Lorik The Defender (The Lorik Trilogy) (21 page)

Lorik hurried back into the castle and lit a fire. There was plenty of wood laid by, and oil to kindle to the blaze. A few sparks were all that was needed and the fire took quickly. Lorik then lit a lamp and made his way down to the dungeon. It was difficult for Lorik to climb over the bodies of the fallen mutated fighters without doing more damage to his sprained ankle, but he managed. In the dungeon he hurried past the empty cells and went into the storage room, pulling the hidden cord that sprung open the door to the secret passageway.

“Everyone out,” he called, his voice echoing on the stone walls.

There was shuffling and grunting. Lorik guessed that most of the people in the escape tunnel were asleep.

“What is it?” asked one of the volunteers.

“We’re safe now,” Lorik assured them. “Come out and I’ll explain it all.”

The volunteers came out slowly. They were stiff with cold and fatigue, most had just been roused from an exhausted slumber. They looked into the dark dungeon skeptically, as if Lorik might be leading them into a trap. When Stone came out he had the same look of disbelief as the others. Vera didn’t bother holding back her skepticism.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“They’re gone,” Lorik said. “The witch’s army is gone, well, at least most of them. Come on, I’ve got a fire going upstairs. I’ll explain everything.”

“Are you sure that it’s safe?”

“I wouldn’t do anything that would put you in danger,” Lorik said. “Now, come on.”

He led the way back up through the dungeon and past the heaping piles of mutated corpses. The dead bodies made the volunteers even more nervous. They carried their weapons at the ready and were nervous as they made their way to the servant’s quarters where Lorik had built the fire. The room was bright with the light from the fire, and the volunteers huddled near it, soaking up its warmth.

“Tell us what happened?” Vera said. “How do you know the monsters are gone?”

“I left the tunnel,” Lorik said, immediately holding up his hands to stop Vera’s rebuke. “I had a feeling that something was different. I went up to the watchtower and there were no more crowds of soldiers, but I saw lights in the town. Some of the buildings were being occupied. I went to investigate.”

“Have you gone mad?” Vera said angrily.

“I know it sounds crazy, but the mist was leading me,” Lorik explained.

“What mist?” Stone asked.

“Mist, like in the Wilderlands,” Lorik said. “It was beckoning me outside.”

Stone and Vera looked at each other nervously. Lorik was sounding crazy, but they didn’t voice their fears.

“There are still a few of the mutated fighters in the town, but they aren’t under the witch’s control anymore,” Lorik continued. “It’s like they just woke up. They’re frightened, even of each other. I don’t know how many of the fighters were released, but the streets are littered with the dead.”

“How do you know about this waking up?” Vera asked.

“Because I spoke to one of them,” Lorik explained. “It was a woman, from Osla. She said she remembered the attack on her village by the Leffers, then she woke up here, in a mob of mutated fighters. She has no memory of anything in between.”

“And you believed her?”

“She begged for her life,” Lorik said. “She was crying and frightened, not mindless and blank the way the others had been.”

“So what does this all mean?” Stone said.

“It means we live for one thing,” Lorik said happily. “We’re alive and not in danger.”

“You can’t say that for certain,” Vera argued. “We don’t know if that’s really true. There could be more monsters coming, like that huge beast you fought before.”

“It could be, or it’s possible that the witch’s evil plan was thwarted and the danger is past,” Lorik said. “The Drery Dru told me that the only way to break the witch’s spell was to defeat her.”

“So what’s our next move?” Stone asked.

“I’m not sure,” Lorik said. “I suppose we should return to the camp at the Wilderlands, or at least see if the witch’s army is still moving north.”

“How can we do that?” Vera asked. “We don’t have horses. The men are wounded, or at least exhausted. We need a few days of rest.”

“Fine,” Lorik said. “Rest, recuperate. Come morning I’ll search the city for more of the mutated fighters. We’ll secure as much of the castle grounds as possible. Then, we can go.”

The volunteers all looked satisfied and Vanz made it official.

“Well, I’ll get something cooking,” he said happily.

A few hours after dawn, Lorik, Stone, and a group of the healthiest volunteers made a tour through the city. They were near a stone building that was mostly intact when they were attacked. The mutated fighter was much faster than any of the lumbering soldiers they had fought the day before. He leaped out and swung his heavy sword at one of the volunteers who dropped to the ground to avoid the blow. Lorik drew his sword and parried the fighter’s second stroke that would have killed the fallen volunteer. Stone twirled, his speed in battle was hard to fathom. He had two short swords, one slashed the fighter’s right thigh, the other sliced through the mutated man’s hand. The rusty sword fell, along with three of the fighter’s fingers. He staggered back, screaming in pain. The other volunteers leveled their spears, but Lorik held them back.

“Wait, don’t kill him,” he ordered.

The brute had no other weapons but he attacked again anyway, his good hand reaching out for anyone close enough to throttle. Lorik raised the broken spear shaft he was using as a cane and with a sweeping strike, knocked the fighter’s good leg out from underneath him. The huge mutated fighter fell hard.

“Hold him down,” Lorik ordered.

The volunteers jumped on the fighter’s arms and legs. The captive man bellowed in fury, but Lorik ignored him. He waited until the man stopped screaming.

“Who are you?” he asked. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t know,” the man growled, his voice deep and guttural.

“What’s the last thing you remember before you ended up here?”

The man looked away, refusing to talk.

“Answer us or I’ll end you here and now,” Lorik threatened.

The mutated man just spit, the thick mucus flew into the air and then fell back on his own face.

“Nice,” Stone said.

“Kill him,” Lorik said.

Stone raised his sword, preparing to chop down on the mutated man’s thick neck.

“Noooo!” came a voice from the nearest building.

Stone hesitated, and another fighter came out of the structure. It was smaller than the first, and moved quickly toward the group.

“Don’t... please,” it cried, its voice thick with emotion and hard to understand.

Stone looked at Lorik who nodded. The young warrior put his sword away and backed up.

“Let him go,” Lorik ordered his men.

They got up slowly and the newly arrived fighter hurried over and cradled the other’s head. Black blood was streaming from the wounded fighter’s hand and leg, but Lorik guessed that neither wound was life threatening.

“Who are you?” Lorik asked.

“I’m Uldal,” the smaller fighter said. “This is my father.”

“Where are from Uldal?” Lorik asked.

“Falxis,” Uldal said. “We were fishermen, before the monsters came.”

“And then what happened?”

“We tried to get to the boats. My sister hid beneath our house, but the monsters knocked it down. We were all carried away and then we woke up here. I don’t know what happened to us or how we got here.”

“You were enchanted by a witch,” Lorik said. “Your bodies mutated to fit her nefarious purposes. But at least some of you have gotten your senses back.”’

“Where are we?”

“Ort City,” Lorik said, “in Ortis.”

“Please don’t hurt us anymore,” Uldal begged.

“We won’t. Is there anyone else with you?”

“No,” the mutated fighter said.

“See to your father. Don’t attack people without cause.”

The younger fighter nodded. Lorik led his people away.

“They’re faster,” Stone said, once they were out of sight of the wounded fighter.

“Like I said, they have their senses back. What are the odds that the entire army was released?”

“Reasonable,” Stone said.

“Aren’t we going to kill them?” asked one of the volunteers.

“I don’t think so,” Lorik said. “They’re frightened and rightfully so, but once we convince them we aren’t a threat, they don’t seem to be dangerous.”

“You weren’t almost cut in half,” said the volunteer who had been attacked.

“I was last night,” Lorik explained. “We have to stay on our guard, but we don’t need to exterminate these people. I suspect that many have fled south.”

“Why?” Stone asked. “You said the one you talked to last night didn’t know where she was. And neither did those two.”

“But they know it’s cold,” Lorik explained. “Most of the people captured by the Leffers were from farther south where it doesn’t get so cold. They’ll most likely head back that direction.”

“What about the people there?” asked one of the volunteers.

“There aren’t any,” Stone said. “They were either captured by the Leffers or killed by the witch’s army as they marched north.”

The volunteer nodded, realizing he’d asked a stupid question.

“So, they suddenly wake up and decide it’s too cold, so they head back the way they came. I guess that makes sense.”

“But what about the ones that marched past us yesterday?” asked one of the volunteers. “By the time we were attacked, thousands more had marched around the city and were still moving north.”

“If I’m right, we should start seeing them soon,” Lorik said. “That’s why I left Ian on the lookout tower.”

They found another fighter hiding in a small shed. The poor, frightened creature had been cut on the arm during the fighting that took place once everyone came back to their senses. From the looks of it, the wound was badly infected.

There were several more encounters with the mutated fighters, but no more attacks. Most of the wretches left in the city were terrified individuals just looking for a place to hide. Lorik and his band of volunteers returned to the castle, where Vera had been busy overseeing the removal of the bodies from the battle.

“What are we going to do with all the bodies?” Stone asked. “There isn’t enough wood to burn them all.”

“Oil?” Lorik suggested.

“It would only char the bodies, we need something to burn around them that would last long enough to consume them.”

“I’m open to suggestions,” Lorik said.

The volunteers were silent.

“Well, they don’t need to stay in the castle,” Vera insisted. “There’s carnage everywhere.”

“It was a good idea to get them out,” Lorik agreed. “How are our wounded?”

“Most are better, but Olbur won’t wake up. I’m afraid he won’t last the night.”

The volunteers were all silent. Lorik thought it was a miracle that they’d only lost one man. He was tired and his own wounds ached, although he thought they were getting better. The swelling in his ankle had receded, although it was still very sore, and his chest didn’t hurt until he raised his arms above his head.

“A hot meal and a good night’s rest won’t hurt any of us,” Lorik said.

They went inside and found that Vanz had food ready and waiting. Lorik ate quickly, then went up to check on Ian, who was still in the watchtower. The volunteer was straining to see as the sun set; the last remaining light had already faded to a soft glow.

“And signs of fighters from the north?” Lorik asked.

“Lots of them,” Ian said.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Lorik demanded.

“Because, they didn’t come in groups of more than two or three. And they avoided the city completely, taking pains to go far around it.”

Lorik searched the horizon. He could see that there was movement, but whoever or whatever he saw was so far away that he couldn’t really tell what he was looking at in the twilight. Eventually he did see a larger group; they were slowly moving toward the castle.

“What’s that?” Lorik asked, pointing at the group.

“Didn’t they tell you downstairs?” Ian asked. “That’s Vyrnon and Gee with our horses.”

“How the hell did they track down horses?” Lorik asked.

“The monsters didn’t touch them,” Ian said. “I could see them in the corral where we left them. You can’t see it now, it’s too dark, but in the bright daylight I could see. At first I thought it was just the bodies of the horses, but after I stared for a while I could see them moving. Vyrnon and Gee went to check them out. I guess they were okay.”

“That’s a pleasant surprise,” Lorik said. “Go on down and eat. I’ll stand watch for a while. Send Vyrnon up to give me a report on those horses once he’s eaten and have Ryss take over around midnight.”

“Yes, sir,” Ian said.

The next hour was quiet. As night fell it became impossible to see more than dark shadows against an even darker landscape. The stars were bright and the moon was almost full, but short of a large group moving in the night, it was impossible to see anything. Lorik leaned against the parapet, wondering about Queen Issalyn. If the threat from the witch had really passed, they might actually have a future together. He wanted to travel north and find out if part of the witch’s army was still enchanted, but he understood the need to take care of his men. In fact, it was important that they maintain a presence in the castle. The royal palace was a fortress and could be strengthened again. The gates needed to be rebuilt and the bodies disposed of. If they left the castle abandoned, there was no telling what shape it would be in when they returned. He had just about made up his mind to stay and send riders north to scout the witch’s army and to take word that they held the city, when he felt the familiar tug on his mind. He felt that he was needed in the north, although he had no idea why. It was more than just desire for Queen Issalyn, although he felt that too. He couldn’t understand why he needed to go, but the compulsion was strong. He was trying to bring himself under control when he spotted something north of the city. At first it was hard to make out, then suddenly, he realized what he was seeing. It was the mist, just like in the Wilderlands. He could see it rising and pulsing, but it wasn’t moving toward the city, it wasn’t coming to show Lorik the way, it was moving away from him.