The Protector of Esparia (The Annals of Esparia Book 1) (38 page)

The sixth day of fighting proved disastrous.  With the Demarians reinforced by nearly three hundred thousand fresh troops, the Esparians retreated time and time again.  They were out-numbered and exhausted and could not hold, though they never again ran.  Their cavalry were reduced by half, the enemy archers and spearmen having slaughtered thousands of horses.  By the end of the day they were pushed back so far, the line of fortified cities lay within walking distance.   

In the late afternoon, John answered a call to the Northern line of battle where most of his upper level officers were either dead or so severely wounded they were unable to command.  Leaving Ru at the center, John raced to reorganize the north. 

He found Garrett desperately trying to rally the men.  The young man wore the insignia of a third bar officer and yelled his orders in a loud clear voice.  “Stay in formation men, shoulder to shoulder.  Use the shields, the shields!  Don’t let them get around our flank.”

John quickly appointed new leaders.  “Keep the men in formation,” he ordered, “then fall back in an orderly fashion.  Cavalry should be here soon.” 

John jumped from his horse and ran into the melee.  He hacked his way to Garrett’s side, saving him just as an enemy soldier jabbed from behind. 

“Good to see you, Protector,” Garrett said.  “It’s been touch and go here for quite some time.  I sent three messengers to find you in hopes at least one would get through.  We…”

“Garrett, my friend,” John yelled as he swung his sword.  “Shut up!”

They fought side-by-side for nearly an hour, shouting orders while they slowly fell back, foot by foot.  Eventide fast approached, and with it, John hoped the end of fighting for the day.  All of a sudden, a concentration of nearly two hundred Demarian troops came out of nowhere.  They managed to push through the tight Esparian line to the left and to the right of where John fought, trapping him in a circle with only Garrett and eight other Esparian soldiers.  Pressing on every side, they methodically killed the Esparian defenders one by one, until just Garrett and John remained.  Garrett fought with a strength and stamina John had seldom seen in any man.  They struggled back to back, their swords inflicting death with every stroke.   Just when John realized they were dead men, Gammet, astride a large gray stallion, came flying over the heads of the Demarian troops, his sword dripping red.

“John,” Gammet yelled above the din, and with superhuman effort, reached down, grabbed the Protector, and hoisted him up.  “The Demarians want
you
!”

Before John could react, Gammet spurred his horse and plowed out of the deadly circle.  “They were doing to you what they did to me.”

“Garrett!” John screamed, twisting on the horse.

“He’s dead whether you go back or not!”  The old seventh bar tightened his already iron grip on John’s bloody arm.   

John’s last glimpse of Garrett was of him swinging his sword with both hands, completely surrounded by enemy troops.

Gammet headed for a small hill further north, while the enemy pursued them from the south.  Reaching the hill as darkness fell, the two men dashed up it and took cover among a grouping of rocks.

“I don’t think they’ll attack until morning,” Gammet said and settled into the hillside. 

John panted for breath.  He sheathed the Sword of Judgment, then turned on the old man.  “I don’t want to stay here to find out.  I’ve got to get back to my men.  You killed Garrett.”

“No, the Demarians killed him.  Haven’t you heard anything I said?  From my vantage point I saw what was happening.  As soon as they realized you’d moved to the northern line, they rushed a full division to grab you.  I saw them push through your lines and splinter off your small group.  It’s just what they did to me.  Didn’t you wonder why your men were being targeted by their swords and not you?  Garrett was the last to stand.  After they killed him, what would you have done?  They would have captured you; taken you to Daenon.”

John listened, his anger slowly melting to frustration.

“With you captured,” Gammet continued, “who would have led our men?”

“You.”

Gammet shook his head.  He looked particularly old in the twilight.  “My time is past.”

John opened his mouth to protest, then decided it was not worth it.  What was done was done and no amount of argument could change that fact, so he focused on the present.  “There must be some way out of this.  We need to go up and over the hill, then circle around back to our own men.”  

Gammet remained silent, so John took that as agreement.   

“I should have died at the Dorsett with my men,” Gammet mumbled.

It took John a few seconds to process what the seventh bar had just said.  When he did, he understood where Gammet’s depression came from.  “That’s nonsense!”  His voice was sharp.  “Your life is valuable, not only as a seventh bar, but to Cordon and Lyrista.  You’ve been a tremendous help here.  Stop thinking that way.”

Gammet shook his head.  “I can’t keep myself from wondering,
why me
?  I wasn’t even wounded!”

“Gammet, listen to me!” John shook the old man roughly.  He suddenly wished he had an arsenal of anti-depressants at hand, but the only thing he could do was try and talk sense to the seventh bar.  “The Esparians need you, and more importantly Lyrista and Reese need you.  Cordon risked his life to rescue you.  Hold onto these thoughts.”

John felt closed in.  Their little groove in the rocks provided them protection, but was not a good location for scanning the surrounding terrain.  In order to have a better idea of the hill’s height and topography, John would have to crawl out onto a more exposed ledge.

“Lyrista and Reese,” Gammet thought out loud.  “Reese has become a man, and I’m very proud of him.  He’s my only grandchild, but no longer a boy.  Now Lyrista…” His voice trailed off in thought and John was at a loss for words.  He crawled out onto a flat rock beside them, checking the hillside above.

“I’ve been watching you, John Ernshaw,” the elder man spoke clearly.  “You’re a good man, and I’m glad I’ve had the opportunity to know you.”  The night was as dark as it was going to be, as light from the first moon would soon illuminate their position.  John resumed his place beside Gammet, for the gloomy tone in his voice concerned him.

“We have a lot of years of good friendship ahead.”

“Promise me something.”

“What do you want?”  John was wary.

“Promise me you’ll take care of my Lyrista.  I’ve seen how her eyes light up when you’re around.  She loves you, and I’d be proud to have you as a son-in-law.”  Gammet was serious.

John tried to read the seventh bar’s face, but in the shadowy darkness, all he could see were sad, haunted eyes.  “I’ll do my best.”

“I also want you to take care of my country,” Gammet continued.  “You’re not here by chance, my boy.  Your destiny lies with us.  I knew the moment I saw you.”

John did not know what to say.  He had committed himself to these people for the duration of the war, but Gammet referred to something more, something permanent.  A small rock fell from above just when he opened his mouth to respond.  Both men sprang to their feet.  The hair on John’s neck prickled when he realized they were most likely surrounded.  Gammet drew his weapon.  John pulled the Sword of Judgment.

“Your capture would be a catastrophe,” Gammet hissed.  “On three, we’ll rush out of here and go up, cutting our way to the top if we have to.  Once there, you run down the other side and don’t stop until you’re well within the protection of your own men.” 

Before John could argue Gammet yelled, “Three!”

Scrambling out from their protective crevice, they managed to take a score of soldiers by surprise.  Slashing left and hacking right, Gammet fought like a man possessed.  John had never seen anyone fight so viciously.  When they reached the top, Gammet pushed him down the other side.  “Remember your promises,” he yelled as he turned to face the enemy. 

Knowing the Demarians were close on his heels, John hesitated only a moment before bolting down the hill.  Behind him he could hear the clashing of steel.  Gammet was a dead man, whether John stayed or not, and understanding his own capture would be a terrible blow to the Esparians, he ran.  Gammet was giving his life so John could escape.  He would never forget the selfless act.

John ran and hid, then ran and hid some more.  The enemy patrolled everywhere, but he managed to elude capture.  Zigzagging across the grassland, he slowly made his way to friendly troops. 

Stumbling unexpectedly into the northern most Esparian guard camp, John was nearly slain by his own startled men.  With swords drawn, two of them jumped at the intruder.

“I’m Protector John Ernshaw!” he managed to say in the few seconds it took him to duck and parry three blows.

Hesitating, but with swords raised, the men regarded him suspiciously.  “Come closer to the fire,” one ordered.  Dropping his sword to his side, John complied.

“If you don’t believe me, then bind me and take me to Seventh Bar Ru.”

A soldier from across the fire let out a low gasp.  “Lord John,” he exclaimed and in two bounds stood beside him.  It took John a few seconds to recognize the young man.

“Mica!”

“Lower your weapons,” Mica said to his comrades.  “This is truly Lord John.  I know him well, as I rode with him from Ider Hoffle to Ramadine, many long weeks ago.”

“You don’t know how glad I am to see you.”  John felt relief.  “I didn’t want a skirmish here.  Is there a horse I can use?  I’ve got to get to headquarters.”

“Take mine,” Mica offered and ran to retrieve the animal.

After John swung onto the mount, he said, “What of Garrett?”

Mica’s reply was steady, but in the firelight, John saw the young man’s shoulders droop and grief enter his eyes.  “I found his body at sunset, surrounded by many Demarian dead.”

John had clung onto hope that Garrett had somehow survived, but now his heart sank.  “I’m sorry, Mica.”

Mica nodded.  “He died bravely, a true Ider warrior.”

While John turned the horse, he called over his shoulder, “I’ll return your animal as soon as I reach my camp.”  Then he galloped away. 

It was nearly sunrise before John rode into headquarters.  Seventh Bar Ru was there, issuing orders in John’s absence.  When John rode up, the seventh bar gave a short cry.  “John!”  His look of joy faded into concern when John neared the torches outside the command tent.  “Run and bring a healer,” Ru ordered an aid. 

Ru held the horse while John dismounted.  “I thought you were dead.”

“I should be.”  John handed the reins of his mount to a soldier standing nearby.  “Send this horse immediately to Third Bar Mica of Ider Hoffle.  He is the officer in charge of our most northern guard camp.”  The soldier saluted.

Getting right to business, John said, “Well Ru, what do you have for me?”

Before Ru could answer, a slight commotion came from several tents away.  John turned in time to see Lyrista plowing through two sentries at a full run.  “John!” she cried.

Without a word he darted toward her and caught her up.

“When Fireguard came back without you, I was worried out of my mind,” she whispered.  “I sent a full company out searching the battlefield for your body.”

“Your dad saved my life.  He gave his, so I could live.”

Through tears she looked up at him.  “He was never the same after the Dorsett.  I think he always felt he should have died there.”

“I promise, his actions will always be remembered.  He’ll be honored as a hero.”

In a swift, surprising move that caught him completely off guard, Lyrista reached up and pulled his face to hers.  She gave him a passionate kiss.  Then, just as abruptly, she pushed him away, and brushing the tears from her cheeks, walked in the direction of the hospital tent.

“All is ready, Protector,” Ru said from behind.  “I don’t know how much longer we can hang on, but the men are determined to fight.”

With a burning in his chest, John turned to his faithful seventh bar.  He nodded, as much to catch his wind as to respond to Ru’s comment.  He knew they were in a tight spot.

“I’m going up there,” he said, pointing to a small hillock at the back of the camp.  “I can see our situation better and maybe scrape together an idea or two.”  He swung up on the nearest horse, then took off at a gallop.  Of necessity, John had become an expert horseman in the last several weeks and he no longer feared any animal. 

He rode to the highest point, surveying the land around him.  The night sky was fast fading into morning light.  It would be only a short time before the sun cleared the eastern horizon and the day’s battle would begin.

John could see for filons.  To the west were the endless rows of smoldering enemy campfires.  The black uniformed soldiers were breaking camp and preparing to attack.  Behind him, to either side, were the fortified cities, where women and children streamed out by thousands, trying to flee further east before the Demarians overran them.  His own men were slowly assembling into battle formation. 

John looked at the overcast sky; his mood matched the gloominess of the approaching day.  Shaking his head, he thought,
how can we stand against so many?
  Finally, he looked south.  Thick clouds rose from the earth, reaching up to meet their gray brethren in the sky.  It was an unusual optical illusion and it held his attention. 
Clouds of dust? 
He watched for nearly a minute. 
They’re coming closer
!  The distant sound of thunder came to his ears.