The Protector of Esparia (The Annals of Esparia Book 1) (39 page)

Ru galloped up, joining the hilltop surveillance.  “How does it look?”  He scanned the enemy to the west.  “They are so many.”

“Ru,” John continued to stare southward.  “What do you make of that?  Is it a dust storm coming our way?”

Looking to where the protector pointed, Ru let out a low whistle.  “I have no idea!  I’ve never seen anything like it.”  He paused and listened.  “Thunder?”  The two men stared at each other, then back at the rapidly advancing storm.  The deep sound grew louder.

“Forget the south.  Daenon’s coming,” John said, then kicked his horse into a run. 

The two men rode hard to arrive at the front lines in time to lead their men into battle.  The deep, thunderous sound from the south drew ever closer, ever louder, but the soldiers ignored it as the warfare began. 

They fought for nearly half an hour when John, who was at the front of his men, heard a faint cheer rise from behind.  He did not dare to look, as the enemy pressed on every side.  There was a flash to his right and many of the enemy soldiers he fought looked up in surprise.  John sensed, rather than saw, a large mass move in beside him.

How much time elapsed, no one knew.  In the bitter contest of warfare, time seems to stand still.  Only the gradual loss of strength and the slowing of reflexes measure the passing of the day.  However, it was after several hours of intense fighting that the Demarian soldiers began to give way.  Only then did John dare to take a good look at the mammoth figure fighting by his side.  There, in full armor and looking like a demon from a child’s horror story, was a giant. 

John recognized him as the one he had spoken to weeks before in the Colossus forest.  To his surprise, the man wore a small Banner of Freedom tied around his forehead.  It held his long, flowing hair back and out of his face.  Glancing around, John saw hundreds of giants interspersed throughout his men, each one sporting a similar Banner of Freedom.  He later learned thousands had joined in the battle.  The Demarian army fell back under the new onslaught, and by early evening was in full retreat.  The giants had won the day.

“Let them run.  We won’t pursue the enemy today,” John commanded.  “There’ll be time enough for that later.  For now, I want every man to rest and gather his strength.”  No one argued. 

Led by Lyrista, the medics fanned out through the wounded, worn out men.  Many had fainted from loss of blood while others tottered on their feet.  The giants helped once again, by carrying wounded men to the field hospitals.

With his men cared for, John finally took the time to understand the day’s events.  He looked in wonder at the battle weary, armor-clad giant, still at his side.  The ten-foot-high man looked as John remembered him, long, thick, white-blond hair and creamy complexion with not a hint of facial hair.  He had many questions for his new companion while they walked to camp.

“You came,” John said gratefully.  “Why?”

The soft-spoken giant explained.  “My name is Prince Tor.  Some weeks ago, I was in my forest and heard a woman scream.  There were men dressed in black, and a girl, bound and gagged…their prisoner.  I was too late to help.”  He shook his head.  “No one enters the Colossus forest without my knowing, but they did.  I found this.”  He reached into a pocket and handed John a folded piece of thick, yellow paper.  “I assumed the girl dropped it.”  John opened the paper and read the simple message.

It took him a few seconds to decipher the writing.   John was no longer surprised by his ability to understand foreign tongues.  “‘Meet again, John’,” he read out loud.  “This is written in your language, not Esparian.”

“Yes,” the giant nodded.  “But, I did not send this.  I don’t know who did, but I will find out.  This is our writing material, and the message is in our tongue.  I am certain it was bait for a trap, set up by the men in black.  For this trap to work however, they must have had assistance by one or more of my people.  They did not hurt the female.  I assumed she was your kin, you look much alike.” 

This statement surprised John. He always thought Jessica looked just like her mother.  He felt a surge of fatherly pride to think a stranger could see a resemblance between them.  He also felt intense relief to know that Jessica had not been harmed.

“She’s my daughter, and I’ve been worried sick about her.”

The large man put a hand on John’s shoulder.  “I am ashamed that one of my people would help with this plot.  I decided we could no longer watch evil happen and do nothing.”  Dropping the hand, Tor looked around the camp.  “It was time for action, for helping.  I had to convince the Olders of this.  There are some who oppose our interfering with the outside world.  Showing this note, I argued someone had already interfered.  I may be a prince, but I need the support of our council to wage war.  Fortunately, the majority of my people agreed with me and we came as quickly as we could.”

John’s thoughts ran to the other battlefronts.  “To the south, my men are being badly beaten.”

“Yes, I know.  My trackers informed me and I sent half of my men to their aid before coming here.”

“I also have an army on the Hent-Galland border,” John said hopefully.

“Men were being gathered to send there when I left,” Tor assured him.  “I came here with the warriors who were ready.  My brother, Wix, was leading the force to Galland.  They were not prepared to go when I left six days ago, but should be marching to your men’s aid by now.  Galland is a gentle country and many volunteered to help.”

When they reached the camp, John paused to look around.  His exhausted men collapsed at their tent doors, not bothering to remove their armor.  Hardly a single man did not suffer from several wounds.  The giants were busy transporting the injured and many tended the less severe cuts and gashes of their smaller allies.  Some giants were even going from man to man, offering food and water from their own rations.

“Your people are remarkably compassionate, Tor.”  John swallowed a lump in his throat.  “My men need to rest for a few days, but we will follow the Demarian army into the province of Palium.  It needs to be freed.  Will you join us?” 

“I will speak with my comrades, but that should be possible.  We have committed ourselves to your aid.  Also, we have seldom ventured out of our mountains and many of us wish to see this country.  It is most intriguing.”

After helping with the worn out Esparians, the Giants set up their own camp on the grassy plain.  John made his way to where they unloaded their supplies and stared in amazement at their odd looking mounts.  He knew they were horses of a sort, for Tor indicated his men rode to the battle, however these animals looked more like bearded oxen than horses.  Mammoth in size, these creatures were olive green in color, smeared with patches of chocolate brown, and each sported a deadly pair of bull-style horns.  John later learned the animal’s coloring aided in their blending into the foliage of the Colossus Forest and the horns were readily used as weapons.

After making sure the needs of the giants were met, John went to find Ru.  He finally located him at one of the field hospitals, helping Lyrista with the wounded.  “I’ve spoken to Tor, the giant’s leader.  They’ll march with us into Palium.”

“Oh John, that’s wonderful,” Lyrista exclaimed, relief showing on her strained face.  Ru smiled and nodded in agreement.

“We’ll free these people,” John continued, “then we’ll march on, into the Deserts of Demar.”

The Sword of Mercy

After watching Daenon and his soldiers gallop at full speed down Rendaira’s road and disappear over the small hill next to the mansion, Jessica’s thoughts turned to Merula.  Leaving the front portico, she walked back into the lavish entry hall and straight to her new friend, who stood staring out from the large, ornate window adjacent to the front door.  Her fists were clenched so tightly that blood trickled from where her nails were digging into her palms.  Merula, so engrossed in her own thoughts, did not notice Jessica and jumped when she spoke. 

“Come with me,” Jessica ordered, taking firm hold of Merula’s thin arm.  “We both need some fresh air and you need your hands tended to.”  They walked straight to an outside fountain, where Jessica plunged Merula’s hands into the cold water.  The cuts were not very deep and clotted with a little applied pressure.  They crossed four acres of front lawn and climbed the first hill in silence.  When they reached the statue of Daenon shooting a bow, Merula let out a deep breath.  Only, then did Jessica speak again.  “I saw the look on your face.  Your hate for Addex is unreal.”

“I have every right to hate him,” Merula said vehemently.  “He was a Junior Older in my father’s government.  It was he who introduced the drug that destroyed my people.  He was the one who poisoned the Regulators.  He would have poisoned my father, but my mother drank the glass by mistake.  I was only fifteen years old, Jessica.  I had two brothers, one twelve and the other sixteen.  Addex murdered them in front of me.  Have you any idea what sort of impact that has on a child?  He said if I ever tried to escape, he would kill my father also.  He’s butchered several of my friends here as well.”  She paused, her body shaking.  “Hate!  Hate is the only thing keeping me alive!”  Tears rolled down her gaunt cheeks, but her eyes shone defiantly.

A surge of compassion swept through Jessica, but she had no words of comfort.  For a few moments they wept together in silence, then placing her hand on Merula’s arm, Jessica managed a sincere, “I’m so sorry.”   There was nothing more she could give, but she meant every word. 

“When everything comes crashing in, when I think I’m going to go mad with the pain of existing,” Merula whispered, “I do this.”  She pulled up her long sleeves to her elbows and held out her forearms.  Long, fresh slash marks, healing cuts and older scars marred her skin.  “The pain from cutting releases the pain in my soul.”

Jessica was nauseated.  She swallowed hard against the rising bile in her throat.  “Merula, I’m here and you can trust me.  I can only imagine how hard it must be for you to show this to me.”

“The only other person who knows is Cook Stratin.  She’s all I have left.”

“I’m here too.”  Jessica gently rolled the sleeves back over the broken flesh.  “When you feel compelled to do this, please, please,
please
come find me.  You can talk it out, scream it out.  I’ll listen and do my best to
just
listen, not give advice, not judge.  Hate can keep you going, but it can also destroy.”  Jessica realized hate was not the only thing giving Merula life.  She had seen the look in her eyes when Lepsis’ name was mentioned, but hate definitely drove her now.

Merula took another deep breath and roughly brushed her tears away.  “Let’s not talk about it anymore.  What can I do to help you?”

“Me?  You ask what
I
need.”

“I keep busy, Jessica.  It numbs the pain.”

Jessica stared in bewilderment at Merula.  “All right…well…I want to know everything about this place.  I want to know who is friend and who is foe.  I don’t plan on being here when Daenon returns.  One way or another, I will leave and I want you to come with me.”

“I’ll think about it,” Merula promised.  “Come.  We’ll begin your tour with the stable.” 

The stable was located about three hundred yards behind the house, off to one side.  A large, two-story rectangular structure, it was capable of accommodating two hundred and fifty horses, but now housed only twenty.  Painted a muted green color, it paled into near obscurity next to the brilliance of the main mansion.  Inside the building, Jessica marveled at how spotless it was kept.  Each stall was scrubbed clean, with a bound bale of fresh hay in the corner. 

“I’ve never seen anything so clean,” Jessica exclaimed. 

“Six of the servant-slaves work here full time.  Daenon is a neatness fanatic, with a strong aversion to dirt.”

Outside were three large, empty corrals, just as tidy as the barn.  The white fences surrounding them looked freshly painted.  Beautifully groomed, the soft earth was raked smooth, with not a single foot or hoof print in the dust.  Walking between the corrals and stable, the women came to a second barn-like structure, the same height and general shape as the stable.  It was painted the same dull green color, but from the window placements in the building, Jessica could tell the interior was divided into three levels. 

“This is the barracks.  It can house up to three hundred men.  Don’t let the outside fool you.  It’s incredibly plush in there and each Elitet has his own room.  Daenon keeps a small army here,” Merula explained.  “Three more barracks are just like this, one on the northern end of the property, one on the southern end, and another, way over there, on the eastern side of Rendaira.”  She waved her arm in the general direction.

“Wow!  Talk about paranoid.  Any idea how many men are left here?”

Merula shook her head.  “I’ll try and find out.  There’s a stable and set of corrals located next to every barracks, the same size as what you see here.  We can begin our soldier count by investigating those, but that’ll have to wait until tomorrow.  It’s getting late and we wouldn’t make it back before dark.  Any servant-slave out after the sun goes down is automatically whipped, no questions asked.  I remember once a maid showed up, only a minute or so late in returning from the dine.  Daenon had her bound, then with all of us watching, slit her throat.  Not even the slightest infraction of his rules is tolerated.  Now, let me show you the servant’s quarters.”

Merula had shown no emotion during her narrative.  Jessica felt revulsion at the story and was amazed at how this woman could, after her emotional outburst only a short time before, so quickly stifle her feelings now. 

They made their way towards the mansion, to the first of the two identical buildings situated behind it.  On the exterior, these buildings were mini versions of Daenon’s opulent home.  Jessica judged each building to be around fifty thousand square feet.  Both were located a hundred yards directly behind each end of the mansion.  A sprawling, well-tended garden covered the space between the two buildings and ornately roofed walkways connected each structure to the palace. 

“The building over there,” Merula pointed to the far edifice “is a guest house of sorts.  It used to belong to Lepsis, but now it is Addex’s.  We will not go in there.”

Jessica nodded in agreement.  She imagined all sorts of torture equipment and body parts and had no desire to confirm her thoughts.

“This building is the servant’s housing.”  Merula led the way through the main door.

A blend of dormitory layout with prison-like security, the interior of the servant’s quarters was depressing.  Being three stories high, the building had a central meeting room, from which a staircase led upwards to the other levels.  Positioned on either side of this gathering room was a long, narrow hallway from which diminutive, hotel-style sleeping quarters could be accessed.  Levels two and three consisted of the same, small, side-by-side rooms opening onto a slender corridor.  Each room contained a bed, a small armoire, and a desk.  Six communal bathrooms, two on each level completed the building’s design.  All windows had bars on them, and each entrance to the six halls was secured with thick, metal prison doors.  A jailer kept each door. 

“Most of the servants,” Merula explained, “are slaves.  Several, however, are not--the six well paid jailers Daenon has positioned on each floor, and the head butler, Chak.  A few of the grounds keepers and maintenance personnel are also free men who work here willingly.”

Jessica said in a bare whisper, “Do you think the slaves would revolt, if the opportunity came?”

Merula shrugged.  “You must understand, Jessica, these people have lived so many years in total fear, many of them are either broken or nearly there.  The last person who tried escaping was given to Addex, and that was two years ago.”

Chak was the short, corpulent head-butler who had greeted Jessica and Addex when they first arrived.  Normally in charge of the household staff, he was placed in command of the entire compound while Daenon was gone.  Merula made sure she and Jessica stayed well out of his path while they explored Rendaira over the next several days.

It took an entire morning and half an afternoon to make the trek to the outpost on the northern end of the estate.  Jessica could have done it in better time, but Merula was not strong.  Since Lepsis left, she confessed her will to live had diminished and she was half-heartedly trying to starve herself.  It was due to Lepsis’ constant care she had survived her captivity this long. 

When they reached the post, everything was as Merula described; the buildings looked identical to the ones close to the mansion.  Even the dull green paint was the same.  Jessica neither saw nor heard another soul around.  The grounds were completely deserted and looked as if they had been that way for some time.  Cobwebs hung in the crooks and crannies of the stable and weeds grew tall inside the corrals.  The women stayed but a short time.  Fortunately, the days were quite long, for they barely made it back to the mansion before the sun passed beyond sight.

The southern Elitet compound had the same desolate appearance.  The barracks and stable to the far east of the mansion were also deserted. 

“Daenon must have sent all of the troops to the front,” Merula commented.  “There are only forty left at the house, and none of them are Elitet, only regular troops.”

Like a haunting spirit, Merula had roamed the mansion for ten years, thus she knew every room, every secret passage, and every person there.  In the three days it took Merula to give an abbreviated tour of the mansion, Jessica counted eighty-five guest rooms, six dining halls, two grand ballrooms, and twelve conference chambers, two libraries, four laboratories, two billiards rooms, six swimming pools (three indoor and three outdoor), and a massive receiving room which would rival the throne rooms of ancient Egypt.  Daenon’s personal apartment complex was located in back of the mansion.  It overlooked the beautiful gardens separating the two mini-palaces.  Two large kitchens were also located in the rear of the massive building. 

One of Jessica’s favorite rooms was a sewing chamber.  Bolts of satins, linens, cottons and wools, sorted by color, were stored on large wooden frames stretching from the floor to the ceiling.  A smaller frame held spools of thread, assorted needles in cushions, and a few pairs of scissors. 

“
I can sew.  Well…I can sew a little bit.” Jessica said while she ran her hand over a bolt of pale green satin.  “I’m going to make myself some new clothes.  I’ll make some for you too, if you’d like.”

“Thank you, but it would not be wise…for me that is.  You’re welcome to use whatever is here as Daenon took the tailor with him, however, I must keep to my own uniform.”

“Is that what you call this?”  Jessica fingered the sleeve of her friend’s tunic.  “I’m really not into fashion, but there has to be something better.  You’re falling apart.”

Merula gave a weak smile.  “It will do.”

“All right, suit yourself.  Just remember, I did offer.” 

Late into the third night of touring, Jessica awoke to see Merula standing over her.  “Good heavens, Merula!” she nearly shouted, “Do you want to give me a heart attack?”

“Shhhh,” Merula put a finger to her lips.  “There is one last room I must show you and now is the only time.”  Her voice was scarcely a whisper.

“All right, but shake me next time.  My heart’s still pounding.” 

In nightgown and bare feet, Jessica followed while Merula crept out of the bedroom and down the dark hallway.  They tiptoed to where a six-foot high ceramic urn marked the corridor’s end.  Merula bent to a kneeling position and wiggled behind the vase, then disappeared.  Jessica crouched down to peer behind the tall pot, but in the dark, she could see nothing.  Slowly inching herself forward, she reached out to the wall and patted around.  To her surprise, she found a small opening.

“Hurry,” came a whisper from the dark.

Wiggling like a snake, Jessica squeezed through the open trap door.  Merula took her arm and helped her up. 

“Don’t move,” she warned.

Jessica heard Merula secure the trap door, then reach for something.  An instant later, a spark flashed and Merula held a small fire brand in her hand. 

“I keep a supply there,” she motioned with her head to three other torches lying beside the closed hatch. 

In the flickering light, Jessica saw they stood at the top of a narrow, winding staircase made completely of stone. 

“Wow!  It’s a good thing you stopped me from stepping forward, I could have broken my neck.”

Merula quietly laughed.  “I nearly did the first time I found this passage.”  Holding the torch high, she led the way.  “Be careful, these steps aren’t very wide.”  They descended at least three levels before coming to a narrow hallway.  “We’re on the lowest level of the mansion,” Merula whispered.