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

by Lisa M. Wilson

  She paused. A weak sob escaped her lips. “You’d think after all these years I’d stop mourning, but he died for me that day. ‘If my father refused you freedom, what makes you believe I will grant it?’ he said. I asked him if he was going to kill me, but he said he would never be guilty of matricide and sentenced me to life imprisonment in the tower at Snow Peak. For the last forty-five years,” she paused, “I never gave up hope you would someday come.”

  Her tears flowed freely, wetting his shirt while she rested her head against his chest. “When I saw you last night, your large frame in the torchlight…I knew. Only my Anton could ‘shhhh’ so loudly.”

  He could hardly believe she was real. Her hair was matted and dirty, but still soft brown in color. She had lost a significant amount of weight during her years of captivity, but her muscles were toned and she was not as weak as some of the men prisoners. “I forced myself on a strict exercise program and ate the food, no matter how bad. My fight for survival was strong because I wanted to see you again.”

  With half of the horses carrying double loads, the journey back to Verdure was slower going than the ride to Snow Peak. They traveled as swiftly as they could, eating their rations while they rode and stopping only to allow their horses to drink and to redistribute the extra men from one animal to another. Though several offered, including Cordon, Anton never allowed Naydeen to ride with any other soldier.

  After three days of nearly non-stop travel, the group met up with Lepsis and a legion of two hundred soldiers. After conversing with Cordon and shaking hands with Gammet, who rode behind his son, Lepsis galloped toward Anton.

  “Thought you might need some help, you’re behind schedule,” Lepsis called out, drawing ever closer to Anton and the lady. “Border’s tightened up since you left. Cordon says you found a female pris…” his voice trailed off and his eyes grew wide. He gazed at the fragile woman cradled in Anton’s arms. “Naydeen,” he mouthed, for no sound came out.

  At first she looked at him perplexed, but soon her face lit up. “Lepsis!” she called excitedly. “Oh Lepsis!”

  All Lepsis could do was stare in complete astonishment at his sister.

  Anton reigned to a stop. Carefully, he handed Naydeen over to her little brother, smiling broadly at the tender reunion. Lepsis silently wept. Naydeen kissed him and wiped his tears with her hands. She finished the trip to Headquarters safely astride her brother’s horse, with Anton guarding their backs.

  *

  Gammet had been given a horse by one of Lepsis’ men and finished the ride to the Esparian command center beside Cordon. “When you came through that door at the fortress I thought I was looking into the face of a ghost. How did you survive the Dorsett attack?”

  Cordon nearly fell off his horse when his father spoke. He had tried several times during their three day journey to talk with the old man, but Gammet refused to say a word. Now he spoke two complete sentences.

  Cordon recounted the details to his father, of how he was covered by the bodies of the dead and wounded and how the Elitet missed him. “Three other men survived in the same manner. Reese was one of them. We alone live to tell the horrors of that battle. What happened to you, Dad?”

  Gammet’s voice took on a bitter tone. “They surrounded my command, picked off my men one by one. Before I realized they weren’t going to kill me, I was captured. I would never have allowed them to take me alive. My weapons were seized and I was taken to a command center. There I saw Ballian, proud of his treachery. From the command post they took me directly to the prison tower at Snow Peak.”

  “We found out about Ballian a few weeks ago. So much has happened since the battle at Saylon Dorsett that it’s difficult for me to know where to begin.” Cordon explained about Gayleena, John, and Jessica. He recounted every detail of the last month. They were nearly to Headquarters when he finished bringing his father up to date.

  “The Lady Gayleena is here.” Gammet’s voice was flat. “I would like to meet this son-in-law of hers. He sounds like quite a man.”

  Cordon was confused at his father’s lack of surprise or enthusiasm. Thinking quickly, he hoped his next comment would unleash a spark. “John is. Anyway, Lyrista thinks so. I’ll send you to him. He’s still pretty green and could use all of your help.”

  When Gammet did not react to the hint of Lyrista’s romantic interest, Cordon’s confusion turned to worry. During their conversation, he had noticed several changes in Gammet’s attitude, but with the absence of curiosity toward Lyrista, the light of their father’s life, his son recognized the dark signs of depression. Gammet had spiraled downward, deep within the deadly tentacles of this monstrous disease.

  The next day the two men were seated in the command center, awaiting Lepsis. “Are you certain you don’t want medical attention, Dad?” Cordon asked.

  Gammet shook his head. “My body will mend on its own. I don’t want healers poking and prodding at me.”

  Yeah, Cordon thought sadly, your body will heal, but what about your mind, your spirit?

  “Sorry I’m late.” Lepsis walked into the tent. “I was looking for Anton, but he wasn’t at his campsite.”

  “He’s at the hospital. Hasn’t left there since we arrived yesterday.” Cordon motioned to the large tent at the center of the base.

  “Then I’ll see him soon enough. Ready?”

  The three men strode to the medical center. Cordon wanted to meet the eighteen freed men. Gammet agreed to accompany him, and Lepsis was along to make the introductions.

  Most of the men were scientists Daenon did not want killed. Their stories were similar. Afraid they would defect to Esparia, taking their secrets with them, Daenon imprisoned them. Those who out lived their usefulness were tortured, rather than killed outright. Two of the freed men were the Provincial Regulators of Snow Peak and Palium, retained in case Daenon needed some bargaining tools, and one man was once Segal’s leading strategist. Daenon imprisoned him as retribution for his father’s death, blaming the man for the Blue Mountain defeat.

  Cordon saved their visit to Naydeen for the last. When they approached her room, Anton could be heard. “When I thought ya was dead, I wanted to die too. I stayed alone and shut everyone out, even Larone. I knew I was hurtin’ him, but I couldn’t tell him I’d killed our brother.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Anton.” Naydeen’s voice was soothing. “Segal tried to kill me, then you. You were defending us both when he lunged at you. How were you to know that by sidestepping him, he would slip on the stair and fall on his own knife? It wasn’t your fault.”

  Cordon cleared his throat, then entered the room, followed by Gammet and Lepsis. They found Naydeen sitting up in bed, Anton by her side, holding her hand. Her face radiated happiness. Her light brown hair hung loosely around her shoulders and a soft peach robe complimented the color of her cheeks.

  After Lepsis introduced his sister to the two seventh bars, they bowed low.

  “I heard of your efforts to warn the Lady Gayleena and her family about the attack on her home fifty years ago,” Gammet said. “I was at the Dorsett when your warning came. Lord Graesion was killed then, but the Lady and her little daughter had just enough time to escape. I don’t know if you ever knew. I’d like to shake the hand of the bravest women I have ever known. That warning cost you a great deal.” He held out his hand and she took it firmly.

  Cordon softened at the interaction between Gammet, Lepsis, Anton and Naydeen. He never knew the lady, but seeing her now, the way she looked at Anton and Lepsis, brought a smile to his face. There was unmistakable love there, a familial connection between the three. John was right, he thought. If I survive this war, I’ll definitely look toward family life.

  Four days later, Anton galloped at the head of the eighteen freed prisoners, Naydeen, and twenty-five of Lyrista’s Guardians toward Ramadine. The other twenty-five Guardians, along with Gammet, and led by Fourth Bar Ru, sped to the Southern headquarters where John was in command. Cordon had planned on givi
ng the freed captives more time to recuperate before sending them to Ramadine, but an urgent, cryptic message had changed everything.

  Anton,

  Jessica abducted by Elitet. Come now.

  Larone

  CHAPTER 20

  Light Meets Darkness

  Jessica had a strange sense of calm about her. She realized that if they wanted to kill her, the Elitet would have done so back in the Colossus Forest. In an odd way, she felt quite important. Daenon must be pretty desperate to send ten Elitet after one girl. The knowledge of them needing her alive, if even for a short time, gave her power.

  Escape was foremost on her mind. She kept a sharp watch for any opening to bolt from their circle, but the opportunity never presented itself. Her captors took no chances, keeping her tightly surrounded and not allowing her control of Web’s reins.

  Following the path of the sun, they rode continually for three days and nights, with only a short break each evening at small pools of water so the horses could eat and drink. At these brief stops the same Elitet would hand Jessica a small pouch filled with shelled nuts, dried fruits and some dried vegetables that tasted remarkably like squash. She was quick to refill her own flasks in the same water that the horses drank from, realizing this liquid should be safe for her as well.

  Riding single file, they kept to the wilderness areas. The brutal pace pushed both human and horse to near exhaustion. The first real stop came after three hard days, late into the night. No one spoke to Jessica, but her Elitet threw her a new pouch. This one held a few pieces of dried meat along with the nuts, fruits and vegetables. The men dug into their own packs for the first time and ate. It was the first real nourishment she saw them take, for up until now they had only drunk from their side flagons and eaten what Jessica guessed to be dried biscuits.

  Sinking in a heap at Web’s feet, she ate the food. “They must really want to get to their deserts,” she muttered to the grazing animal. “How are you holding up, boy?”

  The picture of a warm stable with plenty of fresh hay and cool water came into her mind. Laughing softly, Jessica stroked the horse’s powerful legs. “Yeah, I know exactly how you feel.” She drank half the water, then held the container for him to drain the remainder.

  The stop was far too short. Jessica felt she just barely closed her eyes when she was pulled to her feet and dumped back into her saddle. Once again, a grueling pace was set as they sped toward the desert lands.

  On one occasion Jessica tried speaking with the man whose duty it was to supply her daily food pouch. She had come to think of him as her only semi-friend as his eyes were not as cold as the others. “Could you tell me how many more days until we reach the deserts?” He seemed not to have heard her, so she opened her mouth to ask again, but the query died in her throat. He suddenly glared at her and put a hand to his dagger. The message was clear. So much for semi-friend she thought.

  It soon became apparent the Elitet rarely spoke to each other. Only their leader, a tall, lean man with cold, gray eyes broke the silence, and when he did, it was to give a brief command. Jessica had the nagging feeling she had seen him somewhere before. With boredom driving her curiosity, she took note of his every action. He dressed as the other Elitet, with the addition of a wide, red sash around his middle. He was a Shield, and she wondered if the width of his sash corresponded with his rank, for the other Shields she had seen wore thin red belts. The commander isolated himself from his men and always rode at the head of the column. When he gave an order, the others quickly executed it. She sensed fear in some of them when he walked by.

  With little else to do while she traveled, Jessica worked on her clairvoyant exercises. She began by communicating with Web while they rode. When she first understood him back in Feather Forest, he had whinnied his communication. Now their connection needed to be more telepathic. She had advanced in this area during her drills with Larone, so her goal was to fine tune the ability. She still did not understand her healing gifts, nor how she channeled Edia’s power. She hoped to one day understand everything about her heritage, but realized it could take years and the thought scared her. Years. I need to be realistic, I could die here anytime. She shuddered, then pushed the reality of her situation aside and concentrated on Web.

  Little by little, the environment changed. The dense forests gradually thinned, opening onto filons of short, grassy plain. The further west they rode, the more the grasslands gave way to desert terrain. When Jessica first heard about the Deserts of Demar, she pictured Arabian deserts, with their shifting sands and filons of desolate dunes, but this was more like the Mojave Desert of the Southwestern United States. Large Sonora-type cacti dotted the land as well as smaller, flat pronged cactus plants. Tall, spindly trees and large tumbleweed scrub plants accented the scene. There were a few wild flowers, some bright red and others pale yellow. Many short, spiny bushes were covered in small purple buds. This place has a stark beauty, she thought. I bet that with proper irrigation it would really blossom.

  Once within the desert territory the commander finally slowed the pace. Jessica sensed relief from each of the horses, especially Web.

  “How are you doing?” She asked him several times a day, her heart aching because of the strain he was under.

  “Do this,” he always responded. “For J’ca.”

  Each night, when unstrapped from the saddle, she would throw her arms around his neck and whisper her gratitude for his strength. “I love you, Web.”

  She knew he was ready to drop and barely able to keep stride with the others. “Love, J’ca,” he replied.

  Five days after leaving the Colossus Mountains, the band arrived at a small village. Looking as if it rose up from the desert floor itself, every building was made of adobe brick and brown mud. When they approached, people emerged from the small, sunburned homes. The spectators consisted mostly of ragged women and dirty children—throngs of children, ranging from small toddlers to young teenagers. One, too thin, black haired girl cried out in astonishment, “Ten! There are ten heroes!”

  Few men were among the onlookers. Those scattered among the crowd were either grossly maimed or extremely old. Many young ones stared in curiosity and pointed to Jessica’s red hair. The older children, however, stared with hate in their eyes. One teenage girl even spat on the ground when she passed by, making her momentarily grateful for the Elitet surrounding her. For the first time since being taken in the Colossus Forest, Jessica felt danger.

  At this village they exchanged horses, for the ones they were riding were half dead. Jessica had only a few moments to say goodbye to her beloved Web.

  “Find J’ca,” he promised and nuzzled her cheek.

  “If you can’t, then go back to Ramadine. I’ll free myself and meet you there,” she whispered in his ear. Jessica swallowed hard, forcing back the tears as a stable boy led the trusted animal away. “Take good care of him,” she pleaded.

  Leaving the squalid village behind, Jessica hid her grief. They won’t see me cry, she swore with stern determination. After a while, to replace her gloomy thoughts, she reflected on the differences between Demar and Esparia. The desert people were darker skinned than their eastern brothers. There were no blonds, but hair color ranged from light brown to deep black. Most natives had large, deep-set, ebony eyes, framed by beautiful, long lashes. A few looked at her through gray orbs, encased by shorter, thick, lashes.

  Whether black, brown or gray eyed, one common factor stood out, that of the deep affection the women had for their children and the siblings had for each other. The desert people were unashamed to demonstrate their love for one another. Older children cradled younger ones, while mothers embraced them all in protective arms. Tender kisses were exchanged between the groups, even in the presence of Elitet. If such familial love can exist, then perhaps the people could learn to extend that love to Esparia, she thought. But, nothing can be sorted out until Daenon is dead, or at least out of power. His constant diet of hate has scarred these people.

/>   Each village and hamlet turned out to be the same as the first. Open sewers ran down the streets, children wore rags and many looked malnourished. Garbage lay everywhere, and there were rats, a lot of rats. ‘If you see rats in daylight’ she remembered her father once saying, ‘you know you’re in trouble.’ Jessica lost count of the many dismal places they rode through.

  With civilization now reached, the population increased dramatically the closer they drew to Rendaira, Daenon’s estate. The roads were lined with crowds of curious, poverty-stricken natives, many of whom looked as if they wanted her for dinner.

  The commander seemed to have an aversion to these small villages. He would increase their speed when they neared one, then gallop through at full speed, regardless of who was in the way. On several occasions Jessica was fearful for the villagers’ safety, hoping no one wandered onto the road. In one tiny tiern her fear turned to nightmarish reality when an elderly woman, hampered by her crutch, failed to reach the safety of the roadside. The commander aimed his mount directly for her. As if in slow motion, Jessica saw what was about to occur.

  “No!” she screamed.

  The woman looked up, surprise on her weathered face. She never had a chance.

  Jessica twisted in her saddle to look behind when they passed. A young girl, tears streaming down her face, knelt beside the lifeless body.

  The Elitet never slept in the villages. Each evening the commander found an isolated spot away from the road for their campsite. Two men were always dispatched to hunt for food. Fresh snake and a seemingly endless supply of dried biscuits were the usual evening meal. Jessica decided semi-cooked snake wasn’t really that bad. She decided that if the men could handle it so could she and forced herself to eat what they gave her. She always refilled her water containers where the horses were allowed to drink.