Faerie's Champion Page 3

  "It's not open for debate, Jessica de Calenbry! Eloquin has already declared you among his best, the equal of any Squire, should the clarion call of battle send you and your father to war!" her mother shouted, trembling with pent emotion, before taking a deep calming breath, angry countenance soothing once more into gentle care. "I am sorry, my daughter. I know this is not easy for you, and I know I have been… harsh, of late. And quite unfairly, as it turns out. And for that, I apologize. We are grateful to you, Jessica. For even if we don't always understand your passions, they have served us well, without question. But just as you have completed those brave and noble tasks that have done such good for our family and our lands, so too it is time to gird yourself to take on what for you may be a far more challenging task, but one that is no less vital to the well-being of our family."

  Jess gulped, fighting not to shake her head.

  “My dear Jess,” her mother sighed. “You must learn to carry yourself with the grace and deportment of a proper lady. But don’t worry,” her mother soothed. “We shall go back to the gentle lessons of before. Honey, not vinegar, shall guide us on our path to grace, for you deserve to find joy in the subtle power of womanhood, not be beaten senseless until you can’t stand your very nature!” The baroness gently raised her sulky daughter’s chin, Agda's tender gaze nonetheless unwavering in its demand for obeisance. “It will all work out. You will see, my daughter. I love you with all my heart, but in the end, we all must follow the dictates of necessity, if our family is to survive and flourish.”

  Her father gave Jess an encouraging nod. "And perhaps a hardworking young lady who shows her grace in the courtly arts will have shown she has the discipline to balance the art of etiquette with further studies in the art of the blade."

  Jessica turned toward her father, eyes alight with sudden hope. “You mean?”

  Her father gave an indulgent nod. “Yes, my beloved child. You may once again engage in training. When your mother is satisfied that you have shown diligence in your daily lessons under her tutelage.”

  Her mother gave Jessica a reassuring squeeze of her hand. "It will be all right, my daughter. You will see. Admit it. Before things took a turn for the… unexpected, you were learning to quite like the dance. And you are wearing your dresses already with a grace you would never have expected of yourself, a few short months ago. Even if I can't quite remember any of the dresses I had made for you being that shade of green."

  “Isn’t it pretty?” Jess grinned happily. “All the silly shades of yellow, peach, and pink are gone! My dresses are now all beautiful shades of forest green. If I’m going to wear a dress, this is definitely the color for me.”

  Her mother was caught off guard for only a moment. "Very well, my daughter. If green is a color you favor, then dresses made in various woodland shades can certainly be arranged. Perhaps some nice forest brown gowns lined with silver?" her mother allowed, no doubt already planning her upcoming wardrobe.

  Her father nodded. “And after an enjoyable morning of dance and the finer points of etiquette, I shall be quite happy to engage in our practice bouts once again.”

  Geoffrey nodded at this. “I too would enjoy a friendly rematch, sister, but blades only!” he laughed, and Jess had the grace to blush, regretting having almost caused him injury when her brother’s attempt to run through her onslaught and initiate grappling with her had almost resulted in her causing him grave injury before her last journey into Shadow. She shuddered to think of the risks in grappling with him now.

  “Yes, brother. Blades only. No attempt at Durchlauffen techniques.”

  Her brother grinned warmly and nodded, flaxen hair so very much like their parents showing with a warm golden hue as it caught the morning light from the stained glass windows overlooking their dining hall. “I look forward to the workout.”

  Her father smiled approvingly. "You see, my daughter? Good things come to those with the perseverance to weather life's storms. In fact, we have an added treat for you. It seems a fellow Delver whose acquaintance you have already made is looking forward to paying us a visit several days hence, and would enjoy the opportunity to train with you, should you be of a like mind.”

  Jess felt herself flushing with sudden excitement. "A fellow Delver. What is his name?"

  “Morlekai,” her mother answered, gazing at her daughter carefully. “I take it you recall having met him at the gala?”

  Jess found herself blushing, for all that she cajoled herself for it. He was an admirable, if fierce Delver, and she had nothing to be ashamed of. He would probably be an exciting sparring partner. She wondered if he was as strong as Malek, and found herself reflecting on how firm his muscular grip had been. She felt a curious tingle and felt herself flushing all the more.

  “Um, perhaps,” Jessica acknowledged.

  "I see," her mother said, gazing at her daughter carefully. "Well, this Morlekai has done us a service, and such will not go unacknowledged. He would like the opportunity to know you better, Jessica." Her mother gave her a measuring look at that point. "And I have no doubt you will show him the courtesy and decorum any noble lady would, upon making the acquaintanceship of a commoner who has shown himself to be worthy of a measure of appreciation."

  Jessica forced herself to nod slowly, understanding perfectly. “Of course, Mother.”

  "Of course, it goes without saying that we shall have said bouts conducted in the main training field. I have no doubt your father and brother could learn a lot from observing your techniques in action. Perhaps, when your sparring practice is concluded, you could teach your brother some of your techniques. By word and mirror-demonstration only, of course. You will not permit this individual to spar with your brother, and I know your father already knows better.” The last was said with a meaningful look at her smiling husband, currently raising his hands in mock surrender, before she turned her gaze once more upon her daughter. “Am I clear, Jessica?”

  Jess nodded solemnly at her mother's pointed words, understanding what was being said in this matter, at least. Morlekai had helped them somehow, maybe proving Jess's virtue or Kipu's malice, and was being awarded the right to train with Jess. Her parents would consent to her taking on such a sparring partner as a matter of honor, and to give her a reward for putting up with wearing a dress most of the day. That being the case, it was her mother's intent to make absolutely certain their relationship would go no further than that of training companions.

  Her mother's concerns aside, the thought of testing her skills against the powerful Delver whose mysterious gold green eyes and devilish smile had so drawn her in when first they had met was an exhilarating one. Jess could hardly wait.

  2

  It felt like Jess couldn’t get through the following couple of days fast enough. Patient as she tried to be with her mother’s lessons in etiquette, as much as she now found she could actually enjoy dancing with her brother, sallying quiet jokes back and forth as the house musician played on to keep the tempo, she still found herself itching for more physical exertions, only finding relief as the afternoon waned and an exasperated Agda finally gave her daughter permission to allow Jess to follow passions which were truly close to her heart.

  Jess had sighed happily, finally able to hold good steel in her hands, for all that she missed her mithril blade, still safely locked away with her other artifacts, and Jess knew better than to wheedle her father into allowing her access to those precious items just yet.

  Her brother was a good sport about it, never failing to give Jess an appreciative laugh when he found himself on his rump, fully armored as they both were, after Jess's Absetzen strike would send her brother's blade wide, even as her own blunt practice sword slammed into Geoffrey's chest, perhaps with a bit more force than she had originally intended, though the well-padded steel breastplate he wore, priceless armament that it was, proved more than sufficient to absorb the blow, even if the force behind her blows did still send him stumbling back, even when she pulled them. More th
an once had her brother laughed ruefully, declaring how grateful he was to Baron diOnni for having commissioned for him such a fine gift as his custom-fitted suit of plate and mail, difficult and costly as the construction had no doubt been, when Jess would apologetically help Geoffrey back to his feet.

  Her father also enjoyed their sparring matches, fast and furious as their exchanges were, both striving to seize the Vor, her father having the slight advantage in that Jess always did her best to pull her blows, her skill and vitality being such that he had no need to reciprocate, and indeed, fought with all his skill and fury.

  Oberhau strike parried from vom Tag guard, Krumphau strike countering neatly deflected Stechen thrust, earning Jess an enthusiastically called point from her brother, Jess and her father grinning in shared exhilaration as muted battlefrenzy took hold, their blades becoming a blur of blunted steel as strikes and thrusts were countered, voided and parried, both testing each other's strengths, feeling for weakness, lashing out with a furious onslaught when the slightest vulnerability was detected, darting away masterfully to dodge carefully laid traps, father and daughter both reveling in the fierce exchange of swordplay.

  “Enough, my daughter, I fear you have the best of me this day!” her father chuckled, holding his hand up and calling for truce, Jess instantly responding, sliding away, blade raised high before lifting her visor, grinning at her gasping father who was even then shaking his head in mute admiration for his daughter. “I swear, Jessica. The way you put me through my paces, I’ll be the match of myself in my prime before month's end, if I don’t drop from exhaustion!”

  Geoffrey was gazing at their father in unreserved awe. “By the gods, Father, how you move! You’ve been holding back all this time when we spar. I knew it on some level, but it was never so obvious as now.”

  Arthur nodded his acknowledgment. “It is true, I have held back, though only somewhat, my son. Swordplay for you was more a sport than a passion, and indeed you know the way of the longsword as well as any noble at Court. I, however, had to train as if my life depended upon it, and for many years, it did. Your sister shares my passion, and to be fair, she has paid a steep price for her talents, delving deep into the realms of Shadow, suffering repeated hibernations so near to death that it chills my soul to think of it.”

  Jess, pleasantly warmed up but by no means drained, and more than ready to ask her brother for a quick bout, felt her enthusiasm abruptly quenched by her father’s description. Sometimes she forgot the price she had paid surviving her own exploits within the realms of Dream, though she remembered again every time she caught sight of her own scarlet mane that in less charitable moments she thought mirrored nothing so much as fresh blood set aflame. The thought always disturbed her, and so she had taken to braiding her hair or containing it in a simple ponytail or bun, comfortably out of sight and forgotten until she faced it once more as she readied for bed. So too, how many times had she entered a sleep so deep she was but a shadow's breadth away from death itself?

  Her father was right. The very life of adventure she craved came at a price, exploring forgotten dreams of ancient civilizations and places lost to legend, reachable only to those able to leave the mundane world just far enough behind so that dreams became reality and reality but a shadow that could all too easily be forgotten. For all that her madcap exploits had feted her with a Delver’s strength, so too it would spell her doom, one day. For all that she was the daughter of a named lord, beloved child of a wonderful household who wanted for nothing, with fields and forests and orchards to her family name, she still found herself feeling trapped and stifled, vast as the Calenbry grounds were, and she craved nothing so much as heading out to embrace further adventures upon the precipice of reality and dream, even knowing that it could very well kill her, memory of her very existence fading as if she had never been.

  “Jess, are you all right? Father didn’t hit you too hard, did he?” Geoffrey asked, gazing at Jess with some concern, his query also earning her a worried look from her father.

  “Are you all right, my daughter? More the fool I, taking your resiliency as license to strike full out in frenzy, as if I was fighting in the borderlands once more.” He shook his head, castigating himself. “Only an oaf and a fool would think there was ever pretext to spar without restraint against his own daughter.”

  “No, father, I’m fine. The blow hardly touched my helmet. I was drawing you in,” she admitted with a sheepish smile, almost feeling bad letting her father know that she had, in fact, been in complete control the entire time, drawing him in, seizing the Vor even as she had offset his hew while simultaneously slamming her blade, gently, upon his breastplate. His blade had smacked the lip of her helmet only in passing, force deflected, the clang being far louder than the force behind the blow. The fact that her frame was now so fiercely saturated with the power of darkest Shadow that an iron mace would probably warp before her skull would crack was a thought she did her best not to dwell upon, already feeling strange and tainted by her forays into realms of living dream.

  Her father flashed her a look of relief and bemusement even as he shook his head. “I should have known. And you so graceful so as to spare me the embarrassment of realizing you had the mastery of me from the very beginning of the bout, till you felt the need to sooth my own anxieties.” His look turned serious. “But still, my daughter, you seem troubled. Tell me, what weighs you down? I do hope it is not worry for your father. Rest assured, though my weathered face might tell a different story, my joints, unlike many men my age, are as resilient as they were in my prime. We come from strong stock, Jessica, and I am no weakling.”

  His daughter smiled, giving a gentle shake of her head. “No, Father. 'Tis not that. And you look as strong and handsome as any man in his twenties! Far handsomer than my brother, I will assure you of that, at least,” she teased, winking at a huffing Geoffrey who immediately started to laugh.

  “Rather, Father, I was reflecting upon earlier words you had voiced, regarding the price paid for a Delver’s strength.” Jess turned her gaze to the massive living fortress of blossoming trees, branches heavy with fruit and nuts, that their grand manor had become. “As much as I reveled in the expeditions into lands strange and bizarre, and indeed, miss those wild flights of adventure as much as anything I can name, I have only to look in the mirror to see the changes they have wrought in me.” Her voice turned soft. “I’ve slept in a slumber near death through both Winter and Summer. My hair is the color of flame, my eyes the color of blood.”

  "Sapphires!" Her brother was quick to assert. "They are the color of gorgeous, exquisite sapphires." His lips curved into a teasing smile. "One of your admirers at the party, Armond I believe his name was? Did want me to convey his compliments, even as I politely rushed everyone out the door that night. And only now do I recall. He left a note and would like to come calling at some point, regretting not having had the chance to reaffirm your acquaintance, what with the chaos of that evening." He gave his suddenly sharp-eyed father a sheepish shrug. "I am sorry I forgot until now, Father. We had a lot going on. And I don't think we need fear. If he had intended any sort of foul play, I seriously doubt he would have been in any shape to leave the party."

  Jess gazed at her feet, wondering what her brother thought of her, to joke of savagery so casually, even if he was absolutely right.

  “That was not appropriate, Geoffrey. Apologize to your sister. You know that there are ramifications to everything we say and do now. I expect you to be far more careful with your words, from this point on."

  “Yes, Father. I’m sorry, Jess. I meant no offense. I only wanted to let you know that your striking appearance has garnered you no shortage of admirers, and is not something to be ashamed of.”

  "It's okay, Geoff," Jess said. "And there is no use hiding it, Father, or giving me that look. Armand is a young noble who was a bit humbled by our first meeting, but proved his mettle when true men were needed. I think he just wants to show me that he's outgrown
early foolishness, and is working hard to show himself to be a man worthy of my respect." Jess smiled. "It's rather sweet, actually. Besides," she shrugged, "were Armond any sort of threat, Geoffrey is right. Humiliation would be the least of his worries."

  Jess’s comment made a suddenly embarrassed Geoff look away.

  “Jessica, there is no need even to jest,” her father said reprovingly. “You know I love you with all my heart and blame you not in the least for the savage reflexes you have garnered, reflexes that we both know mean the difference between life and death in the heat of battle, or in dark realms most of us, thankfully, are never forced to see firsthand.”

  His gaze turned stern, even as he held his daughter close. "And any good diplomat, any noble worth his or her salt, learns to control their impulses, Jess. One must learn to give careful consideration to events as they unfold, not be swayed unduly by the machinations of others, lest you'd be a puppet moving to another's tune, counter to your own best interests. So too, you must learn the rules of diplomacy, that there are degrees of force to be taken in response to threats. If there is no immediate threat of sword or dagger, then other responses may present themselves that are far more suitable than a thrust of the blade to your opponent's heart, such as exile to country estates, or far off posts.”

  Her father flashed a grim smile. “A steep fine can be an amenable solution as well, as you and I both know well, thanks to the actions of one foolish lord who thought to betray our family. Now I have an ally eternally in my pocket, for should evidence of his treachery ever get back to the king, he would indeed be guilty of a hanging offense. Not to mention that our own family coffers are a bit better padded, and even my enemies know that I keep my word once given, for that man lives still, and I am not one to lightly cross.”