Lorik The Defender (The Lorik Trilogy) (14 page)

“Well, it’s good we’re not fools,” Lorik said.

“Vera might argue that point with you.”

“Vera would argue with me no matter what. It’s her favorite pastime.”

“Maybe it was,” Stone said with a chuckle.

The gap in the floor at the bottom of the stairs was easily stepped over. Lorik recognized the purpose of such a trap. It was easy to avoid if you knew it was there, but if you were being pursued, it would slow the people behind you down considerably. Not because of the danger it caused, but because of the unknown danger it represented. Only a fool would go rushing down the passage once they knew it might conceal traps.

The volunteers followed Lorik and Stone, each carrying either a torch or a lamp. They stayed at least twenty feet behind their leaders, each one moving cautiously and trying not to touch anything unnecessarily.

“Why is it so damp?” Stone asked.

“I’m not sure,” Lorik said.

The floor of the passage was rough stone, but covered in a slick, wet moss. There were spider webs, which Stone burned away as they approached. A fetid odor hung in the still air of the corridor and the darkness seemed oppressive.

“Have I ever told you that I don’t do well in enclosed spaces?” Stone said.

“No, but you generally complain about everything, so I’m not surprised.”

“There’s no telling where this comes out,” Stone continued. “We could travel for miles and miles only to find the end all blocked up.”

“That is true enough,” Lorik said, still tapping his way forward.

There were no markings on the walls or floor. The ceiling was blackened from soot, but by all indications no one had been in the passageway for decades. Eventually they heard dripping.

“You hear that?” Stone asked.

“Yes,” Lorik sighed. “I hear it. Although it is hard to hear over your grumbling.”

“I get peevish when I’m hungry.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you eat,” Lorik said. “You complain more than a child.”

“I grew up hungry,” Stone said, undeterred by Lorik’s chastisement. “You probably never went hungry a day in your life.”

“My mother was very good cook,” Lorik agreed.

“Well mine wasn’t,” Stone said. “Even when she was around, which wasn’t often. I can remember many a night shivering with cold, starving with hunger, all alone in the dark.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that now, will you. You’ll have a family to keep you comfortable. And if you get too hungry, you can just eat the little monsters.”

“That’s not funny,” Stone said.

They came to a section of the tunnel that was dripping with water. The floor of the space was even slicker than before and as they continued the water fell on them, like a slow, cold rain.

“This is a miserable place,” Stone said.

“It wasn’t made to be pleasant,” Lorik argued. “It’s an escape tunnel.”

“I get that, but it’s not all that well made is it. I mean, it’s leaking after all. They must have built it under a river. That’s mistake number one.”

“You know a lot about making escape tunnels?” Lorik asked.

“I know better than to build one that gets flooded every time it rains.”

As if to back up Stone’s point, they came to a section of standing water in the tunnel.

“Great,” Stone said. “Now my boots are wet.”

“Really, do you have to constantly state the obvious?” Lorik complained.

“I understand the need for this tunnel, but I don’t have to like it.”

The water rose steadily, getting as deep as their ankles and smelling horribly like ancient sewage. Lorik had grown up in the Marshlands and was accustomed to foul, wet places. There were swamps and bogs in the Marshlands that smelled just as bad. Before too long, they were soaked from the water dripping down on them and the torches were nearly extinguished.

“Tell me we have plenty of oil in those lamps,” Stone said. “I don’t want to get caught down here in the dark.”

“There’s plenty,” Lorik assured his friend. “We could extinguish one and save the oil, if you prefer.”

“No, it’s dark enough now.”

It took them nearly an hour before the passage began to angle up. The water level receded and the tunnel became dry once again. The upward grade to the corridor was steep, but soon they saw light in the distance.

“Finally, a light at the end of the tunnel,” Stone quipped.

They moved forward more quickly, instinctively wanting to reach the source of light. What they found surprised them. The tunnel ended in a small farmhouse. They flipped open the metal latch and pushed open the door. The house looked like it had been used recently, but the roof was caved in, like most of the other structures near Ort City.

“Damn monsters,” Stone said.

“At least the tunnel isn’t blocked,” Lorik said, then he turned to the volunteers who had come with him. “Get us a safe passage out of this wreckage. If we have to use the tunnel, we can’t be slowed down climbing through here.”

Stone followed Lorik out of the house. There were heavy beams of wood and roughhewn shingles littering the small house. They had to make their way carefully through the debris, and then they were able to step outside into the weak, winter sunlight.

“I hope I never have to go back down there,” Stone said, shivering.

“That tunnel may save our lives.”

“Can you tell where we are?”

The sun was still rising, so Lorik knew they had been traveling northeast. They had to circle around the small house to see the city in the distance almost three miles away.

“It could work,” Lorik said.

“It isn’t due north, but at least the tunnel doesn’t lead south.”

We’ll move our horses here,” Lorik said. They can be corralled here on the north side of the farmhouse.”

“It’s a good plan,” Stone said. “The city’s battlements are strong.”

“I just hope the witch’s army can’t fly over the walls like the Leffers did.”

“Do you think that’s a possibility?”

“I think we have to prepare for it,” Lorik said. “Prepare for the worst and hope for the best.”

“Well, you better get me something to eat or you’re going to see the worst of me,” Stone said.

For two days, Josston was a perfect example of civility and charm. He spent hours riding beside Queen Issalyn along the rough trails that seemed to wind through the wild, overgrown countryside. They talked of her life in Ort City, but Josston’s humility was such that he rarely spoke of his past or his accomplishments for King Ricard. The temperature warmed slightly, turning the dirty snow into mud that seemed to cling to everything it touched. Josston and his men were used to life in the open; they made camp and built fires, even when it seemed there was no dry ground to be found and no wood that wasn’t too sodden to burn.

Queen Issalyn was infatuated by her dashing host’s attention. Never before had a man seemed so interested in her. He wanted to know what she did, how she felt, and even what she was thinking. Her guilt over flirting with Josston was ignored until it bothered her less and less. When she thought of Lorik, it was with a sad sense of loss. She had been captivated by Lorik, but now that she was so far away from him, her hopes for a future with the mighty warrior seemed like dreams that faded with the rising sun.

On the third day of their trip north to Forxam, Issalyn’s small guard began to raise questions about their direction. The queen thought that the trails were so crooked, first running one way, then switching back and going in the opposite direction, that it was impossible to discern exactly what direction they were traveling. She put her trust in Josston, since he was hurrying back to report to King Ricard and he obviously knew the land. The following day her own shieldmaidens began to doubt their host. It almost seemed like they were avoiding the small villages and towns, taking needless detours and stretching the journey. Queen Issalyn was flattered at first, assuming that Josston was perhaps prolonging their trip to spend more time with her, but eventually she began to have concerns.

On the evening of their fifth day, shortly after they made camp near a swollen stream that rushed noisily along the riverbed, she overheard Josston talking to his men. He was angry and said they needed to push further east. When he came to join her for dinner, she asked him why they needed to go east.

“Are we really traveling east?” she asked. “I thought Forxam was to the north.”

“It is,” Josston said. “But unfortunately the rivers are at flood stage and there are no safe bridges directly north. I had thought we would have found one by now, but it appears we need to move a little off course to keep her ladyship safe.”

“How would you traverse the rivers without me?”

“We could swim the rivers, but it is dangerous and hard on our horses. I would not dare put you through such a difficult ordeal. I don’t think King Ricard would take the news of your injury or death very well.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Queen Issalyn said. “But we need to move as quickly as possible. King Ricard must know the danger Ortis is in and our great need for his help.”

“As you wish, my lady,” Josston said, but his voice was cold and there was a hint of anger in it.

They ate a meal of stale bread and stewed vegetables. Everyone was tired and soon turned in for the night. The next morning, when Queen Issalyn and her maidens awoke, their volunteer guard was gone.

“What has happened to my guard?” Queen Issalyn asked.

“They have gone ahead, to hunt and scout,” Josston explained. “They insisted that they find the safest path ahead for you, my lady. It was a chivalrous deed to be certain.”

“Of course,” Issalyn said, but in her heart a shadow had formed.

She didn’t speak of her concerns to her shieldmaidens, who were really just castle servants who had taken up arms to protect their queen, but she could see the same worries written on their faces. Issalyn tried to put on a brave face to reassure them, but the shadow of fear in her heart only grew as the day progressed.

They continued traveling east, staying on winding trails and avoiding even the smallest communities. As afternoon began to shift into evening, Queen Issalyn asked after her guard.

“We haven’t seen them,” Josston said. “They may have fallen into some trouble. The valleys here about can sometimes flood unexpectedly, and the rivers have strong currents this time of year.”

“But surely they aren’t all lost,” she argued.

“They may be I’m afraid. All we can do is continue moving and hope they find us.”

“We should search for them.”

“That would only prolong our journey; I’m afraid I can’t allow it.”

Queen Issalyn was shocked.

“You can’t allow it?” she asked, fear and anger rising up and making her voice sound strange in her ears.

“That is right. I have a duty to get you safely to Forxam. I’m sorry about your guard, but they were volunteers after all, merely farmers with swords. They may have gotten in over their heads.”

“All the more reason to go in search of them. Your men know this land. Surely they could find four men on horseback.”

“Normally, I would agree, but in this case, I feel it is best if we stay here and guard you. If your guards fell in with bandits, we could be in mortal danger as we speak.”

“Sir, I must insist.”

“Enough,” Josston said loudly. “We will push on and that is all I will hear on the matter.”

“No,” Queen Issalyn said.

“Must I remind you that you are no longer in Ortis. I give the orders here, not you. Unless you wish to be treated roughly, you will do as I say.”

“How dare you?” Issalyn said, but she knew that she had no hope of escaping Josston or his men. They would cut down her shieldmaidens easily and then she would be completely at their mercy.

“I am a man,” he said smugly. “I do whatever the hell I dare, simply because I can. Now move!”

It was well past nightfall when they finally made camp. The men who were escorting them no longer pretended to be civil. Queen Issalyn’s maidens were locked in chains and made to sleep on the muddy ground. Josston and two other men left the camp and Queen Issalyn was guarded by a gruff looking man with a thick beard and a round belly. She sat quietly by the small fire that had been kindled and was forced to cook for her captors.

In her mind, she replayed everything she could remember about Josston. She had taken him for a noble, believed everything he told her and followed him without question. That had obviously been a mistake. She chastised herself for letting a handsome man deceive her so easily. Guilt over her flirtations with Josston brought tears to her eyes. If she’d been more faithful to Lorik, she thought to herself, perhaps she wouldn’t be in such a mess.

She was convinced now that her guards had been killed. She should have taken more time to investigate when they suddenly disappeared, not that knowing their fate would have changed hers. She was a woman lost in the wilderness of Baskla, with vile men would do no telling what to her and the faithful servants who had so bravely tried to protect her.

She fell asleep well past midnight, her tired mind finally giving into the only respite from her guilt and fear. Her dreams were terrifying. Over and over again, she dreamed of Lorik’s death. When she was awakened early the next morning, she was sure he was dead or would be soon enough. She had failed in her mission to bring King Ricard’s army south and now Lorik would face the witch’s horde all alone.

She had expected to be on the move early again, but Josston was nowhere in sight. The men guarding her and the shieldmaidens had roused her so that she could prepare more food. Their rations were meager to say the least. She heated meat and onions in a cast iron skillet. There was stale bread, and she was forced to cut the mold from the cheese. The men ate, sparing nothing for the queen or her maidens who were forced to eat the dry bread plain.

It was almost noon when Josston returned. He had dark circles under his eyes and only one of the men who had left with him returned. The man was leading a terrified looking young girl. The girl was shaking visibly, either from the cold or from shock, Issalyn couldn’t tell. She looked to be in her middle teens, with thick red hair and pale skin. When she saw Issalyn and the other maidens, her eyes grew wide.

“What is this?” Issalyn asked. “Why have my maidens been locked in chains all night?”

“Don’t start,” Josston said. “Mount up,” he ordered his men.

“Wait,” Issalyn demanded. “What are you doing?”

“Are you really so spoiled that you do not recognize a kidnapping when you see one, your highness?” Josston said mockingly.

His men laughed as one pushed Issalyn roughly toward her horse.

“What about my maidens?” she asked.

“What about them?”

“They can’t ride with shackles on,” Issalyn argued, as the big man hoisted her roughly into her saddle.

“They won’t be riding,” Josston said.

“You can’t leave them here, they’ll die.”

“I don’t care what they do,” he said. “They can keep up, or they can die. It’s really up to them.”

The horses that the shieldmaidens had ridden from the refugee camp in Ortis were led away. The young, red headed girl was sat on the front of her captor’s horse. Issalyn turned to see her maidens as they huddled together. She could see their chains were heavy and she knew it was very unlikely that they would be able to keep pace with Josston’s men on horseback.

“Find help,” Issalyn called to them.

Then, the big man who had been tasked with watching her lashed out. His hand smashed into the side of her face, whipping her head around violently and causing bright sparks to dance in her vision. She swayed precariously in the saddle and the man had to take hold of her arm to ensure that she didn’t fall. Issalyn heard her maidens weeping as the horses carried her further along the rough trail. It was the last she ever saw of them.