The Protector of Esparia (The Annals of Esparia Book 1) (43 page)

Esparian soldiers came running from every direction.  A high pitched whistle, not too far from the tent, rent the air, and a state of confusion ensued for the next several minutes.  Lyrista ignored the commotion around her.  Clamping her lacerated arm closed, she crossed to her comrade.  He put a supporting arm around her waist when she stepped through the ripped tent to check on John, who had just jumped through the front flap, sword in hand.

“What is going on?” he yelled above the din.  “Everyone quiet.”  His authoritative voice rang over the disorder and brought a measure of calm.

“John,” Lyrista called.  In the dark, she could feel her wound spurt with every beat of her heart.  “Elitet were here.  I don’t know how many.”

He rounded the tent, stepping over two bodies to get to her.  “If it weren’t for this soldier,” she nodded to the man who continued to support her, “you and I would both be dead right now.”  Suddenly, Lyrista felt light headed.  “My arm…”  Her knees buckled.  The soldier picked Lyrista up in his arms. 

“My Lord Protector, the commander’s badly wounded,” he said.

John put his sword away and called for light.  Three torches immediately appeared as well as a young healer from the nearby hospital. 

“I heard the yelling and grabbed some supplies,” the physician said, shouldering his way through the growing crowd.  He pulled a purple fern from his pocket when the soldier laid Lyrista on the ground. 

With the magical sap numbing the wound, Lyrista tried to think more clearly.  “Have the Guardians returned?”

“Yes, Commander,” a voice came from behind.  A tall Guardian, the leader of Lyrista’s reserve band, came around and knelt beside her.  The crowd quieted when the man spoke.  “We’re all accounted for.”

“What did you find?” she asked.  John and the young healer worked together to stitch her severed artery and muscle.

“Elitet, though I don’t know how many.  We took them by surprise and killed quite a few.  Others committed suicide rather than surrender.  Someone whistled for them to leave, so I’m not certain how many escaped.  My men are gathering the bodies.”

“You can have these too,” John said dryly, looking at the bodies scattered around his tent.

“I’m dizzy,” Lyrista said in a weak voice.

“You know, it only takes a few minutes to bleed to death,” John said grimly.  “Were you trying to set a record?”

“Didn’t know I was hurt that bad.”

“Don’t worry, Commander Lyrista,” the young healer said, a note of satisfaction in his voice, “we got to you in time.  You’ll be good as new in a couple of days.”

John shook his head.  “Never ceases to amaze me, how fast Edians heal,” he whispered to Lyrista.

She inspected her arm.  A three inch line of tiny, neat stitches were all that remained of the nasty cut. “You’re from Florio, aren’t you?” she said to the healer. “A student of Orin?”

“Yes,” he answered, a proud smile on his face.

“We really need to find out who this Orin guy is,” John said.

Lyrista nodded.  “Help me up.”  With John at her side, she looked to the soldier who was such a tremendous help.  “Are you hurt?”

“Only a few marks.  They’ll heal soon enough.”

“I owe you my thanks,” John said, offering the man his hand.  “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“I am called Brayon of Vorgen Hoffle, and you owe me nothing.”  He shook John’s hand.  “I’ve searched for a way to repay my life debt to your daughter, Lady Jessica, and now I’ve found it.  I was all but dead, and through her Salupathic Gift, she healed my body and brought back my life.”

* * *

After nearly a week of fighting, Daenon’s line broke and began to retreat.  His death ultimatum achieved its purpose.  It took only a few brutal executions to convince his troops to never consider surrender.

Finally realizing his men were spread too thin, Daenon decided to consolidate.  “Send orders to every officer to retreat to Twin Hills,” he ordered his communications men.  “We will regroup there and crush these Esparians.  Send word to each hoffle.  I want every man, woman and child who can hold a weapon to join us.”

Where is Addex when I need him?
  He thought angrily. 
I sent him to fetch Jessica six days ago.  What could be keeping him?

* * *

The warm morning found Jessica under one of the many beautiful shade trees that graced the front lawn at Rendaira.  She lay on her stomach with her chin resting on her hands, intently watching the main drive.  The dairy deliveryman had not come in nearly a week. 

Her mind wandered while she observed a short, fat bee gather pollen from a nearby flower.  The days had flown away, but she guessed she had been on Edia three or four months.  It felt like years. 
On Earth, it would be sometime in late August or September,
she thought to herself
.  School begins soon.  I wonder if Sophia told Rachel where I am. I wonder how Thomas is doing in Europe
.  “Thomas,” she said out loud.  “Oh, what’s the use?  Earth is light-years away.”  She rolled over to stare at Ragus, hanging like a specter in the cloudless sky.

A snapping twig, then Merula sitting beside her brought reality back.  “If the deliveryman doesn’t come today,” Jessica said, “then I’ll take the Sword of Mercy.”

Merula nodded, a gleam in her eyes.  “It’s time.  I’ll tell the others, tonight Rendaira is ours.”

“Be careful.  The guards may not be Elitet, but they’re still well trained.”

“Don’t worry.  We know what we’re doing.”

Jessica waited out on the lawn until dusk.  The deliveryman never came.  “Well, that’s it.  It’s time.”  She jumped to her feet. 

When she reached the mansion’s front entrance, a distant rumble caught her attention.  She gazed down the long drive toward the sound.  “Horses!” she breathed.  Her heart beat faster.  “Dad?”  She strained to look.  In the twilight, she found it difficult to make out the uniforms, but, then they registered.  “Black!”  To her horror, she recognized Elitet!  And Addex led the pack.

She threw the mansion door open and ran for the kitchens.  The battle for Rendaira had already begun.  She hurdled the bodies of four palace guards before bursting into the first kitchen.  Most of the staff was there.  They were arming themselves with knives and many held swords, two dripped with fresh blood.   

“Elitet,” Jessica yelled.  “And Addex is leading them.” 

Cook Stratin looked at those around her, then rested her eyes on Merula.  Everyone looked to Merula.  “How many Elitet?” Merula asked.

Jessica had not stopped to count them.  “I don’t know, about twenty or thirty maybe.”

“We outnumber them and we have surprise on our side.”  Merula gazed at her friends.  “We’ve already taken care of most of Rendaira’s guard, and I say we attack.”

“I agree,” Cook Stratin said.

“Go, Jessica,” Merula commanded.  Turning her back on her friend, she began giving orders to her people.  “Spread out throughout the house and grounds. We…” her voice trailed off as Jessica bolted for the back stairs and ran for the secret passage.  The sounds of fighting filtered up from the entry hall.  She squeezed through the tiny opening, lit a torch, and scampered down the stairwell.  She flew through the narrow passageways to the Treasure room.

After entering the dark chamber, she picked up a small, golden statue.  When she reached the glass case the crystal at the end of the sword’s hilt glowed brightly.  “You know, don’t you?” She felt an odd sense of oneness with the beautiful weapon.  She extinguished, then discarded the small fire brand, its light a pathetic glow to the brilliant effulgence radiating from within the glass box.

With both hands Jessica raised the statue above her head, and with all her strength brought it straight down.  The case imploded under the force of the blow.  Gingerly reaching in, she took the sword.  As soon as her fingers curled around it, the glow of the crystal ball increased tenfold, bathing the entire room with bright light.  The hilt felt cool to her touch and the sword itself was unexpectedly lightweight.  Turning the sword over in her hand, she could only stare at it in amazement.  “So much power.”

Without warning, the main door burst open.

“What are you doing in here?”

She did not have to look up to know the voice behind the question belonged to Addex.

“Just retrieving something that belongs to me.”  She said coolly, meeting the Shield’s stony stare.   “Why have you come back without Daenon?  Deserted?”

The nausea started churning in the pit of her stomach.  Slowly, she walked backwards, edging her way towards the hidden passage.  He smelled of blood and breathed heavily.  In one hand he held a torch and in the other his crimson covered sword.  He slid the torch into a holder just inside the door.  Jessica felt bile rise in her throat.  He sheathed his sword and pulled his dagger.  She knew she was in trouble.

“Do you see this?”  He waved the dagger before her.  “This is the weapon I used to kill your Uncle Haesom with.  I also used it to kill your aunt and your two cousins.”

“No,” Jessica hissed, trying to stifle the queasiness.  “You killed my Uncle with your sword. I was there.  I saw you do it.”

Addex wavered for an instant, surprise registering on his face, but it was briefly lived.  Continuing his advance, an evil smile twitched at his lips. 

Anger flooded through her, sweeping away the paralyzing nausea.  “Addex, you’re a coward!” she seethed.  “In a truly fair fight you’d never win. You prey on women and children and you never take on a real man by yourself, you always have an army behind you.”

He stopped, his face turned scarlet and his hand shook.  “If I had more time, I’d show you what I am capable of.”

“You can’t kill me,” she taunted, forcing her voice to remain calm.  “Your master wouldn’t like it.”

“I have no intentions of killing you.  But a woman without sight is much easier to control than one with it.”

The nausea came shooting back.  Her grip tightened around the sword.  The delicate blade may not have been forged for battle, but it was the only weapon she had and she decided to use it.  Instantly, the nauseous feeling vanished, as strange warmth crept through her sword arm.  She glanced at her hand.  The magnificent blade pulsated with an electric energy which traveled through her fingers, upward into her body.

As soon as she broke eye contact, Addex lunged, reaching for Jessica’s hair with his left hand while he held his knife in his right.  From the corner of her eye, she saw the movement.  She readied to thrust the sword forward, but Addex suddenly gasped and stumbled.  Jessica spun away from him.  A queer, thunderstruck look crossed his face as he jerked upright.  When he turned around, a large butcher knife protruded out from between his shoulder blades.  It was plunged in up to the handle, and from its angle, Jessica could tell it pierced his heart.

“That’s for my mother.”  Merula’s voice echoed.  “And this is for my brothers.”

The sound of metal ripping into flesh was heard again and the tip of a sword slide out through Addex’s lower back.  He lurched forward, reaching for his assailant, but his knees buckled.  With his blood pooling around him he looked up at Merula.  “You!” he choked as blood spilled from his mouth.  He fell forward, rose briefly on his hands, then dropped back down, a look of shock forever engraved on his ashen face.

Jessica stared open mouthed.  Her eyes darted from Addex’s lifeless form to Merula and back again.  “Th…Th..Thanks.”

“Go!” Merula hissed, then standing aside, she pointed to the massive open door.  White faced, she shook uncontrollably.  The sporadic sounds of battle could be heard in the silence of the treasure room.  An occasional yell, then brief metal on metal, let Jessica know the fight for Rendaira was still going on. 

“Don’t worry about us.  Just go!  Raise your sword and bring freedom to this land!”  Merula cried.

Jessica ran from the scene of Addex’s death straight to her bedchambers.  She passed several Elitet and servants lying lifeless in the hallways.  Chak’s body lay sprawled upside down on the marble staircase, a meat cleaver imbedded in his chest. 

With trembling hands, Jessica changed into the pants and shirt she had made especially for her escape.  Blue satin, drawstring pants, a white peasant blouse she had tried to embroider with silver thread, and a red waist sash for accent was as much of an Esparian uniform as she could manufacture on her own.  Grabbing a small box from under her bed, she reverently pulled out her aunt’s precious locket and placed it around her neck.

Before she left Rendaira, the servant-slaves took the jailers and Elitet prisoner.  While obtaining the Sword of Mercy, she missed most of the action, but the slashed, lifeless bodies of servants and soldiers, as well as the many wounded, gave testimony of the bitter, brief conflict. 

Having been stripped of their weapons, the Elitet were being marched to the servant’s quarters to be locked up.  Cook Stratin gave Jessica a knapsack of food and large container of water.  The stableman brought her favorite mare, and with the Sword of Mercy strapped firmly to her side she galloped eastward to find her father and the armies of Esparia.

The Protectors of Esparia

With both moons in their new stages, the night seemed much darker than usual.  Stars glistened overhead, but their meager light gave little illumination to the desert terrain.  Once beyond Rendaira’s borders, Jessica passed several riderless horses.  She asked two for news of the war, but they were of little help.  Anxious to find her father, but not accustomed to navigating by unfamiliar constellations, she determined after only a few hours of travel, rather than become further disoriented, she would stop until morning.  While the mare grazed on meager desert flora, Jessica curled up in a shallow ditch and fell into a light sleep.

A footstep brought her around.  Motionless, she listened, her heart pounding in her ears.  She felt no nausea, but that did little to calm her overactive imagination.  Slowly the steps drew closer to where she lay. 
Why didn’t I grab a real weapon?
  She chided herself. 
I can be so stupid sometimes.  Go away, please just go away!

“J’ca?”  Jessica felt the words form in her head.  “J’ca?”

“Web?  Is that you?”

A joyful whinny came in answer.  Jessica sprang from the ditch and threw her arms around the horse’s neck.  Tears stung her eyes and she choked back the rising flood.  A feeling of warmth washed over her as her faithful friend nuzzled her cheek. 

“How did you find me?”

“Many days, ran away.  Brother, carried Elitet, saw you.  Surprised human speak.  Search.”

“An Elitet’s horse?  You weren’t afraid of the animal?”

“No.  Brother's no war.  Rules, order.  No war.”

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you.  Are you thirsty?  I have water.”

Jessica gave Web a drink, then set the mare from Rendaira free.  When the animal trotted off, Jessica settled down for the rest of the night.  With Web standing guard, she felt safe for the first time in many weeks. 

For six days Jessica and Web rode due east.  The desert seemed to be one, never changing land of rock, sagebrush and cacti.  They never encountered another human soul, however two more riderless horses were able to give them information on the whereabouts of the gathering armies. 

At last they caught a glimpse of the Demarian forces in the distance.  “We need to hide now,” Jessica said.  “We’ll continue on after the sun goes down.” 

Taking shelter behind a small clump of rocks and thick, scraggly bushes, Jessica waited until midnight to continue the final phase of her journey.  Without a sound, Web trotted to the enemy line, his stealth surprising Jessica.  They followed the line of campfires for nearly two hours before finding an opening to squeeze through.  Jessica leaned forward and flattened herself against the horse’s neck while they galloped, unnoticed, into the no-man’s land between the two opposing armies. 

“Wow,” Jessica whispered, “where did you learn to walk and gallop so noiselessly?  I didn’t think a horse could be so quiet.”

“Brother carried Ghost Walker.  Teach.”

“Impressive!  Right now we need to find a high spot somewhere, and we need to find it before the sun rises.  I have a plan.”

The armies were aligned to the east and to the west, both camps stretching for nearly a filon.  Jessica realized she and Web were on the southern end of the camps.  Fires on both sides blazed as far north as she could see.  She and Web traveled down the pitch dark center of the soon-to-be battlefield, trying to find some high point, but the land lay utterly flat. 

Jessica desperately needed a high point and her anxiety began to mount.  At last, the land under Web’s feet rose.  She urged him forward and within minutes they stood atop a small hillock.  It would have to do.  The almost imperceptible outline of another small knoll about five hundred yards further north caught her attention.  She later learned these were the Twin Hills, and the only high points in the surrounding desert for filons.  They were located in the very center of the battlefield.

After assuring Web she did indeed have a good plan, Jessica sent him to the Esparian line.  She pulled the Sword of Mercy from its cloth wrapping and sat down to await the sun’s first rays.  Sleep had fled long ago.  Her heart pounded, uncontrolled, inside her chest. 
I hope this works.  If the sword is half as impressive as I think it will be, then maybe I can put some fear into the Demarians.
  From the Demarian line, the brief clashing of swords drifted up to where she sat.  She peered southward, down the enemy ranks, trying to locate the source and thought she heard some muffled cries.  One of the flickering campfires shining at the end of the line went out. 
What’s going on down there? Fighting within the ranks?
She shrugged.
Curious.

The surrounding landscape slowly turned from black nothingness to gray shades, and with the increasing light, the gray shades started to take on muted color.  The opposing armies were waking.  Clinking metal and marching feet filled the air when the soldiers on each side entered battle formation.

I hope this works. 
Jessica stood to her full height, and taking the sword in both hands she raised it high above her head. 
If this battle begins before the sun rises, I’m doomed
.  Hundreds of thousands lined up on both sides of her, as far north and south as she could see; an ocean of humanity, seemingly innumerable.  The giants stood out on the Esparian line and they held a slight advantage with the morning light to their backs. 
This’ll be a blood bath if I’m not successful.

The horizon steadily brightened and Jessica gripped the sword.  Facing north, she focused straight ahead when, to her amazement, a lone figure rose up to stand at the very top of the twin hill in front of her. 
Was he there all night, waiting like I was?
  The man was dressed in full plate armor, it having been polished to a high gloss.  There was a familiarity in the soldier’s stance, the way he held his body.  With sudden recognition, she gasped. 
Oh my gosh…Dad!

Unhurriedly, he turned in a circle.  When he spotted Jessica atop her hill he stopped.  A soft breeze blew, swirling her long red hair gently about her face.  Slowly, he raised his right arm directly above his head.  In his hand was the Sword of Judgment.  Father and daughter faced each other, their two sister swords held high.

The first rays of sunlight flooded over the plain, hitting John and Jessica at the same moment.  The tip of the Sword of Mercy caught the rays which bounced from diamond facet to diamond facet, multiplying a thousand times.  The hilt of Jessica’s sword quickly heated up in her hands.  The warmth spread down her arms and through her body to the tips of her toes.  She looked up.  The crystal ball at the end of the handle glowed with a pure, white light.  The glow quickly increased in intensity, finally forcing her to avert her eyes.  The handle never became hot, but the warmth continued to radiate down through her.  The sword shone with a brilliance that dazzled both armies into complete silence.  The powerful light pulsed in rhythm to Jessica’s heartbeat.

“Listen to me, people of Edia,” Jessica shouted into the profound stillness.  “This war will have no winners.  Throw down your weapons of destruction and live in peace.  I am Protector Jessica Ernshaw, granddaughter of Protectors Graesion and Gayleena Saylon.  I am the daughter of John Ernshaw Saylon, the High Protector of Esparia.”

When Jessica finished her short speech, she knelt on one knee and pointed her sword at her father on the opposite hill.  The Sword of Mercy surged into power, completely encompassing Jessica in a cocoon of brilliant white.  In seconds, the light gathered around her and rolled upward to the sword.  An arc of pure energy, later described as hundreds of lightning bolts, jumped from the tip of the Sword of Mercy to the tip of the Sword of Judgment.  It traveled down the blade, enveloping John in a radiance that momentarily blinded everyone looking at him, including Jessica. 

“Desert people of Demar, Esparians and Giants,” John’s voice boomed out, as if a microphone were amplifying his words.  “I have come from far away to heal this land.  This world and I have become one.  I do not come in vengeance.  I do not come in anger.  I come with peace.  I come with justice.  Lower your weapons and return to your lands.  Your farms have not been destroyed, your homes still stand, ready to welcome you back.  Let hate rule you no more, but live with us in peace.”

Murmurs rippled throughout the Demarian line as Jessica and John’s messages spread to those who did not hear them.  The air was still, for the breeze had died away and everyone waited in silence.  Jessica expected Daenon to give the command to attack at any moment, but it did not come.  Yet on one knee, she lowered her sword, still warm and faintly pulsating with captured light, to her side.  John lowered his sword and the glow around him slightly diminished. 

The Esparian ranks opened and a lone rider came onto the field.  The man rode directly between the twin hills, stopping on the Demarian side of them. 

“I am Lepsis,” the rider called to the Demarians.  At the mention of his name a buzz rose throughout the entire army.  He raised his hand for silence.  “You know me.  I have willingly given this protector my allegiance.”  He pointed up at John.  “He is an honorable man.  Throw down your weapons.  Go home.  Take your wives and your children with you and live in peace.”

Jessica held her breath. 
Where is Daenon?
  She thought. 
I can hardly believe he hasn’t said or done anything against us. 
She looked at her father.  The light surrounding him was slowly fading.

For a full ten minutes no one spoke and not a soul moved. 
What could they be thinking? 
Jessica wondered. 
Is death so preferable to peace, they must take so much time to think about it? 
A skirmish broke out towards the northern tip of the Demarian line.  Jessica stood, but could not see exactly what was happening.  John stood at attention, he too watched the fighting.  “Jessica,” he whirled around to face her.  “Send me another lightning bolt.”

“Another lightning bolt?” she questioned. 
I don’t know how I made the first one.
  Raising the sword above her head and gripping it tightly in both hands, she held her breath. 
Another lightning bolt, huh?
  Nothing happened. 

The clash of steel grew louder, as the skirmish had spread to other sections of the Demarian line.  Screams of women and children could be heard above the ringing of metal on metal.  “Come on Jessica!” her father yelled.  “I need that power now!”

Looking up at the blade in her grasp, Jessica concentrated on the clear ball at its end.  She turned toward the sun, its rays full in her face.  Closing her eyes, she imagined Edia, bathed in the sun’s life giving light.  She ‘saw’ the planet, felt her pain at the loss of nearly a million of her children.  

“Bree…Bree…Bree.”  She whispered.  As if in response, a flash of fire shot from the soles of Jessica’s feet upward through her body.  It poured from her hands into the Sword of Mercy.  She opened her eyes.  The crystal ball pulsed once again with power.  Focusing on the clear sphere, she willed it to burst into flame.  She became a human conduit, with energy traveling from the ground she stood on to steel clutched in her hands.  With a mighty effort, she swung around and pointed the sword at her father.  The arc of lightning he needed shot to the waiting Sword of Judgment.

John caught the force without flinching.  With the Sword of Judgment now alive in his hand he turned toward the fighting Demarians.  He raised the weapon above his head and, as if casting a fishing rod, he threw an energy bolt directly in front of the deadly chaos.  An enormous explosion hammered the dry earth.  Tons of sand shot up and rained down upon the stunned Demarians.  A crater, nearly twenty feet wide and five feet deep was created.

“People of Demar, stop this fighting now!” John roared, his voice filled with authority.  “Throw down your weapons.  If you do not, I will obliterate you with the next bolt of power.”

Jessica collapsed after sending her light to John.  She now had a much better understanding of the relationship between the sister swords.  When her father threatened the warring desert people, her heart sank. 
He can’t be serious.  I don’t have enough energy to stand, let alone conjure up another bomb.

John did not speak again.  It took nearly a half hour for anyone on the field to move.  At last, a Demarian commander stepped from the line of soldiers and walked to Lepsis.  Jessica could see the two conversing, but she could not hear their words.  At length, the officer stepped back, unsheathed his weapons and dropped them at Lepsis’ feet.  Turning to face John, he bowed slightly, then returned to his troops.  After several more long minutes, a few Demarian men followed his example, then gradually, by tens and twenties, then hundreds, soldiers stepped forward and threw their weapons on the ground.  Jessica rose to her feet, remaining upon her hill during this ceremony.  Her father never moved an inch. 

To her amazement, not only men come forward, but also women and many children.  Not all the Demarians surrendered however.  Many shouted curses and obscenities at those who opted for peace.  Jessica learned these were mostly Elitet, and they fled westward before they could be stopped or captured.

Lepsis later reported the gist of his brief conversation with the Demarian commander.  Without Daenon screaming at them and feeding their hate, the desert people, tired of death and war, decided for themselves to try the path of peace.  The battling in the northern ranks broke out because the Elitet would rather have seen the people dead than surrender.