Lorik The Protector (Lorik Trilogy) (5 page)

Lorik flung the fight promoter out of the ruined door of the inn. Tobiah tumbled down the single step and sprawled across the cobblestones of the street, skinning his hands and knees in the process.

Jons had moved next to Selber’s body, cradling his broken arm and saying his goodbyes to the older sailor. Stone had straightened Selber’s arms and legs, but there was nothing that could be done about the poor man’s battered face.

“We can’t leave him,” Jons said. “He would want to be buried at sea. He loved the sea.”

“Aye, I’ll carry him back,” Lorik said. “Can you walk?”

Jons nodded and Stone moved immediately to stand by Tobiah, who was still on his hands and knees. Lorik walked over to the outlaw he’d killed with his hatchet. He wrenched the weapon out of the dead man’s chest and wiped the blood on the man’s shirt before sliding the hatchet back through the loop on his belt. Then he went back to Selber and gently lifted the dead sailor.

They walked back through the streets, which were even more deserted than before. They didn’t talk, and when Tobiah moaned too loudly about his burns Stone cuffed his ears.

The dock was shrouded in darkness, and by the time they arrived back at the little skiff, every muscle in Lorik’s body was aching. Still, he didn’t complain. Even though death was not uncommon in the rough ports that lined the eastern shores of Ortis, Lorik couldn’t help but feel guilty about Selber’s death. The jovial sailor had been his companion and friend. Perhaps if Lorik had gone immediately back to the ship as Jons had suggested, Selber would still be alive. Better yet, if he hadn’t let his frustrations build up and hadn’t gone looking for a way to relieve the pressure, Selber would probably be lying comfortably in the bed of a tavern wench at that very moment.

The skiff was just big enough to accommodate the four men and Selber’s body. Stone took the oars and rowed them out to the
Dancer
. When they climbed on board, Yulver looked angry enough to bite through nails. He glowered first at Lorik and then at Tobiah.

“Just what the bloody hell happened?” Yulver demanded. “Selber was one of the best sailors I know. He’s been a faithful member of this crew for over a decade.”

“This is Tobiah,” Stone spoke up. “He had your men beaten and then dropped out the second floor window of the Sailor’s Haven.”

“It’s true, Captain,” said Jons.

“Are you all right?” Yulver asked.

“Aye, I will be.”

“I’ll see to his wounds,” Vera said.

She led him toward the small cabin, which was really nothing more than a covered portion of the deck behind the rowers’ benches. The
Dancer
had a single mast and space for twenty men to row on each side of the deck. There was room under the deck for a small amount of cargo, about twice the space of a large wagon. The sailors usually slept out on the deck, or the ship could be run up on shore. She had a very shallow beam, which meant she could be sailed through the Sailor’s Graveyard without being hulled by the jagged rocks lurking under the water. The cabin was little more than a pavilion with canvas sides to keep the worst of the weather out.

“I suppose this was necessary,” Yulver said with equal parts skepticism and anger.

“I had no intention of bringing harm to your ship or crew,” Lorik said. “But the blame is mine.”

“That isn’t true,” Stone spoke up.

“Lorik and Vera I know,” Yulver said. “But who exactly are you?”

“This is Stone,” Lorik started.

“Yes, I know
about
him, but I don’t know him.”

“I’m just a friend,” Stone said, holding his hands out to his sides in a placating gesture.

“With weapons like those, I somehow doubt that,” Yulver said. Then he turned his attention back to Tobiah, who was slumped on the deck, moaning. “What do you propose we do with that worthless stain on humanity?”

“He killed your man,” Lorik said. “I expect whatever punishment you see fit will be fine with me.”

Yulver considered Lorik’s suggestion for a moment.

“Get yourself cleaned up,” he said angrily. “You’re bleeding all over my deck.”

Lorik nodded, and he Stone moved toward the cabin. There were over two dozen young men on board who weren’t sailors, just volunteers from the Marshlands sailing north with Lorik to fight the Norsik. At a command from Yulver the sailors raised the anchor and manned the oars. They sailed out of the little harbor by starlight. The moon was low on the horizon and only a sliver, but the stars gave them enough light to guide the small ship out to sea.

Vera had to set the bone in Jons’s upper arm. The tough sailor groaned in pain as she pulled his arm, but he refused to cry out. Once the bone was set, she wrapped his arm as best she could, and he drank a large cup of saka to help dull the pain.

Lorik removed his shirt and used a clean cloth to wipe away the blood from his shoulder and stomach. The wounds weren’t life threatening on their own, but they were significant enough that Vera feared he would get blood poisoning or that his flesh might rot. She cleaned the cut on his back and then poured saka into the cuts before bandaging them.

“How did you manage to get out of this without even a scrape?” Lorik asked Stone.

“I’m more careful than you,” he replied simply.

“I doubt that,” Lorik said.

“You fight with too much emotion. You need to keep your wits about you in a fight.”

“I would prefer that you avoid fighting,” Vera said. “It’s a senseless waste of life.”

Lorik and Stone both thought of Selber. Stone hadn’t known the sailor very well, but he still felt guilty that Selber was dead. Lorik wasn’t close to anyone on the ship. His short temper and brooding had kept most everyone from getting close to him. Selber had been the lone exception. He had been a happy man despite the circumstances and didn’t seem to notice Lorik’s brooding at all.

The next morning, after a fitful night of sleep that was too short for everyone, the
Dancer
came to the edge of the Sailor’s Graveyard. Several big rocks could be seen above the waves, which crashed into the stones and sent white plumes of water flying high into the air. Normally, with a good wind blowing, the sail would be unfurled and the oars shipped, but Yulver needed the extra maneuverability to sail through the Sailor’s Graveyard. He preferred the slower pace as well.

He gave an order and the sailors took stations, either at the oars or on either end of the ship. They began to row, and Yulver guided them dangerously close to one of the bigger rocks. It was the size of a small boulder above the water. The surface of the rock was rough and covered in a green slime.

“Time to say goodbye to our guest,” Yulver called out. Lorik and several of the sailors approached Tobiah, who was sleeping near the mast. They picked him up by his arms and legs. The outlaw cried out pitifully, but they tossed him overboard without a moment’s hesitation. The man dropped below the surface, then came up sputtering.

Yulver gave another order and the rowers propelled the ship away from the big rock. Lorik and the others watched as the outlaw swam to the rock and climbed up its craggy surface.

“Are we going to leave him there?” Stone asked.

“Aye,” Yulver said. “We’ll let the sea dispense justice.”

“But what if someone else comes by and picks him up?”

“We’re one of the few vessels who will come this close to the Sailor’s Graveyard,” Yulver explained. “He’ll bake in the sun until he’s mad with thirst. Then he’ll either drink himself to death on seawater or drown trying to swim to shore.”

They moved on, carefully maneuvering between the rocks. The sailors at the bow leaned as far out over the water as they could, looking for submerged rocks that could tear a hole in the ship’s hull. Occasionally they called out, but Yulver was experienced in sailing through the maze of rocks and navigating the dangerous currents.

Vera helped Jons wrap Selber’s body in a wide piece of canvas. They stitched the burial shroud together and when they were finished, Yulver spoke words of comfort to his crew.

“Selber was a good sailor, but he was more than that,” the salty sea captain said. “He was part of the sea. Many people love the wild beauty of the oceans, but a certain few are born of the sea. Selber was such a man, always quick to see the good in any situation. His smile will be sorely missed. He gave his life following orders and I believe he was helping a friend. Death is the enemy of all, the one inescapable aspect of life we all must face. Selber has surely found a place in the halls of the sea gods. Let us return his body to the waters he loved so much.”

They all stood, even though they were still in a dangerous stretch of the Sailor’s Graveyard. Lorik and Stone stood with their faces down, shame clouding their features. When the sailors who carried Selber’s body to the rail lowered it into the water, the sailors all cheered. Then the body, wrapped in canvas and weighted with links from the anchor chain, slipped out of sight. The sailors lingered a moment, then returned to their oars.

Lorik stood at the bow of the ship as they sailed away. He couldn’t stop the tears from spilling from his eyes. His wounds ached, but he welcomed the pain. It reminded him that he was still alive, while at the same time making him feel as if he were paying for the death of his friend somehow.

“It’s not your fault,” Vera said from behind Lorik.

He wiped at the tears on his cheeks before turning to face her.

“I’m surprised to hear you say that,” Lorik said. “I’d have thought you blamed me for everything.”

“I don’t,” she said softly. “Am I happy about sailing north with you? No, I’m honestly not. Life wasn’t exactly what I’d expected it to be when I left the Point, but I was with the man I love and there was a sweetness in him that I’d never known before. It reminded me of your parents. They loved each other deeply.”

“Aye, they did,” Lorik agreed.

“When I saw you, Lorik, I knew that things would change. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to go north and fight the Norsik. I didn’t want to see people getting hurt, but I knew it was unavoidable. So, I’m not happy about that turn of events, but I am happy to see you again. You’re my dearest friend.”

Lorik smiled. “I’m glad to see you, too,” he said.

“And I don’t blame you for what happened. We knew what we were getting into with that outlaw. It wasn’t a good situation, but under the circumstances it made sense. If you hadn’t beaten Liam, someone else would have eventually, or we would have had to try and sneak away. Tobiah wasn’t the sort of man to let Liam just leave, not when he was earning the outlaws so much coin. At least we had you there to help us escape.”

“I just wish we could have all made it,” Lorik said. “Selber was a good man. I keep thinking, if only I had done this or that, perhaps he wouldn’t be dead.”

“You can’t think that way. It wasn’t you who beat him, or held him out a window, or gave the order to drop him,” she said tenderly.

“No, but I couldn’t save him, either.”

“That’s your problem right there. You have to feel like you’re saving people to be happy. First it was me, then Liam, now the whole kingdom.”

“I don’t have to save everyone,” Lorik said.

“No, just everyone you can,” she said gently. “But the truth is, saving people isn’t your responsibility. You have to learn to be happy with your life, Lorik.”

“I don’t know how,” he said. “I should have been happy. I had a home, I had friends, I even had you for a while. But none of that seemed to make me happy.”

“Things or circumstances can’t make you happy, Lorik. You have to choose to be happy.”

“I can’t decide to be something I’m not,” he said.

“And why aren’t you happy?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you ever been happy?” she asked.

“Yes, I was happy with you.”

“Were you really happy? You didn’t love me. You didn’t want to marry me. You just wanted to save me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lorik said in frustration. “You didn’t need saving.”

“No, I didn’t,” she said. “I told you that many times. And yet you say you were happy with me. So what happened? What changed? I found what I thought was impossible for me. I fell in love and left the Marshlands. What sent you spiraling out of control when that happened?”

“I wasn’t out of control,” Lorik said.

“Yulver tells a different story. He said you came back and you were brooding and introspective. That you jumped at the chance to sail north to fight the Norsik, but even then you were moody and short-tempered.”

“Yulver’s talking out of his ass,” Lorik said, his temper rising. “He doesn’t even know me that well.”

“He said that Chancy was worried about you. Now who knows you better than Chancy? Anyone?”

“Just you,” Lorik said, the words coming out like a sigh of resignation.

“Exactly, but you won’t open your eyes and see what is happening.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean your need to help people is keeping you from being happy.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Shouldn’t helping people make me happy?”

“No,” Vera said, gazing out to sea. “Helping people is a good thing, but for you it’s like a barrier to your own happiness.”

“Maybe happiness isn’t all that important,” Lorik complained. “I don’t think that my own happiness should be found someplace other than helping people.”

“Oh, you’re hopeless,” Vera said, the edge returning to her voice. “And stubborn, too.”

“Thanks for that vote of confidence,” he said playfully.

“Does driving everyone around you mad make you happy?”

“No,” Lorik said.

“Well, that’s something at least. Quit brooding back here and figure out what you’re going to do once you reach the Wilderlands. If you’re determined to throw your life away fighting someone else’s battles, at least make it count.”

She stalked away. Lorik’s forehead wrinkled in consternation. He didn’t understand Vera’s wild mood swings. One moment she was tender and compassionate, the next she was furious. He had never known her to be so temperamental in all the years they had spent together in Hassell Point.