Lorik The Protector (Lorik Trilogy) (4 page)

“How long do you figure before they stop watching the harbor?” Stone asked.

“I doubt they’ll stop,” Lorik said. “They’ve got us by the short hairs, but they don’t know us well enough to predict whether we’ll come for our friends or just run and cut our losses.”

“Outlaws rarely consider a viewpoint other than their own,” Stone agreed.

“And we can use that to our advantage.”

Getting back to Yulver’s ship wasn’t easy. They waited until dark and then hired a drunken sailor to pick them up in a skiff as far from the harbor as possible. Neither Lorik nor Stone even considered leaving Jons or Selber; it simply wasn’t in their nature. Once they had Vera safely on board the
Dancer
, they prepared themselves for battle.

“I suppose you now want half my crew to help you get Jons and Selber back,” Yulver grumbled.

“No,” Lorik said. “I want you to stay here with your entire crew, ready to sail at a moment’s notice. I’ll get your sailors back.”

“You’ve been nothing but a pain in my backside since you came on board, you know that?”

“It was your idea,” Lorik said.

“Not one of my best. I never knew you to be so nasty.”

“I guess spending time with you doesn’t agree with me.”

“Ha,” Yulver said, not really laughing. “Getting a knife in your back won’t agree with you, either.”

“He’s right, you know,” Vera said. “You should at least let me see to your wounds before you go.”

“I’m fine,” Lorik said, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and ribs from the cuts he’d endured. “You can patch me up when we’re underway.”

“Suit yourself,” Vera said, feigning indifference, but Lorik could see the concern in her eyes.

“You ready?” he asked Stone.

“Always,” said the younger man.

They took a skiff back across the short distance from where the
Dancer
lay at anchor to the long, wooden dock. The harbor seemed deserted. There were torches burning in sconces on several of the buildings, but the light didn’t reach to the end of the dock. They walked quickly, their eyes roving around, looking for signs of danger, but there were none.

“Any chance your pal doesn’t already know we’re coming?” Lorik asked.

“None,” Stone said. “Tobiah isn’t a fighter, but he isn’t a fool, either. He’s crafty; I can’t imagine that he won’t be ready and waiting.”

“Well, let’s get it over with.”

Lorik stretched his shoulders as they walked. He carried a large, double-bladed,battle axe. The weapon was as long as Lorik’s leg, and he could wield it with both hands to terrible effect. Just the sight of the big weapon was intimidating to most, but rumors of Lorik’s use of the axe against Thuryk and his raiders had given the weapon an impressive reputation. In the Pit, Lorik had been just a big man, but with the axe, he was almost legendary.

They walked along a street worn smooth by countless feet. There was light pouring from the windows of nearby inns and taverns, but most of the normally rowdy establishments were quiet. News of the impending fight had spread through the town. Everyone knew that Tobiah and a group of outlaws were holding two sailors hostage. People were anxious to see if Lorik and Stone would fight together to save their friends. Townsfolk watched from open windows and doorways as the two men made their way down the street.

A large inn called the Sailor’s Rest was the only place in town that seemed deserted. There were lights burning inside, like all the other buildings Lorik and Stone had passed, but there were no curious faces peering out to see the two men approach.

“Why do I feel like we’ve done this before?” Stone asked.

“Because we have,” Lorik said. “More than once. It’s becoming a bad habit.”

“True, but it’s more fun than twirling my thumbs.”

“I would have thought spending your nights with Vera was more enjoyable than that.”

“Oh, they are, but I miss this kind of fun, too.”

“Should we knock on the door?” Lorik asked.

“Nah, they’re expecting us,” Stone replied. Then he shouted toward the inn, “Tobiah! Let the sailors go. You wanted me. Well, here I am!”

A man opened the door of the inn. The fight promoter wasn’t big, but he didn’t look weak or sickly either. Nor did he seem worried by Stone’s or Lorik’s appearance.

“I had a feeling you’d come,” said Tobiah, his voice sounding like a carnival barker again. “I had you pegged for a softie when you threw that fight earlier today.”

“I won’t throw this one,” Stone promised.

“Oh, I’m sure you won’t, but then again, I do have a bit of leverage, don’t I?”

Just then the shutters on two of the upper-floor windows were flung open. Selber and Jons were hung out of the windows, upside down. Lorik’s hands gripped his axe so tightly his knuckles turned white. Both men had been beaten, their faces bruised and swollen. Neither struggled as they hung upside down.

“Are they alive?” Lorik said in a low voice.

“Oh yes,” said Tobiah. “We’ve had some fun, but they’re still breathing. I can’t promise for how long. You see, they killed one of my friends. I don’t take that lightly, just as I don’t take it lightly when someone makes a fool of me.”

“I didn’t lose the fight on purpose,” Stone said.

“But you didn’t win it, and that was our agreement. Now, I want what’s coming to me, but I’m a reasonable man. I’ll let your big friend go free as along as he agrees to take his companions and sail far, far away. You, on the other hand, Stone, are not so lucky. But at least you’ll die knowing that your friends are safe.”

“The only people dying tonight are you and anyone who helps you,” Lorik said in a loud voice. “Let our friends go and leave the inn now, or I’ll kill each and every one of you.”

“Tsk, tsk, that’s a bold statement for a sailor and a washed-up fighter,” Tobiah said.

“I’m not a sailor,” Lorik said.

“And I’m not washed up,” Stone agreed.

There was a tense moment of silence, then Tobiah shouted.

“Now!”

Men poured from the darkened alleys beside the inn brandishing a variety of weapons, running toward Lorik and Stone. Lorik took a step away from his friend so that he would have room to wield his big axe. Stone drew both of his knives, the blades pointing down toward the ground.

Lorik began to spin his axe in a figure eight. The big axehead whistled through the air, making a strange sound, almost like death itself was cooing in delight. The attackers hesitated and the light from the surrounding buildings flickered and flashed, as shadows from the spinning axe moved back and forth. Lorik’s face was a mask of rage, and he seemed more like a demon spirit or vengeful demigod than a man.

Stone’s attackers didn’t hesitate, foolishly rushing forward and expecting to overwhelm him quickly. But Stone was so fast and deadly with his knives that half of the men fell screaming from grievous wounds before anyone knew what was happening. Stone ducked under the first man’s sword. The attacker had slashed it toward Stone’s face, but like a shadow the young warrior disappeared, and his own knife ripped open the outlaw’s stomach. Blood and entrails spilled out.

Stone used the momentum from his first strike to carry him into the second. He buried his knife into the thigh of the next man and almost at the same time he hamstringed another with the knife in his left hand. He was a whirlwind of motion, never stopping. The attackers tried to spread out but they were too slow. He blocked a sword strike with one knife while kicking the legs out from under another man, then bashed the first man in the side of the head with his brass knuckle guard.

Five men were on the ground around Stone before Lorik struck his first blow. His attackers had spread out, hoping to dart in when an opening presented itself. Lorik let his guard down on purpose and saw a man who had circled around almost behind him moving in. He slid his hands up the shaft of the axe handle and drove the butt of the weapon backward into the man’s face. Teeth and blood arced in the orange light from the torches and windows. Then Lorik closed with another attacker, catching the man’s club on his axe head and then swinging the long handle of his weapon up and into the man’s groin. The man cried out, dropped his club, and fell in a heap on the ground.

Two more men rushed forward, but Lorik dropped to one knee and swung his axe like a lumberjack. The big blade severed one of his attacker’s legs and hacked halfway into another. The second attacker kicked at Lorik, but he used the axe handle to block it. The man jumped backwards, howling and holding his bruised shin. Lorik then leaped back to his feet, thrusting his axe forward and catching another attacker in the stomach with the thick, curving blade. The man’s wounds were minor, but the heavy weapon knocked the breath from his lungs and drove the attacker backwards.

Stone’s attackers—what was left of them—had spread out, hoping to gain some distance and use their weapons to fend Stone off, but the young warrior refused to let them off so easily. He darted toward one, then pulled back and slammed his knife into a man who had thought to take him from Stone’s blind side. The knife was buried up to the hilt and the bloody blade protruded out of the unfortunate man’s back. As Stone wrenched his weapon free, the man rattled out one last breath and then fell dead at his feet. Stone didn’t take the time to admire his handiwork but spun unexpectedly toward another attacker, who simply froze as Stone’s blade slashed his throat to ribbons.

Lorik’s next attacker waited a moment too long to strike, and instead of killing the big teamster, he died with his sword still held at the ready, his head flying toward another of the attackers, who caught it on instinct and then raced away, screaming, into the night. Lorik never saw the man who raked his back with a short sword. The man had dashed toward Lorik, swinging his sword which was barely within reach of the big man. The tip of the blade cut through Lorik’s leather vest and traced a bloody line down from his right shoulder to his left hip. Lorik felt the fire from the cut, but knew it wasn’t mortal. He spun around but didn’t stop to retaliate against the man who had wounded him. Instead he continued his spin, extending his axe and letting the weight of the big weapon pull him around. The blade severed one man’s arm before smashing through a poorly made sword of another and then lodging in the man’s shoulder.

Lorik let go of his big weapon. He drew the small hatchet he carried on his belt and threw it at the man who had cut his back. The man was still in the process of backing away from Lorik as the teamster continued his spin. The hatchet flew end over end and then stuck fast in the attacker’s chest, splitting his sternum and knocking the man onto his back.

Two of Lorik’s remaining three attackers fled, but one thought to finish the unarmed teamster, rushing forward with a thick cudgel raised over his head. Lorik caught the man’s wrist and used the attacker’s own momentum to flip the man over Lorik’s shoulder and onto the ground. Lorik quickly wrested the weapon away from the attacker and then smashed it down on the man’s face. Bone shattered under the blow, and although the attacker was still alive, he was knocked senseless.

Stone’s own attackers had turned and run back down the street at almost the same instant that Lorik looked up from bashing his final foe in the face. Tobiah looked distraught. He shouted as he rushed into the inn and slammed the door closed.

The men on the second floor dropped Jons and Selbert to the street. Both men were barely conscious. Jons managed to twist his body and land on his shoulder. His arm broke from the fall but he was alive. Selber wasn’t so lucky. The older sailor had been beaten severely and fell straight down, smashing his head onto the cobblestones with his full weight. He died instantly.

Lorik and Stone rushed forward to help the sailors. Lorik helped Jons onto his back, speaking softly to his injured friend. Stone, realizing there was nothing more to be done for Selber, straightened the sailor’s body.

“Stone?” Lorik called out.

“He didn’t make it,” Stone said sadly.

“Don’t worry,” Lorik said softly to Jons. “I’ll be right back to get you to the ship. I’ve just got to pay the butcher’s bill first.”

Then he stood up, retrieved his axe, and, with a running start, smashed his way into the Sailor’s Haven Inn.

The door was old and although a small locking bar had been placed across the door, it too was old and made of wood. When Lorik threw his weight against the door, it shattered, sending shards of wood flying into the common room. The room itself was large, with a low ceiling and long bench tables. It was also completely deserted. Lorik started to rush back into the kitchens but Stone grabbed his arm.

“Wait,” he said. “It could be a trap.”

“Or they could be getting away,” Lorik snapped.

“I know you’re angry, but getting yourself killed won’t help anyone.”

“We’ve got to find that bastard,” Lorik said. “I won’t let him get away with this.”

“Fine, then I’ll stay here and you go around to the back.”

Lorik could sense the wisdom in his friend’s plan, although he was still afraid that Tobiah was slinking away into some dark hole where they would never find him. He dashed back outside and snatched up one of the torches from beside the inn’s main door. He moved cautiously through the alley. It seemed deserted as well, but it was too dark to be certain. His shoulder was aching where he had slammed it into the door. It was the same shoulder that had been cut earlier in the day. He could feel blood oozing down his arm. His back seemed to be on fire and sweat mingled with blood, making his shirt cling to his skin.

He held the torch high when he finally got to the back of the inn. The space opened up behind the building. Beyond were other buildings, each with doors that led who knew where. It was the perfect setup for outlaws who might have to flee for their lives at any moment. They could escape out the back and move from building to building without ever being seen.

Lorik approached the rear entrance of the inn and opened the wooden door. There was no one in the long hallway, but several doors led off the narrow space.

“Stone?” Lorik shouted. “Any signs?”

“Nothing,” Stone shouted back. “I didn’t hear anything either. It’s hard to believe that those goons upstairs had time to get out.”

“If they aren’t inside, we’ll never find them,” Lorik said in disgust. “There’s simply no telling where they went from here. Stay where you are until I find you.”

Lorik walked slowly down the hallway. He opened the first door he came to, but it was simply a pantry, little more than a closet with shelves filled with spices and herbs. The next door contained several boxes that were filled with bottles of wine. The boxes were all open and there was no place for anyone to hide. The third room was where the innkeeper washed bedsheets. There were tubs of water and a strong smell of soap. Finally, Lorik came to the kitchen. He found the innkeeper there, a dirty-looking man with only a few greasy strands of hair covering his bald pate.

The innkeeper had two younger women with him. Both were dressed like wenches and neither was pretty. The innkeeper held the women in front of him and looked nervously about as Lorik stepped into the darkened room. There was a strong smell of food, but it wasn’t appetizing.

“Get that torch out of here,” said the innkeeper. “You’ll burn the whole place down.”

“Best way to get rid of the vermin,” Lorik said angrily. “This your inn?”

“It is,” the man said, his fingers digging into the pale flesh of the two girls.

“You cater to outlaws, do you?” Lorik said menacingly.

“I serve whoever comes to my inn that has the coin to pay for it. What people do to earn that coin is not my concern.”

“Let the wenches go,” Lorik said.

“They’re mine,” the innkeeper said, pulling the girls closer to him.

“What kind of man hides behind women?” Lorik said. “You’re a coward, innkeeper. Let the girls go and tell me where that slimy piece of filth Tobiah is hiding.”

“Not here,” said the bald innkeeper. “There’s no one here but us.”

“Is that a fact?” Lorik said, suddenly suspicious. “Let the girls go.”

“No,” whined the innkeeper.

“I said, release them!” shouted Lorik.

The innkeeper cringed and let the girls go, but they stayed near their disgusting master. Lorik saw a puddle of dark liquid spreading across the floor.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Lorik said. “You’ve pissed yourself, old man. Girls, move away from him.”

They obeyed, sidling away from the innkeeper but coming no closer to Lorik.

“Tell me where Tobiah is,” Lorik said in a low, angry tone.

“I don’t know,” said the innkeeper.

“If you can’t help me, I’ve no use for you,” Lorik said, raising his axe.

“No!” cried the craven innkeeper. “Please don’t kill me. I’ll do anything you want.”

“Show me where Tobiah is hiding.”

“I can’t,” said the innkeeper, but he was pointing down. “I don’t know where they are.”

Lorik didn’t hesitate, but swung his battle axe down. He was still holding the torch in his left hand, but the weight of the massive axe head and the strength of his right arm was enough to smash a hole in the floor. Lorik heard cursing in the darkness below, and he dropped the torch down into the dark room below him.

“No!” shouted the innkeeper.

The burning brand fell and bounced, casting sparks into the air and illuminating the men inside. There were six men in all, looking up with expressions of anger and fear.

“Stone!” Lorik shouted. “We’ve got rats in the cellar.”

“Move!” shouted an angry voice from below that was unmistakable. The fight promoter’s voice was unforgettable.

Lorik tried to see what was happening but the hole was too small. He used both hands on his axe for the second blow, hammering down through the ancient wooden planks. Smoke was starting to rise up through the hole. He heard footsteps and cursing from below.

“Put out the fire!” screeched the innkeeper, but no one paid him any attention.

Stone burst into the room just as a large keg of ale rocked not far away. Lorik turned to see the keg and then threw his weight on top of the wooden barrel.

“There’s a trapdoor under this keg!” he shouted. “They’re trapped below.”

Stone took in the scene with a look of surprise.

“Is it Tobiah?” he asked.

Lorik nodded.

The innkeeper grabbed a pot of water that someone had used to boil potatoes and poured the starchy water down the gaping hole Lorik had cut. There was a hiss as the water doused the torch and the wood flooring it had ignited. Smoke and steam billowed up from below, and there was a blow to the trapdoor that rocked the barrel and Lorik.

“We can’t hold them down there forever,” Stone said.

Lorik moved away from the barrel, and the men below heaved the trapdoor open. The barrel toppled over and rolled to the side. The door was barely wide enough for one man to pass through at a time. Stone grabbed the first outlaw to come out and flung him to the ground. The next man burst forth, hoping to rush past Lorik, but the teamster had been waiting. He slammed his axe down onto the outlaw’s upraised arm. There was a bloodcurdling scream as the man fell back down into the hole.

“You’re all going to die!” screamed Lorik.

The room was dark, but not completely without light. A lamp glowed dimly, covered with a shade. Everything was shadows and grim horror.

“Get that light over here,” Lorik said to the two women.

They moved together, holding onto one another like frightened children. They brought the lamp and removed the shade. The small lamp was burning cheap oil that produced a black smoke with a foul odor, but it showed the wounded man writhing on the floor.

“It’s not him,” said Lorik.

“You sure he’s down there?” Stone asked.

“Positive,” Lorik said. “I heard him, and there’s no mistaking that voice.”

“How do we get them up and out of that hole?”

“I’m working on that. The smoke and fire was working brilliantly until the innkeeper doused it.”

“You can’t blame him for not wanting to see his inn burned down,” Stone said.

“No, but I can blame him for harboring scum like this.”

Lorik kicked the wounded man hard in the back of the head, knocking the wailing man unconscious.

“I’ve got an idea,” Stone said. He was kneeling with his knee on the back of first man who had climbed out of the hidden room below.

“Whoever brings us Tobiah can live!” Stone shouted.

There was silence below them for a moment, then the sound of a scuffle. Curses flew but it soon became obvious that the men were forcing Tobiah up onto the stairs that led out of the secret room.

“Good thinking,” Lorik said.

Stone nodded.

The two girls set the lamp down on a shelf and moved back. Lorik was waiting anxiously near the trapdoor. He set his axe down, leaning the handle against the overturned barrel beside him. When Tobiah’s head appeared he stooped down and grabbed a handful of hair.

“No!” the fight promoter wailed.

Lorik pulled the man up as other hands pushed from below. Tobiah drew a small knife from his belt and slashed clumsily at Lorik’s arm. Lorik let go of the outlaw’s hair, but immediately punched the man in the face with his other hand.

Tobiah went sprawling into the shelf where the innkeeper kept flour and where the wenches had set the lamp. Flour fell in a billowing cloud, but the lamp crashed with a thump. The pewter lamp didn’t break, but some of the oil leaked out and caught the stunned outlaw on fire. One leg flared up and the carnival barker’s voice turned to screams of pain. He batted at the fire on his trouser leg, but the oil continued to burn.

“No!” shouted the innkeeper again.

Lorik ripped the top off the keg of ale, which washed across the floor and splashed onto Tobiah’s leg. Between the ale and the outlaw’s frantic patting, the fire was extinguished, but not before it had burned a horrid-smelling section of Tobiah’s leg and scorched both of his hands.

“Lucky for us the ale here is watered down,” Stone said. “If it had been something stronger this whole place would have gone up in flames.”

“Yeah,” Lorik said sarcastically, “that would have been a real shame.”

Then he grabbed Tobiah by the scruff of the neck and began dragging the outlaw out of the inn.