The Protector of Esparia (The Annals of Esparia Book 1)

by Lisa M. Wilson

  A soft meow and a wet lick at her hand brought a measure of relief. “Sneakers.” She reached for the animal and stroked his soft fur. Sneakers meowed again and rubbed his head against her hand. His strong purr calmed her, brought her thoughts back into focus. “I…I’m okay,” she said to the tabby, and releasing him, snuggled back under her comforter The clock on her nightstand read 3:00 am.

  Jessica tossed and turned. Sleep came in snatches that were measured in minutes by the bedside clock…3:15…3:25…3:42. Even her comfortable bed felt hard and uninviting, as if she were lying on a concrete floor. “This is ridiculous.” She rolled over to peek, for the fourth time, at the glowing readout, but it was obscured.

  Smoke? Smoke! Smoke so thick it obscured everything. Her heart jumped and she instinctively scrambled to her feet. “Dad!” She took three steps toward the door before realizing it was not there. Nothing was there. For the second time that night, her room had vanished. She waved her hand through the white, enveloping cloud. No, this wasn’t smoke. Thin, moisture-less vapor swirled in every direction, shrouding the world around her. The air held no humidity, which should have been present with a watery mist. There were no choking fumes that would have come with fire. This odd haze held neither cold nor warmth. No smell. No taste. So light and gentle, if she closed her eyes her other senses would detect nothing.

  The only illumination came from her very person, a weak glow, giving a few feet of visibility. This phenomenon did not surprise her. After all, she reasoned, dreams have many odd elements and certainly, for a second time that night, she was dreaming. Slowly, she turned a full circle, trying to peer through the fog, but nothing opened to her view. Even her feet and the firmness on which she stood evaded scrutiny. Once again, she passed her hand through the mist.

  With the sensation of being in a sealed tomb, Jessica stood in the pervasive silence. Unsure of the passage of time and with no change in her environment, she finally decided to move. Unable to see the ground through the fog, her first step was tentative. When nothing happened, she took a second step and inched herself forward. She did not travel very far before catching the low vibration of voices. Turning toward the sounds, she carefully continued on.

  A strange urgency to hear the conversation propelled her. However, with each step that brought her nearer, the haze thickened. It became oppressive. Sadness swept over her. As if in slow motion, she pushed her way through the sorrow-laden fog. She trudged onward, fighting back grief. The effort was exhausting. With three more strenuous steps she could finally make out their words and she fell to her knees.

  “They are dead sir, every one of them,” a gravel-voiced man moaned. “Even the boys were murdered. I arrived too late with my warning. I watched the soldiers drag each body to the kitchen well and throw it in. From my hiding place I recognized all four.” A sob escaped him. “All is lost now…lost. It’s only a matter of time before he searches for you. He will destroy everything and everyone who dares oppose him.” Despair filled the man’s voice and Jessica felt pity pierce through her own heartache.

  “No, Quirt.” the other man corrected. “All is not lost.” Deep and resonating, this voice inspired trust.

  “But, with Haesom’s death, and his family, there’s no one left.”

  “We have one chance.”

  “Wh…What?”

  “Not all the Saylon’s are dead.” The heavy sorrow eased just a little.

  Jessica inched a little closer to where she thought the men were. She tried to see the speakers, but the thick mist prevented her.

  “It…It’s so hard to believe! I heard rumors, foolish whispers, but…”

  “Believe it, old friend. Graesion’s family was not killed, but sent far away.”

  “Where? Why didn’t the Lady return? Segal’s been dead for over fifty years?”

  “Only recently has Anton found the means for a return journey. This is ancient magic, volatile and dangerous.”

  “An heir of Graesion’s lives.” Jessica strained to hear Quirt’s whisper. “What if he refuses to help us, to take his rightful place?” Despair crept into his voice again. “The danger…Protector Haesom had an entire army and defeat still came. Does he know his heritage?”

  “I do not know that answer. As with all Protectors, this one too will have to choose whether or not to take the position and all that goes with it. Undoubtedly by now,” there was a slight pause, “the successor has discovered some unique gifts, but not a full understanding of their true value, higher skills will need developing at Ramadine.”

  “Do you think Daenon suspects?” At the mention of this name, hate replaced Jessica’s sorrow.

  “No, and this is our greatest advantage. If he thought for one moment another Protector existed, he would be relentless in his search. Family is nothing to him. My nephew even wants my head.”

  There was a deep, tired sigh. “Quirt, it has been a long day and you have traveled far to bring me this sad news. You must get some rest, for tomorrow I am sending you on another mission.” The tone of his voice became firmer. “This fight we will win, so do not be discouraged. Now, I must contact Anton. We have much to do, and our time is short.”

  The glow around Jessica dimmed. In the distance, the rumble of a faint, familiar purr caught her attention. Sneakers. Gradually, the purr grew louder and sharper, bringing with it a pervasive weariness. Jessica could no longer sit upright and she lay down. Closing her eyes, she settled into a deep slumber.

  *

  The morning sun streamed through the bedroom window. Jessica sat up and rubbed her face. She shuddered. The dreams from the night before came flooding back. Surely they were brought on by the grisly surgery she had helped with at the veterinarian’s office, she reasoned. Yes, that made sense.

  Hopping out of bed, she ran to the window. The morning sky was a rich shade of blue sprinkled with high wispy clouds. She slid the glass pane open. A warm breeze blew in, bringing with it the smell of lavender from the flower bed below.

  Pulling on a creamy yellow robe, she noticed her mother’s picture frame on the floor beside the dresser, photo side down. “Sneakers!” she scolded. Gently she turned it over, hoping that the glass was not broken. Haesom’s face stared up at her. She froze. The resemblance between this dreamed up friend and her mom was uncanny. She blinked several times. As she did, Haesom’s image faded and her mother’s came into focus. With a shaking hand, she put the frame back on the dresser, then hurried from the room.

  Jessica bounded down the stairs. In the kitchen she found her dad seated in his usual place at the glass table. Clean-shaven and dressed in a brown suit with matching tie, he appeared completely immersed in the morning paper, the Spokane Spokesman-Review. Knowing the sound of her feet on the tile floor would bring him out of his inner world, she threw her weight into each step. A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth and his gray eyes lit up.

  “Good morning, Dad.” She kissed him on the cheek, her long, red hair sweeping across the top of his head.

  “Good morning, Jess. It’s a big day today.”

  “Yeah, I can’t believe it’s here. After twelve looong years, I’m actually graduating.” She reached for a sack of bagels on the counter.

  “I thought you’d sleep in today; after that late night surgery.”

  “No, I’m supposed to meet Melissa and run in an hour. I also had a pretty disturbing dream last night so it’s definitely time to get up.”

  “Really?” John lowered his paper. “How disturbing?”

  “Well, I’ve told you about that family I dream about periodically; the one where the dad looks a lot like mom.”

  He nodded. “The Saylon’s. The relatives on your mom’s side that your subconscious dreamed up.”

  “Yeah….well…they died last night. Murdered, or assassinated. There were bodies all over and blood and guts…it was awful.”

  She tore off a piece of blueberry bagel and popped it into her mouth.

  “Dreams are funny things, Jess. M
aybe that surgery affected you more than you thought.”

  “That’s what I figured.” She considered telling him about the mist dream and seeing Haesom’s face in her mom’s photo, but decided against it. He would only worry. Turning back to the counter, she grabbed a small glass from the cupboard above. “Now remember, graduation begins at five. I have to go early, so you,” she shook the glass at him for emphasis, “need to be home by four for pictures.”

  “Yes, yes.” He turned back to the paper.

  With the glass in one hand and bagel in the other, she sat down beside him. “Well, I took a few precautions. I talked to your secretary yesterday.”

  He looked up. “You did what?”

  “Let’s face it. Punctuality isn’t your strong point. She promised to keep the major headaches off your desk until tomorrow. All you have going today are some interviews or something.”

  Sighing, he refolded the paper. “Okay, I get the message.” Leaning over, he kissed Jessica on her forehead. He gave his tie one last straightening, then clipped on his I.D. tag. Dr. John Ernshaw, MD; Director Medical Services.

  Jessica observed her father tenderly. “You know, Dad, you really are in great shape for a guy your age. If you’d let your hair grow out a little…no one would ever guess you were almost fifty.”

  “Almost fifty!” he rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me old before my time! Forty-seven isn’t fifty…and what about my hair? I happen to like my military cut.” His slight staccato laugh made Jessica grin.

  “You’ve been out two years, Colonel, live a little.”

  “I’ll think about it.” He pulled his car keys from his pant’s pocket, gave her a wink and walked out the side door.

  Jessica bolted after him. “’Thinking about it’ always means ‘no’”, she hollered from the doorstep. “Just be on time tonight.”

  “Always, Jess. Always.”

  After finishing her breakfast, Jessica cleared the table and tidied up the kitchen. While she was wiping off the table, the side door opened and a sweet-faced woman in her late sixties walked in. Here stood the reason the kitchen, as well as the rest of the house, preserved its good order. The owner of Barts Professional Cleaners had just come to pay a visit.

  Sophia Bartlowski reminded Jessica of a Christmas picture she had seen of Mrs. Claus, short and pleasantly plump. She removed a worn straw hat from her snowy white head, then placed it, along with a bulging purse, on the granite counter top.

  With a warm smile on her face, Sophia turned to her young friend and chirped with a slight polish accent, “Good morning, Jessie dear.” She slid one arm around the girl’s waist and gave her an affectionate squeeze. “Is your father gone already? He works such long hours.”

  “Yeah, he’s gone and I warned him to come home early.” Jessica rinsed the dishcloth under the tap and placed it on the counter. “How come you’re here and not one of you maids? It’s not cleaning day it it?”

  “I wanted to see you myself. Tonight’s the big night. We’ll all be there. Rachel’s been counting the days. My granddaughter’s very excited about being your roommate this fall.”

  “What would I do without Rach? You have no idea how I’m looking forward to the ‘U’.”

  Sophia smiled, a twinkle of mischief in her brown eyes. “Since you’ll be off on your own, how about a cooking lesson this morning?”

  “Oooh, no.” Jessica gave a hearty laugh. “So that’s why your’re here. Good try, Sophia, but you know how that stovetop hates me. So does the blender, the mixer, and the oven, but I think the microwave and I get along okay.”

  “I had to try. I promised your Grandma Gaylee I’d make an effort to teach you more than just noodle soup.”

  “But I like noodle soup.”

  Sophia chuckled. “I think while I’m here I’ll tackle that front room closet for you. It’s quiet at home today and I need a project.”

  “Well, okay. But be careful. The closet isn’t a priority.”

  “Yes, I know, but my home’s in good order and your closet’s been bothering me since Christmas.”

  A soft meow caught Jessica’s attention. Sneakers sat patiently by the kitchen door. “No, you can’t bring me a mouse today. You know I hate those things, but thanks anyway.” She opened the door and the big tomcat bounded outside.

  The sound of Sophia humming an old polish tune drifted into the kitchen. It was a happy sound that made Jessica smile. She glanced at the calendar next to the kitchen phone. The gladness faded when she read the current date. Ten years ago on Saturday. One trip to the grocery store and their lives changed forever. Maybe that was why she had dreamed of death. “Oh, Mom, I miss you so much,” she whispered. Now she had only her father and her grandmother left. Thank goodness for Sophia and family. She left the kitchen and walked down the hall toward the stairs.

  At the end of the hall, in the front entryway, Sophia was busily cleaning out the coat closet. Jessica paused. “What’s Jacob doing today?” she asked.

  “Hubby’s off to a small remodeling job.” Sophia frowned at a stray glove in her hand.

  “I’m glad he’s better.”

  “So am I. I don’t know what we would have done without your father.” She smiled at finding the glove’s mate. “He never sent us a bill. I can never do enough to repay him for his kindness.”

  Jessica smiled. “That’s exactly how we feel about you. I feel spoiled with your maid service keeping the house so clean. And wow! From what Grandma says, I could be speaking Polish right now.”

  “Escaping without Gaylee would have been like leaving my sister. I’ve decided to have a big party in August, to celebrate our fortieth year here in the United States.”

  “I love parties. If you need help planning, just let me know.” The grandfather clock next to the closet chimed. “Oh, no! Is it eight already?!” Jessica glanced at the timepiece.

  “School?”

  “No, my run! Melissa and Clarice are going to kill me if I’m late again.”

  “Like father, like daughter.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Plans

  Jessica plodded up the driveway and shuffled through the kitchen door. 8 am was late for a run, but her friends wanted to sleep late and everyone forgot how hot June mornings could get. After two hours in the morning heat, she was dog-tired. She went straight to the sink, turned on the cold water, and leaned under the faucet to take a drink. She felt her muscles screaming for a cool shower and then fifteen minutes of relaxation in the built-in sauna downstairs. Strains of Elvis Presley came from the stereo system in the living room.

  “I’m back,” she called as she headed for the basement stairs.

  Sophia poked her head into the hall. “Hello dear. I’ve just finished the closet. Did you have a nice run?”

  “Yeah, I did and now it’s sauna time.”

  Sophia frowned. “You be careful. You know I don’t trust that hot box. Someone’s going to get hurt in there.”

  Once downstairs, Jessica flipped on the heat to the dry sauna before slipping into the bathroom next to it. Shower finished and towel in place, she filled a plastic pitcher with water. Balancing the pitcher while clutching the towel, she glanced at the sauna thermometer before entering. It read one hundred sixteen.

  The initial blast of dry heat eradicated the lingering muscle tension that the shower failed to relieve. She poured a little water from the pitcher onto the hot stones, then sat on the two-man bench opposite the heating unit to watch the water droplets dance and sizzle across the rocks before exploding in bursts of steam energy. After sprinkling on more water, she stretched out and lazily gazed at the mist curling up to the ceiling. The first few wisps vaporized into the warm air. However, within a few moments the wisps condensed into puffs, then the puffs swelled, like marshmallows roasting over warm coals. Amazed, she stood up and reached out to touch the small clouds. A tiny spark flashed from her finger tip. The clouds exploded. Hundreds of pea sized balls shot around the room. They doubled in size then doubled aga
in and again. A billowy fog quickly filled the closet sized room. No longer moist, it swirled thicker and thicker around her. Within moments it obscured the cedar walls.

  In the thickening mist all external light faded, but her body glowed, emanating enough light to see a few feet in each direction. “Unbelievable!” she muttered. But last night was just a dream!

  A low vibration, directly behind her, filtered through the haze. Turning, she felt for the sauna bench and walls, but they were no longer there. She took a few steps. There was nothing to hinder her movement, so she hurried toward the sound. Two men were speaking. Like the night before, she felt an overwhelming urgency to listen to the conversation. .

  “Larone, I’ve got it! It’s all so simple now.” A man boomed in a baritone that was obviously unaccustomed to whispering.

  “You have finished the calculations already?” Jessica immediately recognized Larone’s deep and resonating voice.

  “Yep, I have,” came the thundering reply. “Alderic’s manuscript had the missin’ part, the persite factor. I’ve wasted fifty years goin’ over ‘n over Tiard’s incantations, not knowin’ that white persite was the other Transmirian key. Alderic’s writings fit like a puzzle with Tiard’s. I needed both together. Blue sends ya off and white brings ya back. Did ya know these guys were brothers?”

  “No.” There was a gentle laugh. “How appropriate, that two brothers unravel their work. There is so much more here, now that we understand their dual writing…but that is for another day. Tell me what you have learned.”

  “Normally spirals are tiny; poppin’ up from time to time. They’re pressure outlets for the Transmirian Sea. For instance, when ya lay somethin’ down and it just disappears…No one took it, it isn’t misplaced, it’s just gone…into thin air. Well, a right turning spiral opened up and sucked the thing in, transforming it into an energy signature floating on the astral plane. That much we knew from Alderic’s manuscript. The new information is from Tiard. He writes about left turning spirals. They open up, reanimating the energy, and spit things out, no harm done. Green persite makes the spiral bigger, lots bigger. And a map, enchanted with the right coordinates, gives the spiral a course to follow to where ever we want it to go. You figured that one out, but this confirms it. So, blue persite forces a right handed spiral spin, and white persite forces it left. The right transports one way and the left spin brings ya back.” He chuckled, a low rumble that made Jessica smile. “We just got to keep our persite colors straight.”