Lorik The Protector (Lorik Trilogy) (14 page)

Fort Utlig was an imposing place. The original fort was a massive stone tower, round and ancient. Around the tower a timber palisade surrounded a group of buildings that served as storage areas and barracks for the troops who were normally stationed there. Utlig was one of several fortresses along the Wilderlands, a very dense forest that formed the boundary between Ortis and Norsik. Trees grew in the Wilderlands that were different than in any others in the Five Kingdoms. There were towering redwoods that most people called mountain trees. The trunks were larger in circumference than most homes, and they towered hundreds of feet into the air. Their canopies were mostly evergreen, and they grew so dense that very little sunlight filtered through.

Most of the people who lived near the Wilderlands considered the massive forest haunted and refused to go anywhere near it. The Norsik sometimes made their way through the Wilderlands, but those raids were few and far between. Some argued that it was the king’s soldiers who kept the Norsik at bay, but others believed it was the forest itself.

Yulver directed the
Dancer
straight up to the harbor. Massive wooden gates stood closed at the quay, but there was a sentry on duty. Lorik and the other volunteers, along with Vera and Stone, disembarked and walked to the gates.

“Who goes?” shouted the sentry.

“Volunteers,” Lorik shouted back. “We’re from Hassell Point, in the Marshlands.”

“Fort Utlig is closed,” the sentry shouted. “No one is allowed inside.”

“We’ve traveled a long way, friend,” Lorik said, holding his temper in check. “Perhaps there is someone in charge who could help us find our place. Isn’t there a volunteer force here fighting the Norsik?”

“Nay, not at this fortress,” the sentry replied. “And Constable Yorn isn’t seeing visitors.”

“We’re not visitors,” Lorik said. “We’re here to help push back the bloody Norsik. Go fetch whoever is in charge before I climb up there and knock some sense into your thick skull.”

Lorik brandished his battle axe to emphasize his point and a worried look crossed the sentry’s face. After a few moments spent wrestling with what to do, the sentry disappeared behind the big gate. Vera cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow.

“Very diplomatic, Lorik,” she said.

“This is unbelievable,” Lorik replied. “We come all this way only to be told to go home while all around us the Norsik are running loose in the countryside. Unbelievable.”

“Who do you suppose this Constable Yorn is?” Vera asked.

“Constables usually enforce the peace in small towns,” Stone said. “I can’t imagine why a fort filled with soldiers would need a constable, though.”

“Perhaps he’s from a village nearby,” Vera said.

“The king’s army has all been sent south,” Lorik explained. “The nobles, too. So whoever is in charge must have gotten their authority from the locals.”

They waited nearly ten minutes before the sentry returned, this time accompanied by a rat-faced man with thin, greasy hair, a drooping mustache, and red, watery eyes. The rat-faced man looked at Lorik’s volunteers and frowned.

“Who are you?” the man asked.

“My name is Lorik, and these are volunteers from Hassell Point. We’ve sailed north to help in your fight with the Norsik.”

“You are liars,” the rat-faced man said, his voice a sneer. “No one sails north through the Sailor’s Graveyard.”

“Yulver sails the
Dancer
through the Graveyard,” Lorik said. “He has for two decades. Now, why don’t you let us in? We’ve had a long, difficult journey.”

“I’m sorry for your troubles, but this is a fort. We don’t let just anyone in. How do I know you aren’t Norsik raiders who are pretending to be Ortisians?”

“You’ve got eyes, man,” Lorik said. “Do we look like Norsik tribesmen? Do we sound like them? We’re from Hassell Point.”

“Hassell Point is full of thieves and pirates,” the man announced.

“Aye, that’s true, but there are also good folk in the Marshlands. These volunteers and I have come to help turn back the tide of Norsik invaders.”

“I will take your requests under consideration. Until I have reached my decision you may make camp to the south of the fortress.”

“Under consideration?” Lorik said loudly. “You pompous fool, I’ve no time for your consideration. I’ll tear your gates down and lop off your ugly head.”

“Lorik!” Vera said. “Calm down. You won’t do us any good making enemies here. We came to fight the Norsik, not our countrymen.”

“You would do well to listen to the lady,” the rat-faced man said. “I am Constable Yorn and I’m in charge here. If you give me any trouble I’ll have you run back out to sea.”

“I doubt you could run a wheelbarrow out to sea,” Lorik said angrily. “Who has put you in charge of this fortress?”

“The people of Fort Utlig. I am their protector, and you will be wise to keep your impudence to yourself, Marshlander.”

Yorn and the sentry disappeared. Lorik gripped his battle axe and considered hacking his way into the fort, but thought better of it. The other volunteers were grumbling, but Vera quickly took charge, leading the group away from the gates and around the tall wooden palisade. They spotted a small camp not far away and walked to it. There were tents and shelters made from pine boughs. At the center of the camp was a small well. There were nearly a hundred people in the camp, mostly women and children. The group of volunteers was met by a kind-faced woman with two children watching bashfully from behind her skirts.

“I’m Lorna,” she said. “Are you here to help at the fort?”

“We are,” Vera said. “Why are you all camped here?”

“Constable Yorn won’t let anyone but soldiers inside the fort. Our menfolk have come up to volunteer, but we’ve had to make camp here.”

“This is ridiculous,” Lorik said.

Vera ignored his outburst and kept talking.

“Well, we’ve been asked to make camp here as well. Is there a place where we might find shelter?”

“There’s very little supplies outside the fort. There is a town about half a day’s walk to the south, but you’d have to have coin to buy supplies, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t the townspeople want to help the volunteers who come to support their fight against the Norsik?” Stone asked.

“Well, the people hereabouts haven’t really had a need for help. The Norsik raiders avoid this area. When the king’s soldiers were stationed here they would ride patrols along the Wilderlands, but now that they’re gone, the Norsik just go around the forts. Constable Yorn keeps his soldiers inside the fort in case the Norsik attack.”

“That’s a damn foolish strategy,” Lorik said. “There are raiders crossing the gulf every day, as far out as Ange Point. How can anyone fight the Norsik if they hide inside a fortress all day?”

“I don’t know,” Lorna said, shame coloring her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, it isn’t your fault,” Vera said, giving Lorik a scathing glance. “You don’t have any control over what this constable does. It looks like you are making the best of a bad situation, and doing a splendid job at that. Is there anything we can do to help?”

“Oh, no. We get by just fine.”

“Well, we’re going to set up our camp right here,” Vera said.

They spent the rest of the day setting up a makeshift camp. The only supplies they had were what they had on the
Dancer
, and Yulver didn’t like them taking his supplies. He had intended on sailing south again after delivering the volunteers to Fort Utlig, but with the gulf full of Norsik raiders and his crew down by half after the massive storm, he was forced to stay in harbor. There wasn’t enough sailcloth to make individuals tents, so they settled for one large canopy that would keep the weather off them while they slept. The volunteers cut reeds from around a stream that wound down into the gulf. They laid the reeds out on the ground as a moisture barrier while they slept.

The sailors stayed on board the
Dancer
, but the volunteers camped just outside the fort. The temperature dropped steadily as the sun went down, and they were forced to build fires just to keep warm. Food was in short supply, too, so Yulver shared what was left of the ship’s rations with the other refugees outside the fort.

Lorik simmered for hours, his mood growing worse with each minute that passed. He couldn’t believe that the defense of the kingdom was being left in the hands of a self-important local constable. Yorn had proven himself useless in Lorik’s eyes. He had hoped to get horses once they arrived. They needed to be able to cover ground with such a small group of volunteers, and fighting from horseback would give them an edge over the Norsik, who rarely rode horses.

The night grew cold and no one rested well. Most of the refugees were women and children, which Lorik knew would mean that sickness and infidelity were only a matter of time. He couldn’t keep his volunteers from mingling with the women, who busied themselves cooking for Lorik’s men.

“What is your plan?” Stone asked him.

“How the hell should I know?” Lorik said angrily. “Nothing is as it should be here. The very men volunteering to fight are kept out of the fort, while those in charge hide inside. This is the most idiotic endeavor I’ve ever heard of.”

“So make it better,” Vera said very matter-of-factly. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“No, I’m here to fight,” Lorik said.

“Fighting is only half the battle. These people need a leader. Someone to look after them and focus their efforts.”

“I’m no leader,” Lorik countered. “You’d be more fitted to lead than I would.”

“Don’t be a fool, Lorik,” Vera hissed. “This is your chance to let your quality show. Don’t let an arrogant little man stop you. If you take charge and start to make a difference against the Norsik, word will spread. You’ll have men from all over the kingdom coming to join you.”

“That’s not my responsibility,” Lorik said.

“No, it’s the king’s, but he isn’t here, is he?” Vera said. “Nor are the nobles who grow fat off the hard work of the common people. But you are here. These men all look to you. You’ve already bloodied the nose of the Norsik raiders all along the gulf. Now is your chance to make your mark. Isn’t that what you’re really after?”

“You said that was my problem, that I’m always looking out for everyone but myself.”

“Yes,” Vera said. “I said that. But now that very quality is what is needed most. We need someone to lead the fight against the Norsik. I think that person should be you.”

“I agree,” Stone said.

The other volunteers chimed in one by one. They were all younger men, but they had heard the stories of how Lorik and Stone defeated Thuryk’s raiders and Marsdyn’s outlaw gang in Hassell Point. And there was no doubt that Lorik’s fame would spread even farther as people began to tell how they had survived the storm while sailing the Sailor’s Graveyard, and defeated the Norsik all along the coast of the Sandah Gulf.

Lorik didn’t respond; he just grunted and went for a walk. It was very dark outside the fort, as the stars shone but the moon was hidden. It was cold, but Lorik didn’t mind. He kept warm enough just walking, and his mind was too preoccupied to really notice how cold he was. Something Vera had said resonated deep inside him. He couldn’t put it into words, but he felt closer to his purpose in life. There was something that felt fulfilling about taking the volunteers and leading them against the Norsik.

It was late when he returned to the makeshift camp. Most of the volunteers were already asleep. He stoked the fires and added more wood, then lay down for the night. He didn’t get much sleep and was up before dawn. He had a few ideas, so he got the volunteers moving as soon as it was light enough to see what they were doing. South of the fort the land was wide, flat, and open, and Lorik lined up the volunteers there, fourteen men in all. Each had a sword and several knives or daggers. He put them through a few paces. They could all handle their weapons well enough. They were farm boys, strong and hard working, but not warriors. They would need to practice together and they would need shields as well.

“Have any of you ever ridden a horse?” he asked.

They all shook their heads. Lorik groaned. He had wanted to have someone besides himself who could handle a horse.

“I’ve got a little experience on a horse,” Stone said from behind Lorik.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m here to help.”

“I don’t think Vera would approve,” Lorik said, smiling.

“You know better than that. She wants me to make sure you don’t get killed.”

“Well, I will need someone to help me train these volunteers.”

“I can teach them some knife skills and help with riding lessons, but where are you going to get horses?”

“From the fort,” Lorik said, smiling again.

“You’ve got a plan, then?”

“It’s more of a rough outline.”

“All right, that’s good enough for me.”

They spent the morning teaching the volunteers to work together. It wasn’t soldiering in the finest sense of the word, but Lorik had plans to hit the raiding bands of Norsik that were coming into Ortis through the Wilderlands. They would have to move fast, anticipate one another’s actions, and move on quickly after each attack.

Lorik kept a close watch on the fort. It didn’t take long before he noticed men watching from the wooden palisade. He guessed those men had come to fight, but after being locked up in Fort Utlig for a while, they were probably restless and irritable.

After an hour of drills, Lorik sent the volunteers to get something to eat. There was very little left in the camp, but the women had said there was a village a half a day’s walk south. Lorik and Stone set out after getting a quick bite themselves and giving the volunteers instructions for the day. None were to set foot inside the fort. He didn’t want to return and find all his men stuck inside with Constable Yorn.

The walk to the village was pleasant enough. Fall had arrived and the trees south of the Wilderlands were turning different colors. There were bright yellows and dark reds, with every shade in between. Some of the leaves had started to fall, and the temperature was low, so walking in the sunshine felt good.