Lorik The Defender (The Lorik Trilogy) (7 page)

"It doesn't matter what I believe," Lorik said.

"It matters what you believe most of all," she said, wrapping both arms around him now.

Lorik stood stiff.  He wasn't a stranger to a woman's affection, but his feelings for Queen Issalyn were growing stronger each day and he feared that her status might make a relationship impossible.

"You are the one everyone here is looking to," she went on.  "Our hope rises and falls on you, Lorik."

"No, not anymore," he said.  "They will look to you now.  You must be more assertive."

"I will, if you ask me to.  I will even go to King Ricard, but not because I want to.  I'll go because you want me to."

"I am just a man, your highness."

"You may be many things, but you are anything but just a man."

She raised her hands to his shoulders and pulled him to her.  He could feel the heat of her body and then they kissed.  He had to fight the urge to take her in his arms and carry her away.  He suddenly wanted to take her into the forest and show her the wonders he had discovered there.  He could imagine the two of them living together in the King Tree.  It was a wonderful fantasy, and one that he'd never really experienced before.  He had done all he could for Vera, even offering to marry her before Stone had entered their lives so she wouldn’t be alone, but it had never been because he loved her.  He had never truly loved any woman, but now he felt feelings that were so strong he wasn't sure how to cope with them.  He wanted to be with Issalyn, and not just for a night.  He wanted to make her happy, to give her everything she could possibly want.  He wanted to share every high and low of his life with her.  And he never wanted to be apart from her, but that was just a feeling and he knew reality was much too harsh to let him live in peace or happiness.

"I must go," he said, pulling away from her embrace.

"You don't want to stay?" Issalyn said, the hurt in her eyes all too easy for Lorik to see.

"I do, Issalyn," he said, using her name for the first time, "which is why I must go.  I will not insult you or besmirch your honor."

"I don't care about any of that," Issalyn said.  "We don't have much time, Lorik.  We must make every moment count."

"I know," Lorik said.  "But there is too much at stake for us to be careless now.  What if your husband lives?  What if word reaches King Ricard that you have taken a lover?"

"You are more than just a lover," she said.  "I want to be with you.  I don't care about anything else."

"But we must care," Lorik explained.  "We believe that King Oveer is dead, but we have no proof.  If King Ricard fears that by helping us he is betraying your husband, he may withhold his aide."

"I still don't care," she said, pulling close to his massive body.  "I have never wanted anything as much as I want you."

"Nor I you, but we must not let down the people who are depending on us."

"You spurn my love," she said, finally letting him go.

She turned away from him, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.

"No, I cherish it.  I will honor it with my strength as well as my passion," he assured her.

She turned back to him and there were tears trickling down her cheeks.

"I have never met anyone like you," she said.  "I will wait for you."

Lorik smiled.  He didn't know that words could make him so happy.  He nodded and then stepped out of the tent into the cold evening air.  It took all his strength not to return to the warmth of the tent and the fiery passion of the queen's arms, but he forced himself to walk away.  He knew that there was work to be done.  People were depending on him and he vowed not to let them down.

Lorik knew he didn’t have much time.  He stopped by an area of the camp that had been set aside for cooking meals.  Most of the food was prepared in large quantities so that the meager supplies could be used in the most efficient manner.  Vera had discovered that it was easier to distribute meals than to try and divide the food evenly between all the refugees.  It also made theft of food much more difficult and kept the urge to horde supplies from ruining the camp.

Lorik was given a small loaf of bread, some cheese and fruit.  The evening meal wasn’t finished cooking and he couldn’t wait.  He ate the food as he walked toward the massive trees of the Wilderlands.  When he’d first come to the border and saw the massive trees that rose up hundreds of feet into the air, he’d been mystified.  And his first night in the Wilderlands had been frightening to say the least.  But now the giant trees and the thick canopy high overhead was inviting to Lorik.  He knew the forest the way a man knew the place he’d grown up.  Lorik hadn’t had the opportunity to explore the Wilderlands the way a child explored the land around their home, but he felt the same feelings of safety and rest as he entered the darkened wood.

It was late, but the sun had not fully set.  The Wilderlands were dark, but the fine mist that rose up from the roots of the ancient trees had not yet appeared.  Lorik finished his light fare, and then he began to run.  He jogged at first, weaving around the massive trunks of the redwood trees and skipping over the gnarly roots that snaked out along the ground.  It felt good to be exerting himself without limits.  He could run with Stone or fight with his volunteers, but in both cases he had to keep himself in check, allowing the others to stay with him even though he was capable of so much more.

His jog soon turned into a hard run.  The tree trunks were nothing more than dark shadows and the gloom of the forest was fading into total blackness.  Then the mist rose up, ghostly and somehow luminescent.  It swirled and flowed between the massive trees.  For anyone else, the mist was a complete mystery, but for Lorik the mist beckoned him deeper into the forest.  It was like a road map through the darkness and he followed it without hesitation.

He ran for almost four hours, covering more distance than a strong horse could travel in an entire day.  He still hadn't gone far enough to reach the massive King Tree at the center of the forest, but he reached his goal.

He came to a stop, his heart beating steadily and his muscles humming from the run, but he wasn't tired.  In fact, the long run had only seemed to energize Lorik.  He looked up and in the darkness saw an innocent looking face staring down at him.  It was the face of a child, but the eyes held the wisdom of the ancients.

"I've come to see Hennick," Lorik explained.

"We know," the elf said.  "Come, I will take you to him, tall one."

A vine descended and Lorik wrapped his arm around it and put one foot into the small loop at the end.  Suddenly he was rising up through the air, the mist swirling below him.  Before Lorik knew it, he was in the tree's canopy.  The vine stopped moving and Lorik stepped onto a thick limb that was wide enough that a horse could have walked along it without fear of falling off.  There were several figures waiting for him on the wide limb.  The Drery Dru were small, hardly bigger than toddlers, and each had a look of joyful anticipation as they waited for Lorik.  One of the group stepped forward.

"It is good to see you again, tall one," said the elf.

"Shayah," Lorik said happily.  "Thank you for meeting me."

"It is our pleasure," Shayah said.  "It is not often that the King of the tall folk honor us here in Erkadine."

"This was the first Drery Dru village I ever saw.  It has a special place in my heart."

"It is not as grand as the King Tree, but it is our home," Shayah said.  "Come, Hennick is here.  I will take you to him."

Lorik heard the singsong voices of the elves speaking in their native language behind him.  It was almost impossible to tell the difference between their voices and their giggles.  The Drery Dru lived in a world that was so much different than his own, yet he felt at home among them.  He was different, yet he was accepted as one of their own.  Their magic had changed him and it flowed through him now.  He was taller than most men, broader and stronger, his muscles thick and powerful, his stamina almost without limit.  They were small, fragile looking people, but they possessed amazing abilities and lived much longer lives that humans.

Shayah led Lorik into the heart of the tree, which was hollow.  There were homes and shops carved into the wood to form a circular city that rose up higher and higher into the canopy.  Most of the structures of the village were too small for Lorik, but some were large enough.  Shayah took Lorik into what seemed like a feasting hall.  It was a long curving room, with a high roof.  Hennick waited by one of the many windows.  Fire was strictly forbidden by the Drery Dru, and instead they used a brightly glowing moss to light their village at night.  The moss grew in spectacular designs along the smooth wood of the village structures.  The light it exuded was soft, but bright, much like candlelight.

"Ah, Lorik, you are well met, my friend," said Hennick, who looked like a chubby toddler except for his eyes.  There was a timeless look in his eyes.  His face was angelic and full of innocence, but his eyes revealed a person who was very aware of the reality of the world.

"It is good to see you too, Hennick.  I wish these were happier times."

"You have encountered the evil from the south, then?" the elf asked.

"Yes," Lorik said.  He sat down, leaning his back against the wall.

"I hope you don't mind, I've asked some others to join us.  We must make our plans and they will need to hear what you have to say."

"Of course," Lorik said.

Hennick waved and Shayah opened a small door.  A group of about twenty Drery Dru entered.  They all smiled and some bowed to Lorik.  He did his best to look encouraging, but as he watched the forest elves he began to grow fearful.  He didn't want to see them hurt, yet he couldn't imagine what might happen if he was unable to stop the witch's army which was marching north.

"Shayah, can you bring Lorik some refreshment?" Hennick said.

"It would be my honor," she said, then slipped out of the room.

"Alright, Lorik.  Tell us what you have seen," Hennick continued.  "Hold nothing back."

Lorik began by describing the flying horse creatures.

"They are the Leffers," Hennick said.  "Minions of the underworld.  Foul creatures, they haven't been seen in thousands of years."

"They are capturing people," Lorik said.  "Impaling them with their tails and carrying them back south."

"Do you know why?"

"The wizard I met said a witch had summoned them and that she was building an army."

"An army that is moving north at this very moment," Hennick said.  "We have felt the darkness approaching."

"There was another type of monster.  A huge, shaggy lion, or at least that's what it appeared to be."

"This witch is creating monsters by combining creatures and mutating them," Hennick said. "It is an ancient magic.  Very dark, very evil."

"We don't have enough people to stop them," Lorik said.  "I'm sending the Queen of Ortis to Baskla, to seek their help, but they will not want to guard the forest."

"You need not trouble yourself with our safety, tall one," Hennick said.  "Although your concern is honorable."

"I must go and fight this army," Lorik said.  "I know that.  I was hoping you might be able to give me some clue as to how I can defeat them."

"The only way to defeat such an army is to defeat the one who controls them.  If this witch is creating an army from common folk among the Five Kingdoms, then she must have some way to bend them to her will."

"So she's controlling the Leffers and the other monsters she creates?" Lorik asked.

"No, she has no need to control the evil creatures whose nature reflects her own.  A wild animal will kill without being prompted by her dark intent.  But forcing a farmer to fight is an entirely different matter.  She will have mutated them somehow, it is the nature of the dark magic she practices, but she will have to control them to ensure they carry out her bidding."

"Then I should go and stop her," Lorik said.

"It's too late for that," Hennick said.  "Not even with our magic could you hope to reach her in the depths of the underworld.  Only a wizard can stop her now, that is the nature of things."

"Zollin was the wizard who helped us drive the Norsik out of Ortis," Lorik said.  "Do you think he could stop her?"

"It is possible," Hennick said.  "We saw the dragon rider, but he was flying north."

"Yes, he told me he was going to recruit an army from the magical creatures in the Northern Highlands."

"A sensible plan.  Unfortunately, you do not have the same resources," Hennick said.  "You must work to slow the witch's forces and give your wizard friend time to stop the horde's foul master."

"I have one other question," Lorik said.  "I was fighting the Leffers, and at one point a simple touch from my sword destroyed the creature."

"The Swords of Acromin are powerful weapons," Hennick said.

"Yes, they are, but this was different.  I felt something flow through me.  And then the monster just blew apart."

Hennick looked at the other Drery Dru in the room.  Lorik didn't know if they were somehow communicating but one of the other elves stepped forward.  It had gray hair, and lines around its eyes, but the elf still looked like a child.

"This is Rolwyn," Hennick said.

"You felt something move through you," Rolwyn said.  "Describe that please?"

"It was strange," Lorik said.  "It reminded me of touching a certain type of eel found in the waters of the Marshlands.  They expel something on contact that renders their prey inert.  When we touch them or get touched by them, it feels like being shaken very fast.  It's both ticklish and painful, but more painful."

"Was the feeling you had fighting the Leffer painful?"

"No, but it wasn't pleasant.  It reminded me of something moving through me.  It wasn't part of me, but it used me like water flowing through a ditch."

"I see," said Rolwyn. Then he turned to Hennick, "I told you the magic was waking up. The old ways are returning.  It started in the north and now it will clash with this evil in the south."

"What of Lorik?" Hennick asked.  "Is he in danger?"

"I do not think so," said Rolwyn.  "He has been touched by our magic.  He carries the Swords of Acromin, which may have power of their own.  In my opinion, he will attract magic, both for good and for ill."

"Lorik," Hennick said calmly.  "There are many types of magic in the world.  Most of it has been dormant for centuries.  We have seen the old ways die, along with the ancient creatures who once roamed this world.  Something is stirring that power again.  We could see it manifest in just about anything.  Some of it will be dark, it will feel cold and menacing.  If you let it, it will control you.  Some magic will be good, but it is only as good as the person wielding it.  You have the capacity for good or for bad, just like every other intelligent being.  This magic you felt may return, it may even grow stronger in you.  Remember, it does not define you.  It is something you can control."

"Should I try to use it again?" Lorik asked.

"Only time will tell what this power will be," said Rolwyn.  "Trust your heart, tall one.  Your heart is good, it will not lead you astray."

"Alright," Lorik said, standing up.  "Then I must go.  I will do all I can to stop the evil the witch is sending against us.  If we do not meet again, know that I...  I am honored to have met you all."

"And we are honored, Lorik," Hennick said.  "Your name and your story will not be forgotten by the Drery Dru."

Lorik bowed, then he left the group of elves.  Outside he found Shayah waiting for him.  She had a tray with sliced fruit and a sweet drink that filled a little pitcher that she gave Lorik to drink from.

"You have a beautiful home," Lorik told Shayah.

He sat down on the edge of the wooden walkway that spiraled up and down, around the inside of the tree trunk.  His legs dangled down.  He sipped the drink.  It was sweet and refreshingly cool.  

"Are your villages not the same?" Shayah asked.

"No," Lorik said.  "Most of our cities are small. We build with stone and wood, but not even the greatest castles in the Five Kingdoms are built with as much craftsmanship as your home. And, truth be told, most human cities are dirty places.”

“Dirty?” Shayah said.

“We keep animals,” Lorik explained. “Our homes are on the ground. The streets get muddy, the smells of trash and animal waste fill the air. The rain and wind erode the wood and stone of our homes until they look dark and foreboding. It takes a lot of work to keep a home on the ground looking nice.”

“The wood erodes? How is that possible?”

“The wood is cut and milled,” Lorik said, not thinking about what he was saying. The look of horror on Shayah’s face made him stop.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No,” Shayah said. “It is known that humans cut down trees and use the wood to make all kinds of things. It’s just difficult to hear you speak of it so casually.”

“I meant no offense,” Lorik said.

“You should not apologize. Our people have grown apart.”

“I wish it were not so,” Lorik said. “The Drery Dru are a remarkable race. We could learn so much from you.”

“Perhaps when the darkness passes, we will have a chance to learn from each other again.”

“That would make me happy,” Lorik said, but he couldn’t keep the melancholy from his voice.

“You don’t sound happy,” Shayah said. “What troubles you?”

“Nothing,” Lorik said. “My thoughts are sometimes dour; I am sorry. I should never be sad in a magnificent place such as this.”

“The Drery Dru believe that a blessing shared is twice as sweet, and a burden shared is half as heavy.”

“That is true. I will tell what makes my heart heavy. There is trouble in the south. As you have said, a great darkness is looming. I will do all in my strength to hold it back, but I fear that in doing so I will never see the beauty of the Wilderlands again. I do not fear death, but I regret that I had so little time among your people.”