Lorik The Protector (Lorik Trilogy) (16 page)

“He did what?” Lorik demanded.

“He wanted your volunteers to hand over their weapons and join him in the fort. They refused and he ordered his men to shoot them down. It’s a miracle no one was hurt.”

“They actually fired arrows at you?” Stone asked.

“Yes,” Vera said. “We had the good sense to fall back out of range, but we can’t risk going back to the camp.”

“This has gone on long enough,” Lorik said.

“What are you going to do?” Stone asked.

“What I should have done from the beginning,” Lorik said. “I’m going to teach this constable his place.”

Lorik made sure that everyone was settled for the night. He set watches and assigned volunteers to stand guard around the camp. He didn’t want a Norsik raiding party sneaking up on an undefended camp. Including the women and children, there were over forty people in the small camp. Vera and the other women took charge of the supplies while Stone saw to the horses, which had to be watered and hobbled close to the camp. Once the activity had died down Lorik slept for a few hours. Now that he had a plan in place, he rested more easily.

Two hours before dawn, Stone woke him up and made sure that Lorik had everything he needed. The most difficult part of the plan would be getting over the wooden palisade. But Stone had retrieved one of the Norsik grappling hooks from Yulver’s ship and had tied knots in the rope to make it easier for Lorik to climb. Stone wanted to go with Lorik, but the teamster insisted on going alone. He left Stone to wake the volunteers and make sure they were armed and ready outside the gates of the fort.

Lorik expected that the northern wall would be manned and that the expanse between the fort and the Wilderlands was being watched for Norsik invaders. Likewise, Lorik expected that there would be men on the southern wall watching his camp. So Lorik circled wide around to make his way slowly across the killing ground to the fort’s western wall. After several moments of watching and waiting, he threw the grappling hook up over the palisade. Stone had tied thick swatches of cloth to the hook to muffle the sound as it banged over the wall. It hit with a deep, resonating thunk. The sound was loud to Lorik and he expected the sentries to investigate, but after several moments it became clear that no one had noticed.

He pulled the rope slowly until the hook caught on something that felt solid. Lorik put all his weight onto the rope to test it. The hook didn’t budge, so Lorik began climbing the rope. Getting up the wall wasn’t difficult, but doing it quietly made the task much more complicated. Once he reached the top of the wooden wall, he waited and watched, but there was no movement inside the fort. He climbed slowly over the lip of the wall and found himself on a narrow platform. The walkway was adequate for keeping watch or for using bows to fire down on attackers, but not wide enough to allow fighters to hold the walls. Of course, the Norsik weren’t known for laying siege to the fortresses that guarded the Ortisian border along the Wilderlands. The Norsik were great trackers and woodsmen; they were hunters and raiders, not conventional soldiers. They certainly wouldn’t have been a big threat to a fully armed legion of soldiers on an open field of battle, but that wasn’t their way. They preferred to overwhelm unprepared groups, take whatever they wanted, and slink away again.

Lorik found a small ladder and climbed down into the open yard of the fortress. He could see buildings along the outer wooden walls and a large well in the center of what he guessed was the parade ground where the soldiers would practice hand-to-hand combat or wile away the hours between duties. The main structure was the large stone tower at the center of the fort. Lorik wasn’t sure how he would get into the tower, but he was certain that Constable Yorn was inside.

He moved quickly and quietly across the open ground and then skirted around the tower. He found the door to the tower both unguarded and unlocked. He couldn’t believe his good luck. He went inside and crept slowly along the dark stairwell. He wasn’t sure how he was going to find Constable Yorn’s quarters, but he guessed that the top floor of the tower was reserved for the ranking officer, so he climbed to the top floor and slowly opened the door.

The room beyond was dark, but Lorik could hear deep snores from inside the room. He entered and slowly moved toward the snoring. He couldn’t see, so he slowly slid his feet in front of him, keeping his hands stretched out to feel for any furniture or obstacles in his path. His feet found carpet, a thick wool rug. Then, a moment later, he came to a table that he had to circle around. The sky was just growing pink outside when he found the door to an inner chamber where someone was sleeping.

Lorik slowly opened the door and was about to slip inside when he heard a deep-throated growl. He had grown overconfident by the lack of resistance so far, but he instantly knew he was in trouble. The growl grew in volume, then the dog barked.

“What?” came a voice from inside the room. “What are you barking at, Nimrod? Is it another rat?”

Lorik breathed a sigh of relief. He had feared that Yorn would call out for guards or help, but apparently the dog’s barking was so common he didn’t even consider that there might be an intruder.

“Well, go get it or stop barking,” the man in the room said.

Unfortunately, the dog didn’t stop barking and the occupant was forced to light a lantern and get up. He grumbled the whole time.

“If I find out you just need to be let out I’m going to ring your mangy neck,” the man said. “I could have used another hour of sleep. Leading this rabble isn’t easy, you know.”

The light grew closer to the door and Lorik slipped back out of the way. The door opened and the dog came running out, barking furiously but thankfully not attacking. Lorik had a dagger but he had brought no other weapons. He didn’t want to fight the men inside the fort, only Yorn, and he wasn’t trying to kill anyone. He especially didn’t want to hurt the dog, but he had been ready to.

“What is it?” the man said in annoyance as he stepped through the door.

Lorik swung a big overhand right punch, slamming his fist into the constable’s nose and snatching the lantern with his left hand to keep it from crashing to floor. Blood gushed from the man’s nose as he toppled over backward. Lorik recognized the rat-faced man and knew he had found Constable Yorn. The dog continued to bark, but Lorik ignored it. He hurried over and kicked Yorn hard in the side.

The man was sputtering and struggling to get to his feet. Lorik watched him for a moment, then walked over to the main door and set the heavy wooden beam across it. Then he returned to where Yorn was getting to his knees, struggling with the blood that was pouring from his nose.

“You bastard!” he cried.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Lorik said. “I really didn’t think I’d find you this easily, but you’re a royal fool, Yorn, you know that?”

“Guards!” he shouted. “We’re under attack!”

“No you aren’t, and I doubt they can even hear you. They weren’t on the walls, did you know that? Surely you set a watch, but the men don’t even respect you enough to stay awake through the night.”

“They’ll come,” he sputtered, on his hands and knees. “You broke my nose. I’ll have you whipped and then hung from the fortress walls.”

“I don’t think you’ll do anything of the sort,” Lorik said. “I have half a mind to cut your throat and toss you into the sea. What do you think about that?”

“You can’t,” he said, fear making his voice whiny. “I’m a constable. Lord Emry and his soldiers will hunt you down if you kill me.”

“The nobles have all marched south with our king and his army,” Lorik said. “Who do you think will care about your fate now that you are surrounded by common men? They don’t respect you, and they surely won’t miss you.”

“I’m in charge of this fortress,” he cried.

“Well, you’re making a real mess of it. Why don’t we come to an agreement? I’m not interested in knocking you off your little platform. If you want to play lord of the manor, I’m fine with that. You can stay here in charge of the fort, but you have to allow the women inside. It’s too dangerous to leave them out there unprotected. And you have to share your men with me. I’ll be in charge of the patrols riding along the Wilderlands, but we need to keep our horses in the stables here and know that we have a refuge of safety. Can you do that?”

Yorn was holding his hand over his face, and there was blood all over his hands and down the front of his robes.

“You’ll leave me in charge?” he asked, a note of hope in his voice for the first time.

“Of course, I can’t do everything by myself. Will you share your resources and let the women in?”

“Fine,” he sputtered, “but they’ll have to earn their keep.”

“I’m sure they will. Now get dressed. You look horrible.”

Lorik left the lantern on the table and removed the heavy beam from the door of the large room. He then marched down the long winding stairway and out to the main gate. He found three sentries asleep nearby, but none stirred as he approached.

The gate was held shut by two large wooden beams. Lorik had to strain to lift the first one by himself. Once he got it out of the gate’s sconces, he dropped it to the ground. It clattered loudly and the sentries jumped up at the noise.

“Excellent work,” Lorik said.

The sun wasn’t fully up, but the sky was brightening and there was just enough light to see by. The sentries were armed with spears and swords, but they weren’t seasoned soldiers. None moved to harm Lorik, who stood only a few paces away, his hands on his hips and his dagger tucked into his belt.

“You’ve just slept through the invasion,” he told them. “Now help me open this gate.”

“We’re not to open the gate without specific orders from Constable Yorn,” stammered one of the men.

“All right, don’t open it,” Lorik said. “Just help me move the beams.”

The sentries just stared, wide-eyed. Lorik shook his head and turned back to the remaining beam. It took all his considerable strength to lift it by himself, and he immediately dropped it onto the ground next to the first. Then he turned to the sentries and ordered them to move the beams.

“Get these beams picked up and stored properly,” he said gruffly. “My name is Lorik and I’m commanding the volunteers now. Do as you’re told or you’ll find my boot up your—”

“Yes, sir,” the three men said, not letting Lorik finish his threat.

They scrambled to move the heavy beams out of the way. Then Lorik grabbed the thick rope that was tacked onto the gate and pulled the massive door open. It squealed on rusty hinges. Lorik guessed the damp sea air made maintaining any iron devices a full-time job.

“Well, good morning,” Stone said. “We’re here just in time for breakfast.”

“Is food all you think about?” Lorik said.

“It’s all I think about lately,” he joked.

“Perhaps you’re pregnant.”

“It’s possible, entirely possible,” Stone said playfully. “Let’s go,” he shouted to the group of volunteers. Over twenty men filed in through the gate. “Did you handle the constable problem?”

“I believe so,” Lorik said. “It was easier than I thought.”

“Good, I was starting to worry about you.”

“I doubt that.”

“I was, you’re the only person I know who can get me free meals at Timmons Gate.”

They went in and woke the garrison. There were only two dozen men manning the fort. They were all volunteers, and when they saw their wives and children coming in they were so relieved that none of them thought to say anything about the absent Constable Yorn. Once they were gathered together, Lorik laid out his plan.

“Now that we’ve got everyone on the same side here, let me outline what we’re going to be doing. Our job is stop the Norsik raiders that are coming through the Wilderlands. To do that, we need to be trained with weapons, and with horses. So, I’m taking half of Constable Yorn’s men with me. We’ll be housed here, but we’ll be riding patrols mostly. The other half will stay here in the fort along with the women and children. Constable Yorn will still be in charge, but you will have clear duties and clear consequences for failing in those duties. Is that understood?”

The crowd murmured its approval.

“The women and even some of the children will have to pitch in. No one can expect to be free of responsibility, is that clear?”

Again, the crowd approved.

“Good, let’s get all the camp gear brought into the fort and organized. I want anyone with experience riding horses or driving a team to come straight to me. The rest of you, carry what you can.”

The group set to work. There were several men with riding experience but no one other than Lorik and Stone had ever driven a team, so Lorik was forced to go out and oversee the loading of the wagon and then drive it into the fort. Meanwhile, Lorik sent Stone and Vera up to the top of the tower. Once Vera had seen to Constable Yorn’s broken nose, Stone took the first watch on top of the tower. From the rooftop, he could see into the Wilderlands to the north and for miles in every other direction.

After Lorik had the wagon in the fort, he made sure the horses were seen to, then he took breakfast up to Stone on the rooftop. Vera had gone back down to help the other women. She seemed to thrive in an organizational role.

“Vera’s going to have this fort in tip-top shape in no time,” Lorik said, handing Stone a loaf of bread and some cheese.

“There’s no doubt about that,” Stone said. “What do you think of the view?”

“The view’s nice, but it’s a bit chilly up here for my taste.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Stone said.

“Don’t get used to these easy jobs. You’re going into the field with me, you know.”

Stone smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Once Lorik had his volunteers accounted for, he divided them into three groups, with ten men and one captain in each group. The captains all had experience on horses and, with the animals that had been left in the fort by the soldiers, there was enough to provide one horse for each volunteer. Lorik and Stone began immediately training the volunteers to ride and care for the horses. They checked hooves, legs, withers, and backs. They practiced saddling and unsaddling, feeding and rubbing down the animals. Lorik stressed that there were no more animals to be had, so if something happened to one of the horses it meant that one of the volunteers was walking.

It was turning into a long day. Rain fell off and on, and the wind was cold. By late afternoon Lorik was exhausted and hungry. He was on his way back to the fort to check on Constable Yorn and to see how things in the fort were coming along when a cry went up from the big lookout tower. Then a horn sounded. Lorik had been walking his tired horse across the muddy field, but with all the commotion at the fort he decided to get back as quickly as possible. He mounted his horse and kicked the big animal into a fast gallop.

There was only one gate into Fort Utlig and it was on the far eastern side, next to the small quay. So Lorik saw the cause of the alarm before he reached the fort: in the small bay were four Norsik barges. The ships were full of men—that much was evident even from a distance. The Norsik warriors were shouting and chanting, hammering their swords on their shields or the sides of the ships.

“Everyone into the fort!” a pinched, nasally voice called out. “Get inside, quickly!”

“No!” Lorik shouted. He stood up in the saddle trying to see who was giving orders. “To me!” he shouted. He turned and looked over his shoulder to see the volunteers hurrying toward him. “Lock the fort, and man the walls!” he called to the men inside the fort. “We’re staying out here.”

“No!” shouted Constable Yorn, who had just appeared on the wall above the gate. “I want every man inside this fort now!”

“Don’t be a fool,” Lorik shouted back. “We can’t do anything inside the fort.”

“I won’t have you taking my men and running away,” Yorn countered.

Lorik’s anger boiled over. “I’m not running away, you fool! We’ve got to fight. We’ve got to stay between the Norsik and the villages to the south. We have to be able to maneuver. We’re outnumbered so we’ll have to strike hard and fast, then withdraw. If we hide in the fort the Norsik will raid Timmons Gate and the other villages.”

“I’ll have you in chains if you don’t obey me!” shouted Yorn angrily.

Lorik ignored the threat.

“Stone,” he said, “I want you inside the fort.”

“What? Why?”

“I need someone inside I can trust,” Lorik explained.

“Vera’s in there.”

“Yes, but I need someone who can stand up to Yorn when he’s being unreasonable.”

“She can stand up to him. I’ll be more helpful to you out here.”

“That may be true, but I want you to take one unit and stay inside the fort. Act as a reserve. Hopefully we’ll be able to draw the Norsik away from the fort and then you can follow and harass them from the rear.”

“We’d be better off staying together,” Stone said. “Are you sure? Ten men won’t be much of a threat.”

“Just hit and run, it’s our best chance. Take out their stragglers. Make them feel like they’re surrounded. Our goal isn’t to slaughter them all, but to push them back north, across the border.”

“All right,” Stone said, but it was obvious he wasn’t happy about the assignment.

Lorik sent the rest of his small band of volunteers away from the fort. He stayed to watch the Norsik. They weren’t in any hurry to attack, and so far had stayed several hundred yards out into the bay. Yulver and his sailors were still on the
Dancer
, refusing to leave the ship unguarded.

“They’ll overwhelm you and kill your entire crew,” Lorik had told him.

“They’ll have to catch me first. I’ve enough men to outrun those bloated tubes they sail.”

It wasn’t true and both men knew it. Even with her sail up, the Norsik could out-row the
Dancer
with only half a crew, especially in the close quarters of the bay. Still, Yulver wouldn’t leave his ship.

“Those devils won’t lay a finger on my ship,” he said angrily. “Not while I’m alive.”

Fortunately, the Norsik didn’t attempt to engage the
Dancer
. Nor did they move toward the fort. Instead, just as Lorik had feared, they beached their ships on the southern end of the bay and avoided the fortress. The Norsik were eager for a fight, but there were easier pickings not far away, and they saw no need to challenge the strength of the Ortisian stronghold. Instead, they started moving south toward Timmons Gate. The road between the fort and the city was nothing more than a dirt path, but it was wide and well worn. It was almost like a sign that announced a sizable city lay ahead.

Lorik watched the Norsik moving south. They left behind a group of nearly twenty warriors to watch over the ships, and led another forty men on foot along the road. Lorik rejoined his men. There were two groups of eleven, and even counting Lorik they were outnumbered almost two to one.

“We’ve got to move quickly,” Lorik said. “We have to circle south and get between them and the town, but we also need to keep tabs on that group. Do any of you have scouting experience?”

None of the volunteers had ever served as soldiers, but several were experienced hunters.

“What I need to know is whether they stop for the night,” he told them. “Get as close as you can on horseback, but don’t underestimate these devils. If they stop, ride south. You’ll find us somewhere between the town and that band of raiders.”

Three men rode out to follow the Norsik, and the rest of the group followed Lorik. He pushed them hard, toward the south, for an hour, then as the sun set they walked their horses back toward the road. Lorik guessed that they were halfway from the fort to Timmons Gate. He wanted to send men back to warn the town of the possible danger, but he didn’t know if he could afford to lose any more men. As he traveled, he wracked his mind for a plan, but there was very little he could do to stop the raiders. The terrain between the fort and the city was flat, with very few trees or foliage. His volunteers would have the advantage of being on horseback, but most of his men had never ridden before. They were tired and saddle sore. Most had weapons that were designed for close combat, and Lorik wasn’t sure how the volunteers would react to a real fight. There were just too many unknowns. He hoped that perhaps the Norsik would make camp for the night and he could sneak in as they slept, but he had a feeling that even if they did stop, they would make sure they kept careful watch through the night.

Lorik couldn’t be sure, but he guessed that these raiders were the same group he had attacked on the way. The numbers seemed right to him, and although he couldn’t be certain, it seemed too convenient that a group of raiders would sail straight to Fort Utlig just days after Lorik and his volunteers arrived. The survivors of the attack at sea had gathered the other raiders and they had followed Lorik west, he figured. Now they were drawing him out into the open.

When Lorik and his band reached the road, they moved the horses back into the trees, letting them rest, but keeping them ready for rapid action. None of the volunteers spoke. Fighting the Norsik was difficult enough, but the thought of being attacked in the darkness spooked everyone. The moon was little more than a sliver, and clouds blocked most of the starlight. All around him Lorik saw shadows, and his mind kept playing tricks on him. Every sound was startling; every shadow seemed to be moving. He expected the fearsome-looking Norsik to rise up out the darkness at any moment.

It was another hour before they heard hoofbeats ahead of them. The other volunteers let out a sigh of relief. They assumed the sound of hoofbeats meant that the Norsik had stopped for the night and they, too, would get a little rest before having to fight the next day. But Lorik realized he was hearing only a single horse, and he had sent three men on horses to watch the Norsik.

The rider’s horse smelled Lorik and the others before they could see each other in the darkness. The rider reined his animal in.

“Lorik?” came a whispered call.

“We’re here,” Lorik said quietly.

The rider dismounted and walked his tired horse forward. Lorik saw the man appear in the darkness, a shadow taking shape out of the gloom.

“Frad sent me,” the man said, referring to the squad leader. “He says he doesn’t think the Norsik are stopping for the night. It’s hard to see them in the dark. I wasn’t even sure I could find you all.”

“You did well,” Lorik said. “How fast are they moving?”

“They’re on foot, but they’re keeping up a rapid pace,” the man said.

“All right, let’s move further south,” Lorik ordered.

They walked their horses for a while, but Lorik couldn’t shake the feeling that at any moment the Norsik would catch up to his volunteers and attack them from the rear. So, after less than an hour, they mounted up again and kept their horses cantering toward Timmons Gate. Slowly, a plan began to form in Lorik’s mind. He kept the group moving until the town was in sight, then he began to look for a way to implement his plan.

He called the group of volunteers together and gave them instructions. “Okay, here’s the most likely scenario,” he told them. “The Norsik will travel until they see the city, then they’ll make camp for the night and attack at dawn. So, here is what we do. I want half of you to head east, and half west. Rest your horses, but at dawn you need to be able to ride. I know most of you are really sore, but stay on your horse. That’s the only real edge we’re going to have in this fight. Now, when you see the Norsik move toward the city, we need to hit them from both sides. Ride past them the way we discussed. Keep your horse moving. That will make you a more difficult target. Even if your own attack isn’t successful, keep moving. Ride through the group of raiders and out past them before you turn around. They’ve got us outnumbered, but they won’t be able to stand before a charging horse. You follow me?”

The men nodded.

“Don’t go to sleep. Stay awake. Stay sharp. Our goal isn’t to kill them all, just keep them from the city. Any questions?”

There weren’t any, so Lorik sent the men to either side of the city. That left him alone, and it was difficult not to feel exposed. He rode toward the city until he was about a hundred yards from the nearest building. He guessed there were still four or five hours until dawn. He wanted to lie down and go to sleep, but he knew he couldn’t risk sleeping. If the Norsik didn’t attack as he predicted, he couldn’t risk being caught off guard. He had convinced the people of Timmons Gate that by giving his volunteers the supplies they needed, he would keep them safe. Now he was the last line of defense against the raiders.

The night passed slowly. Lorik had only his fears to keep him company. He hated having so much time to anticipate what might happen. It was better to rush into a fight, especially if that fight was unavoidable. He couldn’t help but imagine what might happen. A simple lapse in focus could cost him his life. Or he might encounter a better fighter, a faster opponent, or maybe just get overwhelmed. His place in the coming battle was by far the most dangerous. His men would ride in and strike, but Lorik had placed himself between the raiders and the city. If the Norsik pushed their attack, he would face them alone.

He sat on the ground and used his whetstone to sharpen the thick blades of his battle axe. It was a big weapon: the handle was as long as his leg and ended with a thick metal knob that was a formidable weapon in and of itself. The handle had a thin rod of iron running through it and two pieces of wood around that sturdy rod. Lorik had wrapped the handle with rawhide to make it less likely to slip in his hands if the weapon became covered with blood and sweat. The axeheads were a work of marvelous iron smithing. The blades were crescents that curved back toward one another until they almost touched. The weight of the heads were balanced somewhat by the metal knob at the end of the shaft. There were no carvings or engravings on the metal; the blades were simple and deadly. It was a heavy weapon, but Lorik preferred the weight over a longsword. He wasn’t as fast with the axe as a swordsman might be, although he was strong and agile for a man of his size. ,It was the ability of the battle axe to intimidate his opponents that made it such a formidable weapon. The secret to defeating a large foe with a heavy weapon was to charge right in and put him on the defensive, but most men simply couldn’t muster the courage to attack such an imposing figure, and Lorik used that to his advantage.

As he honed the axeheads, Lorik couldn’t help but think of the devastation and destruction such a weapon created. He had severed limbs and ended lives with the axe. He had learned quickly that he could not afford to shy away from violence. In Hassell Point, the southern most city in Ortis beyond the Marshlands, violence was commonplace. The city was a haven for outlaws and pirates, where justice had to be fought for. The Marshlands themselves were not a place for the weak or the fearful. The marshes were swampy, full of snakes, sucking mud, quick sand, and mud dragons. Life in the Marshlands was valued, but it was held onto by strong hands that weren’t squeamish about spilling blood when necessary.

Lorik had fought and killed, but typically only when he was provoked. And even then, killing wasn’t his aim. He fought to survive, but in a lawless place like Hassell Point, surviving often meant making a statement with your fists or weapons. Lorik had rushed north, anxious to fight, but he realized that his desire for battle was really just a distraction from the unacceptable state his life had fallen into. The things he once took as commonplace, the very things he would have used to describe his lifestyle, no longer satisfied him. He needed more, needed his life to stand for more than just work or wealth. For years he had felt satisfied, if not fulfilled, by taking care of Vera, and then his parents when they grew ill. He had provided for the people he loved by hauling goods through the Marshlands just like his father and grandfather had done, but after his parents had both passed away and Vera, his closest companion, had decided to leave Hassell Point with Stone, he knew he couldn’t face the same dreary tasks day after day. The joy of a job well done simply wasn’t enough anymore. He had gone north in hopes of finding meaning, perhaps even finding a purpose for his life.