ã€ŠSquire of War 2.0ã€‹


 Chapter 1

    ¡°Face it, Calenbry wench. You¡¯ll never make it as a knight!¡±

    The memory of Mord¡¯s mocking laughter sickened Jess even now, three years after a far more innocent version of herself had first attended this college of war. She still remembered accepting the young man¡¯s challenge, despite dark whispers of what a savage he could be when he fought to win. How utterly confident she had been in her own skills, more than willing to compete with the unofficial favorite for the approval of Lord Hyve, one of King Richard¡¯s knight commanders. Renowned throughout Erovering, Lord Hyve was a celebrated warrior who was rumored never to have never lost a jousting match while in his prime. Jess and Mord had both coveted the prize of victory, which was nothing less than a chance to squire under Lord Hyve himself, one''s path to knighthood all but assured.

    It had been hot as a cook''s griddle that day, with the crowd of noble onlookers cheering on their favorites. The training grounds had baked to a near rock hard surface, most of the grass long since trampled under the armored feet of endless scores of college students over the years.

    Electing not to stay and witness the bouts lest he distract her, Jess''s father bade her a gentle farewell the very morning of that first-year student competition, reminding her she needed to pace herself and not overly risk her person in any one competition on a mad gamble for victory.

    ¡°Many of the lads also vying for Lord Hyve''s favor come from Houses houses with reputations for ruthlessness," her father cautioned with the stern blue-eyed gaze of a onetime general, Jess stiffening to attention as crisply as any soldier.

    He relaxed his gaze then, giving a fond shake of his head. ¡°You are as fine warrior as any commander could hope to have under his wing, my daughter. It would ill suit us both for you to allow yourself to be used and cast off cheaply. Preserve your well-being above all else, these first, most perilous days, my Jess.¡±

    Jess nodded in complete agreement, earning a faint smile from the man whose regard meant so very much to her. ¡°Very good, my Jess. And fear not, Highrock is home to the finest generals in Erovering now that we live in a time of peace, however tenuous a state of affairs that it may be. Lord Hyve is not the only commander of note at this institution, for all that so many lads have their eyes on the prize of serving under him.¡±

    Her father adjusted his stirrups then, observing the care of her own mount with an approving nod, the pair of them having ridden out together early that morning to view the training grounds, the future field of battle, much as any good tactician would. ¡°I have no doubt that you will make nothing less than an excellent impression upon your future martial instructors, whoever they may be. I only ask that you be prudent in choosing your battles and allow conflicts to resolve themselves, when opportunity permits.¡±

    Jess smiled in turn at her father, gently stroking her own destrier''s mane. ¡°You mean let the most brutal applicants batter themselves silly in the early bouts before accepting challenges to place myself, do you not, Father?¡±

    Her father''s bright blue eyes twinkled then, his oft times grim features softening, blond locks rustling rustled in the wind. He looked for a moment the mirror image of her brother Geoffrey, a recent graduate himself of Highrock, now content to learn the intricacies of Court by his father''s side. "I know I trained you well, Jessica. Just remember that no matter how convoluted your mother and sister like to make these things, politics and intrigue are but battlefields of a different sort." He chuckled wryly at that. "And for all that I have little more patience for innuendo and backbiting than you do, my daughter, the wise commander learns to recognize and counter his opponents, no matter the field of battle."

    Jess smiled. ¡°And the wisest commander of all leads his enemies to the terrain of his choosing. And if my opponents would rather fight amongst themselves than come for me, whether it be upon the training grounds or the field of battle, so much the better. And I know my strengths, Father. A sly wit and a cutting tongue will never be my weapons of choice. For anyone who slanders me with insults, sophistry, or nasty innuendo, it''s a slap to the face and a challenge for the dueling grounds. I shall let my blade prove the worth of my character, and dare anyone to disparage me upon that most sacred of arenas, where steel takes precedence over a sly tongue.¡±

    ¡°Fortunate for your peers that all such contests are only to be conducted with wooden swords and wasters exclusively.¡± Her father chuckled, before piercing Jess with a stare that brooked no argument, one that demanded instant deference. It was a look Jess knew all too well. ¡°A true leader, however, does not make enemies unnecessarily, my daughter. Your blade is a tool. Not a crutch. Far wiser to take the time to learn the motivations and needs of the people before you, to forge alliances and accords and assure yourself fast friends to fight by your side when needed, than to allow arrogance or aloofness to turn every man''s hand against you.¡±

    Jess bowed her head with her father''s gentle reprimand. ¡°You are right, of course, Father. I will try to be worthy of your words.¡±

    The baron''s gaze turned momentarily wistful even as he ruffled his mount''s mane. ¡°I am fortunate to have your mother by my side, Jess. You, I''m afraid, are going to have to figure out the intricacies of school life on your own. Just remember that you are a warrior first and foremost. So long as you take the measure of any possible opposition, weigh carefully the honor of potential allies, and proceed cautiously into any new situation you find yourself in, I have no doubt that you shall prosper, even thrive, here at Highrock.¡±

    Her father had hugged her farewell then, gently reminding her to write often, as her mother would worry.

    Even as her heart ached to see her father''s retreating form, she gazed back at the grim stone edifice that was Highrock College, feeling as if the future was comprised of limitless possibility, as if she had the entire world in the palm of her hand. She donned her carefully packed and maintained gear the moment she had returned to her private quarters, her body well used to the weight and feel of padded gambeson, mail hauberk, and a custom suit of brigandine armor, constructed of small plates of steel riveted to specially treated leather jacket and leggings, personally fitted to her frame by the master armorer who had constructed it.

    Steel helm and sturdy reinforced gauntlets were donned last of all before she headed out to the training yard, feeling great pride in wearing armaments her father had gifted her with solemn ceremony, several months before. Jess had trained in them with a dedication that gave even her brother pause, till they were as comfortable upon her frame as a second skin. Armaments that would be the envy of many a knight, she knew, able to serve her well in any field of battle, so long as not upon open terrain in the height of summer.

    Of course, being a bit too excited to memorize the route the first time, she earned more than one bemused glance by veteran students as she politely asked for the way to the training grounds from her quarters. it was only the terrain outside the school that she and her father had gone over til she knew it all like the back of her hand.

    Her first glimpse of the training grounds as she exited the stone keep had set her heart to racing. A sea of people roared and cheered. Scores of students all sparring together, warming up before the formal matches were to begin. Jess calmly stretched even as she shivered with excitement, wondering in that innocent moment what it would be like if that sea of students and onlookers were all cheering for her.

    It was then that the announcements washed over them all, carried by a powerful baritone voice, resonating across the field by dint of a mage no doubt well versed in battlefield magic. There was to be a change in the program. No longer would individual challenges be offered and accepted. Rather, all students would be paired off in two rows, given wooden placards, and randomly assigned to fight the nearest aspirant of the opposing row who had a matching placard. A student could, of course, decline the bout, but it would constitute a loss and count against that aspirant''s point total for the day.

    Jess gave a grudging nod even as she heard the moans of numerous others. Though she didn''t like the changes, she certainly understood the logic behind them, as it minimized the risks of preplanned fights being deliberately thrown for discrete gifts. It also prevented the strongest of contestants from racking up points by continuously challenging the perceived weakest. Of course, it also prevented Jess from choosing which opponents she''d most like to test her mettle against, or make use of any long-term strategies, as she had no idea who she would be facing. She could make no study of an opponent''s strengths or weaknesses until the moment she crossed blades with them in earnest, making the contest far truer to actual warfare than the game it had been before.

    And before she knew it, the students had all been paired up, formal challenges offered and accepted. For Jess, the first and only match of the day was about to begin.

    Pale of complexion, her opponent possessed saturnine features and cold dark eyes that peered at the world around him with barely concealed contempt. Jess disliked him on sight. The condescending sneer he had favored her with made it clear that the disregard was mutual.

    ¡°These are the challenges, girl. I do not know what vapors have infected your poor little brain, but if you don¡¯t get out of that sad excuse for a suit of armor and put on a proper dress, you are likely to get seriously hurt.¡±

    Armored in a full suit of plate and mail that spoke of his family¡¯s wealth and connections as much as anything else, his cold smile made it quite clear what he thought about the idea of hurting her, and it left Jess feeling slightly sickened.

    Jess all but snarled in response. ¡°I¡¯ve trained with steel since I was twelve. I have as much right to be here as you!¡±

    He barked a derisive chuckle. "Very well, wench. But don''t say I didn''t warn you." He then turned to the cool-eyed overseer of their bout who had shown absolutely no reaction to their discourse, instead looking over their training blades with a careful eye and testing point and edge with forefinger before handing the blunted weapons back to the pair. "I am ready, overseer," the arrogant young man declared.

    Jess had nodded in turn.

    ¡°Very well then,¡± the overseer said, coming over to both of them, inspecting their armor, assuring no straps would come loose in the heat of the bout. ¡°You both know the rules: You shall treat the first match as if you were unarmored, second as armored. You fight in full earnest, with blade and grappling as you choose. All blows are allowed save thunderstrikes to the head, all grappling maneuvers are allowed save neck and finger manipulations. Should one of you be responsible for the death or permanent maiming of the other, your family will owe a blood price, and you shall be summarily expelled. Are we clear?¡±

    Both nodded solemnly, readying their blades.

    ¡°Then announce yourselves, and begin.¡±

    The young man¡¯s lip curled into a sneer before he slammed shut his visor. ¡°My name is Mord de Plaga, wench. And before this day is over, you will know your place.¡±

    Jess felt her heart race with furious contempt even as she closed her own visor, doing her best to reign in her temper. ¡°Jessica de Calenbry,¡± she said coolly as she faced the man she already despised in Ochs guard, point towards her opponent¡¯s face, mirroring his own stance as they circled one another. With a final clap from the overseer, the bout began in earnest.

    The first thing Jess noted was that Mord was fast. Near as fast as she herself was. Their first cautious exchange of blows made that clear, he easily countering her quick darting slash, immediately off-setting her blade while slamming forward with a vicious thrust. She managed to counter it, barely, chilled by the savage strength propelling the blow. Raw power did not necessarily equate skill, Jess knew, but it was a decided advantage.

    They both leaped back then, he with an eerie little chuckle that grated on Jess''s nerves even as they continued to circle one another. Mord quickly took the initiative, seizing the Vor. Blade raised in high guard, he charged into her, striving to knock her off balance even as he lashed into her with a series of vicious overhand strikes, powerful diagonal blows at all angles that could easily cleave through an unarmored warrior who did not counter the blows quickly enough. When perfectly placed, those strikes could crack the bones of even an armored man, crippling them, and an excellent tactic to use against any foe whose shoulders were not exceedingly well armored and padded. And despite the overseer''s cautionary warning, it was increasingly clear that her shoulder blades were his target, hammering down with his blade as hard and fast as he could.

    He wasn''t just seeking to gain points upon her. He was out to maim her. That much had become chillingly clear.

    Heart pounding, Jess frantically parried, knowing her foe¡¯s considerable strength was getting the best of her, and she needed to retake the initiative if she was to have any hope of besting him.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    It was her father¡¯s cardinal rule. She must always seek to seize the Vor. She must always strive to make her opponent dance to her tune, force him to work to counter her maneuvers. For if she failed to do so, then the tune of her opponent''s blows hammering her flesh would be the last notes she ever heard.

    Thinking fast, Jess immediately strove to bind his blade with her own. She sensed more than saw his smile, having gained a glimmer of his true strength, and when he used his might to force her blade she immediately gave way, throwing him the slightest bit off balance, countering strong with weak as her father would say. And in that split second of grace she had, she snapped her blade about in a high tight arc even as she stepped back and pivoted, feeling a sudden surge of exultation when her blade slammed hard against Mord''s helm. A killing blow, had he been unarmored.

    It was a feeling of triumph that was short-lived.

    Mord, roaring in fury, slammed into her before the overseer could call the fight. Suddenly they were in close grappling range where swords were near useless, the force of his hate knocking her off balance every bit as much as the force of his slam, Jess stumbling back even as he viciously tore back her unsecured visor with one steel-gauntleted hand, smashing her naked face as hard as he could with the other.

    It was only then that the overseer¡¯s whistle cut through the din sharp and loud, even as Jess fell on her rump, dazed and humiliated, her face a hot throbbing mask of agony.

    Had her spirit been any less, she would have surrendered right then; dizzy, nauseous, sobbing from the awful pain. As it was, she did her best to grit her thankfully unshattered unbroken teeth and bear it, feeling the hot tang of blood pour into her mouth, realizing that her nose had been badly broken.

    ¡°Mord de Plaga! The bout is over! To your corner this instant!¡± shouted the overseer. Mord, however, had already quite calmly turned around and walked to his side of the training ring.

    The man then turned a concerned eye toward Jessica, helping her to her feet. ¡°My Lady Calenbry, are you fit to continue?¡± he quietly asked.

    Feeling a bit shaky, Jess collected herself, spat out a gob of blood and nodded, this time locking her visor once she slammed it shut once more.

    The overseer gazed coldly at Jess¡¯s opponent. ¡°Why did you not cease immediately, as per rules, once your opponent scored the point?¡±

    Mord had already raised his own visor, his honey-laden voice designed to soothe, even as Jess could feel the cold hatred of his eyes burning into her own. ¡°Forgive me, overseer, but in actuality the match is not over until the whistle is blown, and of course it is for us to act with all vigor while in the midst of the contest. Now, as the whistle had not been blown, I had assumed it was your intent we continue, as we all know such weak cuts delivered at a poor angle to the temple are rarely fatal.¡± Mord flashed a condescending smile. ¡°Surely, good overseer, that is time enough for a man whose life was in peril to seize the Vor and charge into his opponent, snatching life and victory from the jaws of defeat. Would you not agree?¡±

    Jess fumed inside, despite her dizziness and creeping nausea. Her snapping strike had been neither weak nor off angle. Had her blade been sharp and he not wearing a finely forged helm, it would have cleaved deep into his skull, killing him instantly. She wondered if the judge understood this, or if it even mattered, really, at that point.

    The overseer paused, considering. ¡°Even were that the case, young Mord de Plaga, it does not justify why you went out of your way to raise your opponent¡¯s visor whilst pummeling her. You could have simply grappled.¡±

    Young Mord actually had the gall to fake thoughtful surprise. "A good point regarding the grapple, overseer. But as you know, we who train for war are taught to act with ruthless efficiency, to seize any opening. I suppose in the heat of the moment I did what I had been trained to do. Yank up the visor before striking in close quarters, a viable tactic whilst battling the common masses. But surely any knight worth her salt would have a helm that precludes such a maneuver, or at least have the common sense to lock her visor before the battle?"

    Jess fumed as the young lord smirked, somehow implying it was her fault for not having locked her visor, never mind the fact that they were mimicking an unarmored bout for this first contest. His actions had been clearly designed to hurt and demoralize her far more than they were to win the match.

    He hated her for scoring a point against him and had wanted to make her suffer for it, and that was all there was to it.

    Bitterly, Jess swore to herself she''d never go into a challenge or even a training bout without locking her visor shut in the future, and could well imagine her father''s rueful smile. "The lessons of war are often hard ones, my Jess. Best you learn them well, and count yourself lucky to be able to do so, no matter how humiliating the lesson or bitter the defeat." Those words echoed through her as a memory came unbidden, her father sighing, gazing off into the hearth fire one night, haunted by visions only he could see. "All too often, a poorly taught student''s only chance at redemption is in the next life. As long as you live to see another day, my Jess, you should always count yourself lucky."

    Jess realized then that she had never before had to worry about securing visors or expecting dirty blows from corners unseen. Safe in the warm bosom of her family, secure in their love, Jess had never before faced a formal bout with opponents who wished to do her actual harm. She would never take an opponent¡¯s sense of honor for granted again, she promised herself.

    The overseer gazed coldly at the young man for a few moments more before speaking. ¡°Point and match go to Jessica de Calenbry. Your helm rang with the blow, sir. Unarmored contest decided in Jessica de Calenbry¡¯s favor. Next match is armored.¡±

    The judge¡¯s sympathetic gaze was one Jess found oddly touching for all that it shamed her. Jess wondered if he¡¯d take such pity, were she other than a girl. ¡°Are you fit to continue, Lady Calenbry?¡± he asked quietly.

    She gave a slow nod, not trusting herself to speak. She carefully breathed out of her mouth as the blood dripped down her throat, knowing she would rather die than cry yield to the hateful man before her, shattered nose or no.

    ¡°Very well then. Ready yourselves¡­ Begin!" And with a sharp clap, Jess faced her nemesis once more, even as Mord favored her with a mocking wink before slamming shut his visor and making a deliberate show of locking it, approaching her in half-sword grip much as she held her blade; one hand on the hilt and one on the blade itself. Armored gauntlets protected their palms even as they prepared to use their blades as half spears of sorts. The grip allowed for extra precision and power when attempting to ram the point into chinks in their enemy''s armor, or crack bones and bruise vulnerable flesh under mail, even if the links themselves proved difficult to rupture. Of course, the training blades they had selected their weapons from were all blunt with deliberately rounded tips, but the overseer would score points judging on how effective their maneuvers appeared.

    Jess grimaced, knowing in her gut that Mord wouldn¡¯t settle for half-swording. There were other ways to use their blades and bodies to deadly effect even against armored foes, and she had no doubt that Mord was just as well versed as she was in the implementation of those techniques.

    Jess gripped her blade cautiously, waiting for him to commit before she tried to seize control of their contest. Sure enough, the moment he met her half-sword to half-sword and felt her tense against him, he adroitly stepped back, expertly flipping his sword as he spun around with the hilt of his blade now raised high over his head. Mord gave a terrific roar as he swung his weapon thunderstrike style, the blade itself gripped near the point, allowing for devastating blows against even a well-armored opponent, as the center of balance was but inches from the crossguard.

    Jess felt a fierce moment''s exhilaration as she crashed into him, having sensed his feint, instinctively propelling herself forward to close the gap before his weapon could complete its deadly arc, fluidly darting under his overreaching blade even as her own half-sword slammed with considerable force into the lightly mailed gap in his armpit. For all that thunderstrikes could be devastatingly powerful, they were also slow. Having sensed what Mord had intended, she had countered perfectly, or so she had thought for that single triumphant moment.

    ¡°Half point to Jessica de Calenbry,¡± the overseer dutifully called even as Mord bellowed, dropping his torso, and ramming into Jess¡¯s gut with such terrible, unexpected ferocity that she was left breathless, her blade utterly unable to counter the force of his body crashing into hers.

    Jess found herself slammed to the ground in a dazed heap, chilled by Mord''s unnatural strength even as he raised his blade high. A blade she had thought wrenched out of his grip, yet somehow, he had hung onto it. And with a hideous laugh that clawed at her brain, Mord began pummeling her supine body with a berserker''s fury.

    Over and over again he slammed the crossguard of his sword thunderstrike style into her torso and legs with mad, frenzied abandon, yet still possessing the cold discipline to avoid her off-limits helm.

    Terror instantly replaced disorientation, and Jess¡¯s desperately raised sword, even gripped in two hands as it was, was barely sufficient to ward off the worst of his furious onslaught, knocked flat as she had been by the force of his slam, the occasional blow that got through a fierce bolt of pain hammering into her, even well armored as she was.

    For all that she knew she should roll over and stumble to her feet, she was both stunned and overwhelmed. Worse, she was coldly certain that blood price be damned, if she dared lurch to her feet he would slam the crossguard of his blade into the back of her neck and skull with every ounce of his awful strength, happy to kill her even if he was expelled.

    In those nightmarish moments Jess kept her blade gripped like a quarterstaff in a desperate bid to ward off the madman¡¯s blows. She realized that she was no longer fighting to win, she was fighting for her very survival. And Mord with his terrible strength was happily savaging away at whatever parts of her body she could not protect with her sword, her back flat upon the ground.

    She screamed as she heard something crack, even as the overseer¡¯s fierce whistle shrieked loud and shrill.

    ¡°Mord de Plaga! Withdraw!¡± And as abruptly as if someone had pulled the strings of a marionette, the berserking lord did just that, halting his terrible thunderstrike in mid-swing, spinning about and walking back with a chilling precision. Jess was coldly certain Mord would have deliberately slammed his crossguard into whatever bone he had managed to break with furious savagery as many times as he could have gotten away with, had the overseer not blown his whistle at that very instant.

    The overseer¡¯s rough, concerned features soon filled her visor. ¡°Lady Calenbry, are you all right? Let me get that for you.¡± Carefully the man unlocked her visor. His fingers, bare of armor, were far more agile at the maneuver than a knight¡¯s gauntlets would have been. Jess felt her gut plummet to see his suddenly grim expression. He gazed at her carefully. ¡°My lady, can you carry on?¡±

    She nodded and grimaced before carefully righting herself, then screamed, falling into an agonized ball, her ankle sending out a shrieking blast of pain.

    ¡°Well, my lady? Can you carry on?¡± Mord¡¯s taunting voice mocked her from the other end of the training circle. Jess spat an angry gob of blood at him and he laughed, cold eyes mocking her.

    ¡°That is enough, Lord Plaga!¡± the overseer¡¯s voice cracked, the young lord seeing fit only to give the barest nod of his head, mocking smile still firmly in place.

    ¡°I believe, good overseer, that if this lady here is unable to continue the match, victory is mine.¡±

    The judge¡¯s eyes turned flat. ¡°Such blatantly savage attacks are reserved for enemies of Erovering, young lord. I have never before seen even students, let alone knights, thunderstrike the extremities of fallen foes just to cripple them.¡±

    Mord¡¯s eyes flashed. ¡°The rules were clear. No thunderstrikes upon the helm. No neck or finger manipulations. I followed those rules to the letter. It is not for you to judge the virtue of a lord¡¯s tactics, sirrah, merely to score the match!¡±

    Jess could sense Mord suppressing a snarl, looking for all the world like a rabid beast at that moment, and Jess dizzily wondered if he would dare strike the very overseer of the bout. With what looked to be a fierce act of self-control, his fists visibly shaking, Mord put on his fake smile once more. ¡°Besides, good overseer, if there was any problem, why did you not blow your whistle beforehand?¡±

    And Jess simmered, understanding exactly what had stilled the man¡¯s hand. She had no doubt that Mord would probably have been able to wrest victory from her if he had hooked away her blade or crashed on top of her, placing the leather wrapped batons they both had secured at belt to mimic a thrust under chin or at eye slit. Of course, she might have surprised him, might have flipped over him or somehow turned the tide. By not landing a decisive blow, by not closing, by carefully following the letter of the instructions, Mord was neither breaking the rules nor finishing the fight, so the match could not be called. And by deliberately breaking a bone, he could both cripple her and guarantee his victory. Not just for the bout, but for the match entire and any possible rematches they might both have found themselves in later that morning, this having been but the first contest of the day.

    Mord¡¯s cruel eyes locked with her own. She simmered at his condescending smile. ¡°I believe, overseer, that all else aside, if the Calenbry woman cannot fight, she automatically forfeits the match.¡±

    The overseer of their contest looked less than pleased even as he nodded. ¡°If the lady is permanently maimed there will be a blood debt to pay, Lord Plaga,¡± he coldly reminded Mord.

    The arrogant young lord laughed such concerns away. "Come now, sir. All know Highrock possesses the best-trained healers to be found anywhere outside the capital. I have no doubt the young lady will be right as rain, and back in a dress where she belongs, before the week is out."

    The judge spared Jess a single glance, filled with such pity that her heart lurched. She seethed with humiliation at having been so bested by Mord''s ruthless savagery, denied any chance to prove her worth that day, having lost her very first contest, unable to fight again until she healed. Their bout had garnered an increasing number of onlookers. She wondered if she would ever live this match down.

    ¡°Match ends! Jessica de Calenbry can no longer continue. Mord de Plaga wins the contest by default.¡±

    Mord taunted Jess with his laughter, even as he gazed down at her with a look of smug satisfaction at having so soundly bested her. ¡°You have no place in this arena, nor this school! Face it, Calenbry wench. You¡¯ll never make it as a knight!¡±

    The last thing she recalled clearly about that day, even as gentle hands helped her to remove her armor, Jess screaming at least once in the process, was Mord¡¯s vindictive grin. She could tell he savored her maiming, and she loathed the man with a fierce purity that transcended mere hate.

    Yet her father had spoken nothing less than the truth. Highrock was home to more than one famed general of the Velheim Wars, one in particular so reviled for his savagery upon the battlefield that he was wanted for war crimes in nations that actually recognized such accords. Yet his brilliant ruthlessness had been the key to Erovering''s victory, and the king himself had nothing but praise for the man who had no qualms about butchering every last opponent who dared to face him on the field of battle, no matter how the pleaded or begged, save a single terrified soul who would break enemy moral with tales of horrific acts of savagery. A man who knew that the ability to instill terror in one''s foes was but one more weapon in a tactician''s arsenal that could spell the difference between victory and defeat. And for three long years since the day of that fateful bout with her reviled nemesis, Jess had trained in the arts of war under her most ruthless master with a fierce dedication that was almost fanatical.

    It was only now that Jess realized, after an unexpected letter from her mother, that her place in the world she had fought so hard to make for herself could be turned on its head in an instant. That her sense of independence and empowerment was no more than an illusion. A transient thing based on nothing more than her own desperate hopes and dreams.

    Fiercely earned, effortlessly taken away.

    For the man who had so humiliated her and savored her disgrace on the very first day she had formally attended Highrock, the man who had so enjoyed mocking her whenever she passed him in the hallways, was the very man her father had asked her to marry.

 Chapter 2

    General Eloquin''s voice rang through the clearing. ¡°Squires, the enemy pike stand ready to meet your charge, archers have outflanked and ambushed you. Death is but a spear shaft away. If you are to live, you must plunge through your enemy''s forces under arrow fire. More than that, I expect each of you to deliver killing blows! Neal, sound the charge.¡±

    Jess grimaced, dispelling her brooding thoughts with a determined shake of her head. She would deal with her mother''s dreadful plans later.

    "Jess, are you ready?"

    She felt a fierce shiver of anticipation run straight through her and into Mercy, her piebald mare. Left hand holding reins and the light wooden shield that was her only divergence from the suits of steel, mail, and hardened rawhide worn by each of her fellow Squires of War, her right hand held her lance ready for the charge.

    Jess caught the gaze of Neal, acting captain of their band, who gave her a crisp nod.

    ¡°Vanguard is yours, Jess. When the whistle blows, charge and ward. As always.¡± He grinned.

    Jess grinned back. ¡°Yes, Captain.¡± Heart racing, she gazed at the scores of mock pikemen before them, dozens of posts mounted with swine carcasses, wearing a mix of mail hauberks, rawhide boiled in water and glue, and gambesons of tough, quilted linen.

    All in all, their mock opponents represented the types of armor most likely to be seen upon the battlefield, though few save knights would have access to shirts of mail or breastplates of steel.

    ¡°Jess.¡± But one word, all she needed to hear. Jess turned and gave her closest friend in all the world a grateful smile. Malek winked, and Jess pushed all regrets aside, focusing simply on the task at hand.

    Her heart jolted as Eloquin blew sharply on his whistle. A click of her heels and Mercy was racing for the cluster of training dummies ahead, even as Jess caught sight of the two score spears mounted to coiled springs to best represent an infantryman''s posture. They could be knocked aside by a shield in the hands of someone well-trained in the maneuver, though they would spring back for the next student, and even with their blunted tips they could crack the bones of men or mounts and send Squires toppling to the ground, risking serious injury.

    Even as she took in the threat rapidly approaching, she heard the whistling twang of two score arrows raining down upon her and her fellow Squires.

    ¡°Jess!¡±

    The slightest tinge of concern, but Neal need not worry, for the arrows fell short of the band of charging Squires, as if shot off course by the gentlest of winds.

    It was then that Jess spotted none other than Knight Commander Hyve, leader of the Knight Aspirants and General Eloquin''s counterpart, gazing down at their training session. Used to training alone with her fellow Squires, Jess accepted the witness, though she didn''t particularly like it. What made her almost lose focus as she was but seconds away from the deadly forest of spears before her was Hyve''s favored protege, and Jess could swear his gaze was fixated upon her even now.

    Mord.

    An Aspirant whose day wasn''t complete without either mocking her or making the lewdest of comments. Jess had despised him from the first day they had met, and he had done nothing to mitigate the contempt she had for him. Yet despite his taunts and the extra hardships she had been forced to endure since their first fateful bout, she had eventually been offered a chance to study under General Eloquin himself. A prize more than worth all the griefher nemesis had put her through.

    ¡°Jess!¡± Malek''s voice. The first twinges of panic.

    Jess hissed, cursing herself for a fool, allowing herself to be so distracted, so her surge was stronger than the subtle gesture she had intended, and thus sure to draw the attention of her nemesis, letting him understand her strengths that much better, no doubt to one day use against her. The exact opposite of what she wanted.

    ¡°Jess!¡± But Neal''s call was unnecessary.

    With a crack, the fifteen foot long spear shafts were abruptly yanked back, many of them flying completely free of their springs or shattering, even as Jess tilted forward, her lance couched and ready, feet firmly planted in her stirrups, braced for impact.

    Time seemed to slow in that curious way it sometimes did for her. After an endless moment, Jess felt her lance plunge into the armored meat carcass before her, bursting links of mail front and back with only a staggered moment of resistance, as armor that almost never broke in hand to hand melee gave way before the terrible fury of her charge.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    And still Jess did not let go until she felt the shock of her weapon plunging into the second rank of mock pikemen, but a split second before her lance plunged right up to the guard. Two men down with one lance, and no strain to her wrist.

    Even as she allowed herself a single burst of elation, she was instantly swept back into the moment with the din and crash of her friends slamming into their own targets, Jess reflexively raising her shield as if to parry any potential assailant even as her right hand snatched mace free of saddle hook to pound down upon the helmets of pitted iron and cracked steel fastened to the carcasses they faced with controlled fury, as if she fought in deadly earnest.

    After a final resounding crack of mace to helm, Jess pivoted back around, giving a sharp whistle to Neal while racing back to their starting position, taking deep breaths of air alive with the scents of pine and wildflowers as well as cured pork and iron. All in all, it was a beautiful day.

    She forced battle trembling hands to carefully re-hook her mace even as she withdrew her estoc. A long tapered sword intended solely for thrusting, its triangular cross-section prevented effective cuts, but allowed it to be used much like a secondary lance after the first shattered in the initial charge.

    Angled death, Jess thought, even as she pivoted Mercy around, the continuous rain of arrows still falling short of their band, Jess keeping an eye on the few stragglers, grimacing as the archers thought to target the Squires furthest from the main body, and for all that most of the arrows missed, one did not.

    Jess couldn''t help but glance Eloquin''s way, and his icy blue eyes were cold.

    Jess winced and shook away the lecture she knew was in store for her. For everyone knew their band had to be tight at all times. To straggle was to die, for reasons they all understood.

    ¡°On my mark, charge!¡± Jess cried out the moment everyone was back in formation, Neal nodding his accord, the entire band of Squires drawing free their estocs as they prepared to rush the mock pikemen once more. A full third of the spears had sprung back into place, those that had not been ripped free of their metal braces in the first pass.

    ¡°Blue Pincer!¡± Jess cried, once more losing herself and reveling in the moment. All of them stood high in their stirrups now, their bodies arched forward, arms bent slightly, a far different style of giving point than with lance. For even as the lance could be used but once, the estoc could be used to spear her enemy over and over.

    There. But a second from her frantic charge was the dummy she chose, her estoc lining up at a slight angle from her body, and she braced for impact even as she felt the spring-loaded spears twist away from their band once more, Jess relaxing her arm the instant she felt the estoc bite into and punch through the mail shirt atop the swine carcass, expertly pivoting so that her wrist and shoulder suffered no strain as her arm was pulled back, the power of her mount spinning the carcass on its post around, her sword effortlessly extracting as Mercy raced past.

    Her band of Squires had struck the left flank of pikemen even as Neil''s half struck the right flank, all of them flowing around the cluster of stationary carcasses like a stream flowing around a rock in its center, maintaining the speed and maneuverability they needed to race away for another charge.

    "Reform!" She shouted, Neal blowing a refrain of the command, and this time Jess hung back just a bit, making sure she was at the center of her band at all times. No lead-tipped arrows hit any of her fellows then.

    Neal looked to her as they formed up once more. ¡°How are you?¡±

    Jess smiled into his hazel eyes. ¡°Never better, Captain.¡±

    He nodded once. "Excellent. Full on charge, now. We go from estoc to melee."

    Jess nodded once even as she pivoted Mercy around, now leading the vanguard with a wild ululating yell, her fellow Squires to each side of her in a classic wedge.

    And this time, as her sword plunged almost effortlessly into the torso of a pig carcass draped in boiled rawhide, Jess released the estoc''s hilt and unsheathed her saber in one practiced motion, lashing out with fierce, practiced strokes designed not simply to hit with force, but to cut through the rawhide armaments before her with vicious slicing blows.

    Perhaps the most common armor on the battlefield, only those who trained diligently in slicing through the hardened rawhide plates with specialized blades would draw blood. Training Jess had received in spades, fiercely devoted to mastering the techniques as she was all elements of swordplay. Her saber lashed out, scoring precise, killing cuts to the necks of her carcasses, Jess carefully aiming for those spots the rough armor did not protect, cleaving straight through cured flesh and bone, helmeted animal heads tumbling to the ground.

    But knowing her mentor as she did, Jess made a point of whipping her blade through straps and plates of rawhide as well as at the armorless gaps, pulling the blade back toward her even as it cleaved through the armor, the blade biting all the deeper with the sawing nature of the slash as Jess drew it through her foe, even as muttered curses let her know that not all her friends had been as successful.

    Several of her fellows forewent fancy saberwork in favor of flanged maces or war hammers that could whip down upon even armored skulls to stunning effect, no matter the other armaments worn. Which was fine, Jess thought. In the heat of battle, all that really mattered was what worked, survival and victory forgiving any number of sins of technique.

    Their mentor blew his whistle, and at once Jess and her fellows wheeled away from their mock foes with final parting slashes and whipping strikes as would have been the case in actual melee, all racing in unison back to where Lords Eloquin and Hyve awaited.

    And there Mord was, staring at her even now. The jubilation Jess always experienced after a good training round instantly dissipated as she caught sight of those cruelfeatures flashing a cold smile her way.

 Chapter 3

    General Eloquin gazed at them through icy blue eyes that spoke of northern ancestry, contrasting with the light bronze complexion of southern tribes. Their armsmaster appeared grim and ageless as always, an ancient god of battle and wisdom who Jess silently worshiped, finding no greater satisfaction than to be the recipient of praise from those lips.

    His hawklike stare settled upon Jess.

    He did not look pleased.

    ¡°Calenbry. You were distracted. It matters not if Knight Commander Hyve or one of his students has joined us. Your mind must be ever focused on the task at hand. Unless you sense an enemy at our doorstep, you focus should be upon the threat before you. Protect the men counting on you.¡±

    Jess felt herself flush even as Mord smirked. ¡°Yes, Commander.¡±

    A curt nod. ¡°What was the second mistake you made today? One that almost cost you a fellow Squire''s life?¡±

    Jess cringed. ¡°Erica. She was too far away for me to protect.¡±

    Eloquin nodded, before turning to gaze at a shamefaced Erica. "You are a Squire because you are a brilliant tactician, Erica. But your melee prowess still leave much to be desired. You took too long to disengage from the pikemen. In a real battle that could have spelled your death, unseen arrows or no."

    Erica, normally of such sprightly temperament with the most beautiful green eyes, now looked on the verge of tears. She was remarkably strong for her size, yet was the smallest student to join their ranks. Though a more than competent swordsman, as a Squire she just barely made the cut. ¡°Yes, Commander.¡±

    Eloquin turned to Jess once more. ¡°She was under your care, Calenbry. As are all the Squires, when you take the vanguard. And what is the one precept you are to always follow?¡±

    ¡°To lead the charge, and stay at the heart of any rally or withdraw.¡±

    Eloquin nodded. ¡°Your skills allow you to excel where no one else would. But upon the rally, if the troops under your care are split up? I don''t think I have to tell you the folly this invites.¡±

    ¡°No, sir,¡± Jess softly said.

    Eloquin spent a timeless moment gazing at all of them before giving what appeared to be a nod of quiet satisfaction. ¡°Some of you fools still need to master the techniques of slicing through linen and leather, but you''re a damned sight better at it than you were when first you answered my call.¡± Some quiet chuckles at this, for what he spoke of so casually was a skill few outside blademasters and Squires tended to acquire. Even an expert duelist, well versed in the arts of parry, cut, and thrust, rarely thought to train or had access to masters who taught the tricks of getting past armor. ¡°Fortunately, you all know how to hold a lance and estoc, and the proper ways of fighting with mace and shield, on foot or horse.¡±

    A long moment of weighty silence.

    ¡°It will do. For it is once again time for you to prove yourselves, Squires. King and Crown once more need your blackened daggers.¡±

    Murmurs and whispers picked up through the small elite crowd of students. Jess felt her stomach twist in knots equal parts excitement and dread.

    ¡°Hear that, shieldsister? It''s that time again.¡±

    Jess turned and smiled back at her brother-in-arms. Compact, powerfully built, gentle brown eyes gazing at her from a face she had long ago fallen in love with, now relegated to the closest of friends.

    ¡°It is indeed, Malek. Do you feel ready?¡±

    A glib reply seemed on the tip of his tongue. Instead he gazed thoughtfully at her a moment before giving a slow nod. ¡°If slavers have once more been found slithering upon our lands, then they must be stomped out. No matter if the king refuses even to acknowledge that slavery exists, no matter that our hands and souls will be stained with the blood of those we kill. It is a price I''m more than willing to pay, to spare some child the nightmare of being stolen away to a life of misery and horror.¡±

    Jess nodded, feeling much the same. It made sense, after all. They had done their best to come to terms with it during the year just past, a year both bitter and sweet that had seemed to stretch without end, much like the very first night Jess had been forced to endure a dying man''s screams.

    Lord Hyve coolly looked them over, mustaches carefully oiled, with a tad bit more paunch than would be ideal in a perfect fighting specimen, but so was the case with most lords who took up the blade with a bountiful table to break their fast when the training was done for the day. Still, where Jess had once felt a deep admiration for one of Erovering''s premier knights, it had waned as she had gotten to know the man behind the reputation, just as her fierce love for her general had only grown.

    Lord Hyve cleared his throat before addressing them all with a powerful baritone voice, excellent for carrying over the battlefield. ¡°I know well your reputation, the dark tools you are all being forged into, don''t think I don''t. Still, you serve king and Crown well enough, which is all a man can ask for in the end. If one is not equipped to ride to the heights of glory as a Knight of the Crown, upholding the honor and dignity of chivalry, then it is a more than worthy pursuit to master all the aspects of war below the knightly calling, to soften our foes and pave the way so that we may charge forth in triumph, our foes vanquished by the might of our lances and the allies who smoothed the path to our victory.¡±

    The knight commander dipped his head, his version of paying them a compliment, and all the Squires bowed in unison, as if they had been esteemed beyond all measure. Just as Eloquin had instructed them to do, both as a test of their discipline and the guile they might one day need. All elements of an army had their purpose, after all, and diplomacy was but one more tool of battle.

    The fact that Lord Hyve smiled as if pleased by their deference was reward all on its own, Jess and her peers having managed yet again to hide from the man how utterly offensive his comments truly were. Either that or he knew all too well, and was playing them as they tried to play him. If nothing else, it was an entertaining practice and allowed the man''s words to wash over them like the silly drivel they were.

    Lord Hyve''s gaze then turned grave, even as Mord smirked by his side, his mocking smile making it clear that he, at least, was quite aware and pleased to hear Squires relegated to the role of garrote men whose sole purpose was to do the dirty work while the hands and reputations of Knight Aspirants remained spotless.

    ¡°As you all know, at the end of the day our purpose is equal in serving our nation humbly and faithfully. And there are certain crimes that are so heinous, such black stains they are upon Erovering''s glory, that it would be blasphemous even to sully our beloved king''s ears with the news. And that, my young Squires of War, is where you come in.¡±

    Jess blinked, gazing at General Eloquin, noting the hard line of his jaw even as he said nothing. Rare was it for Hyve to be the one to direct their assignment. ¡°Yet it is important, I think, for Knight Aspirants to learn the hard lessons that maintaining peace in our kingdom actually entail. Further, many of my students, bright and skilled youths that they are, have never before seen battle, and I fear the tragedy of first blood: The din and cry of their initial engagement being of such intensity that they stand there thunderstruck, prey to any foul miscreant, when all they need are some moments and a gentle guide to ease them through that first terrible, glorious battle, so they may forever after perform their roles in exemplary fashion, as the peerless knights all my charges are destined to be.¡±

    Hyve gazed solemnly at them all for some moments. ¡°That is why I am entrusting you Squires, favored proteges of my worthy associate Lord Eloquin, with the task of keeping watch over my Aspirants, making sure they survive the challenge to come unmarked, unscathed, and able to perform the duties that will be expected of them in future engagements.¡±This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    General Eloquin gave a cool nod as Lord Hyve stepped back. ¡°You are all to protect your brethren and each other in the campaign to come. Hyve''s Aspirants will serve as the main thrust of any direct assault, and I expect you all to provide appropriate auxiliary wing support. But above all, I expect you to protect yourselves and your fellow Squires at all times. Only by protecting yourselves can we deign to protect our fellow Aspirants.¡±

    Hyve gave the slightest frown then shook it away, before nodding to the Squires he had addressed. Jess and her fellows Squires bowed in turn, leaning their hips back as they did so in a practiced maneuver that prevented the weight of their armor from setting them off balance, paying Lord Hyve the respect Eloquin expected of them.

    As Lord Hyve and a still smirking Mord made their way back to the school proper, Jess and her compatriots waited for Eloquin''s relaxing of stance before daring to murmur what was on their minds. Jess smiled, feeling the sudden weight of a creature of shadow and darkest night leaping to her shoulder.

    ¡°My, yet another secret little mission for king and Crown. Not only do we get to cleanup some noble''s carelessness, we also get to babysit Mord and his ilk. What fun.¡±

    Jess couldn''t help grinning as the purring feline making himself comfortable upon his favorite perch, much like a falcon would. Jess gazed into sapphire orbs that glittered like dying stars impossibly far away, even as she stroked glossy fur of midnight hue that shimmered even on a cloudless night.

    ¡°Jess?¡± A single word, tightly said.

    Jess blushed. Her commander shouldn''t have had to say anything at all.

    Twilight solemnly shook his head. ¡°Hyve, and our always lovely Mord are long gone, my mistress, as are the archers. I sense no spy left behind, nor does any mage scry upon us.¡± He sighed then. ¡°Not that they have in ages, but I know how you hope.¡±

    Jess gazed up at Lord Eloquin, giving a solemn shake of her head. ¡°They are gone, sir. No one gazes our way.¡±

    Several of her peers gave her curious looks, a few shaking their heads.

    ¡°How does she know that?¡± asked the newest member of their elite band.

    ¡°Her arcane feline senses these things, supposedly,¡± explained a fellow Squire.

    ¡°Why don''t I see her in any of the Wizards Wing courses?¡±

    ¡°She can''t cast a single spell. You must have heard how spectacularly she failed at that.¡±

    ¡°But she has a talking cat?¡±

    ¡°It''s a delusion.¡±

    ¡°Delusion or no, we just saw scores of pike and a storm of arrows warp away from us.¡±

    Lucas, one of the more powerfully built Squires, frowned at Jess before turning back to the newest member of their band. "Our master just accepted you into our ranks, Liam, so you wouldn''t know. Jess is one of those warped mages with but a single odd talent, and her knack is wood. That''s why Eloquin puts up with her eccentricities and lets her lead the vanguard. But there are no such things as talking cats."

    Liam flashed Jess an approving grin. ¡°A gift so strong we can charge into a forest of pike unscathed? That''s a damned useful knack, I''d say.¡±

    Jess exchanged glances with her supposed delusion who winked back at her. ¡°Shall we tell all of our friends about the naughty little affairs Lucas has been having with not one, but two of the chambermaids, all the while playing one against the other? I''m sure any number of our friends would find that bit of gossip from your favorite delusion quite delicious, don''t you think so, my mistress?¡±

    Jess grinned at that. ¡°Behave,¡± she murmured before turning to gaze back at Lucas, who for some reason paled and looked away. Jess frowned. Lucas was a prickly sort and was happy to disparage anyone when his dander was up, yet normally they got on quite well. She would hate for that to change now.

    ¡°The hell with all that, are we really to be babysitters for those damned arrogant Aspirants?¡± Yet another of their number voiced the frustration they all felt. Immediately the Squires'' murmurs took on a brooding tone, her fellows less than pleased with Lord Hyve''s offhanded attempts to commandeer their role and function, as if they were little more house servitors, and he their master. Nothing further was said about talking cats, the rest of them having known Jess for years.

    ¡°Silence.¡± At Eloquin''s command, all the muttering stopped. ¡°It matters not the style of presentation. All that matters is that there is a blight upon our nation, a smear upon the king''s honor, and it is for us to burn out every last trace of the vermin that dare to think they can make our nation their cesspool!¡± His gaze turned fierce, his students paling before him.

    He took a measured breath. ¡°Diplomacy is but one of the skills you must master. For future tacticians, you are fools to allow a rough tongue to deny you the opportunity of doubling the units at your disposal, potentially tripling your effectiveness, if you deploy your men appropriately.¡±

    Eloquin''s icy blue eyes hardened. ¡°You know this. All of you do. If you didn''t, I would have dismissed you long ago.¡±

    More than one student swallowed, gazing at their armored feet.

    "Now, let us look to the heart of what has been said. Lord Hyve is extending his men to us, as he has more than once before, though always informally. This time he wishes his own men to retain command, and our own to provide auxiliary support. In turn, he is committing the entirety of his force to this endeavor, unorthodox as it is, at a time when absolute stealth, discretion, and the grimmest of intentions are needed. Now can anyone tell me why this would be?"

    All the Squires spent some moments gazing at one another.

    ¡°Bloody hells, Jess, what game is Hyve playing at, do you think?¡±

    Jess gazed at Malek, a cold chill coming over her. She could only think of one possibility.

    Malek frowned. ¡°Jess?¡±

    Jess blanched and looked away. For some reason, she didn''t want to say a thing.

    ¡°Jess?¡±

    The hushed murmurs silenced once more, and Jess felt her eyes pulled by Eloquin''s gaze. Somehow, he knew that she knew.

    ¡°Speak.¡±

    ¡°It''s just a guess, sir.¡±

    His cold gaze speared her. Jess blushed.

    ¡°I think, sir, I think that there is only one explanation. The slaver camp. It somehow puts Hyve or someone he is close to in jeopardy. Guilt by proxy, if not actual involvement. If I had to guess, I would have to say that the camp was sighted on his grounds.¡± Jess swallowed, her peers deathly silent.

    ¡°Well, go on.¡±

    Jess shrugged. ¡°If we had received word by regular channels, it would have looked bad for him. Why did he allow it to happen? Slothfulness? Involvement? This way, he himself seems proactive. He sets the tone of being willing to clean up his own mess. Nay, more so, a wronged man who will do all he can to smash the vile affront to his dignity with all haste and fury. And, of course, he wants the honor of leading his men to justice and glory, expunging this vile threat upon his land, we but auxiliaries to his little campaign. But valued auxiliaries, I suppose. He did go to the trouble of addressing us, seeking rapport and striving to motivate and commend us... in his own way.¡±

    Jess ignored the few quiet snickers this comment inspired.

    ¡°Frankly, if he could get away with just using his Knight Aspirants, I think he would. So that it almost seems to be his own force that he would be using to clean house. But for all that he is a bit arrogant, if you will forgive my tactical observation, he is no fool. Why wouldn''t he make use of the resources at his disposal? For when it comes to taking out a fortified encampment, why not make use of the students who have been training for such since their first days at this school?¡±

    Eloquin gave a cool nod. ¡°Well done, Calenbry. Well done.¡±

    Malek nodded. ¡°It only makes sense. Save for flowery words that mean nothing, he has never bothered taking a personal interest in our missions before. Not like this. So really, what else could it be, save trouble close to home?¡±

    The most reviled and hated general on the continent flashed his Squires a bleak smile. ¡°You all know how this works. First preparations shall be made, and you all will do and say absolutely nothing to anyone about what is to come. Those of you truly ready to embrace what it means to be a Squire of War and serve your country, I will see back here two nights from now, at sunset. In the meantime, you will ignore all other courses, seeking only to master Veltsor''s treatise on how best to take out a heavily fortified encampment. You will train vigorously, but not arduously. If any of you have any sores or injuries, you will see the healers at once, without delay. They will treat you without a single question asked. You will imbibe no mead or wine, and get all the sleep you can stand.¡±

    ¡°As for those of you who will not blacken your daggers for me?¡± Cold eyes gazed intently at a number of pale-faced youths, none of whom could meet their beloved commander''s stare. Youths who Jess loved dearly as fellow students, who would graduate from Highrock with honors one day, and perhaps lead troops with distinction when war was eventually declared. They would benefit immensely from their training under the deadliest tactician to lead Erovering''s forces in decades. But they would not lead as Squires of War. Jess sensed this already.

    "The rest of you will train beside your brothers-in-arms, as always. Lock stares with them as you test their mettle, and they test yours. See the fire that burns within them. Then look into your own mirror and ask yourself if you truly have what it takes to be a Squire of War." His voice turned cold as a winter gale. "Those who have hesitated up to now, if you wish to redeem yourselves in my eyes, this will be your last chance."

    Eloquin then flashed the bleakest of smiles. ¡°Upon your oath, upon your life, you keep the faith. Should anyone, even your lover, seek to entice a confession as to what you are preparing for, particularly the name of your target... you know exactly what you must do.¡±

    All of them paled and swallowed at that. Visors raised, their expressions were a mixture of fear, exhilaration, and grim resolve. Jess felt a moment''s fierce exultation. Cheers and boasting once the deed was done was one thing, but no Squire would reveal specific names or places, no matter how they otherwise flaunted their kills. Jess knew Lord Hyve''s plight would be one rumor never to circulate through Highrock. Not from their mouths, at least.

    Though not all of her fellows had the heart or temperament to accept the Crown''s ugliest missions, Jess knew that none of them would betray their cause.

 Chapter 4

    ¡°So what do you think, Jess?¡± Malek queried, ruffling her hair as they finished caring for their mounts, Jess giving her piebald warhorse a double handful of oats and a friendly pat farewell, Mercy nickering contentedly as Jess left the stables.

    Jess stretched and smiled, breathing deep of the fragrant spring air, loving the sight of the massive fortress carved into the mountainside. Highrock, most esteemed war academy in all of Erovering, and her home from the moment she had first glimpsed its vast granite walls glowing faintly in the afternoon sunlight, air gently perfumed by the lush green fields full of wildflowers leading up to it, exactly as it was at this moment, what seemed a lifetime ago.

    She turned and peered into the warm brown eyes of the youth beside her. Kissing him softly on the cheek before he could blink or protest. Jess laughed as he blushed, then sighed. ¡°I think, beloved brother-in-arms, that the trill of birdsong will soon be replaced by the clash of steel and the screams of men fighting for their lives, just as surely as this beautiful afternoon will be replaced with darkest night.¡±

    Malek''s gentle smile turned bleak. "You cut to the heart of it, as always, shieldsister. Hyve''s demesne is conveniently close to Highrock, only a day''s journey away. We will travel at night, set camp in deepwood at first light, scout it at dusk, then strike at deepest night." Malek frowned. "Strange to think about it, but no matter how far away the bandit sightings are reported, it never seems to take us that long to get there."

    Jess nodded as they made their way to the keep proper. "I know what you mean. Sometimes, riding by Eloquin''s side, our brothers behind us as we race through the night, it feels almost as if we are flying through a dream." She grinned. "As if those bizarre rumors that swirl about us actually had a grain of truth."

    Malek smirked. "The High Hunt indeed. As if Eloquin were a living god of battle, and we his mad merry men. And we will do nothing to dispel those rumors, wild as they are. For the more our enemies fear us, the greater will be their hesitation, allowing us to seize the Vor and crush them utterly."

    Jess nodded at mention of one of Eloquin''s first lessons. To master your enemies'' minds was to win the battle before blood had even been spilled.

    She loved Highrock with all her heart, yet for all that she had devoted herself to study of the battlefield, she had never been the most scholarly of students, and so was quite happy for the excuse to cut all her classes for the next couple of days. Not that she saw classrooms as more than a convenient place to catch naps in between sparring sessions, but at least this way her professors were less likely to yell at her.

    Jess shuddered for a moment, abruptly forced out of her happy reverie, most definitely not thinking about the shrieks made by men impaled upon charging lance or spear, the coppery stench of blood searing her nostrils, desperate eyes locking upon her own as ragged men sobbed and spasmed their last against her blade.

    No. Those awful memories she had long since quenched in the glorious feasts and revels discretely permitted as if they truly were knights on crusade, all matter of savory treats and vices prepared for them in secret luxurious chambers tucked away in the heart of the school. Revels and decadent feasts normally only seen in titillating tales read by noblewomen in their parlors, for Jess and her fellow Squires, they were as real as blood and steel. Rewards for all of Highrock''s heroes, returning from dark, savage little missions that would never see the light of day.

    And she certainly was not trembling with thoughts of fresh battles to come.

    She did her best to ignore her friend''s sudden concern, the way his arm wrapped around her so protectively.

    Malek didn''t understand. She was smiling. Delighting in yet another excuse to smirk at her scowling professors as she and every other Squire cut classes and took their ease. Now that was a thought well worth savoring, and she couldn''t wait to meditate within the rooftop garden, her little sanctuary away from the too knowing gazes of more than a few students staring just a bit too long at them even now, before flashing apologetic, frightened smiles and darting quickly away.

    Jess frowned, feeling the strange tension present even after they had bathed and changed into their Highrock uniforms alongside their fellow Squires, all of them trickling into the main dining hall and heading to their regular tables, just a few too many furtive glances sent their way.

    ¡°Jess, look out!¡±

    But Jess was already moving, weaving back as a shock of red hair and freckles, well-padded and wearing the most sheepish of grins just narrowly missed colliding into her, his soup-laden tray sent flying, the floor a sudden mess of broth, meat, and bread rolls.

    ¡°Oh, hi, Jess! I, um, sorry about that. Oh bother, Professor Rens won''t be at all happy, I''d best get him another tray right away...¡±

    Jess smiled. ¡°It''s quite all right, Abe. Accidents happen, and I see one of the servitors hurrying forward even now.¡±

    Abe swallowed, poleaxed, soft green eyes locking onto her own. ¡°You are so beautiful,¡± he whispered.

    Jess winced.

    Abe''s face, if possible, turned an even brighter shade of red. ¡°I''m sorry, I mean... um... yeah, you don''t need a dress like the other girls, you look just fine in your Highrock uniform, anyone who says otherwise is a jackanapes! And um... please stay safe when you... you know...¡± Saying not another word, Abe adroitly turned on his heel and darted back the way he had come, more than one snicker sent after him as he performed what was, for Abe, a remarkable feat of dexterity and speed.

    Jess turned to her friend. ¡°Don''t say a word.¡±

    Malek grinned. ¡°He''s not always this clumsy in the classes we share, I promise you. More like a lost puppy than a student, but he can cast a few cantrips, if you give him plenty of time.¡±

    Jess shook her head. ¡°I''ve never seen him other than when he''s a hairsbreadth away from disaster.¡±

    Her friend chuckled. ¡°That''s because he''s madly in love with you.¡±

    ¡°Gods, Malek, did you have to say it?¡±

    Her shieldbrother''s teasing smile only widened. ¡°You know it''s true. He has been since the day you saved him from the most fearsome of opponents, exquisitely sharpened blade but inches from cleaving through his skull.¡±

    ¡°It was his own sword! It had slipped out of his hand and was windmilling back down towards his own head. And how he had managed to get a hold of live steel...¡±

    Malek only chuckled. ¡°Your noble feat is no less noteworthy for all of that. Is it not true, after all, that we are our own worst foes?¡±

    Jess smirked. ¡°You can be your own worst foe. I am getting something to eat.¡±

    At which point Jess slid into her accustomed seat at the finest table in the heart of the dining hall, perhaps the grandest of all of them with exquisitely crafted and polished chairs of oak as opposed to benches or stools, informally known as the lords table by those who sat there, and by those who looked on. Jess had simply fancied the table, making a beeline for it her first day at school, and no one had ever contested her seat. Of course, the fact that she was herself of noble blood, as were the students smiling back at her even now, was pure coincidence as far as she was concerned.

    ¡°Jess, good to have you with us! How are you and Malek? Your training went well, I take it?¡±

    Jess smiled back at her friend, admiring his soft honey brown locks, gentle gaze, and graceful poise. Elegantly attired in doublet and tights of deepest burgundy contrasted by a brilliant white cotton shirt, he cut an athletic figure, no matter that he fenced only for sport, focused as he was upon mastering the nuances of diplomacy and trade.

    The scion of perhaps the wealthiest duke in the kingdom, Raphael diOnni was an excellent ally to have in weathering life''s choppy seas. Most importantly, he believed in her, always with an encouraging word when she needed it. To her, that was as precious as gold.

    Jess nodded. ¡°Yes, Raph. I froze for a moment, but I did my best to watch my brothers'' backs, and I got through the morning with but a single scolding.¡±

    Malek smirked. ¡°Though without her, we''d no doubt have scores more bruises, and I can promise you that Eloquin would be shouting at us no end.¡±

    Raphael nodded at that even as the beautiful girl beside him, gentle eyes rich pools of brown, golden blond hair near the same shade as Jess''s own, gazed at Jess with keenest sympathy. Josie de Lakare, who Jess privately thought as talented a healer as any in the college, solemnly filled fresh cups with watered wine before passing it to them, wearing her simple sky blue dress with more elegance and poise than most noble ladies could dream of, no matter how many years of finishing school they had taken.

    ¡°So it will soon be time, then.¡±

    Jess said nothing, instead nodding her thanks for the wine before focusing intently upon her soup.

    She did so love chicken soup; filling, hearty, and great for soothing the tingle of anxiety she felt coursing through her even now, an anxious dread that would no doubt flare to fierce exhilaration once she embraced sparring that afternoon, as she pounded her fears away to rueful chuckles, scoring points against her friends, just as it had every time before.

    ¡°Yes, Josie, it will soon be time,¡± Malek quietly affirmed.

    The young healer nodded, her eyes never leaving Jess''s own. ¡°I always worry about you, you know. Promise me you''ll be careful, all right, Jess?¡±

    Jess took a deep breath, forcing a smile. ¡°I will do my best, Josie, as always.¡±

    Malek grinned. ¡°Fear not, sweet Josie. I shall take care of my shieldsister, just as you take care of the handsome noble always by your side.¡±

    Josie blushed at that, but her smile was one of adoration as Raphael held her close, kissing her golden curls.

    ¡°Fear not on our account, worthy Malek. My precious rose will nurture my heart, just as I will nurture hers, both of us stronger for the other''s company.¡± Raphael winked. ¡°The most profitable alliances, bargaining in the most precious of all commodities.¡±

    ¡°Magic?¡± Quipped the slender youth seated beside them, his sea blue doublet spotless, for all that his light brown hair was a tousled mess, gazing fondly at his friends.

    Raphael''s rich laughter washed over them. ¡°No, my dear Alex, love alone is the commodity I trade with my precious Josie, who has already made me the richest of men, for she has turned my heart to gold.¡± He dipped his head, smiling back at Alex. ¡°we shall leave feats of high magery to you and your own beau, our lovely Jera, though I do not envy you the stare she is favoring us both with.¡±

    Alex''s gaze widened, quickly turning to meet the gaze of the petite green eyed beauty sitting by his side, favoring dark green dresses that set off her eyes even as Alex tended to don whatever was on hand. She just as slender as Alex himself was, both of them dedicated to the mages art, and, just by the exasperated gaze she favored him with, his sheepish smile in turn, Jess did not doubt for a second that they were both very much in love.

    Besides. There was no way he was responsible for his presently unrumpled and rather attractive appearance. No doubt she had dressed him upon their waking.

    ¡°Raphael gets it,¡± Jera teased. ¡°And if you spent just a bit less time lost in your books, and a bit more time exercising with me in the evening, you might just find that you enjoy swordplay and company both. Then you could wear a gentleman''s blade just as elegantly as Raphael does.¡±

    Alex smirked. ¡°Swords are not my forte. I''m almost as clumsy with them as poor Abe. You, on the other hand, come from a family of warriors, for all that neither of us have a warrior''s build, so the side-sword comes naturally to you. Besides, it helps you focus your lightning, much like so many wizards use wands to channel their spells.¡±

    Jera grinned. ¡°With a simple wooden hilt and a wooden buckler, a perfectly straight blade does make an excellent wand for channeling lightning. I admit it. But I can still use it to cut and thrust if I find myself in the thick of it.¡± She flushed and turned away when she caught Malek''s bemused gaze.

    ¡°Not that I''m any real warrior, not like you two,¡± she said in a far softer voice, ¡°but I enjoy sparring, and I like to think I''m at least a cut above your typical helpless noblewoman; that I could at least fend off a cutpurse or two.¡±

    Jess flashed her friend a reassuring grin. ¡°No worries, Jera. For a novice, your technique is excellent, and sword and buckler is a style that''s been around for more centuries than I can count. It is absolutely perfect for self-defense, and for self-protection in a bad part of town? I think you''re more than a match for any rogue or cutpurse, so long as you remember that in a real fight for your life, there are no rules. The moment ne''er-do-wells approach, you don''t try to reason with them. You unsheathe your sword before they can close, and strike without hesitation. You attack with fierce earnestness, you let no one flank you, and the moment your closest foe is down and you have distance from his friends, you run for safety and light, yelling your pretty little head off, just as fast as you damn well can.¡±

    Jess blinked, ducking her head from her friends'' solemn stares, realizing her voice had gone from playful banter to the hard tone of a commander. ¡°I''m sorry. I didn''t mean to get so... serious.¡±Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    Josie shook her head, golden locks all but shimmering in the light pouring in from the grand stained-glass windows set into the far wall. ¡°No, Jess. There is no reason to apologize. How can you help but take seriously anything to do with the killing arts? Even as we embrace life''s sweet possibilities, enjoying an eternal summer of learning and growth, you and Malek stand ever ready to defend us, to defend those in need against the worst depredations of those who delight in cruelty, slavery, everything the gods are against.¡±

    Jera frowned at those words, but did not scold Josie for speaking in her place.

    Alex turning to gaze at Josie, giving her a slow nod of respect. ¡°So you understand, then. Few do, even within the mages circle.¡±

    Jess lowered her spoon. ¡°Alex? What are you going on about?¡±

    Malek smirked. ¡°Gods know there are far too many slavers in Erovering, a lesson I only appreciated since we began doing, well, what needed doing this summer, but no one has dared threaten our school, at least not that I know of.¡±

    Alex gazed at Malek with odd intensity, gaze crackling with intelligence his slender frame could barely contain. ¡°You and Jess are in the absolute thick of it. I''ve hinted at this for quite some time. Do you really not know?¡±

    Jera, who could be as stern as she was beautiful, was looking less than pleased, fingers curling her rich mahogany hair in a warning clear to all. ¡°Alex...¡±

    Alex turned to his beau, voice softer, though no less intense. ¡°They deserve to know, Jera. It''s what we were talking about with our peers the other day. The basis for the little expedition we are planning...¡±

    ¡°We''re not to talk about it!¡± Jera snapped. ¡°It''s just as secret as Jess and Malek blackening their daggers!¡±

    Jera blushed, Jess and Malek both quickly looking away, Jess doing her best to distract herself, looking at her grinning cat, Twilight smirking at the interplay and not saying a word as he happily lapped the impressive tureen of fish stew a harried looking servant had brought with a smile the minute he had seen Jess seat herself. A tureen pretty much everyone at the table was ignoring, much like the happily munching cat. In other words, lunch as usual.

    Raphael''s gentle chuckle washed all awkwardness away. ¡°I see that so many of my friends have exciting times just ahead. My heart goes out to each and every one of you. May you all successfully accomplish your objectives, whatever they may be. And when all is said and done, I know Josie and I would love to hear your tales during our next Circle meeting, whatever it is you are able to share.¡± He lifted his cup with a smile. ¡°To Highrock, and the best band of friends anyone could ask for.¡±

    Everyone smiled and drank, at ease and bantering once more, and Jess did her best to ignore the occasional too knowing looks sent her way once lunch had passed, harried-looking boys and girls darting to their classes as Malek and Jess made their way back to their respective quarters once more.

    ¡°What do you think Alex was going on about, anyways?¡± Jess wondered aloud. ¡°And the way Raphael''s eyes widened, I''m sure he knows.¡±

    ¡°Not a clue,¡± Malek said before weaving out of the way of a panicked-looking boy darting down the stone corridor. ¡°Watch where you''re going!¡± he snapped.

    The youth immediately turned around, blanching as he caught Malek''s gaze, the hot retort Jess sensed him but a heartbeat away from shouting turning instead to a breathless swallow. ¡°I''m sorry, my lord. Please forgive me.¡±

    ¡°Bloody hells,¡± Malek grimaced, waving the boy away. ¡°I would trust my fellows with my life, you know that, Jess, but somehow everyone always knows. And the first-years stare at us like we are wild beasts, afraid we''ll bite their heads clean off.¡±

    Jess shrugged. ¡°Sometimes I think rumor is its own magic. It lives and breathes, even if no one is around to give it life. Somehow, people just know. As long as they don''t know too much. As long as they don''t know a single damned detail that can come back to haunt us.¡±

    Malek nodded. ¡°Thank the gods they never do.¡± Intent eyes gazed into her own. ¡°What did you think of Mord being at practice today?¡±

    Jess winced. ¡°I could have gone the rest of the week quite happily without seeing his smirk. But knowing whose pet he is, I''m not surprised he was there.¡±

    Malek nodded. ¡°At least he''s never shy about joining us, unlike most Aspirants. I have to give the bastard credit for that, at least.¡±

    "Oh, he loves these little missions well enough, I suppose. He''s a bloodthirsty bastard who just enjoys watching his enemies scream. But any tool for battle, as Eloquin might say."

    Malek snorted. ¡°He''s a godawful jackanapes, but he has yet to stab us in the back during a mission, and he''s damn good with a sword. For that reason alone, Eloquin puts up with him when we blacken our daggers. Still, I''d be happy to wipe that smirk off his face at school, but he laughs in my face whenever I try to challenge him.¡±

    Jess flushed and looked away. ¡°I''m not proud of who I become when the bloodlust is up, Malek. But I won''t deny what I am, either. You, you are the same way. But Mord? He revels in it, and never feels a lick of regret, afterwards.¡±

    Jess

    Her familiar''s surge of warning. Yet Jess still hissed in surprise when she turned the corner before her rooms to find Mord leaning against her door, grinning at her so cockily, sauntering towards her as she stared and fumed.

    ¡°And why should either of us feel a lick of regret, my prize? We revel in the chaos and madness of battle, in bringing the curs to heal that would dare to rise against us.¡± Mord''s bemused smile turned dark. Savage. ¡°We revel in their screams and blood as we cut them down to the last man. Without mercy, without remorse. No survivors. Just as your master prefers it.¡±

    Jess scowled. ¡°We hurt no innocents, Mord. You know that. Any captured serfs or freemen we find, we bring to the keep. To heal, to start life anew.¡±

    Mord, dressed in tight fitting doublet and hose of darkest blue, chuckled softly, slowly circling Jess, gazing at her like a prized mare. He completely ignored a coldly glaring Malek, only flashing Jess a mocking smile when she felt the need to turn around, to always meet his dark gaze with her own. ¡°Of course, my dear Jessica. Of course.¡±

    ¡°What do you want, Mord?¡±

    He shrugged and smiled, cold eyes never leaving her own.

    ¡°What do I want, Jessica? The same things you do, I suppose. The hot satisfaction of rooting out the vile miscreants that would dare to fester upon our lands. The fierce exultation of raining down my chastisement upon their broken flesh. The rush of running my sword through my enemy''s heart, watching their eyes glaze over in death.¡± His smile was bleak. Chilling.

    Jess swallowed and looked away.

    ¡°Admit it, Jessica. You love the rush of blood and battle every bit as much as I do. Your heart races for the savage glory to come, whenever our masters cry havoc and unleash us to slaughter all foes."

    Jess felt herself flush hotly. ¡°Cease your blather, Mord, and leave me be. I really don''t want to have this conversation with you.¡±

    Mocking laughter, fingers lightly brushing her cheek.

    "Mord!"

    Malek snarled, hands curled into fists. Only a fool would underestimate the strength of a trained Squire. Tightly corded musculature hidden by his attire, the Sousel clan had always possessed a deceptive strength, and Malek was all too easy to underestimate. Yet a few broken bones during their first year at Highrock had made it clear to all that Malek was one student it was best not to cross, even before he had become a Squire, no matter his taste in lovers or friends.

    ¡°So this is the girl you would marry, Mord?¡±

    Jess blinked, only in that moment taking in the girl who had seemed to blend so well beside Mord''s glaring presence that Jess was only now aware of her. Soft lips pursed in a thoughtful frown as entrancing eyes peered ever so carefully at a suddenly discomfited Jess. Heart shaped features set off by dark hair the exact same shade as Mord''s, the girl possessed a striking beauty, no less for her preference of silken doublet and hose that emphasized a body lithe and powerful, that of a fencer or a dancer.

    Jess noted the diminutive rapier at the girl''s hip, its silvered hilt matching the half moon locket the girl wore. Normally Jess hated light fencing weapons of little use against an armored warrior, yet all too able to take the life of a soldier who fell prey to an arrogant noble''s goading, dueling without armor or shield, playing to a rapier''s strengths. But upon this girl''s hips, the blade only emphasized her athletic grace.

    Jess felt her cheeks flush under the other girl''s considering gaze, but couldn''t pull her eyes away.

    ¡°Does my cousin Sable meet with your approval, my sweet?¡± Mord''s arrogant voice, an insignificant buzz.

    Sable''s lips curved into an approving smile. ¡°She has a harlot''s face, a warrior''s arms, a mother''s hips. You could do worse than her, Mord. Far worse.¡±

    Jess shook her head, not knowing whether to be flattered or offended. ¡°There''s a lot more to me than my arms and hips. Perhaps you''d like to make a more careful examination in my quarters?¡±

    Sable blinked at that, momentarily taken aback, before a slow smile caressed her lips.

    Jess flushed as soon as the words left her mouth, the girl before her now chuckling throatily. ¡°Oh, I do hope you actually manage to win her, Mord. She might prove quite delightful. A lovely distraction, if I end up forced home once more.¡±

    It was then that Jess heard the soft cry of a baby. Sable''s features flashed from anxious worry to cool exasperation in the span of a second. Gentle brows furrowing, she peered down the hallway. ¡°That''s what comes of taking pity on your house staff, even if it would have been easier to throw the silly chit in the street. Their burdens become your own.¡± She shook her head. ¡°Come here at once, Ava.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lady.¡± And as fast as the words were said, a young woman hurried over to them, quickly curtsying while holding a baby swaddled in finest fabrics, far beyond what any peasant woman, even a house servant, could normally afford.

    Sable tapped her foot impatiently. ¡°Well, let me see the little thing.¡±

    ¡°At once, my lady.¡± Carefully, Ava rearranged the child''s swaddle such that Jess caught sight of the most exquisitely beautiful sleeping face, her cries having faded to soft murmurs once more.

    Sable''s gaze was tender. "It''s important to care for Julia properly, Ava. Feed her, change her, rock her when she sobs. It is most disconcerting when her cries interrupt nobles during their discourse."

    Ava blinked, gazing at Sable strangely before bowing her head. ¡°Yes, my lady.¡±

    Sable turned to Jess once more. ¡°My apologies.¡±

    Jess dipped her head. ¡°No worries, Sable, motherhood must always come first.¡±

    Sable blinked at this before chuckling softly. "At least that''s one risk neither of us face, should we spend the afternoon in your quarters speaking of all of life''s... possibilities."

    Jess shivered as Sable leaned in and brushed Jess''s ear with her lips. "You could do far worse than Mord, Jess. In fact, he just might surprise you. All you need to do is submit." She stepped back and winked.

    Jess smirked, leaning in just as quickly as Sable had, caressing Sable''s ear with her own lips. "Your brother is a bloodthirsty toad. I''d far rather find you in my bed than he."

    Sable abruptly burst out in laughter, no matter Mord''s furious glare. ¡°I think I like her. She has fire, but I saw her eyes when she looked at Ava''s... child. Your future babes will need someone tender in their lives, considering how cold the rest of our pathetic family is.¡±

    Jess blinked as Mord''s angry glare for her turned to the gentlest of gazes for his sister. Such a look on the face of her nemesis was troubling in the extreme. It made him seem almost human. ¡°You know us all too well, dearest Sable. Jess will make a fine prize.¡±

    Mord turned to a suddenly furious Jess, his cold smile never leaving his face. ¡°Get your precious sleep, my Jess. Two days to rest up and dream of all the ways I will ravish you, after we are baptized in blood once more.¡±

    ¡°The hell I''ll let you!¡± Jess hissed.

    Mord''s mocking gaze hardened. "It is time for you to stop refusing me during the revels. You know the claim I now have upon you." He smirked. "I know how much you value duty, and what greater duty is there than for a woman to submit to her family''s wishes?"

    With a final mocking wave he departed, never looking back, though Sable did, clasping the half-moon locket she wore, her solemn gaze locked upon Jess''s own.

    Malek slammed fist into palm. ¡°Bloody hells. What games are they playing?¡±

    Jess frowned. ¡°You caught it too, then?¡±

    Malek smirked. ¡°What, the way Sable lost her entire veneer of jaded bemusement when gazing at the child? Or how odd it is for her to be coming to Highrock now, during the semester lull, and why is she bringing a wayward servant and her babe along, if it''s not really hers?¡±

    Jess nodded. ¡°Or the fact that had Mord been born with softer features, a woman, not a man, the pair would look near identical.¡±

    Malek frowned. ¡°You''re right. If they''re cousins, the Plaga clan needs fresh blood for sure.¡±

    ¡°Either that, or they''re not cousins at all.¡±

    ¡°Damn. And they look to be the same age, or close enough. Are they siblings? Why bother with all this secrecy then? Why is Sable even here? What game are they playing?¡±

    Jess shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, but you saw the half-moon locket Sable was wearing."

    Malek nodded. ¡°What of it?¡±

    Jess felt herself blush. ¡°I''ve seen Mord wearing an identical one. I suspect normally he keeps it hidden under his doublet, but once when I spied upon him sparring, it dangled free. His opponent clipped it with his stick, and I swear, I thought Mord was going to kill the boy, so fierce was his rage."

    Malek blinked. ¡°Now that''s interesting. Obviously he values it more than a casual trinket. Perhaps it''s a receptacle for resonance magics? Most consider that superstition or folk-magic. Not really within the bounds of the elementalist paradigm.¡± Malek frowned thoughtfully. ¡°It''s conceivable such a thing could exist, however, relying on the magical principals of similarity and contagion. Someone might be able to get it to work, but only if it involved two halves of a whole. Of course that''s impossible for people, unless...¡±

    ¡°Unless what? Malek, what are you talking about?¡±

    Brooding eyes met Jess''s own. ¡°Do you think it''s possible they could be twins?¡±

    Jess shrugged. ¡°Your guess is as good as mine. But let''s say they are. So what?¡±

    ¡°Well, let''s just say... theoretically it''s possible they could communicate through those amulets.¡± Malek chuckled ruefully. ¡°And what we are engaging in here is the most absurd of conjectures. The kind of talk that once got folk burned as witches, in less educated times. We know they are related, and that they wear matching lockets. Odds are it''s nothing more than that.¡±

    Jess frowned. ¡°Perhaps.¡± But she could have sworn she felt a flash of...something, just for an instant, when Sable had been holding her locket so tightly.

    Maleks'' friendly gaze hardened. "But the locket was not the only thing of note during our friendly little discourse."

    Jess flushed and bowed her head, knowing she could never hide anything from her shieldbrother for very long.

    A powerful hand gently lifted her chin. Soft brown eyes filled with such protective love gazed upon her own. "Jess, whatever it is, you can tell me."

    Jess swallowed, giving a bitter shake of her head. "It''s the Plaga clan. They, well, they are pressing suit for my hand.

    Malek''s concerned gaze turned dark. "Please don''t tell me..."

    Jess grimaced, squeezing back tears. "My father has not outright refused. To think, they would pair me with that bloodthirsty monster..."

    "Bloody hells," Malek hissed. "That''s madness! He''s been a thorn in your side for years!" He sighed. "If only you could have told your family."

    Jess turned away, fists clenched in frustration. "It''s not that simple, Malek. Had I breathed a word about how cruel Mord truly is, had I told her how viciously he had attacked me and sought to maim me during the first year bouts, Mother would have delighted in it! It would have been the perfect pretext to pull me out of Highrock and stick me in the finishing school of her choosing. Thousands of hours of grueling training for nothing as I am suddenly forced to wear stifling dresses and primp before jaded men treating me like a third rate pick when I could wipe the floors with them in any training ring in the kingdom!" Jess shook her head. "Only then would Mord''s victory, and my mother''s, be complete."

    Malek wordlessly gathered Jess in his arms, squeezing her tight as she quietly sobbed. "I know, Jess," Malek soothed. "I know. That''s why I never castigated you like Josie or Jera did, before they truly understood how deep the game being played against you was." He gently stepped back, gazing into Jess''s tear filled eyes. "Your mother loves you, you know. Don''t for a moment think she doesn''t. It''s just that she''s one of those women who needs to control all the pieces in the board before her. Sadly, her mind can''t help but see you as a delicate maiden in a dress, wishing to treat you as such, no matter that you are one of the deadliest knights on the board."

    Jess smirked. "At least Eloquin values me, even if no one else at this bloody school does."

    Malek grinned, giving Jess''s shoulder a friendly squeeze. ¡°Hardly Eloquin alone, Jess. I know for a fact that the healers are grateful for your gifts with plants, and your fellow Squires love you. Our lives, after all, are in your hands whenever we blacken our daggers. For all that our training and armor would counter most threats, at least a few of us would have no doubt perished, had you not stood by our side. And don''t worry. Together, we''ll handle Mord. No nightmare marriages for you. Whether serving under the king directly as Squires of War or leaving Highrock to explore the world on our own terms, we''re not going to let our families dictate our fates."

    Jess nodded wholeheartedly at that sentiment.

    Malek winked. "All right, I''m off. Maybe we''ll get a chance to spar later. Now go enjoy missing all your classes.¡±

    Jess laughed. ¡°I always do. It''s just nice that I can do it with the school''s blessing for the next few days, at least. Now go take care of your beau. You know how he gets, when we go on these little missions of ours.¡±

    Malek chuckled softly. "He does get in a mood after our escapades, doesn''t he? Oh well, I''d best spend some time with him. He will understand without a word needing to be said."

    Jess smiled sympathetically, well aware of how Jacob would carry on for a bit, castigating Malek before finally embracing him, in the end keeping careful vigil to make sure his lover awakened at the appointed time without fail. Jess doubted Malek would see more than a single night''s sleep, but knew she could trust him to knock on her door when it was time for them to make their exit.

    Jess yawned as her door opened of its own accord, closing behind her with a silent act of will even as she fell into her exquisitely inviting bed of cotton sheets and down-filled pillows, her sleepy thoughts turning to Sable, whose sensual eyes had captivated her, dark pools of secrets and sorrow Jess hungered to explore.

 Chapter 5

    ¡°Jess, it''s time!¡±

    Jess instantly woke with her shieldbrother''s tentative knock, quickly brushing and tying back hair now dyed the color of night, the door parting to allow her friend entrance. He smiled brightly, his eyes almost seeming to glow in the soft moonlight shining from Jess''s ever open windows.

    Jess flashed an answering grin, equipping herself with a Squire''s practiced efficiency, her quilted gambeson and mail hauberk slipped on in moments, next donning breastplate and padded helm, those priceless masterworks of steel protecting her most vital organs, even during the charge. She then carefully fastened on armaments of tough boiled rawhide to protect her limbs and back with Malek''s assistance, clamping breastplate and backplate together with a tabard as black as night worn over top. The steel would protect her from devastating frontal assaults, and very few warriors would be able to cut through the cuir bouilli protecting the rest of her body, for all that she had trained specifically to perform just such a feat. Fortunately, her gambeson and mail hauberk were full sleeved, giving vital protection, should anything actually manage to cut through the rawhide plates.

    Malek saved precious moments strapping her prized longsword to her back, Jess assuring that the blade would slip free and easy from its specially designed sheath, a maneuver she had mastered over countless hours of practice, during her first year under Eloquin''s tutelage. She then latched mace to belt hook, carrying both cavalry saber and estoc in their sheaths, ready to be secured to Mercy''s saddle. A final check of inventory and Jess was ready, slipping on gauntlets and securing shield last of all, after she and Malek both double-checked each other''s fastenings.

    Visor raised, Jess favored her full length mirror with a final glance. It had been a priceless gift, and she could only wonder what her mother would think of her now. No doubt the baroness had imagined Jess admiring herself in dresses, her bright blue eyes carefully lined with kohl, full lips painted a rich crimson hue, soft cheeks brushed with a hint of pink, her hair a shimmering mass of golden locks cascading like a waterfall down her left shoulder, a heart-stopping beauty sure to fascinate any young noble looking her way.

    Jess smirked at the thought, seeing instead the stormy gaze of a girl fully kitted for war, lustrous tresses dyed the color of night, who knew what it meant to push through the horror and madness of battle, protecting her friends as best she could.

    She had enjoyed the last two days of casual distraction, taking on any and all challengers in the sparring rings, having mastered Eloquin''s assigned treatise long ago, and had to fight to keep from training too hard as anxiety and excitement had twisted together into an almost impossible knot that had allowed her no rest until she had finally dropped into an exhausted slumber just that morning, now conveniently refreshed as a sunset of burnished crimson and gold blazed from her windows, showing off the forest and fields beyond the academy to glorious effect, like the most magnificent of paintings.

    A single touch assuring that her door would open for none save herself and they were off, all but gliding through the halls as they quickly made their way out of the vast structure that was Highrock, heading to the stables. Those few students scurrying through the halls that caught sight of their fully armored peers carrying cavalry weapons and striding with such deadly purpose all paled and looked away, scampering off without saying a word.

    Mercy was unusually restive when Jess came to her stall. Of course the stable hands knew better than to prepare the horses of Squires or Aspirants when they came to the stables at this hour. If the grooms were not asleep they pretended to be, knowing better than to give a clue that they sensed what was to come. An apple and a gentle pat saw Mercy calmed soon enough, though perhaps she sensed Jess''s own excitement. Jess softly blew into Mercy''s nose, getting a contented wicker before securing Mercy''s armor, comprised of finely made quilted linen padding covered by mail, with added protection for the skull, neck, and chest. The horse armor was as durable as any to be found on the continent, save for that owned by the wealthiest of knights, excellent at protecting Mercy from blows in the heat of melee that would otherwise cripple a horse and send her rider crashing to the ground, instantly vulnerable. Of course, a pike or lance would likely punch through in a charge, which was what made knights such a deadly force on the battlefield, and a disciplined regimen of coordinated pikemen such an effective counter.

    Working as efficiently as any stable hand, Jess made sure the cantled saddle was securely cinched before checking the stirrups and bit, taking care to see that Mercy was untroubled by sores or discomfort, her hocks free of heat and tenderness. Satisfied with her check, Jess secured her weaponry to saddle hooks and straps last of all before straddling her mount.

    Measuring sixteen hands, Mercy had a proud neck, powerful flanks, and was a pleasure to ride. Her stride was like floating on air, Jess patting her mare''s mane as they quickly rode over to the training grounds furthest from the massive keep, where both Eloquin and Lord Hyve were silently waiting.

    Icy blue eyes gazed into her own. Jess shivered and nodded before her master''s unspoken question. Yes, she was ready for whatever the night would bring. Lord Hyve looked strangely relieved to see her, as if he had feared she wouldn''t come.

    Though she had never refused before.

    Whatever the scars to her heart and soul, bandits were a blight upon the face of Erovering. Though most lords suffering from the depredations of slavers wouldn''t dare lose face reporting their woes to the king, everyone knew Highrock was the place to bring such news. Such depredations could never be openly acknowledged, but the king had long ago devised other means to deal with the problem.

    First, a scout would verify reports. Should he vouch for the claim, or should he go missing, Eloquin''s Squires of War would do what needed to be done. And Jess would be damned before she allowed her brothers and sisters of the blade to be imperiled by chance arrow or spear, when her presence alone could save their lives.

    She would never fail to blacken her dagger, no matter how fiercely the savagery she embraced would haunt her in the days to come.

    Endless moments later, Eloquin scanned the lonely moonlit fields leading from stables to the field. Everyone who was coming was there. Lord Hyve frowned as he looked over the assembled mass of Squires and Aspirants. There were far more of the former than the latter.

    It appeared that most of his proteges did not want to stain their honor or risk serious injury or death in embracing a black mission, not even for their supposedly beloved master.

    Malek flashed her a cold smile. ¡°When all is said and done, we see who has the stones to do what needs doing, and who would rather sleep in their downy beds, knowing Hyve would never call them out for skipping something as ugly and unorthodox as this.¡±

    Jess kept her face carefully neutral, feeling Lord Hyve''s intense gaze upon her still.

    ¡°Assemble.¡±

    Jess shivered with that one word, instantly taking her place in orderly rows beside her fellow Squires and Aspirants, accepting both Eloquin''s disappointment and cold acceptance of the situation. It was what it was, and all too many Aspirants had failed that most crucial of tests... being there for a fellow in need, particularly their master, in a venue where they would never formally be reprimanded, allowing their true natures to come to the fore.

    Jess had no doubt that many would have cause to rue their choice, for Eloquin never forgot a face or a slight. He might not take it personally, but where he had influence, Aspirants that could not be bothered to serve could not be bothered to command, and might find the path to becoming a Knight of the Crown far more grueling than they had once imagined. No matter that Lord Hyve was their master, General Eloquin was not a man to take lightly under any circumstances.

    The knight commander scowled before shaking his head. His gaze went to his students, standing at perfect attention. He smiled, looking suddenly relieved when he caught sight of Mord, who did not hesitate to salute his master, fist to chest.

    ¡°The Aspirants are assembled, Commander.¡±

    Hyve nodded. ¡°Very good, Mord. Very good. I know a number of our fellows sickened earlier today. I shall certainly have a word with our cooks. My Aspirants know I place their well-being and safety above all else, and I will not risk the lives of weakened men. Still, it pleases me to see so many of my Aspirants at full strength, ready to serve Erovering in her time of need.¡±

    Mord''s smile was free of mockery or guile, for all that Jess almost pitied Hyve''s need to justify so many of his students'' absence. ¡°Those that stand strong beside me are free of stomach cramps, my lord. We will fight with honor and courage to do our master proud.¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    Malek was busy exchanging hand signs with their fellow Squires, before turning to Neal and nodding.

    Neal, their nominal leader, saluted Eloquin, fist to heart. ¡°The Squires stand ready, Commander Eloquin.¡±

    Eloquin smiled. It didn''t reach his eyes. It never did. ¡°Very good, Neal. Standard procedure from here on out. You will refer to me as Hawk. You will refer to Knight Commander Hyve as Lance. You will refer to yourselves by first syllables only, or use hand sign. Are we clear?¡±

    This was said for the benefit of the Aspirants, Jess knew. It allowed everyone to speak in short, tight, tactical phrases when time and clarity was of the essence, and it made it all the harder for any witness to verify the identity of any Squire or Aspirant engaging in the bloody work they were about to embrace once more.

    Armored fists slammed to breastplates in unison, Squires and Aspirants alike. They were ready.

    Eloquin nodded and turned to Commander Hyve. ¡°My Squires stand ready, Lance.¡±

    Hyve nodded slowly. ¡°Very good, Hawk.¡± He turned to Mord. ¡°You have earned the right to lead, Mord. These students are under your care. Prove yourself worthy, and do not disappoint.¡±

    Fist to chest once more. ¡°No, Lance, I shall not.¡± Mord turned then, visor raised as all of theirs were, gazing back at them.

    ¡°Neal, take command of your Squires. You will be right flank. Aspirants shall be left. Unless I shout otherwise, do as you see fit. We shall form proper battle plans once we have scouted out the slaver''s fortifications.¡±

    Neal gazed coolly at Mord for several long seconds before slamming fist to chest, bowing his head. ¡°As you command.¡±

    Jess saw Eloquin give the slightest of nods when Neal glanced his way. So be it. This was to be Lord Hyve''s performance, and if he wanted to let Mord steer the reins, they were bound to follow.

    Jess carefully hid her grimace before looking up once more, eyes instantly caught by Mord''s dark gaze. "Jess. Ride beside me and assure no root or branch hinders us as we make our way."

    Jess grimaced but was not so foolish as to refuse, pointedly refusing to salute him, no matter how Lord Hyve frowned.

    And shortly after that, Jess found herself leading around three score of Erovering''s most elite students by moonlight along the great road that would eventually lead to Krona, the shining Jewel of the capital. It was a sedate pace, all of the Aspirants and most of the Squires proceeding in almost meditative silence under the silvery light of the full moon.

    A quick, professional eye showed most of her fellow Squires with recurved bows secured, taking advantage of the royal edict allowing Squires of War to train with bows and crossbows, weapons normally the province of royal armsmen alone. The secured bows and quivers were of course discretely covered with burlap, easily overlooked by most, as Eloquin was not one to advertise a Squire''s privileges. Most of the Aspirants had lances resting in stirrups, and Jess was pleased to see they were prudent enough to bring those of modest size, as they would be riding for a good number of hours, and much of it through woodlands. She''d be surprised if half the Aspirants wouldn''t give up their lances in frustration with low hanging branches always knocking them out of hand.

    She then forced herself to face what she had been doing her best to avoid, Mord''s smiling countenance, gazing at her so intently.

    ¡°Do our troops meet your exacting standards?¡±

    Jess scowled. She really didn''t want to deal with veiled insults and being the butt of his mockery for hours on end.

    ¡°Jess.¡±

    One syllable from the man she admired most in the world. Bloody hells. Eloquin expected her to take him seriously.

    Jess sighed. ¡°Yes, Mord. Squires are ready for auxiliary support, whether that means peppering the bastards with arrow fire the moment before you charge, or charging ourselves with estocs in hand, we have you covered.¡±

    Mord nodded. ¡°Good.¡±

    Jess blinked. Not mocking at all. Strange. She took a deep breath of the cool nighttime air perfumed with the scents of pine and endless wild blossoms before continuing.

    ¡°My coin is on half of your fellows ditching their lances when we start cutting through the deepwood. For all that they were prudent enough to bring shorter lances, they will weary of carrying them soon enough, when endless branches knock them from their stirrup rests.¡±

    Mord frowned at that, gazing intently at Jess. ¡°Yet that never stopped you Squires from striking with lances whenever I joined your missions before.¡±

    Jess frowned. She done her best to be discrete in all the ways she helped her fellows, but Mord was no fool. He had blackened his dagger just as much as she had. Why was he making her say it aloud? ¡°We make fresh lances just prior to an engagement. You should know this, Mord. You''ve fought by my side often enough. It''s hardly my fault if you weren''t paying attention while we did so.¡±

    Mord nodded thoughtfully, gazing out at the vast fields of grain blowing in the evening breeze. ¡°You used your gifts, then.¡± It was not a question. ¡°Excellent. I will expect you to do the same for my men, once we make camp and scout out our enemy.¡±

    Jess nodded, for all that she hated taking orders from he who was her greatest nemesis, save on nights such as these. In truth, she had been planning much the same, though only after the smug satisfaction of watching pugnacious Aspirants fumble with their lances for hours through the deepwood before finally giving up, even as their Squire counterparts grinned at their frustration.

    ¡°Very good reasoning, Mord,¡± Lord Hyve declared. ¡°Calenbry. You should have thought to mention such in the first place! Save my men the trouble of bringing their own lances, if you were going to use your knack to make them in any case.¡±

    More than a few Aspirants could be caught grumbling or cursing. ¡°We have to bring these things through the deepwood? Why did no one tell us?¡±

    Jess stiffened at the chastisement, but did no more than nod her head. ¡°My apologies, sir.¡±

    Lord Hyve frowned. ¡°And how did you know we would be cutting through the forest, in any case?¡±

    Mord''s dark grin widened. ¡°You figured it out, did you?¡±

    Jess felt herself flushing, for some odd reason. Lord Hyve appeared almost offended.

    Eloquin''s stern voice cut through the air. ¡°Calenbry is no fool. When the head of the Aspirants himself honors my students with his presence, she feared the threat hit close to home. If her hunch is correct, taking the main road there would give any enemy scouts plenty of warning. Cutting through the deepwood would be the most prudent method of stalking our enemies without giving ourselves away.¡±

    Lord Hyve was forced to nod. ¡°Well thought. Your student does you credit, Eloquin. I only hope she has as strong a knack as you claim, for I have no desire to stumble about like a fool through the woods in the dead of night.¡±

    Eloquin held his colleague''s gaze for some moments, Lord Hyve eventually flushing and looking away. ¡°Calenbry has yet to disappoint.¡±

    Mord chuckled softly. ¡°How talented you are, dearest Jess. One would hardly think you the laughingstock of half the school. And how many classes did you sleep through this week, my prize?¡±

    Jess flushed as a couple of the Aspirants and perhaps a few Squires snickered. She didn''t know what the big deal was. Everyone knew she had an invisible cat as her familiar, and that she hated classes. Besides, she had done far better this week than most. ¡°Two,¡± she said with a certain measure of pride. ¡°Just two. The last two days don''t count, and the professors didn''t even lecture me this time. And unless you want my fist in your kidney, you will cease calling me your prize."

    ¡°The classes did resonate with far less snores than is the norm,¡± purred her ever present companion, even now resting comfortably upon his favorite perch. ¡°Of course, you managed such a feat by dint of cutting most of your classes entirely. I suppose that''s one way to get out of your assignments.¡±

    ¡°Two? You didn''t show up to our trigonometry class all week, Jess. You know, the one we are all required to at least sit through? Useful for judging the range of catapults and other siege weapons? Saint''s fire, I haven''t seen you attend a single one of our lectures!¡±

    Jess felt her cheeks flush at Lucas''s words, Mord''s smile visibly growing with her discomfort.

    ¡°Lucas!¡± Jess would recognize Malek''s hiss anywhere. ¡°Show some respect!¡±

    "I do respect her, Malek!" Lucas snapped. "Her and Neal both! Our lives are in their hands every time we draw our blades in earnest, trusting them to have our backs. I don''t give a damn if she mocks the philosophy professor, ditches etiquette, and can balance a ledger no better than my little sister. But when our lives are on the line, I expect her to take the courses seriously, and trigonometry at Highrock is as much about catapults as anything else!¡±

    Jess winced and swallowed in the awkward silence, feeling suddenly ashamed.

    Strangely, it was Eloquin himself who relieved the awful tension. ¡°You all know the real function of our college. Your other courses are but smoke and slag. This is the steel that will forge you into weapons worthy of the king himself.¡± Jess found herself strangely soothed by her commander''s words. That was, until he caught her gaze with his own.

    Jess swallowed, heart suddenly pounding.

    "Calenbry. General Vyrm''s Trebuchet. What was its range?"

    ¡°Two hundred feet when casting an eighth ton of stone,¡± Jess recalled aloud, for military treatises fascinated her like the most entertaining of stories, sticking comfortably in her mind so long as she read them aloud, even if every other subject she studied seemed to evaporate after a single night''s sleep.

    Eloquin nodded coolly. ¡°You''ve seen the catapult the Aspirants practice with. What is its range?¡±

    ¡°One hundred and twenty feet,¡± Jess said automatically.

    More than one Aspirant murmured at this, angry whispers and curses as to who had revealed such, their catapult having been designed for the competitions the following year.

    ¡°By the Goddess, who revealed the specifications of our tool?¡± Lord Hyve hissed.

    Eloquin''s gaze pinned her still. ¡°Jess?¡±

    Jess flushed, catching Hyve''s furious glare. ¡°No one, sir. I just had a good look at it when we were training the other week. It was just sort of sitting there and, well, once it caught my eye, it was obvious.¡±

    Dead silence.

    "Balderdash!¡± Hyve shouted. ¡°No student could possibly sense a catapult''s range with a single glance!"

    Jess lowered her head. ¡°I am sorry, sir. That''s the sense I had of it. If I am wrong, well, I am wrong.¡±

    Eloquin nodded. ¡°Anything else you wish to say about that catapult?¡±

    Jess swallowed. ¡°You had best replace the central beam, Commander Hyve. Its core is rotten, even if the wood looked fine once sanded and stained. It will snap when you least expect it, with the results you''d expect from a siege weapon failing.¡±

    Jess could see Lord Hyve pale, even in the moonlight.

    ¡°By the Goddess. There is no way.¡±

    Eloquin smiled coldly. ¡°If Calenbry wishes to play the fool and deny herself the opportunity to learn and grow as a scholar, that is her choice. I will say this, however. As a Squire of War, she has never failed in her duties, or her insights.¡±

    Jess couldn''t help flushing, feeling at once elated and ashamed.