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

by Lisa M. Wilson

Taking her attention from the road ahead, she glanced sideways at him, a hint of questioning in her eyes. “I think it’s pretty much the same everywhere, Esparia, Marone, Galland, even in the Deserts. How does news travel where you’re from?”

  “Assume that it’s quite different where I come from, not at all like here.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “All right. We have the Red Feathers. It’s a system of carrier birds. Transfer coops, called Red Feather Centers, are in every major tiern as well as some strategic hoffles. You’ll find no other bright red buildings in the entire country. No matter where they fly, the birds know a red roof means home and they go straight to it. We also have a letter delivery system, running daily by coach, to dines and larger tierns and by horse to smaller tierns and hoffles. Coach takes about two weeks to travel from one end of the country to another. The same distance is traveled in about three days by carrier bird, but coach is much less expensive.”

  John nodded. This was something he could easily understand given the current technology, or lack of it.

  “Of course, there’s also the Sighted,” she continued, “but the newspapers employ most of them, when they’re not using the birds.”

  “Sighted?”

  “Yes, you know, those who see what’s happened.”

  “Those who see…ohhh,” he groaned. “Expanse of Gonta stuff, right? Fifth dimension?” He vainly tried to keep a scoffing tone out of his voice.

  “Of course.” She gave him her full attention. “You don’t understand the expanse, do you?”

  “It’s not a matter of understanding. I simply don’t believe it. Hocus pocus…mumbo jumbo…no, I think it’s all a bunch of, well…I don’t believe in it.”

  She pursed her lips and went back to scanning the crowd. After several minutes she said, “You’ll like Ramadine, it’s very beautiful.”

  She surprised him by the change of topic. “Ramadine? What has that got to do with the expanse…”

  “Nothing.” She cut him off. “I don’t want to argue about something you obviously know little of; it’ll do neither of us any good.”

  “Fair enough. You mentioned your brother’s at Ramadine.”

  “Yes. Cordon.” Lyrista nodded. “He’s one of the Saylon Dorsett survivors. I’m anxious to see him, perhaps as anxious about seeing him as you are about seeing your daughter. I can understand your feelings of concern. Really, we’re traveling as fast as we safely can.”

  “I know that. Lyrista, I’m sorry about your father. I too lost my dad in a terrible war. I understand Gammet was a great man.”

  “Thank you. He was.” Lyrista signaled the driver to slow the coach’s speed as a large city lay just ahead and the road was quickly becoming more congested than usual.

  “It’s like bumper to bumper rush hour traffic,” John muttered.

  “What was that?” Lyrista shot him a queer look.

  “Lord Healer,” the carriage driver called, “Lady Saylon wishes to speak with you.”

  John leaned back on his horse, slowing his pace and allowing the carriage to catch up with him. “You wanted me?” He spoke through the large open window.

  Lowering her waving arm, Gaylee studied John, a serious expression on her face. “I promised I’d tell you if I felt anything about Jess. It’s hard to describe, but I felt apprehension for a while, a feeling of dread. She’s safe now, but something…”

  “You’re sure she’s safe,”

  “Yes, of course. The feeling lifted moments ago.”

  John shook his head. He stared past Gaylee, out the large open window at the opposite side of the carriage. The never ending line of Esparians waving from the roadside passed by in a blur of color. He focused beyond them, to the tree line, where the forest began at the highway’s edge. Several black forms stood out from among the cream and green branches of the thickly grown trees. In an instant, John realized each aimed an armed bow directly at them. Lyrista shouted a warning at the same moment he launched himself from Fireguard’s back into the coach through the large window. Flying through the sizable opening, he grabbed Gaylee as he shot past her. They both tumbled to the carriage floor a split second before three arrows thudded into the cushioned bench where she had just been sitting.

  John grabbed his duffle bag and nearly destroyed the zipper in his haste to retrieve the gun. In the few seconds it took him to get it, an arrow slammed into the carriage door and another whizzed through the window, landing on the seat only inches from his head.

  “Stay here,” he commanded, then bolted out the carriage door, ready for a fight, but the would-be assassins had already vanished into the woodland. Garrett was at the head of the now stationary carriage, one hand on the bridle of the lead stallion, the other holding a sword. His face was grim, his mouth went taught when he caught John’s eye. Mica circled the coach on his horse, his bow at the ready. Both men motioned to the agitated crowd to stay back.

  One deadly projectile had found its mark in the carriage driver’s left breast. He lay slumped back in his seat, the horse’s reins still in his hand. John shoved the gun into his belt, then scrambled up beside the man, however there was nothing he could do but gently press the lifeless eyes closed.

  Lyrista sat on her horse, her left arm hanging at her side, an arrow shot through her shoulder, its point protruding from her back. In her dangling hand she clutched her bow. Her right hand was pressed tightly to a wound in her side and blood oozed between her fingers. Without a word, John jumped from the driver’s seat and ran to her. Reaching up, he pulled her off her mare and into his arms.

  Gaylee appeared beside him, the first-aid kit from the duffle bag in her hand. “Tell me what to do.”

  “Lady Gayleena,” Lyrista gasped, “you’re too open to danger here. Get back in the coach.”

  “Lyrista, there are more armed men here right now protecting us than in two full Ider Hoffle regiments,” Gaylee soothed. She was right. Many in the crowd had pulled their weapons and others had plowed into the forest after the would-be assassins.

  John deposited Lyrista on the doorstep of the carriage, then snapped off the feather end of the arrow. “I need to pull this through. I’ve got some lidocaine in the kit,” he said to Gaylee. “Fill a syringe.”

  Waiting for the anesthesia, John inspected the gash in Lyrista’s side. “You lost a piece of muscle.”

  “I’m pretty sure I shot one,” Lyrista breathed through clenched teeth. “We really need to be moving.”

  “Mica’s got things under control,” John assured her. He numbed both her wounds with the anesthesia. “Okay, grit your teeth.”

  Lyrista closed her eyes when John grasped the sharp arrow point and pulled. He threw the broken shaft to the ground and finished treating her shoulder and side. With the task completed, he gently lifted her into the carriage.

  “I can ride,” she protested.

  “I don’t think so, not today anyway. You’ve lost a lot of blood, and I don’t need you passing out on me while galloping on a horse.”

  Lyrista’s eyes flashed. “I won’t pass out, and who do you think you are, telling me what I can and cannot do?”

  John met her anger with cool resolution. Lyrista took on patient status is his mind and he now dealt with her on that basis. “You will follow my orders, or I’ll tie you to this seat.”

  Before Lyrista could respond, Gaylee intervened. “Lyrista, I think having a guard inside the carriage would be a wise move. I would like no one better than you to be with me right now.”

  Lyrista continued to glare at John, but nodded in agreement. “Very well, Lady Gayleena. For the rest of this day, I’ll ride with you, but only because you have wished it so.”

  Turning his attentions to the commotion around him, John barked orders to Garrett and Mica. “Garrett, you’re our driver now. Mica, you’re in charge at the rear.”

  Mica shot a look of surprise to Garrett that John did not miss.

  “I’m not just a healer, but where I come from I’m a sixth bar, now move,
” John snapped in a tone that demanded compliance.

  “Yes, sir,” Garrett and Mica simultaneously chimed.

  Two runners appeared at the forest edge and came to the carriage. “Well?” John asked them authoritatively. He stood at his full height. His entire demeanor was one of command.

  One runner snapped to attention. “We found a thick trail of blood, but no body. Others are still searching, but whoever they were, they seem to have disappeared.”

  John nodded. He knew they were vulnerable while on the main highway. “Are there any who are willing to accompany us to Ramadine?” he called out to the crowd. About fifty men, swords still in their hands stepped forward. “I’m grateful to all of you,” John acknowledged, “but we have no time to waste. So those with horses at the ready will come with us now.” There was a bustle of activity as swords were sheathed and a dozen men ran for their tethered mounts at the forest’s edge. John turned to a bystander who looked particularly disappointed at not being chosen. “This man,” John pointed to the body of the dead coach driver now lying on the ground, “is from Ider Hoffle. He needs to go home.”

  The bystander squared his shoulders, gave the Salute of Loyalty, and promised, “It will be done.”

  Astride Fireguard, John positioned himself at the head of the group. In his hand he held the loaded Beretta. The twenty new escorts took up positions around the coach. Tense and alert for the rest of that day, as well as the following two, he led their way northward. Luckily the road to Ramadine was well marked. He rode harder than ever, forcing all to keep pace with him. They traveled late into each night. John knew they would never be truly safe until they reached Ramadine, so he pushed the horses to exhaustion to cut a full day from the journey.

  On the seventh morning Lyrista insisted on riding again. She rejoined the procession to lead their way at John’s side into the legendary city, Ramadine.

  CHAPTER 12

  Ramadine

  As they approached the ancient city, hills rose to meet them and the highway started to climb. Uniformed soldiers replaced the crowds of civilians as the carriage, with its small escort, made its way along the last few miles of the journey. This final portion of smooth cobblestone highway cut uphill, through a dense, lush forest. The pale yellow pole trees had vanished the previous day with thick trunked broad-leafs replacing them as giants of the woodland. Short branches sprouted from base to top of each mighty tree and were completely covered with silvery-white bloated leaves. They were huge, pointed puff balls, thrown together in random bunches. Dandleberries still grew in abundance where the sun streamed through to the open patches of ground. These bushes lined each side of the road, spiraling upwards to ten feet.

  At the first sign of soldiers along the road, John’s tension level lessened. For the first time since taking lead for the journey he let himself feel greater curiosity and anticipation as they neared the ancient university he had heard so much about.

  “Not much farther now,” Lyrista said from beside him. They rode side by side, with the carriage following and Mica guarding their rear. “In fact, you should be able to see Ramadine after we round the next corner.”

  Built of pastel colored stones, the sprawling complex loomed atop the highest plateau. From their distance, it looked like a mighty, shimmering fortress floating on the forest canopy of silvery white puff leaves. Many of the buildings were domed while others were topped by tall, thin spires of shiny metal, glistening in the setting sun. The many hues melted into a rainbow of soft colors, gently blending into each other. A great wall surrounded the entire campus, with large turrets built into it every eighty feet. The glossy white barricade was between forty and fifty feet high. John guessed it was also made of stone. At the entrance, two enormous, deep blue Palium gates stood open. This was the only visible opening built into the formidable wall and the road led straight through it.

  Thousands of soldiers, clothed in navy blue and silver, stood at attention on the deforested land surrounding the Ramadine wall. This was a large area, spreading six hundred feet from the edge of the forest to the massive stone barricade. Every battle tower had at least eight men staffing it and the top of the wall was filled with uniformed humanity. As the coach passed the impressive honor guard and entered the city through the ornate metal gates, each warrior gave the Salute of Loyalty.

  The buildings of Ramadine were constructed of massive stone blocks ranging in color from light pink to deep green and soft gray to creamy yellow. Each building was uniquely decorated with delicate botanical carvings and ornamental statues depicting humans, wildlife, nature, and the abstract. Stained glass windows added more color and dimension. Each structure had a smooth, polished finish, giving it the look of elegant marble.

  The grounds of Ramadine were just as striking as the buildings upon them, with neatly trimmed lawn and countless well-groomed flowerbeds. Smooth, pale green walkways serpentined between buildings, efficiently connecting them while not detracting from the overall landscaping. Tall, ancient trees gave plenty of shade and several large fountains flanked by stone benches accented the surrounding areas.

  A bell, deep and rich in tone, tolled repeatedly. It heralded their coming and scores of people poured from the campus buildings. Men and women of all ages, handsomely dressed in bright clothing, jostled for a glimpse of the travelers. John and Lyrista, side by side, led the small procession up the main road to the largest of the visible structures. Constructed of lime-green stone with four-story-high columns and a sharply peaked silver roof, it stood out as the most ornate and notable. Lyrista held her hand up as a signal to stop.

  Gathered around the newcomers were uniformed soldiers, civilians dressed in all manner of tunics, skirts, pants, shirts, robes and dresses, as well as older professor-types in red and brown robes of distinction. However, it was a tall, thin man wearing a simple gray robe who caught John’s attention. He stood erect before two large wood paneled doors leading into the green stone building. Neatly trimmed, snow-white hair crowned his head. A smile brightened his clean-shaven, aging face and kindness showed in his sapphire eyes. His gray robe bunched at the waist, a white cord keeping the thick fabric in place. Opened slightly at the chest with loosely fitted sleeves, the plain garment hung to his ankles. The smile on his face reminded John of Shallenon’s smile, the strong genetic resemblances in this family were remarkable. No one needed to tell him this was Larone, the Great Healer.

  John and Lyrista dismounted. A teenage boy stepped from the crowd offering to take the animals. Walking to the carriage, John opened the door and helped Gaylee descend. Larone came forward at a brisk walk, a smile on his face that lit up his eyes, and as soon as Gaylee’s feet hit the ground she ran to him. He embraced her tenderly, as any loving father would embrace a long lost daughter. The onlookers were hushed in respectful silence. Larone whispered something to Gaylee and tears streamed down his face. At last, they withdrew a pace from each other. The crowd, unable to contain themselves, burst forth in a mighty cheer.

  Gaylee wiped her cheeks and beckoned John to join them. He first went to Lyrista, who stood by the carriage horses, and offered her his arm. Tentatively, she took it. Together they joined Larone and Gaylee. John motioned for the two young soldiers, Garrett and Mica, to follow and the small group entered the green building.

  Once through the massive doors, Larone turned to John. “There is no news of your daughter, but that is good. If something had happened to her, I am certain we would have heard. In this case, no news is good news. Varnack, a very trusted and capable friend, is with her. As soon as we knew about the traitor in our midst, Anton left to find them. That was nearly a week ago. I know there is much you have to say to me, questions, much deserved recriminations and smoldering frustrations. However, you must be hungry. Refresh yourselves first, then we can talk more.”

  Through a jumble of emotions, John reluctantly agreed. This was not what he expected. Larone seemed like a decent guy. John was expecting…well, he was expecting a know-it-all, someon
e self-absorbed, and proud. But Larone seemed the opposite of those. John’s gut reaction was trust.

  “You know about Jessica’s arrival on Edia?” Gaylee asked.

  “Oh, yes. That’s why I chose Varnack to protect her. Other than Anton, I trust no one better.”

  “Weren’t you expecting Shallenon?” Gaylee looked perplexed.

  Larone smiled. “No. I knew when Shallenon’s life force darkened ten years ago and passed on. It greatly saddened me. Haesom took it especially hard. But I have also known about my great-grandniece, Jessica, for some time. Her connection with Edia has grown stronger this past year. Only Anton, Haesom and I knew of her existence. We kept Shallenon’s passing a secret. This betrayer would assume that Shallenon, a grown woman, not a girl of Jessica’s age will return to claim the Protectorship. If Daenon suspects anything, it will be a woman of fifty, not a girl of eighteen that he will search for.”

  One of the many knots in John’s stomach slowly unwound at this bit of unexpected news. “That’s good to know.” He looked at Larone. “Gaylee and I saw a band of Elitet by Ider Hoffle. They were definitely searching for someone.”

  Larone frowned. “I’m glad they did not find the two of you. Though,” he openly appraised John from head to foot, “I think they would have had a difficult time capturing you. You may be a healer, but you have the bearing of a warrior.”

  John nodded. His thoughts flickered to the Beretta, safely wedged into his belt and hidden by his untucked shirt. He knew swords were no match for bullets.

  Larone led them down a wide, tiled corridor. They passed several open classrooms and finally came to large double doors. Larone pulled on a thick metal handle. The door easily swung open to reveal a spacious hall filled with rows of long wooden tables and benches. Wide windows lining the outer wall allowed the fading sunlight to filter in.

  The large room was deserted save for two young women who were busy transferring platters of food from a wooden cart onto a table in the far corner. Larone conducted his guests to the simple slab. Ten large chairs surrounded it.