Lorik The Protector (Lorik Trilogy) (31 page)

They had run as fast as they could, ducking around trees and staying low so that the mists covered them. Then night had fallen, and the women were lost in the darkness. They had hunkered down for the night and hoped that when the sun came the raiders would push on without them. Unfortunately, the raiders had spread out in every direction and hunted the women down. They had been beaten once they were found, and each one of them had been tied with a rope around her neck and forced to follow behind a warrior. If the women didn’t keep pace, they were dragged along the ground until they managed to get back on their feet. The men assigned to the women who had attempted escape showed no mercy. They tied the women’s feet together every evening and didn’t allow them to speak.

The harsh treatment had only hardened Vera’s resolve. She had nothing left to live for but her freedom, and she was determined to win it back or die trying. That night she and her companions were tied to large stakes in the ground, her arms pinned back behind her so tightly she was afraid her shoulders would pop out of their sockets. Sleep was out of the question. She squirmed constantly, trying to find a way to relieve the pressure on her shoulders.

The Norsik celebrated late into the night. The forty raiders who had led the women back to the Wilderlands had been joined by nearly a hundred warriors who had returned to the Wilderlands with loot, and a few that had stayed behind to guard their womenfolk. Now there were nearly two hundred warriors in the camp, most of them drinking and carousing late into the night.

Stone slept while Lorik kept watch from the hill they had had settled on. It was only an hour before dawn when Lorik decided it was time to make their move. He roused Stone and they moved quickly down the hill. The moon had set and so only the stars gave light. Stone’s knee was improved, but he couldn’t run or spin the way he was used to when fighting. Still, he was able to sneak up on the tired sentry in the dark and slide his knife between the raider’s ribs without being seen or heard.

Lorik was less subtle. He moved through the darkness quickly, like a racing shadow, and he used his new sword for the first time, decapitating the first sentry he met before the man could shout an alarm. The sword cut through the air with a quiet whisper, as if it were slicing the wind. Lorik smiled and kept running. The third sentry was a good distance away, but they didn’t want to take the chance that he might hear the captives moving, so Lorik took him out and then caught up with Stone sneaking through the camp.

They made their way to Vera. She was facing away from them, and without a word Lorik sliced the ropes that held her while Stone hobbled around the post.

“By the gods,” Vera said, her whisper seeming overly loud in the darkness. “You’re alive.”

She and Stone fell into an embrace, tears streaming down their faces and making their frenzied kisses salty.

“I came as soon as I could,” he whispered once they stopped kissing. “I got lost in the Wilderlands.”

“I’m not surprised,” Vera said. “I lost hope once the raiders started leading us back and forth in every direction. I can’t believe you’re alive.”

“I probably wouldn’t be if it weren’t for Lorik. He led us out of the forest.”

“Lorik’s here?” Vera asked, looking around.

She could see the hulking figure cutting the other women loose, but she didn’t recognize Lorik. He had grown nearly a foot, and his shoulders were broader and his waist slimmer.

“Where is he?” she asked.

“There,” Stone said, pointing to his friend.

“No,” Vera said. “That’s not Lorik.”

“It is now,” Stone said. “Trust me, it’s a long story and I’ll tell you all about it, but we’ve got to get you out of here.”

Vera and the other women helped get the rest of the captives cut free and moving. The Norsik’ celebrations late into the night kept them from waking by the time Lorik and Stone had the captives all moving. They had just passed the dead sentries when the sun appeared. The women were in no shape to run, nor was Stone, but they hurried as best they could. They had to get back into the forest before they were seen, but it was an impossible task. The arid ground was kicked into a cloud of dust by the footsteps of so many people, and even though the sentries were on the far side of the camp, they saw the dust rising and called out an alarm.

“What are we going to do?” Vera asked.

“You keep the women and children moving,” Lorik said. “Get them into the forest. I’ll hold back the Norsik.”

“How?” she asked.

“Don’t worry about that,” Lorik said, drawing his sword, “just keep moving.”

“I’ll help him,” Stone said.

“No,” Lorik said gently. “You won’t be able to keep up. Stay with Vera and help her. I’ll find you in the forest. You can count on that.”

Stone and Vera looked at Lorik for a long moment, neither of them sure what to say. They were afraid to lose him and afraid of getting caught by the Norsik.

“Go,” he told them. “Hurry!”

They left and Lorik drew one of his new swords. It was the first time he had really looked at them since being high in the Kingtree. The end of the pommel had a strange shape, and after looking at it a moment, he pulled the other sword from the sheath on his back. Its pommel had a strange but different shape. Then it hit him: the pommels fit together. He held the swords together, pommel to pommel. The longer handle fit neatly inside the shorter, and with a short turn the swords locked together to become one deadly weapon with a blade at either end.

Lorik smiled and then looked up. Nearly a hundred of the Norsik warriors were hurrying out of their tents and shelters to see what was happening. Lorik ran to meet them.

It crossed Lorik’s mind as he ran that perhaps this was what Hennick had meant about laying his life down to protect his people. Lorik didn’t mind in that instant. He wasn’t worried about dying, or about anything else—his body felt too good, too strong, to worry. The Norsik raiders had spotted him and were hurrying to meet him in battle. Most of the raiders preferred an easy fight and enjoyed overwhelming defenseless settlements. They had no sense of honor or fairness when it came to fighting. They were used to fighting and killing and stealing what they wanted. So when they saw Lorik all alone, even as big as he was, they assumed they could quickly overwhelm him and then catch the fleeing captives. It was the kind of fight they preferred, or so they thought.

Lorik reached the first raider and stabbed him with his longsword, using the curved point to rip the blade through his stomach before the raider was close enough to bring his own weapon to bear. The next three opponents converged on Lorik all at once. With a slash that spun his body around Lorik took out two of the raiders, his blade cutting across their chests and sending them crashing to the ground. Then, using the momentum of his spin, he brought the rear blade around and impaled the third raider. The man stood frozen, his own short, curved sword fell from his hand just before Lorik jerked his blade free.

Then there was a crowd around Lorik, and he spun in a circle of death, twirling the sword around his body and slashing anyone who came near him. Six raiders died before the crowd started to fall back. Lorik finished his spin with a leap that allowed him to decapitate another raider, sending the unfortunate man’s head flying into the crowd.

“Come on!” Lorik shouted. “Fight me, you dogs!”

The Norsik at the edges of the crowd started to back away, some deciding to avoid Lorik altogether and pursue the captives. Lorik saw them streaming around him and decided to act. He feinted forward, causing the raiders in front of him to stumble backward into the raiders behind them, then Lorik turned and ran.

The crowd assumed that Lorik was running away from them. They cheered and followed, but Lorik was so fast he quickly outdistanced the crowd and caught up to the raiders who had run around him. He cut down eight men from behind, then the others changed direction, trying to get away from Lorik and his flashing sword.

Lorik then angled the other direction and caught up with the raiders who had circled him on the other side. The Norsik were unprepared to be attacked while they ran. They tried to stop and fight but Lorik simply flashed past them, his sword so sharp it severed flesh and bone alike.

Finally the raiders came to a stop. They stood staring in disbelief. Only a single man stood between them and their escaping captives, but he was so fast, and so deadly, they were afraid to fight him.

Then, from the back of the crowd came three warriors. They were painted with flaking blue war paint. The sides of their heads were shaved and instead of the Norsik’s usual short swords they carried spiked balls on long chains. Lorik smiled. He recalled what Stone had told him of the battle when Vera and the others had been captured.

“You three keen on dying young, eh?” he asked.

The raiders didn’t understand a word he said, but they recognized that he was taunting them and immediately they spread out, twirling their weapons. Lorik unhooked his swords and held one in each hand, waiting patiently for the attack he knew was coming. It wasn’t hard to guess the strategy. Lorik knew the man in front of him would feint while the two on the sides rushed in for the kill. Lorik felt so strong he thought he could kill the whole horde of raiders, but he knew what he needed to do was give the captives time to get to the Wilderlands. Lorik had no doubt that once they reached the Wilderlands he could lead them to safety, but the women and children were in shock, some injured and all of them moving slowly.

Lorik spread his arms wide, inviting the man in front of him to attack, but also keeping his blades at the ready for an attack from either side. The other raiders were beginning to shout and cheer on the three warriors. Lorik tried to look bored.

The raider in front of Lorik feinted forward, just as Lorik had guessed. Instead of reacting to the feint, Lorik moved to his right, ducking under the ball that the man to his right had swung at Lorik’s head and ripping open his stomach with a quick slash of his sword. Then Lorik spun around, moving toward the first raider from the side. The raider dodged back to his right and was hit by the other raider’s mace. The spiked ball crashed into the raider’s shoulder, smashing bones and slicing the muscle and skin to ribbons. The raider cried out, dropping his weapon and falling onto his knees. Lorik dashed forward and took advantage of the second raider’s surprise at the accident. He slashed his sword across the raider’s chest in a diagonal line from shoulder to hip. The man fell backward without a sound.

Then Lorik turned around and faced the crowd, standing behind the first raider, who was now on his knees, bellowing in pain and holding his shoulder.

“Here’s what’s coming to each and every one of you bastards,” Lorik said.

He raised his sword and in one mighty sweeping blow, cut off the raider’s head at the neck. The head flew straight up, the body toppled forward, and as the head fell back down to earth Lorik punted it straight into the crowd. It hit one raider in the face with enough force to pulverize his nose and then flew up and into the mass of Norsik warriors as fear of Lorik’s ferocity turned their hearts to water.

The Norsik had seen enough. They turned as one and ran back toward their camp. Lorik had to stop himself from running after them. He wanted to cut them all down—the battle lust was so strong on him—but he remembered what Hennick had told him. His choices would make the difference between living and dying to protect those he loved.

He turned and trotted after the captives. He caught up to Stone and Vera, running hand in hand, just before they reached the Wilderlands.

“You’re alive,” Stone said with a smile. “That’s nice.”

“Good to see you made it, too, gimpy,” Lorik teased.

“Hey, that’s a war wound you’re poking fun at.”

“Some things never change,” Vera said in exasperation. “What’s the plan now?”

“We go home,” Stone said.

“We can’t go through the forest without supplies,” Vera said. “At least the Norsik fed us.”

“Hey, it was
his
plan,” Stone said, pointing at Lorik.

“It is my plan and I will feed you all. But don’t think that the Norsik are going to give up that easily. They’ll gather their courage and come after us. And a group this big won’t be easy to hide.”

“They did a pretty good job of it,” Stone said. “We didn’t catch them in the forest.”

“No, but they know it better than we do,” Lorik said. “They’ve spent time there and we haven’t. We can’t count on being able to outwit them here, or scare them off for long.”

“So what do we do?” Vera asked.

“Right now we rest. Make sure everyone is healthy enough to keep moving. I want to see what the Norsik do now.”

Stone stood watch while Lorik found water for the captives. There were so many of them that he had to uncover several springs to provide enough water for all of them. Vera followed him.

“How do you know so much about the Wilderlands suddenly?” she asked. “You said it was a terrifying place, and I can’t say that I disagree.”

“I made some new friends,” Lorik said.

“What does that mean?”

“Have you ever heard of the Drery Dru?” Lorik asked.

“What? You mean druids? Forest elves?”

“Yeah, they’re the ones. They call themselves the Drery Dru.”

“Did one of those raiders hit you in the head... Hard?” she asked.

“No, I’m telling you the truth. I’ll explain it all when there’s more time.”

“You better believe you will,” she said. “Forest elves? Really?”

“Really,” Lorik said, smiling sincerely.

“Here they come!” Stone shouted.

Lorik hurried back to the edge of the forest. What he saw surprised him. The Norsik warriors were returning, only this time they were in small groups and they were spread out.

“They’ll come into the forest at different places,” Stone said. “You may be unstoppable, but you can’t be everywhere at once.”

“That’s true,” Lorik said. He wasn’t sure what his next move should be. In the open, he could move from group to group and cut them down, but in the forest he wasn’t even sure he would see all the separate groups. And if the Norsik couldn’t recapture their prisoners, they probably wouldn’t be opposed to killing them.

“I’m going out there again,” Lorik said. “I’ll attack the group on the far left. I need you to get on your horse and attack the group on the far right. Push them back toward the center.”

“And don’t get killed,” Vera said. “Whatever you do, don’t die. Either of you.”

“You heard the lady,” Lorik said.

“You be careful, Lorik,” Stone said.

“I will. Can you ride?”

“I can do more than that,” Stone said.

It took him a moment to get on the horse; his leg was hurting but he tried not to let it show. Then he rode out. Lorik smiled, kissed Vera on the cheek, and started running.

Stone let the horse pick its own way across the rocky ground while he unpacked Lorik’s bow and arrows. The Norsik raiders were still far enough away that they were out of bow range, but soon he could start peppering them with arrows. He checked his sword and got as comfortable as possible on the saddle.

“All right, girl,” he said, patting the horse’s neck. “This will be just like tending crops. You run straight and I’ll mow down the weeds.”

The horse neighed as if it understood and Stone started out of the tree line. He rode for nearly five minutes before he drew his first arrow. He had no real experience aiming so he just raised the bow and let the arrow fly in the general direction of the Norsik raiders. The first arrow fell woefully short, so he nocked another arrow and aimed higher. The second arrow fell close to the group Stone was aiming for. The raiders shuffled over, closer to the group on their right, and slowed their pace.

“All right, not bad,” Stone said out loud.

He nocked arrow after arrow, shooting and shooting until he had only one arrow left. Only two arrows had hit the raiders, and neither were kill shots, but he had slowed the progress of the raiders on his side of the line. He couldn’t see what Lorik was doing, but he could see dust rising in the air on the far side of the line of raiders.

Stone kicked the horse into a gallop, ignoring the pain in his knee as he used his legs to grip the animal. He raised his bow when he was close to the raiders. They had bunched together, waiting for his charge, their short swords held out in hopes of fending off the horse and rider. Stone shot his arrow, which punched through the shoulder of one raider and into the neck of another. Then Stone dropped the bow and drew his sword. It was as long as his arm, and as he veered close to the raiders he swung the weapon in a low, level slash. His blade clashed against one sword, then sliced through three arms. The wounds weren’t grievous, and probably wouldn’t prove life-threatening, but three more raiders were out of the fight.

Stone circled slowly, staying far enough away from the raiders to be out of danger while keeping his horse moving at speed. He came in for another pass, and this time the raiders fell back rather than face him. The next group in the line did the same. They didn’t retreat, but they refused to engage with Stone. He grimaced, knowing his horse wouldn’t be able to keep up this pace much longer. So he turned the horse to face the raiders and let it stop. He was a hundred paces from their line, and four groups of raiders stood waiting for his next attack. It didn’t come. Stone just sat there, watching and waiting, knowing that Lorik was coming and hoping the raiders didn’t call his bluff.

Lorik sprinted through the trees. He felt stronger than ever before, but among the trees of the Wilderlands, he felt truly invincible. He circled out onto the open field when he had gone as far as the last group of raiders. Then he ran out over the rocky ground, locking his swords together again. The raiders saw him coming; some stood their ground, others fell back. Lorik didn’t stop. He ran headlong into the group. He hit the first raider with his shoulder, slamming into the man so fast the raider didn’t have a chance to attack before he was knocked into the men behind him. The sudden space gave Lorik the room he needed to attack. He quickly thrust his sword up into the face of a raider to his right. The tip cut skin and smashed bone. Lorik then struck out to his right, plunging the opposite sword tip into the abdomen of another raider. The curved tip sliced into the man’s stomach, hooked on his entrails, and pulled them out.

The sight of so much carnage so fast sent almost all the remaining warriors in the first group retreating. Lorik spun around, twirling his sword and bending low to hamstring one raider and disembowel another. Lorik didn’t stick around to inspect his handiwork. He sprinted toward the next group of Norsik, who had been watching his attack with growing fear. Lorik angled in front of them and caught only one warrior before the others drew back. His sword point caught that man in the groin, but the warrior leaned forward over Lorik’s sword, extending his arm and hacking at Lorik’s face. Lorik swayed backward, but the tip of the dying warrior’s blade nicked Lorik’s chin.

Blood dripped down, but it didn’t slow Lorik. With a shove of his sword he knocked the man aside and jumped forward. Three men struck out at Lorik, all aiming high. Lorik dropped to the ground and slashed his sword across their knees and thighs. They fell back, screaming and dragging themselves away from the confrontation.

Lorik rolled to his feet and dashed toward the next group, but the Norsik there had lost all interest in fighting Lorik. They retreated and left the fourth group unprepared for Lorik’s attack. He smashed into them, separating his swords and hacking downward with one and then the other as he took each step. He rained strong overhead blows with the swords in quick succession. The blades hacked down into shoulders or upturned arms, as the small, round shields the Norsik carried were no match for the combination of Lorik’s razor-sharp swords and his overwhelming strength. The group scattered in panic and Lorik took stock of his situation. There were three more groups nearing the tree line, and Lorik saw Stone sitting on his horse facing several groups that had stopped moving.