stumbled, falling to the ground before getting back up. He was limping, blood leaking from his side. Even the flat of the blade had still wounded him, as much as she had softened the blow, the inconceivably sharp edge just breaking his skin. “Five!” Jess called out.

  “What are the numbers for, Lady Jess?” one onlooker asked in a hushed voice as Jess stepped back, waiting for a gasping Nicolaus to regain his breath and come forward once more.

  Jess grinned. “All the times I could have killed him already.”

  Breath regained, Nicolaus roared and charged at Jess yet again, his blade slashing downward in a ragged arc. Jess’s own sword snapped up and she locked blades with him, her mithril edge cutting deep into his own, Jess overpowering him effortlessly as she pinned their blades up high before kneeing him in the groin even as she grabbed his sword arm with her left hand and squeezed.

  Jess felt bone crunch even as Nicolaus screamed, filigreed rapier falling from his now broken wrist. Deftly she flowed away from the tumbling blade and she smiled. Crushing his wrist so hard his bones had shattered had been near effortless.

  It felt good to squeeze.

  Jess’s mithril blade was suddenly at the kneeling man’s throat. He shook and wept as he held his shattered wrist.

  "Good show!" Several of the men declared, clapping enthusiastically. "Never have I seen anyone move a longsword so gracefully!" cried one.

  “She was as fast as any rapiersman I’
ve ever seen,” agreed another.

  “It looks like the question of rapiers versus longswords is still open to debate. I, for one, have always favored the knight’s blade,” opined a third spectator.

  Jess just smiled, her blade still resting against the heaving lord’s neck. Drops of crimson blood started to trickled down her blade's edge, the skin of Nicolaus's throat tearing effortlessly with its tender caress, so sharp was her blade.

  “Jess, what are you doing?” her sister asked, breathlessly. “You've won! You can let him go now.”

  Jess slowly shook her head. “He called me a whore, Apple. And he challenged me to the death. He would have thought nothing about running me through and watching me writhe and die. All because he didn’t approve of me. Because I wasn’t some simpering sycophant in a dress, obeisant to him!” Jess felt a deep hot anger begin to simmer just below her exhilaration. “No!” She shook her head fiercely. “He doesn’t get off that easy!”

  It was then the lord gazed up at her with haunted eyes. “Please,” he whispered. “You’ve beaten me! Look, I misspoke. I was drunk. It wasn’t me! It was Armand who first insulted you, not I! I was just at the wrong place, that is all.”

  Jess smirked. "At the wrong place and the wrong time. I'd understand, if you hadn't been goading him on to fight me. If you hadn't shirked like a coward when I challenged you. If you hadn't called me a pox ridden whore!"

  Jess bent down to glare into the man's trembling gaze. Nicolaus cringed, tears and snot dripping freely in his terror. “If you had gotten out of my way when I tried to get to the damn buffet!”

  Jess roared, grabbing him a second time and shaking him, forgetting in her rage to hide her terrible strength. No few people gazed at her in awe as the lord's head snapped back and forth, screaming as his shattered wrist was repeatedly jolted. She shook him like a rag doll, even as her eyes instinctively met those gazing at her so raptly. She caught her mother's horrified stare. Her sister's disbelief. Onnika's gaze was particularly disturbing. She appeared mesmerized, licking her lips and gazing at Jess with unbridled fascination. Jess took a deep breath and fought for self-control.