Author's Note: Phew. Finally back. Sorry I hadn't updated. I didn't forget. I've just been absent from my laptop for a looooooooooooooooooooong time. It's very depressing for me. But, sad feelings aside, I have brought you the next chapter of Jester's wonderfully fluffy and cheesy saga. Heh. Yeah. So, since you might be impatient because of the last cliffie (if you don't remember what happened, go back a cheesy-chapter and read the last paragraph. Memory refreshment!), I will shut up and let you read. For real. Go. Now. And then review. Or you'll never get any more of the story! Ready? Set? GO!
(By the way, there is some mild implied swearage, friends. Please don't use it in real life. It's just to enhance...stuff.)
Sharp
The sound of a shrieking horse made Jester start awake, arms still around Jane. He felt her jolt awake as well, rolling out of his lap and into a defensive crouch by pure reflex.
Jester's eyes, heavy from exhaustion, took a few seconds to focus properly, but as soon as they did, they locked in on the figure trying to coax the horses into calming down.
"Jane!" He called hoarsely, springing lithely to his feet, exhaustion forgotten.
"I see him!" she replied, as Jester took a deep breath and began sprinting towards the figure.
Calmly, and almost too serenely, the hooded man turned towards him, observing him almost casually and indifferently.
Jester was a meter away, ready to knock the man to the ground, when the intruder finally moved, bringing his gloved arm upwards in a fluid motion. Jester saw it before Jane had even uttured a scream of warning- a swift flash of a silver blade. It was too late for him to stop without colliding into the blade, and so he dove right of the man, who followed his movements. He felt the cold blade slash through the thin cotton tunic effortlessly, like a wave breaking on a rock, and caress his skin. A crimson flower bloomed from his arm onto the white cotton, dark red petals of blood splattering the ground. Jester couldn't help but gasp in shock and pain.
The man regarded him a moment, a gloating sneer on the lower half of his unshaven face, as Jester stumbled and tripped from the surpirse, clutching his arm.
"As I much as I expected," the man said, his voice gravelly and mocking.
Distracted as he was, he almost didn't noticed Jane run at him with a shortsword in each hand, but turned to parry her first blow with the long dagger at the last minute and dodging the next strike.
Jester watched in awe as Jane unleashed a torrent of dual-weaponed attacks on the man, who was lightning quick, a dark flash of a form who moved almost too quick for the eye to follow.
They danced in circles, lunging and parrying and thrusting, dodging and spinning, the clash of metal against metal sonorous and violent, amplified by the stone walls of the cave. Jester noted that the frenzied dance vaguely resembled that of which Jane had practiced with Gunther four days earlier. It felt like a lifetime had passed since he had sat sulking at his window, watching the two squires exchange blows and feeling envious.
But this new dance had a new, wild edge to it, that differentiated it from the one in the muddy practice court. There was a cold iron edge that came with the aggressive slashes, the grunts of exertion and the wary movements. It was rougher, coarser, more volatile and absolutely furious.
The man feinted a strike a Jane with his dagger, but at the same time withdrew his own worn short sword his belt, slashing harder and harder at the redhaired squire. He was clearly her superior in strength, and Jester felt the bile rise in him as he watched the man force Jane backwards, landing blows on her which caused her to wince and even cry out.
Jester pushed himself out of his crouch, wincing at the throbbing sensation in his arm, which was warm and sticky with his blood. Ignoring the wound, he leant over noiselessly, and picked up a piece of wood from the pile of firewood, ignoring the protesting screams from his arm and sore muscles. Hoisting the wood in the air, he took a run at the man, whose back was to him.
With all of his strength, he hit the dark hooded form in the head, a loud, satisfying thunk! resounding throughout the cave. The man fell, dropping his sword, but as he hit the ground he slapped the dirt floor and rolled away from them, landing in a crouch.
"Here!" Jane said sharply, tossing Jester one of the short swords. He fumbled with it, barely managing to get a hold on it with his good arm, and raised it in front of him defensively, once more feeling susceptible and foolish. "Just hack at him if you get a chance. Forget about finess and technique and just slash." Jane ordered.
Jester nodded.
Together, they advanced on the man, circling him. His twisted and turned, trying to keep them both in his line of sight at once, spitting curses under his breath. He aimed a flailing kick at Jester, barely clipping his leg, and Jane took the oppertunity to smash the hilt of her sword against his skull. He fell forwards, half on his hands and knees, half lying flat. One of his hands, bloodied with blade marks, clutched his head where Jane had bashed him.
"What are you going to do, wench? Kill me? Ha! I'd like to see you try." The man panted, his rough voice defiant. Jane pressed the tip of her sword against his throat, tipping his face up to look her directly in the eyes.
"I don't enjoy making small talk with petty thieves who ruin perfect nights by waking me up when I am exhausted and sore, so don't try my patience," she said icily, pressing the point tighter against his throat. "So, if you want to walk away with your right hand intact, you're going to answer some questions,"
Jester grimaced. The punishment for any kind of thievery was the loss of one's right hand, a gruesome and at the same time mild penalty. It applied to both men and women, adults and children alike. The goal was to prevent future crimes, though should a thief already missing a hand be caught, the secondary penalty was a public hanging.
To go through life with the absence of that hand was a mark of humiliation, a cause of ridicule and shame.
Jester squirmed.
The thief growled unintelligably, his eyes downcast in defeat. Jester relaxed, looking back to Jane. She looked up, as well, but jumped as the man made a sudden movement, his fist closing riskily on the blade of the sword in attempts to get it out of her grip. Jane reacted swiftly, twisting her wrist to prevent him from knocking it out of her hands, and pulled her arm backwards. The man let out a grunting cry as the steel blade carved a deep slash into his hand.
"Jester, some rope, please. It seems our 'guest' would prefer to be uncooperative."
Jester thrust a hand into the saddlebag, and withdrew a length of thick rope. Jane took it, and expertly bound the thief's arms to his sides. Her hands ran deftly over his tunic, and withdrew the last of the blades hidden there.
"How cliche...you horse thieves are all so very predictable- and mismatched weapons? Please," she muttered, shaking her head and then straightening. Brushing herself off, she sat down and leaned back against the pile of rubble, crossing one leg over the other and gazing analitically at the man.
"Comfortable?" she asked sweetly.
"Bit**," the thief replied. Jane nodded her head in acknowledgement.
"That's nice," Jane winked at Jester, whose face betrayed his fury at the insults the man was throwing.
How can I just stand by and let this...this scum of a bast*** insult her, he though angrily. Jane, seeing his fury, held up a warning hand.
"Watch carefully. Once you get the way their brains think, these scum are easy to figure out and handle," she whispered to him, too quietly for the man to hear.
"Now, sir, first of all I would like to know your name, if you please?"
"That's none of your business, you-"
Jane raised her eyebrows and looked meaningfully at the sword in her hands.
"I will have you know that I am a knight of the King's guard, and so it is very much my business."
"Hell, and I'm bonny Prince Cuthbert! No! I'm King Caradoc himself! God's teeth, who ever heard of a girl knight?" The man snorted. Jester clenched his hands into fists, placing them behind his back to keep from flying at the man and strangling him for his filthy mouth and disrespect.
"By order of the Knights of Kippernia Castle, under the rulership of King Caradoc the Younger, you are hereby commanded to state your name," Jane said with authority. The man sighed and rolled his eyes.
"Now that I think of it, I think that I might've heard a rumour about a girl who was a dragon rider up at the castle. Thought it was just a rumour, though," he grunted, "Very well, wench. I'll play your game of make believe, with fairies and dragons and fiddlesticks. For a while, that is.
"To answer your question, I'm known as Léon Gallais, also christened 'Le Grimoire' by some of them more gullible folk. There, happy, you little-" He glared icily at Jane.
"Very well, Léon," Jane said, "You are hereby charged with attempted robbery, and for harming two members of his majesty's royal court."
"Ooh. I'm terrified. A little hothead of a girl and her lapdog," he spat.
"Show some respect, cur," Jester spat, struggling to keep his language mild and the rage from colouring his voice a burning crimson. "Or you will answer to me!" Léon grinned, seeing through Jester's attempt to hide his anger.
"Come on, boy. Pick up your blade and take a swing. Let's have a go, then. What've you to fear from old Léon, eh?"
Jester hesitated, looking from the man to Jane and back again. His eyes burned blackly, betraying his longing to wring the man's neck, to make him swallow his words and to wish he had never been born. Jester wished that he could beat some sense into this Léon, to right him, and yet to also make him suffer. Jester wished that he could be more like... Sir Ivon, or Gunther, even, at least for a moment, just so he could teach this scum something he wouldn't forget. And prove that he was worthy of Jane.
Besides, Jester tried to reason against his more sensible half, and yet also knowing that that was not his true purpose, this can't be the first of the man's crimes, especially if he has a reputation in the area. It wouldn't be the last, unless...unless someone took the innitiative when it presented itself...
"Jester," Jane's voice was a low, warning sound. Jester scowled, feeling cross. What justice could they serve out here if they were to leave the man- they were a day's ride from the nearest town, and there would not be soldiers and officials prancing round the foothills.
"Be quiet, wench, let him decide for himself," the man barked. Jane frowned, and shook her head at Jester.
"Jane..." Jester said, his eyes hard as he gazed at the man, who grinned back wickedly, "I'm really, very sorry, but I have to do this." He set his mouth, thinking how much he had changed in even a day out of castle walls.
"Jester, NO! Come off it!"
"Come on, lad, show Léon what you've got!"
"JESTER!" Jane leapt to her feet, but Jester ignored her, holding his shortsword in front of him. He swung clumsily, and Léon threw himself into a roll to dodge it. Jane lunged for Jester's arm, but he shook her off, watching warily as Léon landed on his knees, wobbling slightly as he pushed himself into a crouch.
"D'you wanna maybe untie me first? It would make this easier. I promise to give you a fair enough fight."
"Jester, stop!" Jane shouted again, grabbing his arm, and reaching for the shortsword. As he struggled to keep his hold, she knocked it out of his hands, and if clattered noisily at the feet of the thief. A single, silent glance passed between highwayman and lady knight- one exultant and the other horrified. Léon grinned blackly, throwing himself towards the sword. He pressed his rope bonds against the blade, grinning as they were cut through.
Jane gave a frustrated cry, diving towards the man. His hands now free to balance him out, Léon threw a spiralling kick at her, which connected solidly with her stomach. She grunted as she was thrown backwards, the contents of her dinner surfacing noxiously from the blow.
Jester stood very still, horrified, as he watched her crash onto the ground and roll into the pile of rubble where she had sat moments earlier. Small pebbles clattered downwards.
"I'll see you later, lad. No time to play with children today, enjoyable though it may be," Léon winked. "Oh, and if you want my advice, as long as she isn't wanting to kill you when she comes round, you and her should..." He grinned wickedly, as Jester gaped, and then Léon turned on his heel and vanished like a wraith into the underbrush.
Jester turned around, and felt his heart leap in fear at Jane's figure still lying on the ground.
"Jane!" He called, falling beside her and turning her face to his.
She had little cuts and scrapes on her face, including a few blossoming violet bruises. On her arms, there were the slashes of a blade which cut through her shirt and onto her skin beneath. Jester looked back to her face, and gave her a light shake. She mumbled something indistinct, and he sighed in relief that there had not been any serious or fatal damage done.
A sharp jab of pain hit him heavily, and he winced as the wound in his left arm began to throb violently. He sat back clutching it. The wound was not extremely deep, but it was not just a surface scratch, either. Jester scowled, as a fresh wave of pain doused him angrily.
"This is...ugh!"
"Stupid..."
He looked down swiftly, as Jane glared up at him almost groggily.
"Yeah, that guy was," Jester said, ripping off a strip of cloth from his tunic and pressing it against the slash in his arm. "I'm glad you're okay, though. I was scared for a minute."
"No, that's not what I meant," Jane said, slowly pushing herself into a sitting position against the rocks, putting one hand to her head. "I meant that what you did was really stupid."
Jester turned to look at her.
"Wh-?"
"I mean, look! Why did you have to do that? What did you just gain by that? What were you trying to prove?" She groaned, eyes shut as she massaged her head.
"Excuse me, Jane? But..."
"But what?" she shouted, her eyes snapping open, emerald fire. "Jester, you could have gotten us both killed! Don't try to be...to be... Gunther or something! It's not helping!"
"You think I'm trying to be GUNTHER?!?!" Jester said.
"Yes! What do you call that, if not trying to be Gunther? You let petty remarks get to you, to build up your ire. Don't you realize that that was what he wanted? He was goading you, trying to get you to fight him! And now we just lost him. What were you thinking?"
"I was trying to protect your honor! I couldn't let him speak to you like that!"
"Ha!" She laughed hollowly, "In case you hadn't noticed, Jester, I kind of gave up any social respect when I decided to become a knight. Being called names is rather trivial to me! But now, look at you! You're hurt! Stupid, stupid boy!"
"Jane, I-"
Jane glared at him, drowning his words with a veridian gaze.
"Well...let me help you...you're hurt, too..." He finished.
"And if you hadn't been trying to be Gunther, and trying to be brave, maybe I wouln't be!!!"
"Does this mean you'd prefer Gunther over me?"
Jane exploded, emotions tumbling over. "MAYBE I WOULD!"
Jester froze.
"I...if ...that's how you want it then, Jane. Your...yes, your happiness comes first. No one has to know that any of...erm... this has happened."
"Don't say that."
Jester shook his head.
"It's obviously what you want, Jane."
"No...I-" She swore vicously. "You know what? Let's just get moving. We can talk about this later." Her tone was sharp and final, and Jester felt himself nod, blinking back the tears that were fighting to spill over.
He would always remember to put her happiness and wishes first from now on, even if she didn't care. Even if she wanted Gunther instead. Even if she was furious with him.
Even if she never spoke to him again.
Because he had a feeling that their friendship had just taken an angry blow.
Author's End Note: So, do you want any more story? If you do, click the little green "REVIEW" button down there. Thank you!!!