The Protector of Esparia (The Annals of Esparia Book 1) (19 page)

Family

It was late in the evening when Jessica, dressed in a white cottony nightgown borrowed from Lyrista, crawled into a soft bed with clean sheets.  She had taken a hot bath with lots of soap and felt, at last, completely clean.  Having refused to leave her side for the night, Varnack lay comfortably on a soft rug beside the bed.  Jessica’s chamber was one of three small bedrooms in the guest quarters at Ramadine.  Gaylee and Lyrista occupied the other two.  All three rooms opened to a small communal sitting parlor, similar to Larone’s next door, only without so many books. 

Jessica was exhausted, both emotionally and physically.  She had been strong for her father; he would worry if she had broken down in front of him.  However, when finally alone with her grandmother in the sitting room, she had crumbled into her arms and sobbed while Gaylee held her and softly stroked her head.  Jessica never kept her emotions inside for very long.  Allowing them to escape was her way of coping with life.     

The tears had brought a cleansing effect, so now Jessica felt at peace, ready to sleep forever.  Just when she snuggled into a comfortable position, a quiet tap at the door called for her attention.  With Varnack close at her side, she answered the summons.

“I come bearing gifts,” her father said, a wide grin on his face.  He held out a neatly folded pile of clothing.  “I didn’t have the chance to give this to you before--too much going on, but I thought you could use these.”

Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned against the door frame and watched her face while she inspected the gifts.  “Oh, Dad!  My jeans, my favorite polo, my green t-shirt and track sweats!”  She threw one arm around him, then kissed him on the cheek.  He gingerly hugged her back.

“As much as I’d like to, I can’t take the credit for these.  It was your grandma’s idea to bring the extra clothes and Sophia picked them out.  At the time, I thought both women were crazy, but I’ve been the designated pack mule for these, and so I get to give them to you.  Now it’s time you sleep, Jess.  I love you.”  He kissed her forehead and left.

Jessica admired each garment before she laid it at the foot of the bed.  She wondered what impact the new style clothing would make on Edian fashion.  She could hardly wait until morning.

Sunlight poured through veiled windows when Jessica awoke to Varnack licking her hand.  Opening her eyes, she moaned, “Okay.  Okay.  I’m awake.”  She longed to stay in the comfortable bed, but slid out and opened the door so Varnack could leave.  She waved to Lyrista who looked comfortable in an overstuffed chair in the sitting room.  The new clothes were still on the bed, exactly where she had left them.  Cautious not to disturb the bandages around her ribcage that Larone had so carefully wrapped the previous night, she dressed.  Choosing the jeans and designer sweatshirt, she relished every moment of putting the fresh clothes on. 

“Good morning, Lyrista,” Jessica said when she walked into the small common area. 

“Good morning.”  Lyrista smiled back.  “Your grandmother left early this morning.  An elderly woman has come.  I guess she used to be Lady Gayleena’s personal maid.”

“Radlia.  I’ve met her.”

“You look terrific!  What are those?”  Lyrista nodded at the denims.

“They’re jeans.”  Jessica spun around.  “Like ‘em?”

“Very much.  Now that you and Anton are here, Larone’s called a meeting, but it’s not until this afternoon, so we have a few hours before it starts.  If it’s all right, I’d like to show you around Ramadine.”

“That’d be great, but first I’m starving!”  As if to confirm her declaration, Jessica’s stomach rumbled loudly. 

Lyrista gave a light, gentle laugh.  “Dining hall is this way.”

* * *

Ramadine bustled with activity.  Several gardeners paused from their work to nod when the young Protectoress and fourth bar officer passed by on horseback.  Lyrista smiled back in response.  People hustled from class to class or talked in small groups on the grass.  Jessica had been to several universities before, but Ramadine was a full city and seemed magical, with its green brick pathways and shimmering pastel buildings.  The morning sun reflected off the polished stone facades, making it all sparkle.

Lyrista pointed out the various science and art buildings, the business and mathematical centers, and some of the theatres and performing arts pavilions.  At the bell tower they dismounted.  The seven story monolith reminded Jessica of a grain silo, tall and cylindrical in shape.  Stained glass windows punctuated the entire exterior clear to the bell opening at the top.  A high open archway was built into the wall and Lyrista led their way through it.  Sunlight beamed through the colored glass windows, bouncing rainbows of color off polished white marble walls.  They entered a closet sized platform lift located in the center of the tower.  Lyrista easily pulled, hand over hand, on a rope inside the compartment and the elevator ascended.  “I thought this might be easier than walking our way to the top.” Lyrista explained with a smile.  She stopped just below the gigantic bell.  They stepped onto a staircase that ran around the inside of the tower from the bottom floor to the bell level.  They took the final few stairs up to an open air loft which had been built around the bell, and from this height they could see beyond the fortified walls, in all directions.  To the north grew the vegetable gardens, orchards and livestock pastures, most of the houses and apartments lay to the west, and in the east were the soldiers’ quarters, military stables and training fields. 

It took a little over four hours to take an abbreviated tour through the City of Knowledge.  The final stop was the military school. 

Rounding the last of the soldier barracks, they came to a large expanse of open land.  The exercise field accommodated hundreds of men.  To the far right stood the military stables, three large buildings built of wood and stone.  Between the stables and the field lay a complicated equestrian course, where would-be cavalrymen practiced their horsemanship.  One young recruit fell from his mount when he tried to jump several bales of hay.  Directly in front of them spread a large, grassy lawn filled with exercise apparatus geared to training a soldier.  Men in blue pants and white tunics practiced their swordsmanship, others ran an obstacle course.  Off to the left was the archery field.  Jessica recognized Ophir, bow in hand, demonstrating how to accurately hit a moving target. 

Lyrista spotted John beyond the swordsmen and pointed him out to Jessica.  He kicked and lunged, twisted and jabbed, working on defensive moves with Cordon, so the ladies maneuvered closer to watch.  Jessica assessed the changes in her father.  He always tried to maintain good physical form, but three years at a desk job had taken its toll and softened him up. 

Now, however, he looked well-tanned and toned.  She assumed much of this was due to Cordon.  When meeting Lyrista’s brother the night before, she observed the easy friendship between him and her father, so she particularly took notice of him.  She was impressed with Cordon’s agility.  His movement reminded her of her former teachers, martial arts instructors long forgotten.  It was entertaining to watch her dad practice skills he had not used in many years, but after one particularly nasty blow from Cordon that he failed to deflect, Jessica decided it was time for a rescue.

“Hey, Dad,” she yelled and dismounted Web. “Pretty impressive!  If my ribs weren’t broken I could show you a thing or two.”

His eyes lit up at the sight of her and he motioned for Cordon to follow as he ran over to talk.  “Saved by your yell,” he said, rubbing his bruised shoulder.  “You’re on, Jess.  When you’re completely healed, I expect a firsthand demonstration.  I’d like to see the results of all the money I spent on lessons for you.  Lyrista, your brother’s killing me.”

Jessica did not miss the way her father looked at Lyrista, who had also dismounted and joined them, when he spoke with her.  She had noticed the previous evening how often he glanced her way.  At first she was surprised, but now she found it sweet.  She truly hoped things might work out for him.  She understood his loneliness, and she liked Lyrista.  The woman was candid and straightforward.

“Hi, Cordon.”  Jessica smiled.  “I see you’re whipping my Dad back into shape.”

“He has remarkable reflexes.”  Cordon slapped John on the back.  “Another session or two and it’ll be me rubbing a bruised shoulder.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to your bruises, Dad,” Jessica laughed.  “Lyrista has shown me some of the campus, and now I’d like to explore a little on my own.”

She said good-bye to everyone and walked back to Web.  Lyrista accompanied John and Cordon back onto the field.  Just before mounting her horse, Jessica spotted Reese, with two soldiers, walking toward the training field.  She tried to hide behind Web before he saw her, but was not swift enough.  He called, “Lady Jessica, how are you doing this morning?”

She blushed, but walked over to him and his buddies.  “Please don’t call me
Lady
Jessica, just Jessica.”  She smiled at his two friends.  “I’m doing a lot better, thanks.”

“These are my friends, Garrett and Mica.  They rode here from Ider Hoffle with your father and Lady Gayleena.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”  She shook their hands.  An awkward silence followed.  Finally, Jessica excused herself.  “Well, I’m off to explore.  I’ll see you around.”  She nearly ran back to Web in her desire to be freed from the uncomfortable situation. 
That didn’t go very well.  I absolutely froze.
  For an instant, her thoughts turned to a boy light-years away, someone who made her feel at ease and whose presence brought a light to her eyes. 
Will I ever see you again? 
The thought was too unpleasant.  She ruthlessly pushed it aside. 

She forced the encounter with Reese out of her mind as well, and astride Web, wandered aimlessly around the campus.  She checked out several of the older buildings, marveling at the architecture and ornate detail.  Many looked almost ancient, yet they were beautifully preserved and still in usable condition.  They stood out from the more modern structures by their darker, muted coloring and smaller sizes.  Most of these roofs were not metal, but constructed of cement tiles in colors ranging from deep green to burnt amber.  The flat, smooth walls were well worn with not as much floral design etched into them, but more geometrical shapes.  When she explored several, she found they were used primarily as classrooms and for storage.

When she passed close to one of the six massive stables interspersed throughout Ramadine, she heard a horse yell.  “No!  No go.”  The words formed in her mind with a force that shocked her.  Alarmed, for the animal was truly distressed, she stormed into the enormous barn to find the source of the protest. 

“Come on Jin,” someone tried to whisper.  “We need to leave now.” 

“Uncle Anton?” Jessica half asked, half stated.  “What are you doing?”  He stood next to his saddled horse.  Jin was loaded down with supplies. 

“Are you leaving?  Without saying good-bye?”  She felt both confused and hurt.

“I’m sorry Jessi, but I can’t stay here.  I need to be on my way.”  Bewildered, she stared at him.  “I’ve done my job, now it’s time I get goin’.”

“Uncle Anton,” ignoring the dull pain in her side, she ran to him.  “You can’t go.”  Her mind raced, thinking of all the arguments she could give for him to stay.  She opened her mouth to let loose the flood of words welling up inside her, but he softly placed his hand over her mouth and shook his head.

“I need to go.”

Panic swelled in every cell of her body.  How could he leave?  She had just found him…Her uncle, someone she trusted, a blood relative when she thought there were none left.  Family meant everything to her and here was another one slipping away.   There were no Ernshaws left.  Her dad was an only child, orphaned at fifteen.  Her mother was gone, Haesom and his family were gone, and now he was leaving her too? 

“No!” she squeaked, pushing his hand away. Her voice had gone hoarse.  “Why?  Just tell me why?”

He refused to meet her gaze.

“Did I do something wrong?”  She felt sick, trying to remember the journey to Ramadine.  “I’ll try not to be a burden, I’ll try...”

“Jessi, no!”  He looked horrified.  “It’s not you, not at all.  It’s me...I don’t deserve…I can’t get close…It’s too hard.”  His shoulders slumped.  His voice dropped in defeat.  “It hurts too much.” 

The pain in his eyes jolted her out of her own self-pity.  She felt his intense sadness, and then she felt his fear.  That surprised her.  Yes, she could feel his fear and she understood it.  She knew it as she had lived it herself after her mother’s death… the black hole in the center of the soul.  Maybe understood it better than he understood it himself, but she had faced her fear, her loneliness, her intense sadness, and conquered it.  He was still struggling, drowning in his own mental anguish.

Placing her hand on his arm, she spoke softly.  “I know what you’re doing.”  His eyebrows arched in question.  “You’re running away…not from actual responsibility or tasks, but from us, from people.”  When he turned away, she knew she was right. “You’ve been hurt, right down to the center of your being.  I don’t know how, when, or by whom, but it went deep.  I know your ache, I’ve been there and it comes because you cared so much.  Someone once told me deep anguish is directly proportional to profound love, and it’s true.  You’re avoiding being injured again…by avoiding those you care about or
might
care about…your family, your friends, people in general and as a whole.  All of these years, you’ve been alone, pushing everyone away, building your walls.  You think if you don’t feel, then you can’t have those feelings hurt.”