Larone
“Oh, John,” Lyrista gasped.
He shook his head. “Well, it’s happened.” He looked at her. “Walk with me.”
For many minutes they wandered through the individual campsites, neither one speaking. Not until they reached the edge of the defensive line did John break the silence. “Ever since we arrived here, I’ve been worried something like this would happen.” His voice was full of grief. “Not that she’d be captured, but that she’d be in a situation where no one could help her. There’s nothing I can do.”
“John, I’m so sorry.” Lyrista’s face reflected the compassion of her words. John felt a surge of warmth when he looked into her concerned face. “Anton and Varnack will find her. Daenon’s probably having her taken to Rendaira. Maybe we should attack now and go after her? I could send a regiment of Guardians.”
John considered the idea, then shook his head. “No. I won’t jeopardize the lives of good men by sending them on a fool’s errand and we cannot attack first. As Larone said, it would prove disastrous. The only thing we can do right now is wait and be patient.”
“But what if he…I mean, what if Daenon hurts Jessica,” Lyrista barely whispered, “tortures or kills her.”
John closed his eyes and fought the rising panic, for Lyrista vocalized his own morbid fears. Jess! His anguished thoughts reached out for her, then he took stern hold of his emotions. “No!” he snapped and his eyes flew open. “If Daenon wanted her dead, he would have killed her long before now. He wants her alive and in one piece or he wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble. I don’t know what his plans are, but I do know they don’t include her death.”
Lyrista relaxed and nodded. “You’re right.”
They continued their walk, meandering along the perimeter of the encampment. After several minutes of silence, John gave a little laugh. “It’s ironic. Now I understand why you and Cordon couldn’t sit by and do nothing about your father, especially when Cordon was so close to Snow Peak. I don’t condone the action, it was highly dangerous, but I do understand it.”
Lyrista reached up and brushed the back of her hand against John’s cheek. “You’ve taught your daughter well, John. Jessica is a resourceful young woman, with unique and powerful gifts.” She put her arm through his and smiled reassuringly. “I think Daenon is going to find it quite difficult, if not impossible to hold her for long.”
John took Lyrista’s hand. “This is why he hasn’t attacked yet. He was waiting for Jessica.”
*
Three days later, Fourth Bar Ru rode into camp with his twenty-five Guardians and Gammet. John had just returned from the southern end of his defensive line when the tired, dirty travelers rode in. He knew immediately who they were. The two in the lead made a striking combination. One sat quite tall with a crown of snow-white hair, the other was an entire head shorter with shiny black hair and matching mustache-goatee. Each of the Guardians, except Ru, were large men, some of the largest John had yet seen in Esparia.
John approached the dusty newcomers. He was immediately struck by the remarkable resemblance Gammet had to Cordon. The man looked every bit as one would think a seventh bar should look. His head was held high and his entire manner demanded respect, but even from several feet away, John saw something haunting and a deep sadness in the older man’s eyes.
Once dismounted, Ru went directly to John. He held out his hand and John took it firmly. “Protector John? I am Fourth Bar Ru. Our orders are to serve as your personal guard.” He turned his head toward Gammet, who just walked up. “This is Seventh Bar Gammet, commander of the Dorsett brigade.”
“I know the men of this campaign will want to see you, sir, but why don’t you come with me to the command tent and rest first. I’ll send for Lyrista and have food brought. Join us Ru, I’d like your explanation of the Snow Peak rescue.”
The sparsely furnished command tent was slightly larger than the surrounding structures. Four stools, a large wooden table, and two candle lamps were its only amenities. The floor was the grassy meadow.
The three men barely began their lunch meal of warm stew and fresh brown bread, when Lyrista burst in. “Dad!” Her breath came in gasps.
“Lyrista!” Gammet caught her up when she ran to him. John and Ru quietly exited the tent, giving them a few minutes alone.
Waiting outside, John reflected on the last hour. When Fourth Bar Ru rode into the camp with Gammet and the twenty-five Guardians, they made quite a stir. The men recognized Gammet and though Ru was not the physical presence the seventh bar was, he cut no less a commanding figure. Strong and confident, when he spoke, he did so with authority and purpose. For what he lacked in size, John found Ru made up for in strength, skill and knowledge. John was at once impressed with Ru and seeing the manner in which the Guardians respected him, only served to reinforce this good opinion.
“Protector John,” Ru pulled him from his thoughts. “I have a message for you from Seventh Bar Cordon. I was to give it to you when we were not within Seventh Bar Gammet’s presence.”
John opened the sealed paper.
John,
I am sorry about Jessica. By now Lyrista has told you about our little adventure. I hope you have forgiven us. I am sending Fourth Bar Ru with half of his Guardians to be at your personal command. The other half is with Anton, on their way to Ramadine with the rest of the Snow Peak prisoners. Once there, they will team up with Varnack and go in search of your daughter. I am sending my father to you. He is still a great warrior, but is not the same man he once was. I hope you can help him. We are prepared for Daenon’s attack. Lepsis is a skillful drillmaster and strategist and the men become more expert with each passing day. Our advance scouts provide daily updates on enemy movements so they will not take us by surprise.
Cordon
Lyrista called from the tent door. “John, you can come back in.” She smiled sheepishly. When he and Ru walked by her, she whispered, “Thank you.”
“Don’t go.” He took her arm. “I’m going to show your father and Fourth Bar Ru the latest updates on the enemy troop positions as well as our counter positions. I expect Daenon will attack sometime within the next five to six days.”
“You’re right.” She followed him to the wooden table. “From the maps Lepsis gave us, Rendaira is a good three days away.” She pointed to an open map and followed an imaginary route with her finger. “It would take his men at least six days to take Jessica from the Colossus Forest to his estate.”
The front flap to the tent opened and several men walked in, the first of twelve, high-ranking officers. The men looked pleased to see Gammet. John had called this meeting after learning the seventh bar was free and coming to him. He felt the experienced soldier would have invaluable advice and wanted a last minute pep talk and tactical session with his leaders. Within a half hour, each one of the summoned men arrived, with Reese being among the last.
“Grandfather,” he cried on seeing him and ran to the older man. They warmly embraced, neither one able to speak. The others in the tent politely turned their backs and tried to continue with non-essential matters. John would have liked nothing better than to give the family members time together, but the reunion needed to be cut short by the business at hand.
“We’ve received another shipment of armor and shields from the province of Ironton. We have both chain mail armor and solid steel armor.” John began. “Have your supply masters requisition what you need. I want every soldier outfitted with the best we can offer. Now, report.”
One by one, the men gave an accounting of their preparations. Positioned throughout the entire line were packhorses loaded down with extra arrows for the archers, more stones for the slings and hundreds of javelins. Each combatant in the army and horse in the cavalry was protected by high quality armor. Discipline was strict and the men were training non-stop since advancing to the front lines. The consequences of defeat were drilled into each soldier.
When the reports were given and the necessar
y adjustments made, John came to the last item of business. “Three days ago I received a message from Healer Larone telling me my daughter has been captured by Elitet.”
The men looked at him, some with pity and some with horror. Reese let out an involuntary, “No!”
“We now understand the reason for the attack’s delay. Daenon was waiting for a special hostage, and now he has her, but this turn of events makes no difference to me. I won’t fight any differently, and I will not let this cloud my judgment. I assume the attack will come within the next five to six days. I want our troops to advance into Palium and Snow Peak. It’s time to make them free.
“Make sure each tiern is secure before moving on. I don’t want stupid mistakes made with people’s lives. I have been in contact with several underground groups who are waiting for us. I want strict orders given to leave the women and children unmolested and the farms intact. We have good supply lines that are heavily guarded, so I don’t want to leave the local populace devastated. Remember, the people were once part of Esparia, but through stupid choices lost their freedom. We are rescuers, not conquerors.”
Every man nodded in agreement. John knew this would be the easy part. Now for the hard part, he thought. “Once Palium and Snow Peak are secure, we will advance into the Deserts of Demar.”
Lyrista smiled, they all smiled. “Demar needs to be annexed to Esparia as a new province, or several new provinces,” John continued. “Our attitude is one of liberation. The same orders go for the women, children, farms and tierns of Demar as for those of Palium and Snow Peak. Let’s not give the desert people extra reasons to hate us. I’m not waging a war for vengeance, but for justice. There is a difference. Does anyone have a problem with that?”
There were no objections. “If any soldier is caught looting, burning, or in the least way harming civilians, he will be immediately and harshly dealt with as a criminal,” John warned.
“Seventh Bar Gammet,” he turned to the distinguished man, “I’d appreciate it if you would come with me to inspect the troops today and tomorrow. The word of your escape has spread throughout the camps and the sight of you will greatly inspire the men. Then, I need you to take command of a fresh division being sent from Ramadine. The soldiers should be here in three days and will need an experienced leader. I want your men to be ready to move at a moment’s notice to where ever they may be needed.”
“Thank you,” Gammet said with a nod toward John. “You can count on me.”
Ru was studying the maps while John gave his last orders. He ran his finger along the dotted line representing the Demar-Palium border. “Small groups of native Demarian resistance fighters are located here and here,” he said, pointing to two dashes on the map about an inch apart. “I was sheltered by this group here,” he indicated the more northern dash, “while assessing the Demarian strengths a month ago. They call themselves Ghost Walkers and are led by a man named Farin. He said he would help us, but not until we are fifty filons from his border. He wants to make sure we are within striking distance before he shows his hand and allows Daenon to learn his whereabouts.”
“It’s good to know not all the Demarians have been taken in by Daenon,” John commented. “Ghost Walkers, huh. Why that particular name?”
“I don’t know, but if Farin knew of your daughter’s abduction, he might be willing to help her.”
John grasped at the possibility. “Do you have a way of getting a message to him?”
“Not right now, but once inside Palium, I could contact him through the Second Older of Rown, the dine located here, just inside the province,” he pointed to a medium-sized dot about twenty filons inside Palium.
“I’ll leave it to you then.”
When the meeting was over, John held Lyrista back. “I need thirty of your best scouts. I want Daenon’s lines penetrated by at least forty filons. I want to know how many reserve troops he has and where they are. Only an idiot would have all his men bunched up at the front with nothing in reserve, and someone on Daenon’s team is no idiot.”
*
Daenon, Addex and their escort made it to the front in record time. The seventh bars were at attention when Daenon rode into his headquarters. The Demarian command tent was as different from the Esparian as Rendaira was from Ramadine. A sprawling tent, it consisted of five well furnished rooms with thick, woven rugs covering the ground. The main chamber held soft chairs and a couch with silk pillows, as well as a large table in the center and ten polished silver candle stands around the perimeter.
Daenon began giving orders as soon as he entered it. “I want updated maps and information on last minute troop movements. I also want to know the exact position of John Ernshaw. I will give one thousand silver coins to the men who catch him alive and bring him to me.” He looked at the map in front of him and pointed to a starred point in the center of Ramana. “Ramadine is finally within reach. I want it leveled to the ground, with Larone put in chains.” He smiled at the mental picture, then hit the table with his fist. “Spread the word. We attack at dawn.”
It was a well-coordinated attack. Daenon set a precise timetable, and as one his Northern army, Southern army and Hentan army mounted an all-out assault. He counted on a swift victory.
*
Ophir worked day and night to prepare the people of Galland for war. He was gratified to see how vigorously they responded to his efforts and the passion the people had for their independence. Bolstered by the hundred thousand troops John had sent and the tons of weapons, armor and supplies from Larone, he was optimistic. He commanded a force of over two hundred fifty thousand foot soldiers and forty thousand cavalry.
He divided his men in groups of twenty thousand, with three thousand cavalry each, and numbered them one through ten. He spaced his armies along the western border according to his spies’ information, only two filons from the Hentan army. The farms, tierns, and cities within fifty filons of the front line were evacuated and the fields burned. Ophir wanted nothing left for the Hentans to pillage or take as booty. The cities beyond the fifty-filon line were well fortified. Ophir was as ready as he could be.
He received John’s communication giving the calculated timetable for the attack. It came as predicted, at the rising of the sun on the fifteenth of the month, a hot, cloudless day. When the first rays of morning sun peeked over the horizon, the Hentan forces, bolstered by one hundred thousand Demarian regulars, streamed over the Gallish border.
Galland was a heavily wooded country. Only three highways connected Hent and Galland, one in the north, one in the south and one in the very center. Thick forests covered the rest of the border, providing good coverage for Ophir’s archers. Thousands of men hid in the tops of the trees lining the three main roads and thousands more in the surrounding woodlands. Protective blinds were built and camouflaged in the larger treetops, with three to five archers assigned to each. Extra ropes were rigged high up in the branches so the men could swing from tree to tree as a means of escape. Two filons of forest that lay between the Hentan and Gallish armies were prepared in this manner. Ophir and his seventh bars had barely enough time to secure the bowmen in place, with the last man being hidden the night before the assault. Had Daenon attacked sooner, or had John ordered his forces to begin the fighting, Galland would not have been ready.
The foot soldiers stood three men deep, with the slingers in front and cavalry protecting the flanks. They were positioned on deforested farmland up and down the border, ready to receive the enemy. The ten divisions were clumped into three groups and assigned to the three main highways. Advance scouts and runners informed the Gallish seventh bars where the enemy points of penetration were located and the divisions were deployed accordingly.
Galland was outnumbered two to one. Ophir hoped the intensive training each man had gone through in the few short weeks he had commanded them would be sufficient to carry them through. He personally took command of the fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh divisions in the center of the country, at the middl
e highway.
The first reports coming from the woods were encouraging. When the first line of Hentan brown uniforms marched across the Gallish border, the archers let fly their shower of arrows. Many found their mark in exposed arms, legs, necks and faces as well as striking at skewed angles under metal breastplates. The human wave of heavily armored men momentarily faltered under the assault. Many archers pulled their bows at close quarters, thus making certain their prey would never leave the forest.
The sound of snapping bowstrings and whistling arrows hitting their marks reverberated through the woodlands. Thousands of enemy soldiers fell to unseen attackers. Soon the main highway leading into Galland was filled with dead and wounded Hentans, rendering the road impassable. The foot soldiers were forced to detour through the surrounding forests where more hidden archers waited.
The tree forts were well placed, providing ample protection for the lightly clad occupants. Ophir dressed his men in colors resembling the forest around them. They wore no cumbersome armor, as they needed to move freely among the sturdy treetops. When a fort was compromised, the Galland archers grabbed the escape ropes, swinging out of the forests in organized retreats. Not every archer made it out, but the vast majority did. They inflicted great damage on the enemy.
The Hentan cavalry fell behind the advancing foot soldiers, their horses stumbling over the bodies littering the roads. The enemy emerged from the forests disorganized and without cavalry backup. They had not expected such resistance from Galland. When the Hentan officers tried to shout orders to their confused men, Ophir ordered the Gallish slingers and spearmen into action. Being men of great strength, the slingers hurled four and five-pound weights. The Hentan helmets were of little protection against these crashing meteorites. Needle sharp, metal tipped javelins replaced arrows as highflying projectiles, easily piercing the enemy armor. The Hentan soldiers fell by the thousands, but still they pressed forward, a seemingly innumerable army, being urged on by the Demarian troops.
The Protector of Esparia (The Annals of Esparia Book 1) Page 33
