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

by Lisa M. Wilson

  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 hi
gh, 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.”

  Cordon was relieved to see his father walk without assistance. His only thought now was how they were going to transport eighteen crippled men back up the mountain and through the Narrow Passes before the jail break was detected. I hope Anton doesn’t find too many guys in this bad of shape. If he does, we’re in real trouble.

  *

  To Anton’s surprise, the tower he entered had no jailer at the base. It seemed completely deserted. No lights, no sounds, no sign of human occupation. One of the men found some torches lying against a wall and lit them. With a flame in hand, Anton led his soldiers up the winding stairs. Making their way from cell to cell, they found no signs of life. Each jail door stood open, with the compartments themselves full of cobwebs and dust. Not even a rat greeted them.

  Anton’s frustration mounted, but knowing he needed to check each cell to the very top, he and his men pushed on. When they reached the final door at the pinnacle of the tower, to their surprise, it was locked from the outside by a single bolt. Anton slid it back, moving it easily, releasing it with a dull thud. The heavy wooden door groaned when he pulled on it. Torch in hand, he entered the darkened room. It was the largest of the tower chambers. A small table and a single chair were to one side, an armoire stood at the back, and a thin rug partially covered the bare stone floor. The only other furniture in the cell was a bed in the far corner. Starlight poured in from two high windows located near the vaulted ceiling. Anton walked toward the bed, his footsteps echoing in the silence.

  “Who’s there?” a breathy female voice called out. He did not dare answer. Anton knew he was incapable of whispering. Placing a finger to his lips, he tried a, “Shhhh.”

  Though he could not see her face in the shadows, he realized she must be someone of great importance to be isolated at the very top of the great, dark tower.

  After handing the torch to a Guardian behind him, Anton crossed to the bed and picked a thin, fragile woman up in his arms. She was light as a feather and an odd feeling of familiarity swept over him.

  A small squeak came from her when she tried to speak again, but after one more ‘shhh’ from Anton, she made no further sounds. She seemed to understand she was being rescued because she reached her arms around his neck and held on. Flanked in front and behind by five men, Anton raced down the tower stairs with the woman gently cradled against his chest.

  When they exited the prison, Anton motioned to Ru with his head, jerking it toward the waiting ropes at the mountain’s side. Ru signaled his men to begin retreating toward the rendezvous spot. Cordon’s men were already there, in the process of hauling their rescued prisoners up to the pass. Only the strongest Guardians were capable of making the initial climb, carrying the feeble captives strapped onto their backs.

  “We found eighteen,” Cordon whispered. “I see you found…What! A woman?”

  Anton nodded.

  “No more?”

  Anton shook his head.

  One Guardian offered to take the woman from Anton’s arms, but he shook his head, indicating he would take her up himself.

  Another odd, squeaky sound escaped the woman’s lips, but Anton, his senses straining to detect signs of the enemy, did not take the time to listen to her words.

  When he turned to check on how the ascension was progressing, he noticed Gammet in the group of freed men awaiting their turn up the mountain. Stunned, he stared at the famous general. The last time Anton had seen the man, which was only a few months earlier, his hair had been a deep brown color, only beginning to gray at the temples. Now that hair was snow white in color and stood out in sharp contrast against the dark mountain beside them.

  With the last of the burdened Guardians beginning the assent, Cordon motioned for Ru and his squad to go up. When the fourth bar and his men ran to the ropes, a cry of alarm came from the far tower where the woman had been imprisoned.

  Within seconds, Demarian soldiers came streaming from the barracks.

  “Go!” Cordon ordered Anton. He pulled his sword. Ru and his men formed a semicircle around the dangling ropes with Anton and his charge at the center.

  Before Anton could reach for the rigging, the woman twisted out of his hold. Her burst of strength surprised him.

  “Help them, Anton,” she ordered in a weak, barely audible voice. “You’ve come for me at last and I will wait for you here.” She stepped back against the steep wall and pushed him forward.

  He stared at her, surprised that she knew his name. He had not really looked at her face, and now he tried to see her more clearly, but the dark night prevented it. “Who…?”

  Before he could finish the question she waved him off. “Help them.”

  Anton joined Cordon, Gammet, and the remaining thirty Guardians just as the enemy reached them. Nearly one hundred sword
s came slashing in, but these Guardians were the best of the best that Lyrista had to send, and they stood firm against the onslaught of soldiers gone soft.

  Anton heaved his huge sword left and right, downing an adversary with every stroke. Gammet took up a fallen Demarian’s weapon and wielded it mercilessly. With each blow he cried out in anger, cursing the jailers and their evil master. Within twenty minutes of the first steel clashing, the few remaining enemy soldiers retreated at a run.

  Several Guardians were wounded in the fight, three badly enough they would need to be carried up. The defenders had not moved from their original semicircle. When they retreated backward to scale the mountain wall, the bodies of the dead Demarian guards marked the perfect half-moon defensive line.

  The woman went to Anton. She reached up and caressed his cheek with the back of her hand. “I knew you’d come one day.”

  He jerked back, as if she had slapped him, and stared at her wide-eyed. By the meager light of the stars, he finally recognized the thin, but still beautiful face of Naydeen, Daenon’s mother and Lepsis’ older sister. His heart lurched in his chest and he barely stopped himself from crying out. She was the only woman he had ever loved, and for forty-five years he had thought she was dead.

  Questions flashed through his mind, but they would have to wait. While she clung to his neck, he carried her up the mountain. He held her once again in his arms while Cordon took lead during the journey back through the Narrow Passes. Not until he was astride his horse, with Naydeen safely tucked against him, did he venture any of his queries.

  The first rays of morning light touched the mountains as the band of fifty guardians and eighteen grateful, rescued men followed Cordon eastward through the Snow Peak Range. Anton brought up the rear.

  “What happened, Naydeen? I thought ya was gone forever.”

  “I might as well have been. After Segal died, and you escaped, I was taken to Daenon. He was told I tried to leave with you and that you killed Segal. Daenon knew his father didn’t love me; that he never had. I told him the Maronian courts had granted my divorce. I wanted to take him and Lepsis and leave. I tried to explain that Segal attacked you and fell on his own knife when you pushed him away. I begged for my freedom, for Lepsis’ freedom, just as I begged Segal earlier, but he only laughed. My boy laughed.”