The Protector of Esparia (The Annals of Esparia Book 1) (18 page)

Jessica did not move and she did not want to look.  She had seen and smelled enough of death these last two days.  Someone gently picked her up.

“Uncle Anton, the ribs are definitely broken now,” she whispered.  “I heard them snap.” 

With Varnack limping along beside them, Anton carried Jessica back to their horses, leaving the grizzly clean up to Ophir and Reese.  Setting her down on a fallen log, he walked over to the bound Elitet and ripped off what was left of his black shirt.  With the garment completely stripped off, the tattoo of a snake’s head was revealed on the Elitet’s right forearm.  The man’s eyes were full of the same hate Jessica saw only a short time before from his compatriots.  Once again, she felt grateful he was gagged. 

Anton used the torn shirt to tightly wrap his niece’s torso.  Rummaging through her knapsack, he took the horse brush from it and gently brushed out her damp hair.  By the time Ophir and Reese returned to the makeshift camp with the Elitet’s horses, supplies and weapons, Jessica’s hair was detangled, shining and tied into a pony tail with a piece of black cloth. 

“I wanna get out of this forest,” Anton said.  “As soon as possible.”

“I heartily agree,” Ophir nodded.  “Two Elitet units in barely two days are too much.”

Though pale and weak, Jessica insisted on riding her own horse.  The men protested, but she held her ground.  “In Vorgen Hoffle, the people asked me who I was.  I told them I didn’t know.  Well, I didn’t then, but I do now.”

Anton raised his eyebrows, Ophir smiled slightly, and Reese looked at her expectantly.  “I am Jessica Ernshaw, Graesion and Gayleena’s granddaughter, the last living blood-heir to the House of Saylon.  In my veins runs the blood of Esparian heritage.  Daenon thinks me a person of such import he sent at least three teams of Elitet to find me.  I am a Protector of Esparia.” 

Ophir’s smile grew, his eyes shone.  Anton nodded, pride on his face.  Reese bowed at the waist.  “I will ride my horse, my head held high.  How can I be any sort of Protector to these people if I crumble at the first injury I get?  Esparians need to see their Protector, not some wimpy girl.”

Anton remained close to Jessica’s side while they rode.  After an hour of slow, silent travel he said in the quietest voice Jessica had heard him use yet, “Impressive display back there.  Do you really know who you are?”

“Yes, I do. While you brushed my hair, I went over everything that’s happened since I arrived here.  The people of Vorgen Hoffle, Older Tarin, Karree, Chana, the children…I came to respect them, admire them, even feel affection for them in those few days I spent there.”  She shook her head.  “I just thought about everything, Anton, and something deep inside says I belong here.  I don’t understand the strange powers I feel, they scare me, but they are real.  I had them on Earth, though not nearly this strong.”

“Larone can help ya understand the expanse of Gonta.  The sooner we get to Ramadine, the better.”

It took another day before they reached a heavily traveled highway cutting through the northern tip of Feather Forest.  Buggies, carriages, wagons, horses and people on foot journeyed in both directions.  When the rag-tag party of two heavily armed soldiers, one huge man, a tightly bound and gagged Elitet, a limping, golden Trigal hound, and a white faced, brightly red-haired girl emerged from the forest, traffic came to a standstill.  People stared in wonder.  They made quite a sight, but it was to Jessica most of the stares were directed.

She met the onlookers with calm assurance.  Yes, she finally knew who she was, though she had no thoughts of greatness.  She would never rule, she didn’t want to.  However, she was a symbol for authority.  In her, the protector line continued and this could inspire the people.  But would they accept her?  That remained to be seen. 

An elderly woman, using a walking stick for support, threaded her way to the forefront of the gathering crowd.  She used her cane to bully those in her pathway aside.

“Uncle Anton, look.”  Jessica gestured toward the old woman.

“Ophir, do ya know this lady?”  Anton asked.

Silence fell on the crowd when the woman advanced to Jessica’s side.  She looked Jessica up and down then pursed her lips.  “Finally,” she said, “You’re too young to be Shallenon, but you definitely belong to Lady Gayleena.”

“I'm her granddaughter, Jessica.  My mother was Shallenon.” 

Ophir peered closely at the old woman.  “Radlia,” he said.  She turned at her name, her eyes brightening in recognition of him. 

“Ophir, my boy!” she exclaimed warmly.  “How good you look.”

“Lady Gayleena has come home,” he told her, a blush in his cheeks. 

“Yes, I’ve heard, but this child is unexpected!”

Jessica sat taller in her saddle and took a deep breath.  “I am Jessica Ernshaw, Granddaughter of Lord Graesion Saylon, High Protector of Esparia.” 

“Granddaughter?  Graesion?  A protector?  Her hair!”  A buzz of excitement swept through the crowd. 

Turning to Radlia Jessica asked, “How do you know my family?”

“I attended to Lady Gayleena at the Dorsett and I loved your grandmother.  I’ve missed her these many years.  I’m traveling to Ramadine to see her.”  Tears welled up in the woman’s old eyes.  “When I heard about Protector Haesom’s death, I cried.  Such tragedy.  Then the news of Lady Gayleena’s return reached my tiern and my mourning turned to joy.  But seeing you…a grandchild of Lord Graesion’s, my joy turns to
hope
.”   Her joyous voice rang out loud and clear.  “A Saylon lives!”  Many bystanders echoed her words.

A lump rose in Jessica’s throat.  Maybe, just maybe, her coming here would be useful after all.

Anton urged the horses forward and the crowd parted.  Many bowed when they rode past while others still gaped at the young Protectoress.  Traffic on the congested highway inched along.  By the time the group reached the first hoffle, people lined the streets by the hundreds to look at the beaten and battered group.   

When Gaylee traveled to Ramadine, the throngs of people cheered her.  Where ever Jessica traveled, the throngs of people saluted her in respectful silence.  At the first tiern they came to, Anton made one short, eloquent speech in the city square.  “I am Anton, son of Paulus, of House Liedia.  My companions are Varnack, the Trigal hound, Ophir, Commander of the Esparian Defense Academy at Ider Hoffle, Reese, grandson of General Gammet, and Protectoress Jessica Ernshaw, granddaughter of Protector Graesion of House Saylon, blood niece to Protector Haesom of House Saylon.  She has come from far away to lead our people to victory against he who would destroy us all, Daenon of the Demarian Deserts.”

Jessica did not realize at the time what impact this speech had on the people.  Just the fact these famous warriors traveled in the same party was news to send hundreds of birds flying.  By the time Jessica reached Ramadine, everyone in the country knew about her. 

* * *

A little over a week after first coming to Ramadine, John was working out on the military training ground when he spotted Larone running full speed toward him.  Out of breath, his silver hair in need of combing, he came panting up to John and Cordon.  Every activity ceased on the field.  All eyes turned to the stately gentleman, who at that moment looked exceedingly unstately. 

“I knew…you would want to hear…the news…and I have looked everywhere…for you.  Jessica is going to be all right.  She is on her way here…with Anton, Varnack, Ophir and Reese…they have a prisoner, an Elitet Shield.”

“A Shield!” Cordon exclaimed before John could say anything.  “How did they capture a Shield?”

“I do not know.  My news is limited, but they are on their way.”

“Finally,” John said with relief, but then, “wait a minute, what do you mean, ‘Jessica is
going
to be all right’?  What’s wrong with her?”

“As I said, my information is not complete.  Jessica is noticeably weak and hurt, but rides without assistance.  Varnack limps at her side.” 

“I need to go to her.”

“No, my friend.”  Larone placed his hand on John’s arm.  “Everywhere she goes the people salute her because of her courage and her bearing.  Do not take that away from her.  If anything were life threatening Anton would waste no time in seeking medical attention.  They have not done so, and stop only to eat a little and sleep before continuing their journey here.  Wait, and receive her with the others when they come.  They are hailed as heroes.  Let it be so.”

Reluctantly, John agreed.  “How long will it take them to reach Ramadine?” 

“I estimate four, perhaps five days.”

To fill those days, John threw himself into studies and training, however, that dedication was interrupted after three days when the great bell in Ramadine’s Central Hall rang out.  It only rang on special occasions.  Out on the training field with Lyrista, they heard the clear tones.  Soldiers and students left what they were doing and ran to the main square.  John and Lyrista joined Larone and Gaylee in front of the lime-green Administration Building.  A troop of soldiers, dressed in Esparian deep blue and silver, rode through the gateway.  The silent onlookers bowed their heads when the group passed.  Halting in front of the Great Healer, the leader dismounted, took a long, thin wrapped package from his horse and walked toward Larone.  The soldier bowed, then turned to Gaylee and saluted her.  Falling to one knee, he took the package in both hands and offered it up.

Gaylee accepted the bundle.  Turning it over in her hands, she unwrapped it.  When the fabric fell away, a beautiful sword was revealed.  “Oh my,” she gasped, and tears stung her eyes.  “This is wonderful, thank you, very much.  Where did you find it?”

The soldier looked at Larone, and after receiving a single nod explained, “My Lady, Healer Larone chose my comrades and I from a group of volunteers to bury all the dead from the Dorsett massacre.  It took us many days, but we’ve finished our sad duty.  We found your son, Protector Haesom, and his family already buried next to Protector Graesion.  We discovered the sword hidden under many bodies in the basement of the charred remains of the Dorsett.  I cleaned the blade, wrapped it, and brought it back for you.”

John could see it was a magnificent weapon.  Made of fine steel, the blade glittered in the sun.  Three large diamond shaped crystals, perfectly clear like glass and surrounded by ornate carvings, were set into the golden hilt.  Smaller rubies and emeralds accented the crystals.  He guessed it was perfectly balanced, and by the way Gaylee held it, unusually lightweight. 

“This is the Sword of Judgment.  It was a gift to Graesion on our wedding day from Uncle Larone and Uncle Anton,” Gaylee explained to John.  “It belonged to their father, and was one of two sister swords handed down in our family.  After Graesion died, Ophir rescued the Sword of Judgment and gave it to Haesom.”  Gaylee turned back to the soldier, who now stood before her. “Thank you again,” and looking at the other nineteen still astride their mounts, called out, “I thank each of you.”

Without hesitation, in front of the people at Ramadine, she held the sword out to John.  Astounded, he hesitated.  “John,” she announced loud and clear, “this sword belonged to my husband and then to my son.  It belongs to a member of my family and you are my son as Shallenon was my daughter.  From this day forward you are officially known upon the records of this land as my legal heir.  Please, accept this with my love and appreciation, John Ernshaw of the House of Liedia-Saylon.”

The chirping of a bird in one of the tall trees sliced through the silence.  John looked from the sword to Gaylee.  He realized this to be a defining moment and that his present actions would affect the rest of his life.  For an instant, time stood still.  As clear as if she were standing next to him, John heard Shallenon's voice. 

“Help my people, John.  Help
our
people.”

The sword, glistening in the bright sunlight, came back into focus.  John took a deep breath and accepted the weapon. 

“Thank you,” he said huskily.  “I’ll honor the Sword of Judgment and be true to what it stands for.”  When his hands closed around the blade and hilt, the three crystals came to life.  For many seconds they glowed brightly, encompassing John in an aura of white light.  

“The sword has accepted you as its master,” Larone whispered in his ear.

The crowd seemed to have sensed the enormity of the occasion also, for after John accepted the weapon, several more seconds of silence passed, then the reverence was shattered by thunderous cheers and applause.

* * *

Once more, the great bell of Ramadine rang loud and clear.  It heralded the approach of some extraordinary, weary travelers.  Larone, John, and Gaylee assembled in front of the door at the Administration Building.  The visibly worn-out group entered the great city through the massive front gates.  Jessica rode slightly ahead with Anton on her right and a limping Varnack on her left.  Ophir and Reese trailed a little behind them with the captured Elitet coming last of all, the nine extra Elitet horses, gathered from the two battles, tethered to his.  They moved slowly up the bricked roadway. 

Every soldier they passed gave the salute of Loyalty.  John stood solemn and proud.  Jessica’s white pants were permanently gray and torn in several places.  A dark bruise on her cheek stood out against the pallor of her face.  Her silk blouse was tattered and smudged with bloodstains.  Anton signaled a stop when they came to the large, green colored hall.  He dismounted first, then lifted Jessica from her horse and set her feet on the ground.  She smiled at her father and grandmother, her head held high, a look of triumph in her eyes.  She had made it.