Return of the High Protector: Part II of The High Duties of Pacia

By Bob Craton

Destiny brings a thirteen year old boy and girl together in a wilderness when she escapes from kidnappers and he flees enemy soldiers. Her name is Caelia and she comes from a community hidden in a cavern. He has spent all his life hiding and only learned his true identity two days earlier. They journey together searching for her family and the secret buried chest he seeks.

Elsewhere, a remarkable young woman named Graice travels with her mentor Sybille and a man named Holder. Sybille has foreseen that Graice is needed for a task vital to the world in Abbelôn, the beautiful peaceful city captured years earlier by brutal men called the Zafiri – and Sybille’s visions are never wrong. Continuing her efforts begun in Part I of the story, Graice does her best to help Holder, who lost his memory around the same time Abbelôn fell. She and Sybille already know he was once someone important. With the help of the man known as the Wise One of Lucidus and others, they continue the seemingly hopeless journey toward Abbelôn.

Across the land, anxiety increases. An army raised by the Zafiri threatens Anglio, a small city on the edge of the civilized world. The pompous monarchs of the Great Cities promise aid but are really only concerned about their own vanity. Fortunately, arms makers in those Cities have invented powerful weapons named for an old word meaning destruction – cannons. Without the approval of their own rulers, a small group of men rush to deliver these weapons before Anglio is attacked.

In Zigor, home of the Zafiri, enemies not only have weapons of their own but also breed monstrous beasts. Yet their preparations for the war move slowly. Deceit, mistrust, and jealousy are standard character traits among the Zafiri; and the the Overlords who rule spend more time blaming, backstabbing, and conniving against each other than anything else.

When Graice and Holder reach the Pàçian Mountains, they enter the caverns of Annâles-Scientia – Caelia’s home. The people there recognize Holder, calling him by his real name Breyon, and rejoice at his return. Graice discovers that the amulet she wore as a newborn (the only survivor of a shipwreck) is more important than she ever could have expected. Thanks to Graice, Breyon recovers his complete memory and now knows the tragedy of his past.

Having been raised in secret, the boy actually knows little about his own background, but Caelia still recognizes who he really is. When they find a buried book about the history of his family, it confirms her guess. “You must come home with me,” she insists and he agrees, but they suddenly realize that Annâles-Scientia isn’t home for either of them – Abbelôn is. They can’t go there yet, but a wild ride on the mighty horse Glori takes them to the caverns. When the two burst through the entrance, the people there – Pàçians – rejoice to see Caelia and gasp in astonishment at him. In the middle of all the people – his people, not just Caelia’s – he declares his identity.

The only four people who can free Abbelôn and save the world are now united.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bob Craton
• Release date: Apr 25, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476031378

Bob Craton

Fantasy & Sci-Fi Fans:I actually would rather have people enjoy my stories than make money. That is why I write. Therefore, you can get "The High Duties of Pacia," "A Princess of Fae," and "Jesika's Angel" all for 'reader sets the price.' Naturally, I would love reviews but you have no obligation to write one if you don't want to.---When he was a child, Bob Craton’s teachers often remarked (not always favorably) about his day-dreaming. He spent much of his time lost in his own imagination, often creating elaborate elementary school tall-tales, and the habit never went away as he grew up. Coming of age in the 1960s filled his head with dreams of saving the world and having a career in academia. Then the real world closed in. With a family to support, he took a job at the corporate grindstone, just temporarily until he could get back to grad school and earn the PhD he desired. Somehow ‘temporarily’ turned into thirty-three years of stress and boredom but he kept entertaining himself by creating stories inside his head. Interestingly (well, he hopes it’s interesting anyway), his best ideas came to him while he was stuck in rush-hour traffic during his daily commute.At age fifty-seven, he retired early (a euphemism for ‘got laid off') and had time to put his tales on ‘paper’ (an ancient product now replaced by digital electronics). The ideas in his head were all visual, like scenes from a movie, and as he began writing, he learned to translate visual into verbal and improve his skills. Or at least, that’s what he says. He admits that sometimes minor characters – or some who weren’t included in the original plan at all – demand attention. Frequently, he agrees with them and expands their roles. Many people believe he is bonkers for believing that fictional characters talk to him, but he calls it creativity and remains unrepentant.

Book preview

Return of the High Protector

Part II of

The High Duties of Pàçia

By Bob Craton

Copyright 2011 by Bob Craton

Registered with the U.K. Copyright Service

(Registration # 284655025)

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

Summary of Part I – Journey to Light

While walking unafraid through the awful slums of the great semi-medieval city Matik, Sistére Graice Nínjìng encounters a man unlike any she has met before. Holder’s ‘aura’ shines brilliantly but she is unable to read his thoughts and emotions in it, something which has never has happened before. Astoundingly, Graice’s ‘effect,’ her ability to control everyone else, has no power over him. Intrigued, she takes him to meet her mentor Sybille and the two women discover he lost his memory after a head injury and does not even know who he is. Sybille hires him as a guide for a journey she and Graice must make, partly so they can keep him close until they discover his secret. As they travel, Graice tries to help Holder recover his memory. While he is in a drugged sleep, she ‘sees’ into his mind and discovers small fragments of past events, all involving a beautiful golden-haired woman. When he wakes, Holder still does not remember the scenes Graice visualized but she gains clues about his identity. The women now know who he is (or was) but do not tell him. He must remember on his own for the recovery to succeed.

In the backwaters of the land meanwhile, a boy age thirteen travels with his mother’s older sister (his sole remaining relative) hiding from enemy spies. Moving constantly helps them stay unrecognized as do false names and disguises. The aunt even wears men’s clothes and pretends to be his father. When he complains that he knows nothing about his parents, she reveals his family name and bits of its history. Their surname is an old and great one and his predecessors helped keep peace throughout the land for ages. Later, she gives him an amulet and implies he will wear it someday. It’s an Emblem of High Duty, she says. His grandfather and mother had held two of the three High Duties before they died. Then enemy soldiers close in and the boy and woman flee for their lives.

A girl named Caelia, also thirteen, hides from the same enemy; she lives with her parents and many other refugees in a cavern where her father searches for secrets of the Anziên people, a civilization which collapsed 3,500 years earlier. Named after a legendary heroine from antiquity, she is unusually bright and mature for her age and her shining red-gold hair sets her apart. Girls with that hair color are born once in a millennium, people say, and everyone in the community loves Caelia. When she wants to leave the cave on an adventure, everybody objects but no one can say no to her. She gets her way and departs with a trading expedition.

When Graice, Holder, and Sybille travel through a wilderness area, a monstrous thing half metal and half animal attacks them. Helped by two non-human characters named Rafe and Belo, Holder destroys the creature but is injured. Delirious, he mumbles something which gives Graice a clue about his lost memory. A woman in a white dress before the walls of Abbelôn was extremely important to him.

As Caelia and the other traders pass near a forest, their wagons are attacked by mounted bandits and one of the outlaws carries her off into the woods. Her people try to follow but cannot keep up. Caelia is no meek princess, however, and escapes on her own. Clearly, she has an ability she did not know about – a talent much like Graice’s – but in fleeing her kidnappers, she gets lost.

While riding at top speed, the boy and his aunt cross a narrow bridge. She stops and says she will guard the bridge as long as possible so he can escape. She finally tells him his true name and says, You must survive and become who you were meant to be. The fate of the world depends on it! Go NOW! He races away and never sees her again.

Chapter 1

The Boy – – and The Girl

After a hard all-night ride, the boy reached the southern edge of the Hartgan Forest late in the afternoon on the day after leaving his aunt. His horse slowed to a trot as they disappeared into the trees. Even the mighty Glori could not run forever and the boy was so exhausted he could barely stay in the saddle. He tried to remember how long he’d been riding, but he had lost track of the time since leaving . . . um, what was the name of that last place where they had stayed? And his name had been . . . Telemaco? Or maybe it had been Eagon, he thought, but he couldn’t get his tired mind to focus enough to recall details. But then he didn’t need to think of anything right now. He was too tired and his eyes . . .

Suddenly he jolted awake. He couldn’t remember where he was at first and nearly panicked. He was still in the saddle, albeit barely, but he was leaning to his left while trying to hold on with his right hand. As the boy struggled to avoid falling off, Glori shrugged her powerful muscles while making a quick side step and he was upright in the saddle again.

Thank you, Glori, he mumbled. You’re the reason I haven’t slipped off yet. I’m sorry, but I can’t go on any longer and you haven’t rested or eaten in . . . well, since whenever it was. Look, here’s a clearing. I’ll take a nap and you can graze. The mare stopped at the edge of the clearing while they were still under the shelter of tree branches. The boy stayed awake long enough to unsaddle his mount, but no longer.

He woke in darkness but this time he did not panic. With rest, his mind was clearer. He was lying on his back in a bed of soft ferns and could sense Glori’s presence nearby. Looking up to read the stars above the clearing, he saw that quarter-morn had passed and dawn was approaching. Berating himself for having slept so long and for leaving such an obvious trail for anyone who followed, he saddled the horse by the light of the star-dazzle. Glancing at the stars again to orient himself, he mounted Glori. Deciding to continue northward for a while to get farther into the forest, the boy nudged the mare gently and they moved across the clearing and into the darkness of the trees on the other side.

As the first light of dawn filtered its way down through the dense canopy of leaves overhead, Glori and her rider came to a trail. It wasn’t much, just a winding path through the trees, but the boy could see that at least occasionally people drove carts or rode horses on it. He looked back and saw the deep prints the horse’s hooves had made in the soft soil of the forest floor. The packed dirt of the trail was much harder and he realized that Glori’s prints would be more difficult to see on the trail than off of it. Besides, the horse could move faster on it and speed was important if anyone was following.

Staying on the trail will be dangerous, Glori. We might run into someone, the boy said to his horse. But I still think it’s the best choice. He and the horse moved forward. The boy had already rejected any idea of finding a hiding place in the forest and was only concerned with putting as much distance as possible between himself and any Sarkonians who might have survived the battle with Andéra. And he was impatient to reach his destination. The morning light grew brighter as Glori cantered on. Sunlight filtering through the tree branches showed him which direction was east. The trail meandered but headed generally north.

We’ll need to turn west to get where we’re going, Glori, the boy said. But let’s stay on the trail for a while until we find a good place to change direction. Soon they came to a stream and stopped for water. Drink up, he told the mare while he filled a water bottle, drank from it, and refilled it. As Glori continued to drink from the stream, the boy checked the saddle bags for the sack of food his aunt had given him. When he opened it, he mumbled to himself, Tack? Why’d she have to buy tack? The strips of dried meat which were also inside looked more appetizing, so he pulled one out and took a bite. When Glori finished drinking, he said, Let’s get moving again.

At mid-morning, the boy found his opportunity to turn west when he came to another trail. It was just a footpath really, narrower than the one he was on, but it ran east-to-west. As he reached the crossing, however, his anxiety about the possibility of Sarkonians following caused him to stop for a moment. Surely they’re far behind by now, he thought to himself, but it wouldn’t hurt to confuse them.

I have an idea, Glori. We’ll leave tracks to make them think we turned right instead of left. Whether or not the horse understood his words was irrelevant. She understood the way he moved the reins and pressed her sides with his knees, and she followed his directions. As the mare veered eastward, the boy made sure her right hooves stepped off the trail to leave obvious impressions in the softer soil beside it. After traveling a short distance east, he halted the horse and gave her a different signal with the reins. The great horse began walking backward until they crossed the larger trail and then she continued backing westward until they were out of sight of the crossing.

Now it’ll look like there were two horses and they both went the other way. The boy was pleased with himself but Glori seemed unimpressed. With a snort to express her sentiment, the horse turned around and showed the boy the proper direction for riding – forward.

Progress was slower on the narrower path than it had been before. The trail wasn’t wide enough for Glori to reach her full stride and the boy had to duck constantly to avoid low-hanging tree branches. The trees were smaller and closer together here than the ones he had seen earlier. The crowding made the boy feel confined but he still knew Glori was moving faster than anyone could follow. Gradually he began to relax and lose some of his tension – until Glori noticed something the boy couldn’t see.

They came to a place where the trees thinned out and left some room on both sides of the trail. The air seemed fresher and easier to breathe and the horse had some space to stretch her legs. Instead of speeding up, however, Glori slowed down as they approached an overgrowth of bushes on the right side of the path. The mare’s ears were fully alert and her nostrils flared wide as she inhaled. The boy knew instantly that something, or someone, was hiding in the bushes, but Glori was not alarmed. In fact, after one last inhalation, the horse whickered softly as she did when she was calm and unruffled.

Probably just an animal, the boy thought to himself, and obviously not a dangerous one. Even so, he ought to make certain so he pulled the mare to a stop and dismounted. The underbrush immediately rustled and shook. Something was pushing its way out into the open. It took only seconds for a figure to emerge and the boy’s jaw dropped when he saw who was facing him.

A girl his own age.

Chapter 2

The Boy and The Girl § 2

The last thing the boy expected to see before him was a girl standing defiantly, especially one with such fire in her eyes. For a long moment, he stood transfixed as he gazed into those emerald-green eyes. Her expression was grim, determined, and fearless, but he could not stop staring.

Caelia stared back. She had expected to see one of her kidnappers or another similar man. Instead, she faced a boy as tall as she was and the only expression on his face was utter surprise at seeing her. The boy did not look like a brigand but Caelia refused to lower her guard.

Who are you? she insisted.

"Who are you?" Seeming to be released from his momentary trance, he unlocked his eyes from hers and began noticing other features of her appearance. Her hair blazed with a color taken from the sky at dawn, and her skin was smooth and clear albeit pale. She wore a tattered dress of the style that was common in the northern parts of Amicitia. It was dirty and had small rips in several places and she had scratches on one cheek and the side of her neck. His eyes followed her raised arms and saw her clinched hands gripping part of a tree branch which she was ready to swing as a club. Despite her slenderness, the strength showing in her shoulders and arms made him take the threat seriously.

Why are you here? Caelia demanded.

I’m . . . , he started to reply but then he changed his mind about what he should say. I’m going someplace and I have a reason to travel this way. Why are you here?

Instead of answering, she asked, Are you a bandit?

Why do you ask that? Do you think I look like one?

You might be one even if you don’t look like it, she said.

Are you a Sarkonian?

What a dumb question. You can see I’m not.

But you might be one even if you don’t look like it, he retorted. "So if my question was dumb, then so was yours. I’m not a bandit."

She watched him thoughtfully for a moment. The boy was broader across the shoulders and chest than she was, he had unkempt dark hair, and his skin was tanned. He was dressed in pants and tunic which weren’t fancy but still were different from the shabby clothes worn by the three thugs who had attacked the wagons the day before. The boy certainly did not look bad, she thought. Some of her fury and bravado began to fade and her arms lowered slightly.

Are you going to hit me with that stick? the boy asked.

Only if you come closer.

Why would I want to come closer? Who tied your hands like that anyway?

Why should . . ., she started to ask, but as she looked into his vivid blue eyes her tone softened and she said instead, Three men kidnapped me and took me away from . . . my family.

I can cut your bindings with my knife but not if you’re going to take a swing at me.

Give me the knife and I’ll cut them.

He rolled his eyes and spoke sarcastically, And which hand are you going to hold it with while you do that? How smart can you be if you can think you can cut those straps yourself?

I’m smarter than you and I can do anything you can! she snapped sharply. She was genuinely insulted by his remark. But then, he seemed equally irritated with her.

Look at your wrists, he blurted but he didn’t say anything else because a thought suddenly escaped from his subconscious and caught him by surprise: how can such pretty eyes look so . . . so . . . Well, what? he asked himself. So angry? Hard? What?

How can he say I’m not smart? Caelia thought to herself. She barely kept the words silent, but then she wondered: how can anyone’s eyes be so blue? So . . . something else. What? Slowly she lowered her hands to waist level and looked down. She hated to admit it but she couldn’t think of a way to hold a knife so she could cut the strips herself.

You can hold on to your stick. Just don’t hit me with it, the boy said to her. Here, I’ll show you my knife first. Without moving forward, he pulled the knife from its short scabbard on his belt and held it up for her to see. The edge was very sharp but the blade was clearly meant to be a tool and not a weapon. Caelia was certain of that when she saw the trademark stamped onto the side of the handle – .

She nodded her head and held her wrists forward while her club dangled in her left hand. The boy took three steps towards her and saw that each wrist had its own binding with a large knot in the middle holding them together. Carefully, he slid the knife under one of the leather thongs. Making sure that the sharp side of the blade was turned away from her and towards himself, he tugged hard. The motion caught her by surprise and she stumbled half a step closer to him. He grabbed her forearm with his left hand and she regained her balance. Both gasped slightly as they stood inches apart with their eyes perfectly level. Neither noticed that she had dropped her club.

He tried to speak. I . . . um . . . let me . . ., but feeling her breath on his face silenced his voice.

I wasn’t expecting you to pull like that, she said in a different tone of voice than before. Then she insisted, That’s the only reason why I slipped. She moved back but only half a step to where she had been standing.

This leather is tough, he explained. It’ll take a minute to cut through.

I’ll brace myself and hold my arms rigid this time. Go ahead and pull as hard as you can. His left hand was still on her forearm and he could feel the muscles stiffen, and then his hand slid down to cradle her wrist and the heel of her palm. He looked down and began sawing away at her bindings. The strap finally parted and her left hand was free.

I’ll have to cut on the other side of the knot to get the rest of this off, he said, referring to the part of the binding which was still around her right arm. Wait. I may not need to cut. I think I can get the knot untied now. He inserted the tip of his knife under one of the cut strands and wiggled it to loosen the knot. Then he did the same with other strands. After a time he was able to get the short end of the severed strap worked through the loops and untied the binding. Untying the knot had taken longer than knifing through the first strip had, but neither of them noticed that fact.

Thank you, Caelia said as she stepped back. The movement gently pulled her hand away