The Protector of Esparia (The Annals of Esparia Book 1) (20 page)

Staring at the ground, he shuffled his feet, but remained silent.  “After my mom died I wanted to shut the entire world out.  I hurt so badly that for a while I wanted to die myself, just to stop the pain.  But, I didn’t die, I had to live and cope with my loss.  There was nowhere for me to run, so I decided to build thick walls around my heart.  I thought if I didn’t let anyone close to me, I couldn’t ever be hurt again, but I was wrong.  I would never be completely alive until I faced my feelings and dealt with them.  On a conscious level I could maintain my wall, but when I slept, my pain came crashing through.”

At this, he gave her a hard look.  “Uncle Anton,” her hold on his arm tightened, “the only way you can deal with your pain is to face it and allow the love of other people to heal you.  When you let someone in, when you let many people in, you build a strong support group.  If, for some reason, one of them fails you, the others will still be there.  Uncle, I always wanted to be part of a large family, but that wasn’t possible.  For so many years it has been just my Dad and my Grandma and me.  But now there are more of us, there’s you and Uncle Larone.  Since I’ve found you both, I won’t lose either of you.  I will hang on to you with everything I have.”

She gripped both of his arms.  “It’s time to come home, Uncle Anton.  Grandma has come home, I’ve come, even my Dad is here, now you must come too.  There’s such a thing as being too alone.  Come home and allow the love of your family to bring you peace.”

He sighed long and deep.  “You don’t know what yer askin’.”

“Yes, I do.”  Her voice remained firm.  “I’m asking you to rejoin the human race and that takes a lot more courage than it does to run away.  Come home, Uncle.  We need you. 
I
need you.”

His arms hung limply by his sides, his shoulders still slouched.  After many quiet minutes, he finally straightened.  “I will stay.”  The promise was barely audible.

Coming forward from the shadows of the stable door, Larone rushed to his younger brother, tears streaming down his cheeks.  When the two men embraced, Jessica realized she now intruded on a very private moment.  She left the brothers alone and went to find her grandmother.

* * *

The sun was long set when the family, accompanied by Ophir, Lyrista, Cordon and Reese, gathered in Larone’s office, a small room with a cluttered desk and two scrawny potted plants flanking each side.  A large map of Esparia hung from one wall.  The others were bare.  More chairs had been brought in for the meeting, making the room especially cramped.  Varnack managed to squeeze in and sat at Jessica’s feet.

Larone appraised those gathered.  “I apologize for the lateness of the hour.  I scheduled this meeting for the afternoon, but I have been waiting for the return of two important ambassadors and they have yet to arrive.  However, we can postpone no longer.  My friends, in this room sit the new leaders of Esparia.”  John frowned.  “Our military leadership now rests with Ophir and Cordon.  Our governmental leadership returns to the Protector line of Saylon.”  Larone paused.  “John?”

John raised his chin.

“You’re a military man.  Have you given any thought as to what you would do if you led our people into battle?”

“What are you getting at, Larone?” John asked, suspicion in his voice.

“Just a ‘what if’ question, John.  I would like to know your opinions on the subject.”  Larone waved his hand as if to dismiss the matter altogether.  “We need to begin…”  A knock at the door interrupted the meeting.

“Come in,” Larone called.

A short, middle-aged man of medium weight and build walked in.  He sported a thin, light brown mustache and his scant amount of long, blond hair was pulled back in a thin ponytail.  Surprise showed on his face when he looked upon the group, then shock when his eyes fell on Gaylee, but he bowed to Larone and crossed the room to him. 

“Ah, Quirt.  You have returned at last.  I almost sent a search party after you,” Larone smiled kindly at the man. 

So this is Quirt. 
He looked nothing like Jessica had pictured and she took an instant dislike to him
.  I don’t trust him.  I’m surprised Uncle Larone does.

“I was delayed in Marone,” the gravel-voiced man explained.  A wisp of smoke twirled from his mouth.  It coiled above his head and slowly disappeared.  Jessica knew she was the only one to see the smoke, for she was the only one who knew he had just lied. 

Larone explained to those in the room, “I sent Quirt as an ambassador to our northern neighbor, Marone.  I asked for their aid in our fight against Daenon.  If he succeeds in taking over Esparia, it will only be a matter of time before he turns on Marone.  So Quirt, what was their answer?”

Quirt looked miserable.  He shook his head.  “They’ve refused to involve themselves with our internal matters.  Thus my delay, I spent a great deal of time trying to convince them to help us, but they’re still upset about Naydeen and refuse to believe her child would attack them.”

Jessica’s insides churned.  She could almost smell the foul vapors as they spilled from his lips.  She glared at him. “Liar,” she breathed.  Varnack looked up at her.  Jessica briefly met his eyes and instantly communicated her feelings. 

Larone frowned.  Jessica wondered if he too realized the man did not speak the truth.  Unwilling to take any chances, she opened her mouth to speak, but another knock at the door interrupted them.  A second courier had just arrived from his ambassadorial mission to the south. 

“Good to see you, Keran.  Please wait for me in the conference room across the hall,” Larone ordered.  Turning to the others he announced, “I know we have barely begun, but let us adjourn our meeting until tomorrow after breakfast.  I need time to obtain details from Quirt and Keran before I can give you a complete picture of our situation.  Good night.”  With that, he abruptly left the room.  Quirt followed him, then Varnack followed Quirt.

With the meeting dismissed, the group members went their separate ways.  In the hall Jessica managed to speak to her father alone.  “Dad, that Quirt guy lied.”

“What?”

“He was lying.  He never went to Marone.”

“You’re absolutely certain?  That’s a pretty strong accusation with serious ramifications.”

“Come on, Dad.  You know me.  Have I ever, even once, been wrong about liars?”

They walked together in silence, until they reached their rooms.  “It makes sense Jess, that’s why Larone looked so astonished.”

“And why Varnack followed Quirt,” Jessica agreed.  “I told Varnack about the lies.  He’s protecting Larone now.”

John nodded.  “I’ll wait up for Larone and tell him about your insight.  We’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise.”  He kissed her cheek.  “Good night, sweetheart.” 

Jessica went into the guest chambers where Gaylee and Lyrista were already preparing for the night.  “Grandma,” she called.  Gaylee appeared at a bedroom door. 

“Yes, Jess?” 

“Quirt wasn’t telling the truth.”

Lyrista’s poked her head out from her open doorway.  “What was that?”

“Quirt lied about Marone refusing to help us.  He never stayed there.  I don’t think he ever even went there,” Jessica shook her head.  “I told my Dad, so he’s going to wait up for Uncle Larone and talk to him about it.  Lyrista, I always know when someone is lying.  It’s just something I’ve always been able to do.”

Lyrista gazed steadily at Jessica, then nodded her head.  “That’s quite a gift.  I’m bringing you along next time I interview one of my soldiers.”

Gaylee gave Jessica a goodnight hug.  “Don’t worry dear.  Your father and Larone will know what to do.  Now let’s get some rest.”

Slumber did not come quickly for Jessica.  A nagging feeling something was wrong kept her tossing and turning.  She tried to pinpoint the suspicion, and finally decided Quirt had upset her more than she originally thought.  At last, she drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Jessica jolted awake when someone yanked her out of bed.  A crushing arm went around her waist and a smothering hand pressed down on her mouth.  She tried to twist out of the hold, but was squeezed even harder.  Pain stabbed through her chest, causing her to nearly pass out.  Being dragged from the guest chamber, she noticed a cobra head tattoo on the bare arm of her attacker
. 
The Elitet?  But he should be in a prison!
Dad,
she screamed in her mind.  She could hardly breathe, the hand clamped so tightly over her nose and mouth. 
Dad, help!
Was her last conscious thought.

* * *

John awoke in a cold sweat, his heart raced, his pulse pounded in his ears.  He had fallen asleep in a sitting room chair while waiting for Larone, and tried to clear his foggy brain.  The glass candle lamp on the table still burned and cast an eerie glow around the room.  He remembered the night Jessica was pulled through the Transmirian spiral.  No!  Not again!

Bounding in four strides to his room, he grabbed the first weapon he saw, the sword Gaylee had presented to him.  It stood against the wall next to his bed.  Gaylee had insisted he unload his gun and hide it away.  She had taken the bullets for it, removing all temptation to use the firearm.  Her resolve to keep new technology hidden before it was logically discovered had been annoying, but now it was stupid.  He cursed her under his breath, then cursed himself for having listened to her.  John was not a good swordsman, but the weapon was well balanced and felt good, almost natural in his hand.

Dashing into the hall, he noticed the door to the women’s guest chamber wide open.  He ran in, straight to Jessica’s open door.  In the pale light he could see she was gone. 
NO!
  Racing from the room, he fought the panic in his stomach.  Flying down a staircase, three steps at a time, he bolted through the building and out the front doors.  He stopped at the main road, his eyes searching the deserted street.  The two moons shone down on the campus, their light adequately illuminating the area.  Spotting shadowy movement in front of the nearest Mathematics Center, he chased after it; unsure if what he saw was even real.  When he rounded the building, nothing suspicious lay in sight
.  Come on, Jess.  Come on. 
He stood motionless.  Closing his eyes, he strained his other senses.  He had never believed in the ability to
feel
things.  Gaylee and Larone were constantly alluding to their psychic power and it was all he could do to keep his skeptical comments to himself.  But now, with each second pounding at him with the weight of a mountain, he wished that he had the same gift.  He bowed his head.  He listened.  The sword in his hand grew warm, so warm he opened his eyes to stare at it.  The crystals in the hilt pulsed with life, blazing bright white in the handle.  Stables!  The word flew into his mind with such force it nearly knocked him over.  Running full out, he flew through the deserted streets of Ramadine.  The huge barn was just ahead.  Roaring Jessica’s name, he burst through the wide double doors.

Traitors and Spies

An Elitet held the unconscious Jessica over his bare shoulder.  He was poised to mount a saddled horse.  Seeing John, the kidnapper dropped his prisoner and pulled a sword from his saddle sheath.  Jessica moaned.  For an instant, the two men stared in hatred at each other, then the Elitet flew into action.

John’s knowledge of sword fighting consisted primarily of the lessons he had taken during his short time at Ramadine.  Swordsmanship was a daily training class, and he had progressed well beyond intermediate level, but Cordon had not yet shown him the finer points of using the blade.  The only time John ever used a similar weapon was at West Point, where he took a fencing class.  There he won first place in a novice tournament, but fencing uses a delicate foil, not a bulky glaive.  Fortunately, the Sword of Judgment felt lightweight and perfectly balanced.  This was the first time John had actually handled it and now his life depended on making no mistakes. 

Jess.  Must win for Jess
.  He parried the furious blows as best he could, grateful the Elitet was weak from his self-imposed fast.  John realized that if his opponent had been in good condition, he would have finished him off in minutes.

John battled the trained warrior, receiving many nicks and slices, but managing to avoid the deadlier thrusts.  His adrenaline pumped strength into his arms and helped him focus on the flashing steel.  Several times the crystals in his sword of Judgment glowed and each time they did, his hand moved as if with a mind of its own, each move blocking a potentially life taking strike.  John was constantly on the defensive.  He was able to hold his ground for a blow or two, but then needed to back away from the deadly blade thrusts. 

He twisted around a vertical support beam, his opponent’s sword gouging out a chunk of the wood after a quick downward slash.  Three more lunges were parried, then John nearly fell over dodging a blow to his neck.  He began to tire, the adrenaline receding from his system.  The Elitet gave him no openings. 

Suddenly the move that won him the fencing tournament so many years before came flashing into his memory.  Gripping the sword with both hands he awkwardly performed the maneuvers meant for a fencing match: parry right, feint left, riposte and lunge.  The bizarre tactic seemed to take the Elitet by surprise for he briefly let his own blade dip.  It was the edge John needed and he plunged the tip of the razor sharp Judgment deep into the Elitet’s left breast; the terrible fight was instantly over.  The man gaped at him in astonishment before crumbling lifeless to the ground.

Air came in huge gasps as John stared at the motionless form on the floor.  For all of his military training, he had never deliberately killed anyone in hand to hand combat and now, with the adrenalin all but gone, he understood the responsibility of what he had just done.  He did not regret taking the Elitet’s life, but he would never forget what had just transpired.

The stable doors crashed open behind him and at the sound he whirled around, raising his weapon to a defensive angle.  Two soldiers ran through the doors, but halted when they saw John.  They stared at the fallen Elitet.  John lowered his weapon.

“Mica,” he panted.  We need to find out what happened at the jail.  How’d the prisoner escape!”  Mica nodded and left at a run.  “Garrett, take this thing out of here,” John gestured at the fallen body.  The soldier dragged the fallen Elitet out through the stable doors.

Dropping his sword, John rushed to Jessica.  The pain in her eyes infuriated him.  “How did that killer get free?” 

As if the question were directed to her, Jessica shook her head.  “I don’t know,” she whimpered.  She described to her father, in halting breaths and between the throbs of pain, how she was hauled out of bed and passed out.

Moments later, heavy footsteps outside the barn door announced Anton’s arrival.  He barreled through the stable doors, sword in hand and ready for a fight.  After a moment’s hesitation, while he took in the scene before him, he sheathed his weapon, then grabbed a horse blanket and two brooms.  He made a crude stretcher out of them and helped John lift Jessica onto it. 

Larone reached the stable doors just when they were exiting.  “I’ve made the healing station ready,” he told John while they walked.  “Lyrista found the prison guards.  One is alive.  Barely, but alive.  He needs your immediate attention; Lyrista is transporting him as we speak.  The other was not so fortunate.  They were both stabbed in the back.”

John was grim.  “I sent Mica to investigate what happened there.”

“You’re wounded,” Larone observed. 

John checked his arms and chest.  Blood oozed from the many cuts he had received, others were already staunched by coagulation.  He briefly wondered how many would require stitches.  In the heat of battle he had never felt any of them.  “I’ll be fine.  You can take care of me later.”

Once at the infirmary, he left Jessica in Larone’s capable hands.  Lyrista was waiting at the surgery door, pacing the floor, her face flushed with worry.  “You’re okay.  What about Jessica?”

“She’ll be fine, Larone has her.”

Visibly relieved, she offered, “Let me help you.  The soldier in there was a student of mine and I’ve never been good at sitting around.  It nearly killed me to wait while you worked on Reese.”

“You’re okay with blood?”

“I’ve drawn it enough times on an opponent, you included.  I think I can handle it.”

“All right, grab some soap.” 

* * *

“Uncle Larone.”  Jessica grimaced.  She sat on a table in a small examining room, while her uncle treated the battered ribs.  “What’s the Salupathic Gift?”

“It is the ability of one being to pour their life force into another.  It cannot bring back the dead, but it can bring healing to one on the brink.  Why do you ask?”

Jessica recounted the experience at Vorgen Hoffle.  She told him every detail, every feeling as she healed Brayon’s many wounds and brought the spark of life back into his heart.”

He listened intently, with no facial expressions betraying his thoughts.  “So you were only incapacitated for two days afterward?”

She nodded.

“You were very fortunate.”

“If it’s my life force I’m giving, then could this gift shorten my life?”  The thought frightened her.

“No, my dear.  However,” his voice suddenly became stern, “I must caution you that you can give your entire life force to save someone, which
would
result in your death.”

“Karree seemed to know quite a bit about this ability.  Do many people have it?”

“It is not as rare as many think.  Most people do not realize they have the gift, mainly because they have never needed to use it.  Others may have experienced brief moments when they have felt the power, but it frightened them, and so it goes undeveloped.  Most of our healers have the gift, to some extent at least, but few can do what you did.”

“You can.”

Larone smiled.  “Yes.”

“There’s one other thing I need to tell you.  Quirt lied when he claimed the people of Marone refused to help.  He also lied when he said he stayed there and tried to convince them to change their minds.”

Larone finished wrapping her ribcage in silence.  When he finished he sighed, “I thought as much.  Certain of their support, I was stunned at their refusal.  I realized he could not be telling the entire truth.”

Walking to the door, he called out, “Anton, please come in.”

Anton and Varnack came into the examining room, with Gaylee close behind.  Varnack licked Jessica’s hand. 

“Jessica, tell Anton what you just told me about Quirt.”  Stroking Varnack’s head she told about her first impressions of Quirt and the lies he had told.

Anton rumbled, “I knew there was a spy...a traitor here, but who’da guessed the doogeroot was Quirt?”

“Who exactly is Quirt?” Gaylee asked.

“He has been with me since the Battle of Blue Mountain,” Larone explained.  “He saved my life.  He asked me to train him; he desired to be a healer.  To his great disappointment, he did not have the gift, but he has been a tremendous help these many years and a trusted friend.  The thought of his treachery is unbelievable.”

“Maybe he has a good reason for lying about Marone,” Jessica suggested half-heartedly.

“We’ll find out,” Anton assured her.  He reached over and picked her up. 

“Uncle Anton, I have three broken ribs, not two broken legs.”

“Yeah, well...that’s fine, Jessi.”

She shot an appeal to her grandmother, but Gaylee only smiled.  Leaving the examining room, they made their way to the surgery area to wait for John.  They found Ophir, Cordon, and a third officer, someone Jessica had never seen before, already there.  This waiting area was the section of wide hallway next to the surgery door, where a few wooden benches lined the bare walls.

“No information yet,” Cordon said.  He introduced the officer as Ballian, the Commander of Ramadine’s Defense Academy.  The older man was smartly dressed in a pressed blue and silver uniform, polished boots and shining sword.  She could not help but notice how brilliantly his sword glittered in the lamplight.  It had a single enormous ruby set in the hilt.  The stone was blood red.

Larone went into the operating room.  While he was gone, Anton requested Jessica tell her story once more for Ophir and Cordon.  When she finished, Ophir left without a word.

Commander Ballian was a quiet man, who kept to himself in the corner.  Jessica continuously glanced his way.  He made her feel uneasy, though she had no explanation as to why. 
Cordon seems to like him, but I’m sure glad Uncle Anton’s here.  

“Uncle Anton, what’s a doogeroot?  I’ve heard you use that expression several times now.”

Anton blushed.  “Well…um,” he stammered and looked to Gaylee for help.

“You’re on your own for this one, Anton,” she laughed.

“Jessi, it’s a…uh.  It’s a plant that grows in animal…uh…stuff.”  Again, he appealed to Gaylee.

“It’s a plant that thrives on animal excrement,” Gaylee offered.  “Anton uses the word as a profanity.”

“Ohhh,” Jessica nodded. 

The door to the surgery opened and Larone stepped through.  “John is nearly finished.  The guard has an excellent chance of pulling through.”  Ballian seemed pleased and excused himself to relate the good news to the rest of his men.  Relief flooded through Jessica when he turned a corner and was gone from sight.

“It was interesting to watch your father work as I worked on him.  He did not flinch once as I stitched his wounds while he operated on the young guard,” Larone commented to Jessica.  “He has certainly proved himself.  I don’t think there is one man here who would not follow him now.  He has shown himself to be an expert archer, a natural swordsman and a master healer.”  Jessica felt a surge of pride.  Coming from Larone, this was no small compliment.

John and Lyrista walked out of the surgery a half hour later.  John looked haggard, but was hopeful with how things had gone.  He had nothing but high words of praise for Lyrista as a surgical assistant.  “She anticipated my every need during the operation.  I could not have asked for a better nurse.”

Cordon grinned at his little sister, blatant admiration on his face.  She too had a glow about her.

“You okay, Jess?”  The crow’s feet around John’s eyes deepened with concern. 

“I’m okay, Dad, honestly.  Uncle Larone gave me some great painkiller.  I’m just sleepy.”

“I think each of us had better take some much needed rest,” Larone suggested.  “Let us meet in the morning, right after the breakfast bell.  The conference center across the hall from my office would be a better room.  I think we were too cramped in mine.”  No one objected.

Lyrista reached for Cordon’s arm.  “I don’t know this commander Ballian very well.  He left Ider Hoffle Academy shortly after I arrived there, so come with me.  I want to visit the barracks, and personally reassure the men that their friend will be all right.”  He nodded and together they left through the main corridor.

“I have a few things I wish to finish here.”  Larone stated.  “I will be along presently.”  He walked back into the surgery.

Anton handed the Sword of Judgment to John.  “I went back to the stables while Larone was fixin’ Jessi and got it.  Didn’t trust no one else.”

“Thanks.  I didn’t mean to leave it.”

“Dad,” Jessica admired the sword, “tell me about this weapon.  It’s beautiful.”  She ran her hand over the blade and fingered the crystals in the hilt.  “Are these diamonds?”

Varnack accompanied Gaylee, Anton, John, and Jessica back to the main building where their quarters were located.  While they walked John told his daughter about the brief ceremony when the soldiers returned from burying their comrades at the Dorsett and of his public adoption into the House of Saylon.  “This is called the Sword of Judgment.  Your grandma mentioned it was one of two sister swords passed down for generations in her grandfather’s family,” he finished.

“Yeah.”  Anton rubbed his beard.  “This one’s a warrior’s weapon, meant to go from father to son, but Larone and I aren’t true warriors and neither of us has sons, so it was only right we gave it to Graesion, then to Haesom, and now to you, John.  Ya proved tonight yer worthy of it.”  He clapped John firmly on the back.  “Those aren’t diamonds, Jessi, they’re white persite.”