He couldn’t help but think about what Zollin had said. The man I met a year ago was honorable. Heroic in fact. Lorik didn’t feel honorable or heroic. He had defeated an army, and done great feats, but were they honorable? Somehow, he felt that something was wrong in life, something was out of focus.
The chaotic magic inside him roared, like a child who has been tricked out of his sweets. It didn’t like being questioned. It didn’t want order. The power that filled Lorik thrived on chaos, it was a disruptive force that Lorik thought he was channeling for the good he was trying to accomplish. Yet in the back of his mind questions lingered. What he wished for, more than ever, was that Vera could sit with him and give him advice. She had been his oldest friend and was never one to candy coat how she felt. She would tell him what she thought even if she knew her words would wound him.
But Vera was dead, slain by Yettlebor for no purpose other than to hurt Lorik. His anger flared at the memory, white hot and painful. He couldn’t forget the way of the world. The Drery Dru had told him the truth. Magnarox had been a man, a king in Baskla. Perhaps all the kings in that cursed kingdom were descended from the Night Walker who had taken the dark magic to places it should never have gone. Lorik had to wipe them out. Perhaps cleansing the Five Kingdoms of any trace of Magnarox’s curse was his destiny.
In the shadows of the old homestead Lorik saw Spector lurking. The wraith had seen nothing while Lorik was with the Drery Dru in the Wilderlands but exhausted, starving soldiers limping back toward Baskla. The kingdom’s strength had seemingly been broken, yet Lorik could feel the evil in the north growing stronger. King Ricard’s army had simply been a pawn, a distraction, an unwanted nuisance that Lorik had been tricked into destroying. His revenge had only made the true evil stronger, but it wasn’t strong enough to defeat him. Lorik knew that, deep inside him, where his own magical power dwelled like glowing coals from a fire, waiting to spring up in bright, hot flame. Whatever was taking root in Baskla could not stand against the combined might of Ortis and Yelsia, against Lorik and the wizard Zollin.
Spector was probably right to fear the wizard. Zollin was no warrior, but he was a formidable wizard. And the fact that he kept company with a sorceress and dragons made him all the more powerful. Yet, Lorik felt the wizard was naive. He still thought that left to their own devices, men would do the right thing - Lorik knew that simply wasn’t true. Zollin may have a pure heart, but would his goodness endure or would the harsh realities of the world snuff that out of him? Lorik didn’t know, but he knew he couldn’t trust Zollin completely. Humans had been given too much power and freedom. History was rife with examples of their greed, ineptitude, and cruelty. In time, Lorik felt certain mankind would serve the outcasts, but for the time being, he felt he could trust the alliance he’d made with the wizard.
After sleeping a few hours, Lorik and Spector set out again. Blue Harbor was far to the south, but that was where his troops were waiting. Lorik had an idea of how he would carry out his invasion, using ships to send his soldiers into the heart of Baskla. They could pillage and plunder the kingdom, forcing whoever was left to defend Baskla to focus on the threat his men posed while Lorik and Spector secretly made their way to Forxam and destroyed the evil force infecting it.
For two days and nights Lorik ran, stopping to rest only a handful of times, and covering the distance faster than any creature that moved on the ground could hope to travel. Even riders on fast horses couldn’t keep up the pace that Lorik set. It was shortly after dawn on the third day when the city came into view. Blue Harbor was Ortis’ largest port city on the Great Sea. Lorik saw that most of the structures in the city had been damaged, but he also saw new construction and heard the outcasts hard at work rebuilding.
Lorik was seen well before he reached the city, his size and weapons made him easily recognizable, even from a distance. He had slowed his approach to a casual walk once the city came within sight and by the time he reached the outskirts a contingent of outcasts met him. Gunthur, commander of Lorik’s army, was the first to greet him.
“Welcome to Blue Harbor, my Liege.”
“You have been busy,” Lorik said.
“Always,” the commander replied, rising from a slight bow and turning to the outcasts behind him. “Let me introduce Quag. He was in Blue Harbor when we arrived. He had sheltered nearly two hundred outcasts.”
“Quag, that is an interesting name,” Lorik said.
“It’s a seaman’s name, my lord,” the humpbacked outcast said.
“You’re a sailor?”
“All my life,” Quag replied. “After the change, I headed for the nearest shore. It didn’t take too long to find my way home.”
“Blue Harbor was your home before the Witch’s War?” Lorik asked.
“I didn’t have a proper home, but it was one of the ports I spent time in. My real home was onboard ship, so there was never a need to build a home before now.”
“He has doubled the size of our army,” Gunthur said. “Not all of the men have experience soldiering, many are sailors, but they are eager to learn and have experience with cutlasses.”
“That’s good. I want to hear all about what you’ve done here, but there isn’t much time. We are coordinating an invasion of Baskla with our new allies in Yelsia and I think Quag’s sailors may be exactly what we need.”
The outer portion of the city, like most of the larger towns in the Five Kingdoms, was made up of small, dilapidated structures. Some were little more than mud huts or lean-to shacks built against the sides of other buildings. None of the structures in the outskirts had been repaired, but once they reached the city proper, things changed. The construction of the buildings became sturdier, and there was a sense of industry that Lorik hadn’t seen or felt since leaving Center Point.
In the center of town was a tall building that had belonged to the royal family. Not quite a palace, it was still a grand structure made of quarried stone with sturdy buttresses and a crenelated roof where sentries could watch over the city. Gunthur was leading the group of outcasts, along with Lorik and Spector, toward the royal residence but the big warrior had other plans.
“I’ll see your work soon enough,” Lorik said. “Take me to the harbor.”
“The harbor?” Gunthur asked.
“We haven’t done much on the waterfront,” Quag said. “Most of our people prefer to be in the city center.”
Lorik nodded. He didn’t expect their work to be focused on the harbor, but he had his reasons for sending Gunthur to Blue Harbor. Lorik controlled the land south of Baskla on the eastern side of the Great Sea, and south of the Walheta Mountains on the western side of the Great Sea. He wanted a way for his people to traverse from one side of his kingdom to the other as quickly as possible and he also wanted to control the Great Sea to ensure that the kingdoms to the north didn’t unite and send an army into the heart of his new kingdom via the sea.
The harbor shouldn’t need much work, since the witch’s scorpion-tailed monsters hadn’t created wanton destruction. Most of the buildings had damage from the huge creatures breaking through the rooftops and capturing the people hiding inside so they could be carried back to the witch and transformed into outcasts. But the harbor would have been untouched, along with, Lorik hoped, the ships in it.
Chapter 18
Some of the ships were in disrepair and would take weeks of work just to be ready for a voyage up the coast. But four were in good shape. With outcasts that had experience sailing assigned to each, the army of just over two hundred warriors would be able to sail north, land at Fisstom Harbor just inside the border of Baskla, and do as much damage as possible. They would burn ships, destroy the pier, sack the town, and take anything of value they found before falling back and sailing further along the long, curving coastline to the next settlement. Baskla controlled the northern coast of the Great Sea, from Fisstom Harbor to Black Bay and then down the western coast to the Walheta Mountains. It was a vast expanse, giving Lorik’s soldie
rs plenty of space to raid and wreak havoc without committing fully to an invasion.
“You want us to raid?” Gunthur said.
“That’s right,” Lorik said with a savage grin. “You will pillage and destroy, then once you have moved up the coast, push inland. Fight whoever you find, take anything of value, and make such a nuisance of yourselves that you can’t be ignored.”
“And when we are attacked?” Gunthur asked.
“Fall back. I don’t want you in prolonged battles. Your force should be strong enough to go toe to toe with whatever army remains in Baskla, but don’t risk the lives of your troops unnecessarily. Your job is to be a distraction. The army from Yelsia will also be invading, so resistance should be weak.”
“And what will you be doing, my king?” asked one of the officers.
“Spector and I will slip into Baskla by land, make our way to Forxam, and destroy whoever is left in charge of the kingdom.”
“Surely you don’t mean to go alone, my lord?” said Quag.
“Alone we will be invisible,” Lorik told the sailor. “Besides, there are none that can keep up with us. By the time your ships reach Fisstom, we will already be in the country and halfway to Forxam.”
“That’s impossible,” Quag said. “No horses can travel that far that fast.”
“We aren’t taking horses,” Lorik said. “Trust me, and take care of the soldiers under your command. The people of Baskla will serve us, and our control over our new kingdom will be secure.”
The officers nodded. Quag and some of the other outcasts that had taken refuge in Blue Harbor would man the ships while the soldiers went ashore. There was still work to do throughout the former kingdoms of Ortis, Falxis, and Osla, but it would all be accomplished in time. Under different circumstances Lorik might have let Baskla be, choosing to focus on the vast stretches of land and abandoned cities throughout the southern kingdoms where more outcasts hid in fear. Lorik wanted every person, human or outcast, to realize they could live in peace and safety. He would happily turn his attention to that task once the danger in Baskla was settled. Then the Drery Dru could expand their mighty forest, creating a natural barrier between Lorik’s lands and his accursed neighbor to the north. Eventually, Baskla and Yelsia would need to be brought under his direct control, but there was plenty of time to conquer them once his own realm was fully free.
Supplies were already being gathered for the voyage. Outcasts with the most experience at sea were commissioned to sail the ships, while nearly two hundred well-armed outcasts would serve as Lorik’s army. Those from Center Point had armor to some extent, while the new recruits from Blue Harbor were putting together whatever they could find. Still, they weren’t being asked to meet a well-armed, well-trained army on the field of battle. They would attack fast, create chaos along the coast, then move on. Lorik felt certain it was a good plan. Moreover, he hoped that with Princess Amvyr focused on the invading armies, he might be able to get close to her without her even knowing he was there. If he could kill her quickly and end the power of the dark magic spreading through Baskla, the mission would be a total success.
That night the soldiers feasted, roasting several heads of cattle and sheep to feed the hungry outcasts. Ale flowed from the confiscated barrels found in one of the warehouses near the pier. There was an air of celebration as the soldiers took to the idea of their new role as raiders. Lorik doubted the outcasts would relish senseless killing, in fact he guessed that most would simply use their size and disfigured bodies to frighten the Basklians away long enough to steal their treasures and destroy their towns. He didn’t need his soldiers to murder, rape, or kidnap the way the Norsik Raiders were known to do. And so the soldiers felt secure in the role they had been given. Raiding was much less frightening than marching to war, and the prospect of gaining wealth was exciting to the outcasts, many of whom had been living in fear since the end of the Witch’s War. Finally their ill fortunes were being reversed and it left them in a mood to celebrate.
Spector hovered in the darkness, but Lorik spent the evening at a table with his officers in the large royal residence in the center of the town. The commanders of his army were more subdued, but he could sense their excitement as well. They told stories from their old lives, especially the sailors. There was a feeling of community and strength being with the other outcasts. The absence of fear was changing them from timid giants to jovial, determined titans who were ready to face any task that Lorik set before them.
He laughed and drank with his men, but when he noticed a slim, human figure standing in the shadows at the rear of the feasting hall he excused himself. The figure disappeared into the darkness, but Lorik followed. He pursued the figure past the kitchens and through the tiny quarters that had once been home to the servants who kept the King’s Hall ready for their sovereign at all times. There was a beautiful marble staircase at the rear of the building that led up to the king’s private quarters. The rooms had been made ready for Lorik and when he went up the stairs he found Kierian waiting. She was draped across a wide chair like a garment that is laid out to reveal its beauty to the wearer. She had wine on a nearby table, and she was wearing a silky robe that fell open and exposed her legs at the bottom, her shapely shoulders at the top.
“When did you arrive?” he asked, not bothering to ask her how she’d found him.
“Does it matter? You’ve been too busy to care about me.”
“I always care,” Lorik said.
“But you don’t love me,” she pouted.
“You don’t love me.”
“How do you know I don’t love you,” she purred as he moved closer.
“Because you don’t love anyone but yourself.”
“That wounds me. I’m not a heartless mercenary.”
“Then what are you, Kierian? I surely don’t know. You are like a flame, too hot to hold, too bright to forget. You are so beautiful that I ache for you when you are gone, and so sharp that you cut me when I get too close.”
“You flatter and insult me in the same breath.”
“You take my breath away,” Lorik said, pulling her up.
She stood on the furniture, only slightly taller than the big warrior. She wrapped her arms around his head and spoke so close that he felt her warm breath on his lips.
“I almost didn’t come,” she whispered. “I don’t want to love something only to lose it.”
“Why do you think you’ll lose me?”
“You take too many chances. Kings don’t fight in the front ranks, Lorik. Stay with me, send others to do your bidding. I promise you will not regret the decision.”
“In time, perhaps I will stay,” Lorik said. “But my destiny waits for me in Baskla.”
“You would leave me for revenge? It will not warm your bed.”
“No, it won’t. But I don’t go north for revenge, not anymore. There is evil in Baskla that must be stamped out.”
“There is evil everywhere. I might be evil, if you ask me nicely.”
Lorik smiled. He loved the way she teased him, but as alluring as Kierian was, she didn’t really tempt him the way Issalyn had. Part of Kierian’s charm was the fact that she was so different, so completely independent. He never knew when she would appear or how long they might have together. She spoke of settling down, but she didn’t really want to. Not even being queen of Lorik’s new kingdom would satisfy Kierian for long. She needed adventure, surprises, and maybe even a touch of danger.
Lorik snatched her up into his arms, relishing the way she sighed as he carried her toward the bed. There would be time for talk, but what he wanted at that moment wasn’t good conversation, or even news from across his kingdom. He wanted her, and that was all, just to love her and satisfy her, and to fall asleep next to her, which is exactly what he did.
Lorik woke before dawn, anxious to see how his plans were coming. Kierian was still asleep, but the outcasts didn’t need as much rest as humans. Their magically mutated bodies were faster, stronger, and
needed less rest than before the change. Three or four hours of sleep each night was plenty for the outcasts, which meant they generally worked twice as much as a human.
Sneaking out of the royal residence was simple enough. Spector was waiting in the darkness below. Lorik felt the presence of his old friend before he saw the wraith’s ghostly appearance. Spector was furious. Although he approved of Lorik’s plan to return to Baskla, waiting while the big warrior spent the night with Kierian made the wraith angry. Spector had once been in love and had seen his wife murdered. He blamed Lorik for her death almost as much as the man who slit her throat. Just the thought that Lorik could find comfort in a woman’s arms while Spector was forced to wait for his revenge was like torture. And while Lorik felt pity for his friend, he refused to live his life to please anyone else.
“We should have left hours ago,” Spector hissed.
“I needed to rest.”
“You weren’t resting.”
“I was, and I won’t talk about it. I know how you feel, but I’m still a man. I’m still alive and I won’t apologize for that.”
“You owe me!” the wraith growled. “You owe me blood. If you refuse to give me the people responsible, I will take whatever I can get.”
“No, you won’t,” Lorik said, turning toward the wraith. “You will only kill when I tell you and only who I tell you.”
“You do not own me.”
“No, but we are tied together. Your opportunity for revenge is because of me, so you will do as I command. We will leave shortly after dawn. Until then, you will wait.”
Spector growled. It was so animalistic, so filled with fury, that Lorik tensed, expecting his friend to attack him. Instead the wraith seemed to dissipate before his eyes, like a fog vanishing in the morning sun.
Lorik didn’t wait around to find out what the wraith was doing. Instead he left the grand hall and went down to the docks. The last of the supplies were just going out to the ships.
Controlling Chaos (The Five Kingdoms Book 12) Page 12
