Lorik The Protector (Lorik Trilogy) (10 page)

There were Norsik wandering throughout the city, but they were easy enough to avoid. None of the invaders seemed to be expecting trouble or on the lookout for enemy forces. But at the harbor there was a small group of warriors guarding the three Norsik ships. They wore thick headpieces made from long strips of fabric that they wrapped carefully around their heads. They also wore tall boots and baggy pants that tucked into the tops of their boots. For weapons they preferred short, curved swords and small round shields.

Lorik and his volunteers took shelter in the burned-out husk of a house with their supplies. It wasn’t enough food for the entire ship, but it was a start. Lorik didn’t want Stone to get back to the harbor and start a fight with the Norsik warriors. Instead, he left his volunteers and snuck closer to the guards. He settled into the shadows of a large stone building not far from where the guards stood on the wooden dock. They were talking to each other, almost lounging, but Lorik knew they wouldn’t be easy to overcome. He could see them from the shadows, but they hadn’t noticed him yet. He didn’t have a weapon other than his hatchet, which was a small woodcutting axe. It was a decent weapon in close fighting, heavy and sharp enough to do real damage, but not the type of weapon that would be useful defensively, especially against the heavy, short swords of the Norsik guards.

Lorik wished he had his bow; he could have taken out two of the guards before they knew what they were up against. There were four Norsik in all, and he knew he would have to take them out very carefully. It wouldn’t do to get wounded now, as there might not be enough time to heal before he would have to fight again. And if he didn’t take them out quickly, they could raise the alarm and all of Lorik and Stone’s work would be for nothing.

Lorik decided that perhaps he could draw them away from the harbor. He went back to where his companions waited and took one of the handcarts. He pushed it slowly across the street, but made sure he made enough noise to be spotted. He hunched over his cart, trying to disguise his true size in the dark. When the guards saw him they thought he was a refugee, trying to sneak goods out of the city. They called out to him in their strange language, and two of the guards ran to intercept him.

Lorik moved between two buildings, limping like an older man until he was out of their sight. The guards were rushing forward, expecting to find a helpless old man. When the first guard rounded the corner Lorik punched him hard from the shadows. It was a straight punch, right to the center of the guard’s face, with all Lorik’s weight behind it. The added momentum of the guard made the blow devastating. Bone and cartilage in the guard’s nose were smashed, and the man’s booted feet flew up. The guard landed flat on his back and didn’t move. His companion rounded the corner and tripped on his friend’s body. Lorik was on the second guard in a flash, bringing his weight down on his knees directly onto the guard’s back. Several of the guard’s ribs snapped and all the breath was expelled from his lungs. The man instinctively lifted his head as he tried desperately to suck in air. Lorik’s hatchet slammed down into the side of the guard’s throat, severing the arteries and veins before crushing the man’s windpipe. Blood fountained into the air, black in the shadowy light. The guard gurgled for a moment, trying desperately to live, but failed.

Lorik then returned to the first guard, who was still completely unconscious. He chopped down with his small axe into the back of the man’s neck, just below his skull. The man kicked and twitched, but he never woke up.

“Looks like you’ve got things under control,” Stone said, moving out of the shadows from farther up the alley. “I was going to help you but you didn’t need it.”

“I’ll remember that the next time you’re out numbered,” Lorik said.

“Oh, don’t complain. Two unsuspecting raiders are no match for you.”

“I was unarmed,” Lorik said, in a whisper that didn’t hide his amusement.

“You have a little axe,” Stone insisted.

“I use that hatchet to cut firewood; it’s not a weapon.”

“Sure it is. It’s perfect for bashing in people’s heads, see?”

“I prefer a bigger axe, one with two blades.”

“Bigger isn’t always better.”

“Why not? It’s much more fun.”

“You call this fun?”

“I needed a little excitement after being cooped up with you on that damn boat for weeks.”

“Hey, you invited me.”

They both turned and peered back out at the last two guards.

“If we take them out, we can use their boats to get to the
Dancer
,” Stone said.

“My thoughts exactly, but we don’t have enough food yet. Did you find weapons?”

“Some, long blades mostly. A few spears. How do you want to handle those two?”

“I figured they were yours since I took out the first two.”

“Oh, thanks a lot. You know, if I get hurt you’ll have to deal with Vera.”

“In that case, let me borrow your knives. I’ll take care of them myself.”

“Hey, nobody touches my knives.”

“Well, make up your mind. Are you going to kill them or am I?”

“I’ll do it,” Stone said. He drew both of his knives from the low-slung scabbards on each hip. “Just watch and learn.”

Stone moved as silently as a panther, flitting from shadow to shadow. Lorik had trouble keeping up with his friend in the darkness. The guards were straining to see in the dark and on the verge of calling out to their companions. Then suddenly Stone struck, like a monstrous wraith looming up beside the guards. His first blow tore through the throat of the nearest guard, who fell writhing on the ground before the second guard could draw his weapon. Stone darted forward but had to skirt around the first guard’s body. The Norsik warrior was frightened and scrambled backward, running straight off the pier and falling into the water between two boats. Stone didn’t hesitate, diving right in after the guard.

Lorik knew if the Norsik surfaced he would surely call for help. Whether the other raiders in the city would hear or respond was unknown, but it was a chance Lorik didn’t want to take. There was some thrashing in the water as Lorik hurried toward the harbor. When he arrived he saw Stone scrambling up the round wooden pole that supported the harbor. The pole was covered with slime of some sort, making it slick. Lorik held out a hand and pulled his friend from the water.

“The other guard dead yet?” Stone asked between gasps. He was panting hard and shivering from being in the cold water.

“Not quite,” Lorik said, but there wasn’t much life left in the guard. The first guard’s body was rigid, his back spasming and his hands trying desperately to hold in his life’s blood from where it seeped out of his ruined neck.

They waited a moment for the guard to die, then they stripped off his clothes. All they needed were the boots, pants, and head wrap. They dressed three of the volunteers in the clothes of the dead guards and left them at the pier. The other nine volunteers loaded the food and weapons into one of the Norsik boats and began paddling it out into the harbor to meet with Yulver.

Lorik and Stone gathered two more carts full of food, then took them back to the pier. On their way they saw a large building that was full of people. Bright yellow lamplight shone in the building’s windows and the sounds of laughter could be heard. They stopped and watched the building for a few minutes. They saw several Norsik go into the building.

“What do you think that place is?” Stone asked.

“Not sure what it was,” Lorik said. “Looks like maybe a town hall or something. Perhaps some noble held court here.”

“What do you think the Norsik are doing in there?”

“Sounds like they’re feasting, or maybe it’s some strange ritual or something. I want to take a look.”

They left their handcarts and hurried over to the building. There were no doors on the end where they hid themselves. The windows were high enough that they couldn’t see in them. Lorik had to boost Stone up and let the younger, lighter man stand on his shoulders to see inside.

“It’s a feast, all right,” Stone whispered down. “And they’ve got a group of women and children in there, all tied together with thick ropes around their necks.”

“The Norsik are slavers,” Lorik said, as he lowered Stone down. “Any chance of us freeing them?”

“Not that I can see,” Stone said. “We’d need a war band three times the size of the volunteers you brought, and then it would only be even numbers.”

“I was afraid of that,” Lorik said. “We can’t take refugees with us, either, but maybe there is something we can do.”

A plan was forming in his mind, one that just might work.

Before they could do anything else, they had to get the food to the ships in the harbor. It took nearly half an hour to get everything loaded and explain to the volunteers posing as Norsik guards what they were planning. Then Lorik used his small axe to bust a hole in the hull of the other boat. That gave them only one means of escape from Ange Point, but it would give the Norsik who pursued them no way to follow them into the harbor and beyond.

“Are you sure about this?” Stone asked. “It doesn’t leave much of a margin for error.”

“This is what I came north for,” Lorik replied. I’m not leaving anyone to be taken as slaves by these savages.”

“Okay, lead the way.”

They were careful as they returned to the large building where the slaves were being held. They had stopped along the way and filled their handcarts with hay. At the back of the building they piled the hay up and then set it on fire. The rear wall grew hot, then smoke began to seep into the building. The drunken Norsik didn’t notice at first, but then flames began to lick up toward the roof. Shouts and calls for help echoed inside.

“All right,” Lorik said. “Remember, I’ll lead them away, you set the prisoners free.”

“What if they have nowhere to go?” Stone asked.

“We can’t take them with us, so they’ll have to fend for themselves from now on, but there will be a few who know the country and how to get to safety. Our task is just to give them a chance to get out of town.”

“You be careful,” Stone said.

“Don’t worry about me,” Lorik said.

He stood up and hefted the heavy spear. It was long and deadly—the steel blade on the end was as long as Lorik’s forearm and well honed. He stood in the shadows not far from the fire and waited while Stone disappeared into the night. It wasn’t long before the first Norsik raiders came running around the building to see what had started the fire. Lorik struck them from behind, stabbing one in the back and then spinning around and hitting the second raider with the butt of the spear. It knocked the surprised Norsik raider into the fire. The man’s pants and turban immediately caught fire. His screams had exactly the effect Lorik was hoping they would: the raiders streamed out of the building to see what was happening. Lorik stayed just long enough for the raiders to see him in the dancing orange firelight. He was little more than a tall, broad shadow, the spear still dripping with blood. Then he turned and ran. The crowd followed him.

Stone had carefully made his way across the street from the main entrance of the building. He was watching from the shadows when the raiders had gone running to see what was happening at the rear of the building. Then he made his move. If the raiders returned and caught him, he knew he was a dead man, but Stone trusted Lorik. The wily teamster had a knack for stirring up trouble, and Stone had little doubt they would rush to capture him.

Inside the hall, smoke was growing thick. Stone could hear the prisoners coughing. There were two men left inside to guard the newly captured slaves. When they saw Stone they hurried forward to attack him. Stone drew his knives and attacked so quickly the raiders never knew what hit them. The first raider was still moving forward with his sword raised when Stone raced past him, ducking under the raider’s clumsy attack and slicing one knife across the raider’s exposed stomach. Blood poured out as his internal organs began to bulge through the wound. The raider looked down in horror, dropped his sword, and staggered back, holding both hands across his stomach as he tried to stanch the blood and hold himself together.

Stone had spun past the first raider and popped up through the thick smoke right in front of the second. The raider drew back his weapon to strike a blow, but he never got the chance. Stone’s second knife came up in a powerful arc and stabbed the raider just below his arm, killing him instantly. Stone was forced to let the let the knife go as the raider’s body dragged it out of his hand.

The prisoners were women and children, and they were shouting, coughing, and crying in the smoke. Stone rushed to them and began severing their bonds. The rope cut easily enough, but getting the shocked prisoners moving was more difficult. Once the fire reached the building’s roof it spread quickly, and the terror of the fire finally got the crowd moving.

“Run!” Stone told them. “Stay together and get to safety.”

“Can’t we go with you?” one very frightened woman asked.

“No, there are only a few of us. We’ll hold the Norsik off for a while, but you need to get to safety.”

The children were crying, but a few of the women began to herd them down the darkened street.

“What about you, won’t you come with us?” asked the first woman again. She was clinging to Stone’s arm.

“I have to go and help my partner,” he replied. “You’ll be okay. Stay together and keep moving until you are out of the city.”

The woman threw her arms around his neck and hugged Stone tightly. Then she was hurrying off with the others. Stone watched for a moment, feeling neglectful that he couldn’t stay with the townsfolk and lead them to safety. Then he turned and ran back into the building. The fire was raging now and the smoke was so thick it was hard to see. Stone held his breath to keep from choking as he rushed back to the man he’d killed and retrieved his knife. It took all his strength to pull the blade free. He was just turning to run back out of the building when the first raider reappeared. There were long bloody ropes of intestine hanging from his open belly and his clothes were singed. He was roaring a battle cry despite the smoke and rushing toward Stone with a short, curved sword. Stone spun around instinctively and slashed the rear of the man’s upper leg, severing the raider’s hamstring. The man toppled to the floor. Stone kept moving, trying to get free of the smoke, but he couldn’t hold his breath anymore. He blew out a lung full of air and then sucked in the thick smoke. The air was so hot it seemed to sear his lungs. He coughed and gagged, trying to breathe, but it was no use. His strength seemed to melt away in the awful heat and it was all Stone could do to stumble out of the burning building.

Outside in the cold night air, he fell to his knees, coughing and sputtering. He vomited and then fell onto his side. His lungs were free of the smoke, but every breath burned deep in his chest and he couldn’t stop coughing. He retched again and again from coughing so hard. Finally, his stomach seemed to settle down and his head began to clear. He knew he had to get back to the harbor. If he didn’t get back before Lorik he would be left behind. But his arms and legs felt so heavy he could barely move them. He got onto his hands and knees and began to crawl.

Lorik had thrown the spear aside as soon as he was around the first building. He didn’t need the heavy weapon slowing him down. He knew that turning and fighting the horde of Norsik raiders would only end in his death. He might take a few with him, but they had the advantage of numbers and his only chance was to stay ahead of them. He could hear the crowd shouting. Someone was giving orders, but Lorik couldn’t understand the Norsik language. He knew that if the Norsik were smart they would split up and cut off his escape. He had to lead them one way, then turn and race back toward the harbor. If they managed to surround him, he was done for.

As he ran, he saw a pile of firewood next to a low-roofed house. He jumped onto the firewood and then onto the roof, pausing at its peak and risking a backward glance. The horde was catching up, but it was also noticeably smaller as the raiders, most of whom were full of wine and ale, struggled to keep pace. Lorik ran down the other side of the house and slid off the roof. He stumbled, but got back on his feet fast. Then another band of Norsik appeared, rushing down a side street. Lorik sprinted to his left to escape them. He was running hard when a third group appeared not far ahead, and Lorik turned, bursting through the door of one of the many shops lining the street. There was no rear exit, so he was forced to climb through a window. To his horror he saw that more Norsik had found the back alley and were already running toward him.

Lorik used the window to climb onto the roof of the shop. He jumped from that building to the next. When one of the Norsik attempted to follow Lorik onto the roof, he angled down and kicked the raider off the roof. Then he ran across the roof and jumped across the narrow back alley and landed on the roof of the next building. He felt the timbers beneath him give slightly, and he realized that a weaker roof could have collapsed under him. He needed to get back on the ground and make a mad dash for the harbor. He ran up the peak of the roof he was on and then slid down the other side, dropping to the ground and rolling to break his fall. His legs were burning and he was panting hard, but he’d lost his pursuers for a moment. He tried to get his bearings but in the dark it was difficult to tell exactly where he was. He turned to his left and began running. He passed several smaller streets and could hear the raiders calling to each other as they searched for him. He had just broken out onto the main street, which was wide and led straight to the harbor, when a cry went up behind him. He heard the Norsik raiders braying like hounds behind him, and he ran as fast as he could toward the harbor and the safety of the sea.

He raced past the town hall, which was now an inferno with flames jumping high into the night sky. It crossed his mind that the men guarding the ship on the harbor might see the flames and panic, leaving him stranded in the city. Fear seemed to squeeze his chest, making his heart pound even harder. He ran past a bewildered Norsik raider. The man paid him no attention, and Lorik was grateful. The roar of the flames and the popping of the timber as the town hall roof collapsed blocked out the shouting of Lorik’s pursuers, but he was sure they were gaining on him. He looked over his shoulder and saw them converging on the street behind him. They were gaining on him, and though he did his best to run faster, he could feel himself slowing down. It was as if he were in a dream and he couldn’t make his legs move faster. He felt like he was running through the sucking mud of the marshes near his home in Hassell Point.

Then he saw Stone. Fear had been circling as he was chased, but now he felt it strike home, sending a lancing bolt of panic right through him. Stone was crawling, and Lorik felt certain his friend had been grievously wounded. Lorik’s chances of getting back to the harbor before he was caught were slim. He knew that stopping for his friend meant almost certain death at the hands of the raiders. It would most likely be a long, painful death, too, once they realized he and Stone had freed the prisoners the Norsik had planned to take back north as slaves.

Still, leaving his friend simply wasn’t something he could do. Lorik didn’t have time to be gentle. He slowed just enough to allow him to scoop Stone up. He grabbed one of the younger man’s arms and pulled it over his shoulder.

“We’ve got to move!” he shouted.

Stone coughed but he moved his feet.

“How bad are you wounded?” Lorik shouted, putting one arm around his friend’s waist.

They were running slowly, but the harbor wasn’t far away.

“How bad is it?” Lorik shouted again, through ragged gasps for breath.

Stone tried to speak, but he started coughing again.

“Go!” Lorik shouted to the volunteers on the harbor. He could just make them out in the distance. “Don’t wait for us!”

He had just enough time to see the three men on the dock jump into the boat with their supplies when a heavy hand slammed down on his shoulder. He glanced over and saw the angry Norsik with a short curved sword in his free hand. Lorik let go of Stone and drew his hatchet. He swung the small weapon backward and slashed the man’s arm, forcing the raider to scream and let go. With a flick of his wrist Lorik sent the axe flying toward another raider who was outpacing the larger horde. The axe struck the man in the chest and he collapsed, tripping the raider directly behind him.

Fear seemed to bolster Stone, and Lorik increased his speed even thought it felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest. The Norsik ship with their supplies was being rowed out from the harbor, while the other ship, which Lorik had sabotaged, was settling low in the water. The shouts behind them were so loud he thought he could feel the breath of his pursuers hot on his neck. Fortunately, the raiders were tired, and most of them were either drunk or so full of food that they had had to stop and vomit. Many had given up the chase entirely, and with Lorik’s last burst of speed he’d gained just enough distance to make it to the harbor. He and Stone jumped. Their arms and legs clawed at the air until they crashed into the water.

The Norsik warriors behind them moved instead toward the last remaining ship, not realizing it was taking on water. They jumped on board but their sudden added weight made the ship list to one side and then capsize. The Norsik warriors still on land pulled to a stop in shock and surprise. It gave Lorik and Stone just enough time to get their heads above water. Both men were gasping and trying to swim as their boots filled with water and started to pull them under.

“No, you don’t,” Lorik cried as he grabbed Stone and pushed him up out of the water. Unfortunately that meant that Lorik went down, but he felt that drowning in an attempt to save his friend was a good way to die.

Stone was sputtering when the rope slapped across his face. He grabbed it instinctively and felt his body pulled forward through the water. Lorik felt his friend rising up and thought the Norsik were pulling him out of the water. He kicked hard, even though his feet felt heavy. He grasped Stone, trying to keep him from being snatched up. Then he, too, was being pulled upward. When his head broke the surface and he shook the water from his eyes, Lorik saw they they were being hauled out to sea by the volunteers in the Norsik ship. He turned back and saw the flames from the town hall spreading through the city. The raiders at the harbor were cursing, but none attempted to follow them. The third ship had capsized and they were busy trying to rescue their comrades.