The Protector of Esparia (The Annals of Esparia Book 1) (17 page)

Gaylee and John followed Larone through a small side door.  “This route is closer and more private.”  The three of them walked in silence down a short hall that was lit by several tall, thick candles and up a flight of stairs.  Turning to the right at the second level, Larone stopped in front of adjacent doors.  “Gaylee, your rooms are here on the right and mine are on the left.  Please come into my chambers after you freshen up.”  She nodded, leaving the two men in the hall.

Larone opened his door and walked in, with John right behind him.  They entered a small sitting room that looked a great deal like a library.  Two of the four walls were covered, floor to ceiling, with books of every size and color.  Two stuffed chairs, a small square table and several candle stands, already lit, finished the simple furnishings and décor.

Visibly tensing up, Larone turned to face John.  “You have every right to be angry with me,” he began.  “I stole the one person who meant everything to you, without warning or permission.  I will make no excuses.  You have seen the aftermath of what my nephew is capable of in Reese, Jeema and Cordon.  I am a desperate man, desperate for my country and desperate for my people.  Your daughter is the one person who can defeat Daenon.”  The man’s entire face pleaded with John to understand.

The sincerity in Larone’s voice vanquished the last of John's anger, but the frustration he felt for nearly a week came tumbling out.  “Anger is not the emotion I’m feeling right now, so rest assured I’m not going to hit you, but why?  Why Jessica?  You say she can defeat this Daenon, but what gives you the right to make that determination?  Why not Gaylee?  I’ve come from a six day journey with Gaylee and have seen how the people respond to her.  They don’t even know Jessica.  Why would they rally to her, she’s a child?”

“She is a young woman,” Larone corrected.  Shaking his head, he sighed.  “I cannot explain what I
feel
, but I know without her we can never win.”  John rolled his eyes.  “John.”  Larone’s voice took on a stern tone.  “I knew Gaylee would follow Jessica.  I also knew
you
would come with her.”

“Me?  Look Larone, don’t change the subject.  Jess is a kid.  I’ve come here to bring her home.”

Before Larone could respond, a sharp knock at the door begged their attention.  Gaylee strode in, a concerned look on her face which melted away upon seeing the two men standing together.  “I’m glad there’s no blood.  Larone, I thought for a while John might do you bodily harm.”

“And I would have deserved it.”  Larone pulled both of the chairs back from the wooden table in the center of the room.  “Please, sit.”  Gaylee took the one closest to her. John shook his head, preferring to stand.  With a deep sigh, Larone took the second.  “John, Varnack is with your daughter.  I would, and have, trusted my life to him.  You have never met Anton, but trust me when I say he will find her, if he has not already done so.  He is a mountain of a man, a formidable fighter with excellent instincts.  When you meet him, do not let his appearance fool you, he is much more than what he seems.”

“Larone, what happened to Anton?” Gaylee asked.  “Lyrista told me about his wild man looks and his reclusive lifestyle.  He never used to be like that.”

“I do not know.”  Sadness filled his voice.  “The change came fifty years ago, after the battle of Blue Mountain, when Segal was found dead and his forces defeated.  I have asked many times what pain he carries, I feel it in him, but he refuses to answer.  His work is his only true passion.” 

John was irritated.  His few moments alone with the old gentleman were unsatisfying.  The only real information Larone gave him was that he knew John and Gaylee would follow Jessica through the spiral.  And that only fueled John’s frustration.  How could he have
known
such a thing?  How could he claim to
feel
another person’s thoughts from light years away?  It was all a bunch of garbage.  Still annoyed, John excused himself.

Lying on a comfortable bed in the guest chamber with the muffled voices of niece and uncle drifting through the closed door, John mulled over Larone’s words.  So he knew John would come, did he?  Gaylee’s homecoming was understandable, but him?  What did that crafty old man have in mind?  John extinguished the candles lighting his room.  Yeah, Larone was crafty all right, but heaven help them all…John’s gut still said to trust the old guy.  He tried to clear his mind, but thoughts of Jessica, a golden Trigal hound, and transmirian spirals continued to barge their way in.  After staring at the ceiling for an eternity, he finally fell asleep.

Each day that went by began with John asking Larone about Jessica. The answer never varied.  “No news, but that is good.”  To keep sane, John kept himself busy at Ramadine.  In the mornings he worked out with the soldiers, beginning his first lessons in swordsmanship alongside a batch of new recruits.  There were some private lessons with Lyrista in hand-to-hand combat and dagger training.  He was a little rusty, but after two sessions she could no longer beat him in hand-to-hand.  However, combat use of a dagger was not his specialty and she cut him several times.

He surprised everyone, especially Cordon, by placing second in the daily archery contest.  “I’m used to bows and arrows,” he explained.  “Where I come from, I’m a hunter and I use a bow, not a gun.”

Cordon looked at John with interest. “What is a…gun?”

John was taken aback; the word ‘gun’ came out of his mouth before he realized what he had said.

“It’s an instrument of death.”  The explanation seemed to satisfy Cordon.  Maybe Gaylee was right.  He shouldn't introduce something new where the basic discovery had not yet been made by local scientists.  He would guard his speech in the future.

The afternoons were filled with classes on Edian herbs and medicinal plants.  He toured Larone's impressive laboratory where he learned how they made some of their antibiotics and medications.  In turn, John taught Larone about some of those found on Earth.

One day John showed Larone his watch.  “Shallenon gave me this timepiece just before she died.  It stopped working in the Transmirian spiral.  Gaylee thought someone here might be able to fix it?”

Turning the watch over in his hand, Larone examined it closely.  “There are several fine craftsmen here who can repair this.  The band is very functional, I myself, carry a daykeeper in my robe.”  He extracted a small, silver circlet from a pocket at his side.

“You have a watch?”

“If a daykeeper is a watch, then yes.  Most men and women carry them in their pockets.  Yours may be a little different from ours, but I am certain it can be made functional again.”

“Great.”

“I want to speak with you about Cordon,” Larone said.  “His wounds are healing nicely, but he still limps.  Twice I have mentioned he needs to strengthen the leg, but I do not know if he completely understands the importance.  He is too young.” 

John was surprised.  He never would have categorized Cordon as being young.  By earth standards, the man looked to be in his late thirty’s.  The shock must have shown on his face for Larone laughed, a full, deep resonating sound.  “By our standards of aging, Cordon
is
young and I have found the young do not always take care of themselves as they should.”

John pursed his lips.  “Cordon’s not much younger than me.  Do you think I’m a child?”

Larone laughed again, his eyes twinkled with mirth.  “Do any of us ever really grow up?  I look in the mirror and an old man stares back at me.  But inside, I am in my youth.”

“You avoid my question; actually you have a knack for it.”

“In a word…no.  You are no child.”   He smiled, a gleam in his eye.  “However, you still have far to go, but you are on the right path.”

“Right path?  I don’t know Larone.  Few minutes go by without my wondering what I’m doing here.”

The older man nodded.  His smile relaxed.  His face reflected wisdom and patience that can only come with age.  He looked at John, his eyes slightly squinting.  John knew that look; he had seen it several times now.  He was learning that it meant ‘Wait a while longer, and you will come to understand what I already know’.  The look annoyed him.

“Okay,” John sighed, “I’ll look at Cordon.  There may be some therapy I can help him with.”

“Thank you.  I think he will listen to you.”

Summoning Cordon to Ramadine’s hospital, John examined his leg and other wounds.  As Larone indicated, the various stabs and slashes were nearly healed, causing John to once again marvel at the recuperative abilities Edians had, but the leg needed work.  Having been thoroughly shredded, the muscles had reknit, but the massive amounts of scar tissue lacked flexibility and needed stretching.

“You need to bring elasticity back to the muscle with some exercises I have in mind,” John said.

“You sound like Larone.”

“I’ll tell you what, teach me some moves so I can hold my own against Lyrista’s dagger, and I’ll help you with your leg.  I’m sure we can use some of the same actions for both purposes.”

Protectoress

The morning after the Elitets attacked, Jessica woke to bright sunlight streaming down on her through random gaps in the forest canopy.  The three men in her party were already up, packed, and ready to go.  She realized they had allowed her to sleep as long as she needed.  “You should have wakened me, but thanks, I think I needed the extra rest.”  Anton and Ophir smiled, while Reese gave a single nod. 

When she rose to her feet, a painful throbbing in her right side shocked her.  She ignored it.  She took hold of her blanket to shake out the dirt and feather needles before packing it away, but the moment she raised her arms, the throbbing spiked to a stab, tearing through her chest.  Stifling a screech, she caught her breath, then gingerly felt her ribs.  Unsure of the full extent of the damage, she surmised at least one, probably several, of her rib bones were cracked. 
Oh no...no, no, no!
 

Yesterday, all her pains blurred into one, but now, with the adrenaline rush worn off and no one needing her attention, Jessica felt every tender point in her body.  She was not about to tell anyone though.  Nothing could be done for cracked ribs anyway, other than wrap them...and she was out of bandages.  After stuffing the dusty blanket in her knapsack, she headed for her already saddled horse.

Two of the Elitet horses were harnessed together with a blanket secured between them.  Ophir and Reese lifted the wounded Varnack onto it.  With Anton also injured, Varnack could no longer ride on his back.  Jessica went to her furry friend. 

“How ya doin?” she asked.  He opened his eyes, they were full of pain.  A sympathetic tear slid down her cheek.  “I’m sorry I don’t have any purple fern for you.  At least I stopped the bleeding in fair time, you should be better soon.”  She reach up to stroke his fur, but shockwaves of pain rolled through her own chest. 

“You’re hurt!” his thoughts came to her.  He tried to rise in the blanket.  “You rest, I walk.”

“No.”  This time she brought her hand up and held him down, biting her lip so as not to cry out at the sharp pangs near her right lung.  “Look at your paw, you’re lucky it wasn’t cut completely off.  You won’t be able to travel on that for several days, at least.  Don’t make me get Uncle Anton after you.”

He snickered at her weak attempt at humor.  “Anton?  Too weak, hurt bad.”

She scratched behind his ears then turned toward Web.  The captured Elitet happened to be positioned between her and Web.  He sat tightly bound to his horse, a gag in his mouth.  He stared straight ahead, his face calm, with every muscle relaxed.   When she started toward him, he looked directly at her.  His dark eyes narrowed when he focused on her face and she was suddenly grateful he was gagged. 

From behind her Anton said, “The doogeroot wasn’t talkin’ nice, so we silenced him.  If ya can’t say anythin’ nice, then ya shouldn’t say anythin’ at all.” 

“This guy’s dangerous.”  She turned toward her uncle.

“Yeah,” he nodded.  “But, so am I.”

She thought of her uncle as warm and kind, but realized he was also lean, strong, and very well trained.  Yes, he could be exceptionally dangerous.  The Elitet became insignificant.  Yet Jessica circled wide around the prisoner.  She found when she drew near him, a sick, cold feeling welled up in the pit of her stomach. When she reached her horse, she moaned.  “Oh Web, how am I ever going to get up on you,” she whispered.  “I can hardly walk.”  She leaned her forehead against his large neck and rested, trying to summon up the courage to heave herself onto the animal. 

“Help, J’ca.”  The horse whinnied, but Jessica heard the words in her mind.

“Oh, please.” she whispered in astonishment.  “I could use any help you could give.”  In response, he shifted around to nuzzle her chin with his nose.

The men, mounted on their horses, waited patiently for Jessica.  Reese’s lips parted in surprise when Web knelt down on his front legs and lowered his body as close to the ground as he could.  Ophir’s eyes grew wide at the strange sight, but Anton looked on with keen interest while Jessica carefully maneuvered into her saddle.  Only after she settled onto his back did Web rise and join the others. 

Jessica tried to appear cool, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, but the throb in her side forced her to breathe in short, shallow gulps and she clutched at Web’s mane to steady herself.  When they left the small meadow, Anton followed unusually close behind her.

They rode in silence, one strictly behind another.  Ophir led, picking the way northward to Ramadine.  Varnack was next, followed by Jessica, Anton, the Elitet and Reese.  Jessica was exceedingly grateful for the two soldiers who accompanied them.  Her ability to be alert and watch for possible traps was lost in the fog of pain that she drifted into.  It was all she could do to hang onto her horse.  Mercifully, while the long hours passed, the pain let up.  It never fully went away, but decreased to a tolerable level. 

Late in the afternoon, Ophir ordered a brief rest to drink, eat, and allow the horses to nibble at the grasses growing on the forest floor.  Jessica found that as long as she did not move too much, nor breathe too deeply, the pain in her side would not escalate, so she remained in her saddle. 

Giving Web free rein to wander in search of food, she gazed up through the thin, feathery canopy at the sky, to the planet Ragus, forever hovering in the north.  Web stopped moving and little snorts of contentment came from him as he gnawed at the plants around them. 

“Find something good, boy?”  Jessica patted his neck.  To her delight, just to the left of where Web was tearing at a tender green shoot, she spotted a large, purple fern, just like the one she had used to heal Varnack’s leg. 

“Uncle Anton,” she called.  “Look what I found.”

He pulled his horse over.  A smile spread across his face when he dismounted.  Using the point of his dagger, he carefully sliced the plant at its base and handed it to Jessica.

“This will help your shoulder, won’t it?”

“Yeah.  This aids in the healin’ of any open wound.  It works so fast, some think it’s magic.”

“Then turn around and I’ll redress you shoulder.”  She untied the bandage and carefully inspected the hole.  “It’s a good thing I’m not squeamish.”  She broke a piece of the fern and let the white liquid sap drip into the wound.  She placed the rest of the piece over the hole and retied the bandage.

“Feels better already,” Anton said flexing his shoulder.  “The liquid has a way of stoppin’ pain.”

Taking some of the fern from Jessica, Anton went to Varnack and attended to the great hound while Jessica rode over to Reese to redress his arm.  She noted they were about the same height, but he seemed a few years older.

“There,” she said with satisfaction, “your arm should be as good as new in a few days.”

“Thank you,” he responded.  “I wish I had some of that plant a few weeks ago.”

“Here,” she held out the rest of it to him.  “The past cannot be changed, but maybe this will help in the future.”

“Thanks.”  He took the precious fern and carefully placed it in his saddlebag.

When they stopped for the night, Anton dismounted next to Jessica.  Before she could move, he tenderly lifted her off of her horse.  “Too bad that fern can’t be used on broken bones,” he tried to say quietly in her ear.  However, he made her ear ring for several minutes. 

“You know!”  She was shocked.  “I was trying so hard not to let on.  But they’re not broken, only cracked, I think.  Right now, everything’s gone numb, so I’m doing okay.”  She walked over to a fallen log and gingerly sat down.  Varnack limped over to sit at her side.  She affectionately stroked his big head and back. 

That evening the decision was made to forge a straight march to Ramadine.  “It’s time we let the world know Jessi’s in Esparia,” Anton said.  “Daenon knows she’s here, ‘n if there are more teams of Elitet out there, our best defense will be crowd safety.  We’ll announce Jessi’s arrival and let the people see her.  They’ll help protect her.  The news’ll go ahead of us to Ramadine that we’re safe.  I’m sure her dad’s especially worried.  I know I would be.”

“If we’re going to go somewhere public, then I need a bath,” Jessica announced.  The two soldiers stared at her in surprise.

“That may not be wise” Ophir cautioned.

“I understand,” Jessica countered, “but, just the same, I can’t be seen like this.”  She gestured to her entire body with both hands.  “I can’t…I just can’t.”  She looked for help to her uncle.  “Uncle Anton, please.”

He heaved a deep sigh and nodded.  “I guess it’s a girl thing.”

* * *

Morning came too soon for Jessica.  She was sore and dirty.  She had never considered herself a girly girl, but she would have given anything for a toothbrush.

“Just for you Jessi, we’re headed to a small stream this mornin',” Anton said.  “Not much water there, but hopefully enough for ya to wash up some.”

“Really?”  Jessica was elated.

Ophir chuckled.  “I have little understanding of women, Lady Jessica, but I can appreciate the need for cleanliness.  The stream is not far from here.”

“Thank you.  Thank you.  And by the way, my name’s Jessica.  The ‘lady’ thing is too strange for me.  Please, just call me Jessica and I’ll call you Mister Ophir.  That goes for you too, Reese,” she called to him, “call me Jessica.”

Reese gave her a nod and mounted his horse. 

Ophir finished adjusting a strap that held Varnack’s sling in place between two of the extra horses.  “All right, Jessica it is, but only in private.  In public, you will always be referred to as Lady Jessica.  That is the title of a Protector.”  He swung up onto his horse.  “And my name is simply Ophir.”

Anton went to Varnack and stroked the animal’s head.  “Doin’ okay?”

Varnack licked his friend’s hand. 

“Well, ya look a lot better this mornin’.”  He gave Varnack one more pat, then went to Jin, the beautiful stallion who carried the big man with ease.

They rode in single file again through the soft needled forest.  Jessica scanned the ground for more purple ferns, but was disappointed to reach the small stream without finding one. 

Anton helped her dismount, then took Web’s reins.  “We’ll be right over there if ya need us,” he said gesturing to a spot beyond her line of vision.  Ophir had already disappeared behind the row of trees and Reese was right after him.

“Thanks.  I won’t be long,” she said.  She felt foolish to make the men go out of their way for her, but the dried blood in her hair mixed with the dirt of camping out for over a week, and her filthy clothes were almost more than she could bear. 

Jessica waded into the shallow brook where the deepest point came to just above her knees.  Sitting down, she washed as best as she could in the refreshingly cool liquid.  Her face felt sore and tender from the blow she had received and her ribs hurt with the effort of sitting, but she was clean.  Closing her eyes, she lay down in the water, letting the gentle current sweep the grime and blood away.

The peaceful moment did not last long.  Nausea flooded into her stomach while adrenaline pumped into her bloodstream.  Jessica scrambled to her feet.  The tall firs and dense underbrush were undisturbed; nothing seemed out of sorts, but her intuition was unmistakable.

Her friends were to her right, just beyond the first row of trees, yet something cautioned her to keep silent.  If arrows were pointed her way, her call could mean their instant deaths.  Sensing, rather than seeing her attackers, Jessica paused for one brief electric moment, then dove into the two and half-foot deep water and swam for her life, the meager current helping push her downstream.  Twigs snapped behind her. 

Jessica did not travel very far in the water, when the stream became shallower.  She would have to make a run for it.  Grabbing a fist sized rock from the stream bed she scurried out and dashed into the forest, adrenaline overcoming any pain from her ribs.  She let out a piercing scream, hoping Varnack would hear it. 

She could hear her pursuers closing in while she dodged trees and plowed through bushes.  Her efforts to avoid capture were short lived, for two Elitet on horseback easily caught up with her.  She dropped to the ground, just when they reached out to grab her, eluding them for the moment. 

Pivoting around, she headed back upstream to where she hoped her uncle and the others would be.  Again, she did not run very far, for one of the horsemen quickly turned his mount.  He launched himself from his saddle, striking like a missile into her side, and throwing her to the ground with a crushing force.  She heard the sickening crackle when three of her ribs broke. 

With adrenaline’s magical strength running through her veins, she slammed the rock, still in her hand, into the man’s face.  The force pushed him backward and Jessica kicked him off, but the second horseman rode up and the three other members of the deadly team crashed through the bushes toward her.  Still on the ground, she found herself completely surrounded.

For a moment no one moved.  The men stared at her, their eyes flashing daggers of hate.  She knew if their orders were not so strict to bring her in alive, they would have torn her apart.  Jessica’s chest throbbed; she could not fight anymore.  Suddenly, the distinct impression to lie down and duck flowed into her mind. 
Varnack!
  She curled up in a ball, with both arms protecting her head.  She closed her eyes tightly.  There was a menacing growl, the zing of flying arrows, the thud of falling bodies, and the clash of a single sword fight.