The Protector of Esparia (The Annals of Esparia Book 1) (29 page)

The troop navigator checked the sky, consulted his map, then pointed off to one side.  Jessica pulled the giant’s message Larone gave her from her pocket.  She wanted it handy in case of a surprise meeting with any giants to prove she was sent in her father’s place. 

They traveled about an hour, winding through the majestic hardwoods on an ever-upward course when Jessica felt uneasy.  “Jeema,” she called.  “Stop.  Something’s not right here.”

Jeema brushed her off with a wave of his hand and continued moving forward.  “Jeema, you arrogant…” she called again, more urgently, “Stop!”  She reined her horse to a halt and soon found herself at the back of the advancing column, as the other soldiers continued to follow their leader.  The last to pass her turned in his saddle, and with an exasperated look on his face, motioned for her to catch up with him.

Jessica had learned to control some of her abilities, but the urge to throw up was one side effect she was still working on, and right now that urge rose in her throat.  She tried one last time to warn the soldiers.  With all the force of spirit she could muster, she shouted vocally and mentally, “Jeema!  Run!”  To her horror the men still did not listen, but fortunately, their horses did.  Thanks to her additional training during the past week, her message penetrated to all living creatures, and the animals bolted, scattering in different directions, with their riders, in stunned surprise, hanging on for their lives.

She had little time to run herself, for two teams of Elitet materialized from behind the mammoth trees to quickly surround her.  In her brief, but desperate attempt for freedom, Jessica dropped the giant’s note.  She realized, far too late, it was fake. 

While her hands were being lashed together in front of her, Jessica managed one blood curdling scream before someone jammed a gag into her mouth.  A rope was tied to her left ankle, then threaded under Web and tied to her right, binding her securely to the animal.  Once her scream died away, an eerie hush fell on the forest.  The Elitet worked quickly in the profound silence, taking only moments to restrict Jessica’s ability to move.

Enclosed on every side by men cloaked in black, she was swiftly escorted out of the area.  While they galloped along, an appalling realization struck her. 
This is why Daenon hasn’t attacked Esparia yet.  It’s taken his men this long to set this trap.  The guy wants a backup plan…me
!  They rode directly toward the setting sun.  West…due west.  Straight to the Deserts of Demar.

The Prisoners of Snow Peak

Cordon’s encampment lay positioned in a lightly wooded area on the Verdure-Snow Peak border.  Verdure was directly north of Ramana, the province where Ramadine and Saylon Dorsett were located.  One of the major agricultural provinces, Verdure’s security was vital, not only to the war effort, but to the nation as well. 

The Maronian army, under the command of Lepsis, was already digging in and making fortifications all up and down the northern half of the Verdure border when Cordon’s force of three hundred thousand men marched throughout the southern half.  The two seventh bars were assigned to protect Verdure and keep Daenon out of Marone.  The western perimeter of Verdure bordered all of Snow Peak and the northern third of Palium.  Cordon split the Verdure boundary in half, giving Lepsis, with his army of nearly two hundred thousand Maronian men, stewardship over the northern section and himself the southern. 

Wasting no time, Cordon deployed his men along the border of the southern territory.  Cordon’s command hub lay centered on the Verdure line.  Lepsis was only ten filons north with his command headquarters, and the two met every few days to compare strategies and send combined reports to John. 

No one could understand why Daenon did not attack.  Cordon felt Daenon was playing mind games.  John sent a communiqué saying he felt something more sinister was afoot, but he did not know what.  No one did.  After a week of speculation, they were no closer to solving the mystery, but Cordon had his men continuously training and gathering as much intelligence about Daenon’s strength as possible.

On the eighth day after leaving Ramadine, a regiment of fifty well-trained Guardians rode into Cordon’s command camp.  Their leader, a small, muscular man with jet-black hair, shiny black eyes, and black lock beard walked into the command center tent.  Clicking his heals and bowing, Fourth Bar Ru handed Cordon a sealed letter.  Opening it, Cordon recognized Lyrista’s hand.

Dearest Brother,

While Daenon frits away his time, I cannot wait one more day.  I have sent you fifty of my best men.  Put Lepsis in command.  Ask Anton to go with you and free our father.

Lyrista

Cordon reread the short note several times, then stuffed it in his pocket, his eyes gleamed.  “Wait outside with your men until I return,” he ordered the fourth bar, barely able to control his excitement.  “I’ll have hot food sent to you.”

Having barked the orders to a nearby second bar, Cordon ran to where Anton’s private compound was set up.  Only a short distance from the main body of soldiers lay a small clearing with a brook running beside it.  The big man claimed sole camping privileges at this pristine location and Cordon allowed him his solitude.  

“Anton,” Cordon called before he entered the clearing.  He wanted to give ample warning of his approach.  Anton tended a small fire.  Cordon felt a slight rush of relief when the loner exhibited a welcoming grin. 

“Cordon, m’ boy.  Good to see ya.  What can I do?”

“How long does it take to get from here to Snow Peak Prison?”

Anton exhibited no surprise to the question.  “Depends on how fast ya travel.  If ya make good speed, it’s about four days goin’ round the base of the mountains, two if ya cut through the Narrow Passes, but by usin’ the passes, ya gotta leave yer horses behind.  Why?”   The gleam from Cordon’s eye took hold in Anton’s.

Cordon handed over Lyrista’s note, then waited by the fire for Anton’s response.  A smile spread across the big man’s face.  He picked up a cooking pot and strode over to the stream.  Filling it with water, he doused the little fire.  Cordon jumped in the air, threw both hands and gave a fierce war cry, making Anton stare in amazement at the usually sedate man. 

“Thank you, Anton!  I’ll inform Ru we leave in a few minutes,” Cordon hollered before he left the camp at a run. 

When Cordon returned to his tent, he found Lepsis there waiting to begin their scheduled meeting.  “Lepsis, I’m glad to see you,” Cordon nearly bounced with enthusiasm.  “Lyrista has sent me fifty of the best men she has.  Since Daenon is waiting to attack, I’m going to Snow Peak Prison to free my father.  You’re in full command.”  At his desk he quickly scribbled the necessary authorizations.  Lepsis stood silently, watching his new friend.  “We’re taking the Narrow Passes.  Anton is the only man in Esparia who knows about them, so we’ll have the element of surprise.  I should be gone six days, two and a half there, one to take the prison, and two and a half back.  If I don’t return within a week, inform John.”

“He’s going to be furious,” Lepsis warned.

“Not if we’re successful.”

Lepsis shook his head.  “And if Daenon attacks while you’re gone?”

Cordon stood still, staring at Lepsis.  He clenched his jaw while he thought about what to say.  “Everything is in place, our defenses, our strategies, everything.  We sit here,” he spat, his frustration and anger rising to the surface.  “While I do nothing, my father dies a little more each day.  I am one man.  Just one man.  The officers know what to do.  You’re more than capable of commanding this region.  I cannot...no, I
will not
, wait any longer, not when I’m so close to freeing him.”

Lepsis sighed, “I’ve been expecting this.  I think Anton was too.  He asked me three days ago to show him a current map and exactly where the prison was located on it.  I’ve never been there myself, but I’ve seen the location dozens of times at Rendaira.  For some reason, Daenon’s very proud of the prison and keeps a painting of it hung on one of the walls in his office.  It’s odd, even for him, but I believe there is someone of great importance imprisoned there, though I don’t know who.”

“We’ll find out.  We’ll free every one of the prisoners.” 

The rescue party rode single file to hide their numbers from would-be trackers. They traveled swiftly, with Anton leading the way.  They did not stop until the two moons were well up in the night sky, then grabbed a few hours of precious sleep before riding hard again. 

When dawn broke on the morning of their third day out, the Snow Peak Mountains loomed in the distance.  Cordon noticed how small they looked in comparison to the Colossus Mountains of the southeast, but they were still quite beautiful.  The Snow Peak range, named for its tallest spire, was known for its sharp peaks and deadly, sheer cliffs.  Geologically speaking, the range was young.  Not a great deal of erosion had taken place to round out the edges and smooth it down.  Each of the summits within sight shimmered with white ice caps. 

Anton turned to the northwest and the band of rescuers entered the range from its eastern foothills.  Once in the lightly wooded mountains, their trail rose steeply, and soon they climbed high up to oxygen thin elevations.  It was nearly noon when the riders reached the Narrow Passes. 

Cordon was impressed Anton remembered where the Passes’ opening lay.  They arrived at a small clearing where Anton slowed their pace and finally dismounted.  He poked at a wall of foliage that blocked their path with his sword.  After a second probing, he chose an area and hacked at the bushes, using his sword as a machete.  Cutting a small opening, he disappeared into it. 

“Cordon,” his voiced boomed out, “we’ll need some torches.”

While the men prepared the fire brands, they could hear Anton chopping at more plants.  After nearly twenty minutes of branches breaking, leaves rustling and Anton swearing, there was silence.  Finally, the big man reappeared with a broad smile on his face.

“All right fellas, light yer torches.  We’re footin’ it from here on out.”  With his drawn sword still in his right hand, Anton led the way through nearly ten feet of dense growth.  Behind these tall bushes lay the opening to a small, man-made tunnel which cut through the side of the mountain. 

Nearly three hundred feet long, the tunnel was filled with cobwebs.  A thick layer of fine dirt covered the floor.  It was clear to all that no human foot had disturbed the dust in decades.  Cordon felt relieved.  At least this end of the trail was free from ambush.  At the end of the tunnel lay a natural pathway, about three feet wide, protruding from the mountain’s side.  Motioning for those behind him to stay close to the mountain wall, Anton stepped out onto the narrow trail.

The treacherous passes were, in fact, not true passes at all, but a series of narrow pathways, formed by thick rock ledges jutting out on three separate peaks and connected to each other by palium rope bridges.  The trail was barely wide enough for a man the size of Anton.  Cordon, who followed directly behind, was uncomfortable watching his large friend cautiously inch along.  One edge of the path was the mountain itself and the other a sheer drop, at hundreds of feet down.  These slender passageways were only accessible during the summer months, for they were snowbound fall, winter and spring.

As Cordon carefully rounded each blind corner, he hoped Daenon’s people were not guarding the way.  However, if resistance were encountered, he and Anton would be the first to know it.  Being isolated from the other peaks, the rescue party was safe from archer’s arrows, for with the steep rise of the mountain, no one from below or above could attack.  Only an adversary directly on the path would pose a threat.

With the approach of evening, the band of Guardians came to the end of the third and last path.  As with the trail’s opening, thick bushes grew over the pathway exit and Anton cut their way through.  With the opening cleared, the soldiers filed silently onto the steep face of the sparsely wooded mountain.  Dense, short shrubbery grew throughout the mountainside, providing some cover from spying eyes down below. 

“There.”  Anton pointed to the buildings on the valley floor.

From their vantage point behind a cluster of boulders, Cordon could see the prison was built up against the side of the steep mountain wall directly below them.  “It’s a smaller compound than what I imagined,” he whispered.  “I make out two high towers flanking the one main building as well as a barracks near the front gate.” 

Anton nodded.  “Fortress wall…new,” he tried hard to whisper.  The complex was surrounded by a thick, fifteen foot high, stone wall. 

Fourth Bar Ru silently slid in next to them.  “I’ve made a quick inspection.  This thick foliage gives adequate cover, but will make our descent to the prison more difficult.  The sharp slope doesn’t help either.  The ground is soft, muddy in some spots, so could prove dangerously slick.  I don’t know how stable the trees are, but they’re all we can anchor our ropes to.  I don’t trust the boulders; they could jar loose at any time.  There seems to be little else to hinder our operation.”

“At least the prison looks asleep,” Cordon whispered.  “What an isolated spot.  I’d hate to have duty here.  Look,” he pointed to the ground under his feet, “there’re still patches of hardened ice up here.  I’ll bet some spots never melt.  Ru, send two men down to spy out the prison.”

As soon as the scouts were gone, Anton, Cordon and Ru made detailed plans according to what they saw.  Anton was to take ten men and cover the tower on the left, Cordon with ten, the one on the right, and Ru would secure the courtyard with twenty-five.

When the scouts returned, their news was positive, about twenty guards stood on duty, but the mountain was slippery and their descent as well as the subsequent climb back up had proven difficult.  The earth was too wet from the warm weather runoff to provide adequate footholds.

“At least the trees held firm,” Cordon said with a wan smile. 

“Only twenty guards,” Ru commented.  “The fortress hasn’t been attacked for so many years, the sentries have become complacent.” 

Cordon nodded.  “Lepsis thought about a hundred men were stationed here.  We’ll wait until midnight, when most of the prison is asleep.  Luckily, there’re no moons.  I want to be in and out as quickly as possible.  Let’s free the prisoners without waking the entire garrison.”

At midnight, the Guardians rappelled down the hill.  Landing like cats, they spread out, every man to his assignment

Cordon found the head jailer of the eastern tower so drunk he could not stand.  “Bind and gag him,” Cordon ordered.  Grabbing a lit torch and using the jailer’s keys, he raced up the tower’s winding stairs toward the first of the tiny cells.  He and his men found most cubicles empty, but a few held Daenon’s enemies.  Winding his way to the very top, Cordon freed eighteen tortured and half-starved men.  Some of the prisoner’s bodies were twisted and mangled; others were missing limbs, eyes, ears and noses.  Only six were found whole.  Cordon later learned these were scientists whom Daenon needed in one piece.  However, even these needed help out of the tower.  Cordon’s heart pounded while he headed for the last lockup at the very top of the stairs.  He wondered if his father was there, and what sort of condition he might be in.

Cordon’s hand trembled slightly when he unlocked the metal door.  The hinges squeaked loudly as it swung open.  Holding his torch high, he stepped into the room. 

“Cordon!” a voice rasped.  “I thought you were dead.  I thought you were dead.”  A white haired man stumbled toward the door.  Cordon let the jailer keys tumble from his fingers.   He threw his free arm around the weeping prisoner.

“Ballian.  It was Ballian who betrayed us,” the captive revealed.

“I know, Dad,” Cordon clutched him tightly.  “We’ll talk later.  Right now, we need to move out of here.”