“You didn’t believe me?”
“Yeah, I did, but only because I could do the math. Fifty years on earth, plus your age when you met Sophia, but you sure don’t look it.”
“Well, John,” she yawned again, “I’ll live to be at least two hundred, probably even longer. Play your cards right, and you too will live well beyond your normal life span.” She soon fell asleep.
John tried to clear his mind, but the day’s events refused to file neatly away. He reviewed the few facts he knew. He was sitting on Edia, and Ragus circled overhead. Gaylee, with her husband Graesion, once ruled Esparia. Hmm, she called herself a Protector. He reviewed the history Gaylee related during their walk.
“My people have lived in peace for centuries,” her words echoed in his memory. “We were blindsided by Segal. We thought that banishment would be the end of him. In the past, our laws were sufficient to control any would-be dictators. Edian people are, by nature, more peaceful than those of Earth, with the exception of the desert tribes of Demar, but they never bothered us. They kept to themselves until Segal’s banishment. My uncle wasn’t just power hungry, he was truly evil. He destroyed anyone he even thought could oppose him. He enslaved thousands, butchered men, women and children in his quest for power. Graesion should never have banished him, he should have condemned him to death.”
At last, sleep crept up on John. He lay down and mulled the last statement over. “I agree,” he decided.
*
They had walked ever northward for nearly four hours when John asked, “Gaylee, you do know where you’re going, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she laughed. “There’s a hoffle…well, was a hoffle, but is now a large town or tiern actually, there’s two new words for you, several more filons north of here. It’s called Ider Hoffle. The people who live there are all soldiers, warriors. They train constantly; it’s a source of pride with them. The elite of the elite. It was with their help that Graesion defeated and banished Segal the first time. Ten years later, when Segal attacked again, a garrison of three hundred Ider warriors was stationed at Saylon Dorsett, my home. Those brave men and women, along with regular soldiers, were the reason Graesion held Segal as long as he did, allowing Shallenon and me to escape.”
“Maybe we can bargain for some transportation there. This walking is too slow; we need to get to Ramadine.”
“Um…John, there’s one more thing I need to tell you about my world.” He raised an eyebrow. “Technologically speaking, unless there have been dramatic changes since I left, Esparia is much like Earth if you combine the Roman and Renaissance eras. We do have steam power and solar power, we use natural pressure for indoor plumbing and running water, and we have moveable type printing presses. However, we do not have oil-based power or electrical power. It’s been like this for thousands of years.”
“No cars? No computers?”
She shook her head.
“Then how could Anton harness a black spiral if your science is so primitive?”
“I didn’t say it was primitive,” she defended. “I said we don’t use those types of power. This may sound odd, but my people are almost defiant in their resistance to change, even if that change would be for their betterment. The Protectors have had no good reason to advance things. Life on Edia is simple. To be honest, I found that modern Earth living gave me a headache, though I did enjoy air-conditioning. Many of Earth’s advances have come as a direct result of war and famine. We haven’t had war for millennia, that is, until Segal and Daenon came along. Also, the soil here is rich, yielding an abundance of fruits, vegetables and grains. No one goes hungry.
“Anyway, for some reason, my family genes produce people who can harness the power of Edia. My uncle Anton has a natural gift when it comes to understanding the laws of physics, much like your Leonardo de Vinci. But unlike de Vinci, who only dreamed of fantastic twentieth century inventions, Anton has the magical,” John groaned at the word, “ability to make his visions a reality. This is the science of the fifth dimension, or Expanse of Gonta. Your scientists understand four dimensions, but they have yet to understand the fifth one. Don’t take anything for granted here, our science is much more advanced than you think, and our magic is powerful. The two are closely intertwined. There are powers that some individuals hold which defy all logic. Larone is another case in point.” Her tone was firm, almost commanding.
“All right, I’ll reserve final judgment until I’ve been here a while. So, if there’s no train or bus, maybe we could buy a horse.”
“And what are we going to barter with?”
“I am a physician, dear lady. Do not forget. Maybe someone could use a good doctor.”
“You’re right. There aren’t many healers in Esparia, since disease is almost unheard of. However, broken bones and such are not uncommon. You have a valuable skill, and I’m sure it can be used.”
John took the lead when the dandleberry bushes thickened and their path became more laborious. They walked in comfortable silence, the soft ground muffling their footsteps. He marveled at the strange world around him and wondered once again if he would ever miss Earth. He was grateful Gaylee was with him. She seemed confident in her knowledge of the land and the people. If Esparians were as slow to embrace change as she indicated, then things would not have changed since her leaving fifty years earlier. He also enjoyed his motherin-law’s company. Gaylee was one of the few people who John could speak frankly with and not offend. Their relationship consisted of mutual respect and admiration.
By habit, he glanced at his watch for the third time that day. Still on his wrist, the watch remained a gentle reminder of Earth. If the science here was as good as Gaylee claimed, then maybe there was someone at Ramadine who could fix it.
With Gaylee in mind, John chose the easiest path possible. The dandleberry bushes grew fuller and taller in this section of the forest, with fewer ripening berries. When he parted a particularly full-leafed set of branches, a horse neighed. Uncertain of their security, he turned to Gaylee with a finger to his lips and motioned for her to crouch down beside him. “Heard something,” he whispered. “Tell me if they’re friend or foe.”
Gingerly, he moved two branches so they both could peer through. Crossing their line of vision were several black uniformed men. John counted five in all, heavily armed and dressed head to foot in black save a red belt on one who rode slightly ahead.
Silently the men passed by, all five inspecting the ground, diligently looking for something. John and Gaylee hardly breathed. They waited a full half hour before moving from their place of hiding. “Who were they?” John whispered, concerned the men might still be able to hear him.
“I have no idea, but they felt dangerous.” She shivered. “I can still sense their malevolence. All I can tell you is they weren’t Esparian.” She wrinkled her brow. “They must be Demarian. Daenon’s men.”
“Well, whoever they were, they were searching for something or someone.”
“I’ll feel much safer when we reach Ider Hoffle.” Gaylee sounded worried.
John nodded. He retrieved the pistol from the bag, loaded it, then slipped it through his belt.
When the sun began its descent in the sky, John thought about finding shelter for the evening. He was about to suggest stopping when the forest abruptly ended. Directly in front of them lay a beautiful tiern. A four-foot high wall made of polished, burnt-orange and creamy white stones ran the outer perimeter. The land between the forest edges and stonewall was cleared of all natural foliage and planted with soft green grass. John estimated it to be three football fields wide.
“I assume this is Ider Hoffle.”
“Yes.” Gaylee put her cape on and pulled the hood up over her head. After tying it snuggly under her chin, she tucked the few, still visible hairs in around the edges.
“What are you doing?”
“Red hair is uncommon among my people. Brownish-red and strawberry blond are not rare, but flaming red, my color, Jessica’s color, oddly enough, only runs in
my family, the Liedian line. Unlike your world, where color can be acquired in any shade from a bottle, my family color is natural and very unique. I’m not ready to announce my arrival just yet, so I’m taking precautions.”
She glanced at the gun at his waist. “You’ll want to put the pistol away. We’ll be safe here, so you won’t need it.”
“I feel better with it close by.”
“I understand, but that’s a weapon unheard of on Edia. Remember, I told you gun powder hasn’t been invented here, so unless you want the responsibility of introducing new technology to my world, you’d better hide it in the bag.”
“New technology, huh? All right, you win.” He quickly zipped the loaded gun in the bag. “What about a zipper? Is that new technology too?”
“As a matter of fact it is, but it’s definitely the lesser of two evils.”
The bright colors and cleanliness of the large town made a deep impression on John. Not a speck of trash littered the street. All of the buildings were in excellent repair, and the air smelled clean and fresh. From the decorative wall surrounding the tiern to the pink cobblestone streets, Ider Hoffle was a living rainbow. Gaylee showed the way through broad avenues lined with light yellow, soft orange and gentle lavender stone buildings. Wide, delicately etched marble arches punctuated the major street intersections, and small, green parks flourished on every block. She pointed out several impressive theatres, her favorite one being made of deep aqua polished stone, its front columns reaching a full three stories high. Most of the buildings had pitched, light blue metal roofs, reminding John of huge mirrors as they reflected the sun’s rays.
“I’ve never seen metal roofs that color before,” he commented.
“It’s Palium.”
“Palium?”
“Yes. It’s very pliable in its natural state, so its usage is quite extensive. Depending on how it’s refined, Palium has multiple uses. Physicians use it to stitch torn flesh, rope makers weave it into thin cable strong enough to heft several oxen at once, yet light enough a child could carry one hundred feet of it with ease, even weavers make it into cloth. Long thin strands are like sharp wire, but woven together, at right angles, they bond in such a way as to become feathery soft.”
Partway into the tiern, they turned onto a major boulevard where shops, both petite and major, offered all manner of goods and services. Several open-air markets, some still conducting business in the twilight, had elaborate displays of fresh produce. Curious, John stopped for a moment to examine a hairy, green, diamond-shaped food. “Palanto,” Gaylee offered from beside him. “Quite sweet, and wonderful as a jam.”
She pointed out numerous public restrooms and drinking fountains at different intersections along the thoroughfare. Down side streets John glimpsed brightly colored homes with neatly trimmed yards and flourishing gardens. Children played inside white lattice fences, their laughter adding harmony to the city rhythm. The smell of baking filled the air, making John’s stomach grumble several times.
People were dressed as colorfully as the ornamental buildings they lived in. Bright colored cloth draped and twisted into men’s robes and women’s gowns; however, loose fitting pantaloons, flowing shirts, and tighter fitting tunics attired the majority of both sexes. On their feet they wore laced-up sandals, slip-on clogs, soft-soled moccasins, or shined boots, ranging in height from the ankle to the knee. The colors of the foot-wear ranged throughout the rainbow spectrum as well. Upon horse or in wooden buggy, on foot or crude scooter, the bare headed people of Ider Hoffle laughed and talked, shopped and sold. The feeling of camaraderie made John envious. “Does everyone know each other? Pretty big city for that.”
Gaylee smiled. “Remember, John, you’re in Esparia. You’ll find the people are naturally friendly. There’s little reason to be afraid of one’s neighbor here. There are criminals, but very few. As I said, Edians are by nature a far less warlike people than those of Earth.” As if to confirm her words, two men on horseback smiled and nodded when they passed the newcomers. Periodically, other villagers gave them friendly acknowledgement. It took a full hour from the time they entered the tiern for the two pilgrims to reach the central square.
Though not uncommonly tall by earth standards, at six foot two inches John stood at least a half head taller than every man he saw in Ider Hoffle, making him feel uncomfortable. “Are all Esparians short?”
“No,” Gaylee laughed, a sedate, yet mirth-filled sound. “Ider Hoffle is uncommon. The people here are quite closed about marrying out of the hoffle, so the gene pool is not diverse. If you’ll notice, no one is staring at you because of your height. The citizens are used to seeing tall men and women who come for the Military Academy. It’s just that none live here in the hoffle.”
They made their way to a pink stone bench next to a small, bubbling fountain and sat down, weary from the day’s journey. Four fountains adorned the spacious square, each with two elongated benches flanking it.
“Are you hungry?” John asked.
“Yes, but be as nonchalant as you can when you unzip that thing. We don’t want to draw attention.”
John grinned mischievously. “This zipper could make me a rich man, Gaylee.” He opened the bag only as far as necessary to extract some dried food. “MRE’s might attract notice. Here, have a granola bar.”
After a few minutes of people watching, John said, “I’ve noticed a lot of weapons. Do the people always carry swords and daggers? Makes me wish I had my big game knife I just bought.”
“I told you, this is a warrior center. Carrying weapons is a source of pride with them. And trust me, every person you see knows how to use them.”
“I can use a knife, too. So, what now?”
Before Gaylee could answer, a commotion, coming from what seemed to be another main thoroughfare at the far end of the square, interrupted their conversation. As if on queue, people poured into the large plaza from every direction. John rose up in surprise, Gaylee followed. Those in the gathering crowd appeared agitated and worried. Able to gaze over the sea of heads, John was unexpectedly grateful for his uncommon height. Two young men on horses rode onto the square at the opposite end. Both were bruised, bloodied and poorly bandaged. Even from a distance, John could see they were in bad shape.
The young men stopped at the fountain furthest from John and Gaylee. It was obvious by their uniforms and weapons, they were soldiers. Helped from their horses to one of the stone benches flanking the fountain, the two stood tottering side by side.
John’s attention momentarily diverted to a petite blond woman standing next to the taller of the two boys. Tears rolled down her face. She held his hand in both of hers. A hush fell over the crowd when this taller boy spoke. His voice sounded weak and the listeners quieted even further. No one moved. John’s physician eyes did not miss the fact the young man put a great deal of effort into keeping himself from collapsing. The smaller boy also fought to stay on his feet. Several hands went up to support him.
“I have come to give my report,” the boy began ceremoniously. John thought of a young Marine.
“I’ve come from Saylon Dorsett.” John felt Gaylee go rigid next to him. He glanced her way. Her jaw muscles were tight, her eyes fixed on the reporting youth.
“That’s your home, right?” he whispered. She nodded.
“I bring grievous news,” the youth continued. “The High Protector, Lord Haesom, is dead.” A collective gasp came from the crowd. “Every member of the Protector’s family is dead. So are the Assistant Protector and every Grand Council member who arrived early, ninety in all. Our legion of a thousand men, a third from this hoffle, is dead, save four, Rembert the archer and my Uncle Cordon who are, at this time, reporting to Healer Larone, and Jeema here beside me, and myself.”
A moan rippled through the people. Many men and women openly wept. Others stood silent, their stunned faces reflecting the pain of their emotions. “We were attacked by Daenon and his army of Elitet. An unknown hand betrayed us. We held for five
days…they took no prisoners.”
A young woman next to John sobbed. A grim-faced man tried to comfort her. “No. No, this can’t be,” a deep voice from behind whispered. Gaylee let her own silent tears fall. “The four of us who survived did so because we were trapped under the bodies of our fallen comrades,” the soldier explained. “That is my report.”
He no sooner finished when both young men collapsed. The blond woman caught the boy who reported. Automatically, John rushed forward. “I’m needed,” he shouted to Gaylee. He tried to fight his way through the crowd to the wounded soldiers, but he did not get far. The people were too thickly grouped.
“My companion is a healer, let him through,” Gaylee commanded in a loud voice that quieted the distressed hofflers around her. A stunned hush spread through the crowd and her authoritative voice rang out again. “I said, let the tall one through! He is a skilled healer.” This time a corridor opened. The crowd drew back. John sprinted through.
The blond woman looked up, her startled expression quickly changing to suspicion. She handed the fallen boy in her arms to a man at her side then placed herself between John and the young soldiers. Distrust played on her face, a hardened, unwelcoming look glowed in her eyes. She reminded John of a tigress protecting her injured cubs.
His first reaction was to push past her to the dying youth, but a subtle warning sounded in his head. This woman emanated danger. She was not someone to easily dismiss.
“Is there another doctor, or healer to tend these boys?” John demanded.
An older woman cradling the smaller boy, Jeema, answered, “No, our two healers were with the warriors at Saylon Dorsett.” Tears streamed down her face.
“Well, I’m a doctor…a healer. My name is John Ernshaw and I’ve tended wounds like these before. If you do not want them to die, then move out of my way and let me heal!” he yelled at the blond. John’s own military training rippled under the surface and he felt his patience evaporating.
“Please, Lyrista” the older woman begged.
The Protector of Esparia (The Annals of Esparia Book 1) Page 10
