It was only the fact that wizards of older traditions made apprenticeship so difficult, according to the records, that led to their eventually fading to the periphery, if not dying out altogether, all but ignored by the now ascendant elementalist order. But once upon a time, elementalists responded to rumors of those with odd gifts not with derision, but with fear. And those wizards who had sought to challenge masters of more ancient traditions were rarely heard from again.
One of her last memories of Highrock, filled as she had been with bittersweet satisfaction at having earned her degree, for all that she had failed to achieve either residency or tenure, was of Rens himself, giving her a quick hug and a congratulatory smile.
Though their affair had been brief, he had always held a tender affection for her afterwards, a patronage that had helped her survive more than one difficult course with a bit of timely advice when needed. He always left the brunt of the research and coursework to her to master on her own, of course, ever the professor that he was. Yet one thing Rens had counseled that final day, gazing at her with such sweet intensity that it had always stuck in her heart, was for her to never to be ashamed of her gift, however warped it was. For it spoke of older traditions. Powerful ones, if only she had the wit and skill to figure out how best to use her talents to assure her own way through life. Words she had taken to heart, counsel that had helped her become the Crown Agent she was even at that very moment, overwhelmed by the terrible taste of ancient Ritual drowning her in a sea of blood.
Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion and odd bits of memory jarring her awareness, even as her own warped gift seemed to want to follow in Jessica de Calenbry's wake, like a trickling brook overwhelmed by a roaring flood, Verona feeling strangely as if she were being all but swept away.
She felt herself about to swoon, before a powerful yet gentle hand steadied her.
“What do you sense, Lady Verona?” Morlekai quietly asked.
“Blood magic.” Verona shivered. “Old and powerful. Unchained by the precepts of arcane filament, or webs of power. Raw, unbound, alive. Wielded by a mind fierce and terrible.” She took a deep breath. “Rituals like this… the knowing… was lost long ago.”
“Yes,” Morlekai nodded, completely unfazed by Verona's trembling revelation. “But do you have the knack to understand just how potent that ritual was, I wonder?”
Verona shook her head. “I don’t know. I could only feel the slightest echo of its power. It was… subtle. I can only assume it involves a bond between her and her sister. Had it been blatant, we would know. By the gods, we would know.” She shuddered.
Morlekai flashed a bleak smile, gently stroking her back. “I believe you. But hush. Listen. She speaks again, to a presence I doubt you can see.”
Verona beheld Jessica stumbling to her feet, slightly shaking, before collecting herself as she brushed the rich earth off of her dress. “It’s Kipu.” Verona heard Jess grimly declare, at first alarmed that she and Morlekai had been discovered, then realizing a moment later that the girl appeared to be having a conversation with someone only she could see. “The boy she is with. I’m not sure how yet, but I think, I think it all stems from him. We have to get to them.”
She was silent save for ragged breaths, her stumbling walk turning to a steady jog within seconds as she continued her conversation, voice intent, almost anxious. Verona could only make out some of the words as she and Morlekai strove, quietly, to at least keep the girl in sight. Jessica's words were chilling, guttural with hate.
“I need to see him. I need to sense him, to taste him in my mind and thus understand his darkness. To truly feel his Malice.”
Yet as fast as Verona strove to keep up, the girl before her went from lope to near effortless sprint to a run so powerful it was almost a gallop, clods of dirt spraying behind the fierce power of her stride, as each step launched her forth at a speed that would rival a race horse's.
“By the gods!” Verona hissed, and her companion chuckled.
“She has Delved deep indeed. Excellent.” Morlekai then turned to her, his madly brilliant eyes gazing into her own almost playfully. “You did see the pair of white gloves she left behind, I trust? Excellent. And yet she was still wearing a pair when she ran off. I trust you can deduce what that means.” His eyes seemed to flash with excitement. “Truly an invigorating evening. I fear, dear Verona, you would be unable to keep up, were I to match her pace. So, let us continue, and hope we don’t miss too much of the excitement, shall we?”
Playful words aside, his stride was still so fast that Verona was heaving by the time he finally came to a stop, still a fair distance from the scene playing out ahead, yet close enough that Verona could still make out at least some of the words.
Morlekai’s suddenly firm grip kept her from proceeding further, his eyes flashing with sudden coldness. “No, Lady Verona. We have come close enough, I think. We would not want to spoil what is to come, would we?” He smiled invitingly. “Come. The cool grass awaits. Let us lie low, and see what there is to see.”
Realizing that his request was couched exactly as Sir Gray's would be, when in truth she had no choice at all, she saved face by nodding solemnly and agreeing, knowing she would only look the fool if she strode forth and he were to casually toss her on her rump. For she knew with utter certainty that her martial talents would do little good against his fierce, battle-hardened form. To say nothing of the fact that it would serve her poorly indeed to make an enemy out of him at this point, assuming she would survive the encounter at all, her unorthodox talents aside.
She saw it then, the tableau in full. What could only be Jessica's sister, holding tight to a grim-faced young man gazing forth with cold, cynical eyes as Jessica slowly approached them, her hand rhythmically squeezing the knife hilt at her side.
Verona felt her heart start to race. Was she to witness murder, right here, before her very eyes? It was then that she registered the two armed guardsmen coming to sudden attention, interposing themselves between Jessica and the source of her obvious wrath.
Verona felt a roaring within her, so charged the air had become. Her eyes fastening so closely to the actors on the stage, so to speak, that the words, at times whipped away by the sudden breeze springing out of nowhere, faded in and out of her hearing. But what she did hear chilled her to the bone.
“How did you feel then, Kipu? Her letter clenched in your shaking fist, you hiding it in your clothes, pretending nothing was wrong as the cook’s maid who had taken such joy in tutoring you and her daughter stumbled upon her child’s body and screamed, screamed such a low, terrible cry of pain that you couldn’t help but smile, every trace of sorrow you had ever felt instantly burned away in a sudden wave of… pity. Pity and forgiveness you felt, for both the poor woman and the child you had killed!”
Verona gasped in disbelief. By the gods. Jessica was claiming this young man before her to be a murderer, even as she circled and paced around this Kipu and her sister like a cat stalking her prey. The young woman was so lost in her dark trance that she seemed to all but ignore the increasingly agitated guards, and Verona could all too readily imagine the repercussions, should those fools actually dare to attack the daughter of a named lord.
Her sister's screams that Jess had lost her mind seemed to do nothing to deter her, and even from this distance, Verona was chilled by the fiery madness even she could feel radiating from Jessica de Calenbry's eyes. Verona was sickened. If the poor child attacked, the guards would be forced to defend themselves. It would be a slaughter. And as much as it would solve one problem, the guards themselves inevitably tried and tortured to death for the noble blood they would have spilled soon after, Verona felt soiled even contemplating such a convenient end to the child.
Morlekai chuckled then, and Verona winced. The foolish girl couldn’t leave it at one accusation of murder, having just declared the young lord responsible for his own mother’s suicide.
The young lord began to hyperventilate, gazing at his accuse
r with what Verona could only see as blackest hatred. “You can’t say this. No. This? This can’t be real. There is no way… just…no. No!” His expression of horror and alarm focused on the guardsmen close at hand. “Men, to me!”
Jess began to speak softly then, her words seeming to strike Kipu like blows even as her voice raised in pitch, and Verona could at last make out what was being said with perfect clarity.
“You needed it. You needed to see another girl scream and die, helpless before you, to quench your hate, didn’t you? Who was it then? Another serving girl? Someone you went out of your way to charm, to impress, one who was charmed by your dark brooding demeanor, impressed by your desperate attempts to memorize poetry.” Jess grimaced. “The details blur. There were many, weren’t there Kipu?”
Jess’s ruthless accusations poured forth, the increasingly loud wind drowning her voice out once more to Verona’s ears, though a single glance told her that Morlekai was… savoring was the only word for it, savoring every word Jess pummeled the young lord with.
Jessica's sister curled up into a ball and started to scream, as if to drown out the accusations that even to Verona sounded…wild. Like madness. It appeared that Jessica had never even seen the young lord she was accusing before this night, yet the look of sheer hatred emanating from him was unmistakable. Whether or not Jess was insane, whether or not the lord was guilty of these accusations, there was a darkness lurking in the depths of that boy's eyes. Even Verona could sense it. But predatory murder? Jess herself looked madder and more prone to violence than anyone Verona had ever seen.
"Guardsmen, to me! Protect me now!" It was then that two other men broke free from the tree line, two further guards, and this gave Verona pause. They were good. Very good. She had not even sensed their presence, yet obviously they had lain in wait.
Was it normal protocol for a country lord to allow another man’s henchmen to be hidden upon his lands? Somehow Verona seriously doubted it. Yet Appolonia, Jess’s sister, had appeared utterly unconcerned by the two guardsmen that had been accompanying the young lord, so perhaps a dispensation had been granted. Yet such was a trifling issue compared to the fact the young Jessica faced four armed and armored swordsmen, their blades now unsheathed and held in veteran grips.
With chilling disregard for her own safety, Jess continued to pace around them, seemingly unfazed by the quartet of fully armed and armored warriors, naked blades at the ready, slowly moving to cut her off and surround her.
Verona shuddered. If those four were to actually slaughter that foolish girl, they would have committed a high crime, and would lose absolutely nothing in doing their utmost to kill Verona as well, should she confront them. Though she was confident she could take out a pair with her arts before they closed in and finished her off, she would be cut down by the remainder as surely as the most helpless noble lady.
So she found herself hesitating, measuring the situation, sparing a quick glance for Morlekai who did not seem alarmed at all. She was shocked to see him smiling, as if enjoying a show. He turned to her and winked, so fast she gasped, which made him grin all the more. “Relax,” he soothed. “Enjoy the scene, so eloquently playing out before us. The penultimate act is about to unfold.”
Jess, completely unfazed by the bared steel, continued her bold accusations, and the last one made Verona gasp, as Jess accused Kipu of committing rape and murder upon a fellow noble. The most heinous of acts. And with the change in the wind Verona could once more hear her every word.
“You decided to hunt noble prey, Kipu. And you have struck already, once before! What was her name? Think it, Kipu, I can feel the Malice, the hatred roiling within you… come… dark hair, hazel brown eyes…she wore a locket with a little golden heart… come, Kipu, what was her name?”
“Guards, protect me! This creature is mad!” Kipu’s voice was sharp with panic as the lead guards approaching Jessica raised their unsheathed blades.
“One step closer, and I end you.” Jess’s voice was as cold as ice, her knife unsheathed in an instant.
And to her horrified amazement, Verona realized that the girl was completely fearless, completely mad. One of the two scouts that had been held back in reserve whispered something to the young lord and he nodded his head, turning to stroke Appolonia's dark curls, even as she shuddered and sobbed.
It was then the two men flanking Kipu proceeded toward Jessica with the look of butchers about to take down a wild boar, even as one of the pair of guardsmen closest to Jessica appeared to prod her. Yet as to intent, Verona could not say. Had the guard truly been so shortsighted so as to intimidate a noble with naked steel, knowing that if he drew blood, he would be guilty of a capital offense? Even baring the blade before Jess had been a crime. Or did he actually intend to lunge forth and kill the mad girl before her?
In the end, it didn’t matter. For in a move so blisteringly fast as to leave Verona, breathless, she saw Jessica abruptly pivot herself clear of the guard’s thrust, even as her gloved hand snapped out to snatch the naked steel blade.
In horror, Verona expected the sudden desperate act to be followed with a spray of blood and panicked screams before Jess was tragically cut down, but nothing like that occurred. Instead, Jess had spun inside the guard’s reach, and in a series of moves so fast it was little more than a blur in the dim light, the soldier had been slammed to the ground, crying out in pain as he clenched his wrist, an instant before Jessica plunged the guard's own sword deep into his neck.
The man's haunted eyes caught Verona’s own before the spray of arterial flood gushing from his neck covered him and his assailant as he slowly collapsed and died, the spurting blood weaker with every dying beat of his heart. Yet Jessica herself was totally unfazed. Not a moment of shock in her, even as everyone else in the tableau had been momentarily frozen in horror, Jess having used that split second to snap her blade up in guard once more, her left hand up and ready to parry and trap, almost as if it were a buckler.
“Mailed glove,” was the only aside Morlekai chose to give, gazing at the scene with a rapturous intensity. And Verona only spared him a second, her eyes immediately snapping back to the horrid tableau of blood and death before her.
It was with far greater caution that the remaining three armsmen closed the distance, but they seemed unfazed, particularly the latter two who approached young Lady Jessica in tandem, their bucklers leading, blades raised high, and even Verona could tell that they sought to pin Jess between them, to strike her down with a carefully coordinated attack. It seemed, however, that Jess had whispered some dark curse, for suddenly incensed, the pair charged forward as if to cut her down with all haste and fury
But their prey was so much quicker than they could fathom. So fast that to blink was to have missed it, Jess darting to her right a split second before they could lash out in unison, catching the nearest guardsman's furious cut near the pommel of her captured blade, abruptly snapping down in a wicked slash under his guard, scoring his arm as he reflexively backed away with a stifled cry. And in that split second of confusion, instead of using it as an opportunity to flee, Jess chose that moment to strike once more, her sword whipping past buckler to plunge into her foe's chest with such force that Verona distinctly heard the tortured pop of metal rings bursting, a feat of strength Verona had until that moment thought only a trained knight on a charging horse was capable of, the pierced armsman crying out with a horrid death rattle even as Jessica tore her blade free, her foe stumbling to the ground, violently coughing a stream of blood even as he writhed and died.
Verona shook from the sheer savagery of the kill, horrified that the girl in the blood-spattered dress seemed fazed not in the least, merely measuring her final two opponents as she cautiously circled them. With an abrupt cry one of the remaining two launched himself at her, raining a series of fearsome blows down upon Jessica. And each slash she parried with the practiced ease of someone whose weapon was but an extension of herself.
Verona was chilled by how cal
m Jessica de Calenbry seemed at that moment, realizing that not only was she collected but that indeed, she had been simultaneously leading her foe into an exquisitely prepared trap, and away from his more timid companion. The guardsman lashed out a final time, increasingly off balance, Jessica catching it in a hanging parry, his blade skittering high even as Jessica lunged forward, pivoting so as to expertly snap-grab and yank down her opponent's buckler with her off hand while plunging her own sword deep into the man's chest, the sickening crack telling Verona that Jessica had managed to pierce the man's sternum to the hilt. He had been completely run through.
Verona gazed at Jess, shuddering, comprehending in that instant what it really meant to be a Squire of War. How thoroughly trained and naturally adept Highrock's elite killers truly were. To plunge a sword through a man's breastbone, the strength that would take, and the effect that would have on an opponent’s body, stopping one's enemy instantly, overwhelmed with the blow even as they died, denying an opponent the last handful of seconds a lunge normally allowed.
And then it was that Verona heard the crack and saw to her surprise that Jess held little more than a sword hit, blade snapped near clean off in her last foe’s sternum, seemingly unaware of the charging guardsman even then raising his blade to cut her down.
Even Morlekai hissed in surprise. In a move almost too fast for Verona could see, Morlekai had launched to his feet and was charging forward, wicked blue steeled falchion suddenly in hand, when much to Verona’s surprised relief she saw that Jess had already rolled away from her foe’s mad charge, immediately launching to her feet as her opponent spun around to crash into her again, and against all logic, Jess charged into his mad rush with a cry of her own.
Verona heard a horrible screech of steel scraping against steel and heard something crack, barely audible but enough to cause her gut to twist in visceral discomfort even as she saw the guardsman windmilling above Jess, her terrible blow slamming him up and over with the same ferocious force as a raging bull.
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