Lorik (The Lorik Trilogy) (13 page)

Stone wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t know if it was wise to let any of the men live. The pirate leader with the arrow in his gut would soon be a dead man, and there would be nothing but pain that increased the longer he lived. The others had a chance, though. Stone walked up to the pirate and looked down in disgust.

“You deserve the pain,” he said angrily. “But I’ll cut your throat if want me to.”

The pirated hissed, but he was hurting too much to speak. Stone bent down and slashed the man’s neck with one quick movement. Blood poured out onto the ground, forming a dark muddy puddle as the man’s eyes glazed over and his face relaxed. Stone turned back to the pirate with the bow who had taken his other knife. It lay on the ground now. He picked it up, inspected the blade, then wiped it on the back of his leg. Then he slid the blade into the sheath and walked over to the pirate leader who was wearing a long silk sash. Stone cut the flimsy material off the dead pirate and used it to clean the blood off his knife blade.

Finally he looked at the wound in his left shoulder. The arrow had cut a furrow through the muscle, but it had missed the bone. His shirt sleeve was soaked in blood. He cut it away and then cut off the other sleeve. Half of it was muddy, but he used his knife to cut a strip of clean material free and fashioned a bandage for his left shoulder. He had trouble tying the strip of cloth, but he did the best he could, and then trudged down the path to his horse. It bothered him to leave men alive who might come looking for him again, but he figured the sailors would probably sail away from Hassell Point by the time he got back with Lorik, so he left them on the trail.

Stone’s horse was nervous and could smell the blood that was seeping out from under the makeshift bandage. Stone approached it slowly, his hand held out toward the animal and all the while speaking in a soft voice to the horse. It neighed at him, but it didn’t run away. Stone was grateful to have caught the horse so easily. He was tired, and his back was aching from the fall. He swung up into the saddle and let the horse canter away from the scene of the attack.

As Stone took a long drink from his canteen, he scolded himself for not being more careful. He had assumed that the pirates would simply leave him alone, but his mind had been too focused on Vera to really consider the situation. It was a stupid mistake and he’d gotten lucky, but the next time he might get really hurt, or worse, Vera might get hurt. He knew he couldn’t live with that.

The next hour was uncomfortable, and by the time he reached the Hollist farm he was dizzy with fatigue. His horse had slowed its pace to a walk, and Stone was too tired, his body too shocked from his wound and the fight, to keep the animal moving at speed. He saw the farm house and rode onto the property. Hollist saw him approaching and came out to see who he was. Stone tried to get off his horse but ended up falling again. He was dizzy and weak when Hollist reached him.

“What the hell happened to you?” Hollist said.

Stone mumbled an incoherent reply, but the rice farmer wasn’t listening. He called for his sons, and they came out to help with the wounded warrior. They carried him into the house, where Hollist’s wife fussed over his wounded shoulder. She poured strong wine into the swollen wound to clean it and then packed the cut with a poultice before wrapping it in a clean bandage. Sometime while he was being tended, he passed out. When he woke up it was late. He found himself on a bed, with nothing but his undergarments on and a heavy quilt draped across him. He was hungry, his mouth incredibly dry, but his mind was clear. His arm ached, and his back was sore, but he sat up in the bed anyway. He moved slowly and the dizziness didn’t return, so he cast around for his clothes.

“They’re hanging by the fire,” said a voice in the dark room.

“What are?” Stone asked.

“Your clothes. My girls washed them for you. Although I doubt that shirt will be of much use.”

“I’ve got another in my saddlebags,” Stone said. “Who are you?”

“Hollist,” the man in the dark said. “Are you the man Lorik calls Stone?”

“Yes. I was riding to catch up with him.”

“And you got waylaid on the trail. That makes sense. Lorik will be worried about you.”

“I should get going,” Stone said.

“Well, that’s not very smart,” Hollist said. “I don’t think you’re all that familiar with the marsh, and unless you are, wandering around in the middle of the night is more than foolish. Besides, your clothes aren’t dry yet, and I’d guess you’re hungry.”

“I could eat.”

“Sure, you could. Here.”

As Hollist approached, Stone could see his shadowy form in the darkness. He opened a door, and firelight from the next room poured in. Hollist was short, with thick, black hair and a kind face. There were streaks of gray in the black hair that caught the dancing light and seemed to shimmer. Hollist walked into the main room of his farmhouse and brought back a cup of mead and a tin plate full of thick stew.

“It’s goose stew. I hope you like it. It may be a little cold, but it’ll fill you up.”

“Thank you,” Stone said as he took the plate and sat back down on the bed.

The mead was an immediate relief, and he drank half of his mug before taking a breath.

“You might take it easy on the mead,” Hollist said. “We brew that ourselves, and it’s a mite stronger than what you’ll find in town.”

Stone nodded and dug into the plate of food hungrily.

“Now, it’s a few more hours ’til daylight,” Hollist said. “You might as well get a little more rest. I’ll wake you at dawn and help you get moving in the right direction.”

“Thanks,” Stone said, yawning.

“Forget it, just keep that shoulder clean. If it gets dirty, you could get blood poisoning and die.”

Stone lay back down and Hollist left the room, closing the door behind him. It was dark, and Stone fell asleep almost immediately. The next morning he found his clothes laid on a chair beside the bed. As light slowly filtered through the thick glass of the little window in his room, Stone could see that it was well furnished, although it looked like most of the items in the room were made on the farm. There was long, low table, with a thick, gnarly wood top. A wicker-seated rocking chair was in the corner, and a tall wooden cabinet was near the bed.

Stone pulled on his clothes and boots, then stepped out into the big main room of the farm house. It had a large stone fireplace, with a big, black cook pot hanging over the flames. There were also small ovens made of clay built into the fireplace, so that it served as the central place for cooking and heating the home in winter. There were four young girls and one woman scurrying around preparing breakfast.

“Thank you for your kindness,” he said to the woman, obviously Hollist’s wife.

“Think nothing of it,” she said. “My girls washed your clothes. I just dressed the wound in your shoulder. Keep it clean and it should mend fine.”

“I will,” he promised.

“Hollist is outside with your horse.”

“Thank you,” he said again, not sure what else to say.

He went outside and found Hollist smoking a long-stemmed pipe and watching the sun come up. His horse was saddled and ready to go. He approached the farmer and stuck out a hand.

“Thank you for your help,” he said.

“It was nothing,” Hollist said. “I refilled your canteen from our well. It’s clean water. And I packed your ruined shirt in the saddle bag when I fetched the good one. It might not be in good shape, but it’s better than nothing in the marshes.”

“I appreciate it.”

“It was no trouble. Now take this path and ride hard. I’m not sure which path Lorik will take but the this trail forks about three hours from here. You’ll want to catch up with him before that if you can.”

“I will,” Stone said, swinging up into his saddle.

One of Hollist’s daughters came out with a round loaf of freshly made bread and some hot sausage. She held it up to Stone, smiling but not speaking. He reached down and took the food.

“Thank you,” he said, as she hurried back into the house.

“Better ride hard, stranger.”

“I will,” Stone said, holding the warm food close and urging his horse into a gallop.

He ate as he rode, once the horse had run long enough. He slowed her pace, keeping a sharp eye out along the trail, but, other than the occasional animal, there was nothing to see. The swamp was murky and in some places emitting a very foul odor. The trail turned and twisted, the trees around it growing in stunted, unnatural shapes. The leaves were gray and seemed lifeless. It was not a pleasant ride, but he kept moving. It was almost midday when he finally saw Lorik in the distance. He kicked his horse back into a gallop to catch up.

“What took you so long?” Lorik said sourly. He had stayed up late into the night, catching only a few hours of sleep. He was tired, worried, and more than a little annoyed.

“I was ambushed,” he said. “The pirates didn’t get the hint the night before.”

“What happened?” Lorik asked. They were riding side by side now, Stone on his horse and Lorik in the wagon.

“I got shot in the shoulder. If the pirates weren’t such lousy bowmen, I’d be dead, I suppose.”

“Well, let’s hear about it. We’ve got a long trail ahead, and a good story helps the time pass more quickly.”

Chapter 9

Stone told Lorik about the attack in terse details. In some ways, Lorik wasn’t surprised. Pirates weren’t honorable men, but he had to admit he hadn’t expected them to come after Stone again. Being in a fight was scary anytime, but after seeing what Stone was capable of with his knives, taking him on seemed more like suicide.

Lorik was glad that his new partner was okay, but he had worried through the night that he’d made a huge mistake. If Stone had just dropped out of their partnership, Lorik would have been disappointed, but not all that surprised. But he had worried about Vera. What if Stone was working with the Riders or even just working some kind of con on his own, and Lorik had left Vera right in the young warrior’s hands? He had debated turning back, but in the end he knew he had a job to do. He had been entrusted with Hollist’s future, and the truth was that Vera had made her own choices. So, after a restless night, Lorik had pushed on. When he finally saw Stone hurrying to catch up, he hadn’t known what to expect.

“How’s your shoulder?” he asked.

“Better. Still hurts, though. I wasn’t in very good shape and ended up at Hollist’s farm. They took care of me. I should be fine in a day or two.”

“All right, well, I’m sorry about that. I guess splitting up was a bad idea.”

“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fight. It should be over now.”

“I hope so,” Lorik said, thinking again about Vera, all alone in Hassell Point now.

Before, when Vera was working, it certainly wasn’t an ideal situation but at least she had people around her. Now she was alone at Lorik’s home. It wasn’t far from town, but it was far enough that she could be hurt or kidnapped without anyone knowing it. He had spent most of his life looking out for Vera. It felt strange now that she was moving out from under his protection. He knew he needed to let her go, but it was difficult. Even though she hadn’t left the Point yet, her impending absence made his own uncertainty about the future even more difficult to bear.

They were nearing the end of the main trail. The high ground had disappeared, and the thick, stinking muck was crowding in on both sides. After an hour of travel, Stone was forced to follow behind the wagon, rather than beside it. The trail was winding even more now, and progress was slow. Lorik had to carefully steer his way though the soggy ground. When they came to an area where the ground was covered in shallow water, Lorik called a halt.

“Let’s take a short break,” he said over his shoulder to Stone.

Lorik stood up and stretched his back, then climbed down from the wagon. He was used to moving through water in the marshlands, but he had a heavy load, and he knew it was better to walk his route through the mud and water before attempting to drive the wagon through it.

“I need to walk this path and make sure it’s good,” he told Stone. “Ready to get your feet wet, literally?”

“Sounds like fun,” Stone said sarcastically.

“It’s not, but it’s necessary. Come on and I’ll show you how to find a way through standing water like this.”

The water smelled of rotten fish and vegetation. The ground was muddy, but their boots didn’t bog down in it. They walked slowly, side by side, as Lorik pointed out things that Stone needed to know.

“You can tell the difference between mud and sucking mud just by the way it clings to your boots. Sucking mud will also make a squelching sound when you pull your foot free.”

“Hence the name, I suppose,” Stone said.

“That’s right. You don’t usually find it in places like this where the ground is just too saturated for the water to drain off. It doesn’t even feel that muddy, does it?”

“No,” Stone said.

“What you do need to be aware of is what may be under the surface of the water. There can be holes or rocks that will damage the wagon, and you might not see them until it’s too late. There are also some nasty snakes that like to stay hidden in the water. In most instances they won’t try to harm you, but if the horses see them they’ll be frightened. In deep water there are other creatures, but I’ll show you how to spot them when I see one.”