“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Brotas said.
“You’re head of the town council, aren’t you?”
“Aye, but our taxes have all been paid. Fort Utlig isn’t our responsibility.”
“I understand,” Lorik said, loosing a silent breath of relief that his bluff hadn’t been called. “But you have to know that we can’t continue to man the fort without resources.”
“And how is that our problem?” Brotas said, his voice rising as his anger grew.
“Well, I don’t want to tell you your business. In fact, I’ve only just arrived at Fort Utlig, but we sailed up the gulf and I can tell you that the Norsik are occupying towns all along the coast. It’s only a matter of time before—”
“Let me just stop you right there,” Brotas said, his inflated sense of self worth returning. “The Norsik may be a problem in other places, but not here. We haven’t had a raid here in Timmons Gate for decades.”
“But the Norsik have caught on to the fact the king’s soldiers have left the border,” Lorik said calmly. “It’s up to volunteers to keep you safe, and we need supplies.”
“What type of supplies?” Brotas asked.
“We need food, medicines, weapons, horses, and more men.”
Brotas laughed at Lorik’s list of demands, but Lorik had expected that. He wanted the man to feel in control and he had expected the arrogant attitude. The list Lorik had given was expensive, and he knew that getting the town to hand over that many goods would be difficult. Still, Lorik wanted the man to feel in control of the conversation, so he let Brotas ramble a while.
“There is simply no way we’re going to outfit every volunteer force who passes through here. For all I know you’re nothing but a band of outlaws, trying to trick us into giving up our goods without a fight.”
“You’re in for a fight, all right,” Stone said calmly. “When the Norsik come, the menfolk will all be killed, the women and children carried off as slaves. They will feast on your harvest, burn your town, take everything of value, and leave only ghosts.”
“There hasn’t been a raid in over thirty years,” Brotas said, his voice rising again.
“But there will be,” Lorik said calmly. “Sooner or later the bands that have passed through the Wilderlands will come this way.”
“The fort protects us,” Brotas said. The other patrons in the inn were listening to the innkeeper now. “We don’t have to worry as long as the fort is manned.”
“The fort is led by a constable who won’t come out,” Lorik said. “The Norsik aren’t looking for a fair fight. They’ll pass right by the fort, just out of bow range, and Constable Yorn won’t raise a finger to stop them. Then their first target will be Timmons Gate. They’ll make this their base of operations to raid throughout the countryside. Odds are, they’re already here. I’ve got a good group of fighters, but we need to be able to travel fast and light. We need to focus on fighting, not on food or shelter.”
“Yorn has all those things in the fort.”
“No,” Lorik said, staying calm, but letting his voice carry around the room so that the other men listening could hear. “Constable Yorn is living like a king in the fort. He’s wasting those supplies and without help I can’t force him out. My name is Lorik. I hail from Hassell Point. I will lead the volunteers and push back the Norsik, but I can’t do it without supplies.”
“We can send some food, but nothing more,” Brotas said.
“You can give the goods to us or to the Norsik,” Lorik said. “There are no other options. If we don’t stop the raiders here and now, they will sweep in, and all of northern Ortis will be lost.”
“Give them what they need,” said one of the other men who had been listening nearby.
“I can’t make that kind of decision without a council meeting,” Brotas said.
“So call the council,” Lorik said. “There’s no time to waste.”
“It’s not that simple,” Brotas said, stress beginning to show on his features.
“I’ll make it simple,” Lorik said. He turned to the other men in the room. “Go spread the word that we’ll be holding a town meeting in one hour, right here. They can hear us out and decide how to help.”
The men got up, but Brotas, afraid of losing his standing, quickly stopped them.
“No,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “This is a town council matter.”
“Don’t let the council endanger your families,” Stone said calmly, before draining the last of his ale.
The men hurried out.
“You can’t just come in here and scare everyone into giving you whatever you want,” Brotas said angrily.
“This is important,” Lorik said calmly. “I don’t want to take anything away from you or the town. But if we don’t pull together and face reality, there won’t be anything left of your town. So call your council together. Lead the meeting, but get us the things we need.”
Brotas started to speak again, but the dark-haired woman appeared with two plates of food. She set them down on the table for Lorik and Stone.
“Call the council,” she said to Brotas softly. “They aren’t asking for anything more than Lord Emry demands from us, and if you handle this right you can make it seem like your idea. I’ve told you how frightened everyone is.”
She touched his arm tenderly and with a sense of familiarity that Lorik recognized. Vera had dealt with him in just the same way.
“How many men do you have?” Brotas asked.
“Sixteen,” Lorik said. “But we need more. We’ll work from the fort, but we need to be able to patrol and scout. We need horses and we need more volunteers.”
“And you have experience as a soldier?” Brotas asked.
“No, I’m not a soldier,” Lorik said.
“But he single-handedly defeated Thuryk,” Stone said around a mouthful of food. “He freed slaves in Ange Point and we’ve fought the Norsik several times sailing north.”
“It’s a good idea,” the woman said.
“All right, all right,” Brotas said. “I’ll get you what you need, but you follow my lead in the meeting.”
“Of course,” Lorik said.
Brotas hurried off and the woman went to fetch Lorik and Stone more ale. They ate quietly, and before long people began to arrive in the inn. Most were men, but a few women came along, too. Some of them helped the dark-haired woman serve ale. When Brotas arrived nearly an hour later, he had a group of men in tow.
The common room of the inn was full of people and more were slipping in as the town council called the meeting to order.
“We’ve gotten official word that at least some of the rumors are true,” Brotas began. “The Norsik are raiding in earnest, but a group of volunteers has been formed to ride patrols. This is Lorik. He’s leading the volunteers.”
Lorik stood up and nodded.
“He needs supplies and more volunteers. Lorik, tell them what you plan to do.”
“Constable Yorn holds the fort, but the Norsik won’t attack the fort outright. We need horsemen and scouts who are familiar with the area to ride patrols. We’ll work from the fort, but our groups will be on horseback moving quickly along the Wilderlands, making contact with the other outposts and lending aid wherever it’s needed.”
“Have you seen the Norsik?” asked one of the men in the crowd.
“We’ve fought them at Ange Point and again at several small villages along the coast. We’ve held our own against the smaller groups, but there are more coming. The tribes are starting to band together. We saw over a hundred raiders less than four days from here,” Lorik said. “If a group that size comes through the Wilderlands, they’ll be hard to stop. With horses and patrols, we can do our best to disrupt the raids and warn the villages.”
“They need horses and supplies,” Brotas said. “I’ve spoken with the council and we’ve got stores laid up to outfit the volunteers, but we need horses.”
“What if we want to help fight?”
asked one of the townsfolk.
“See me when we’re done,” Lorik said. “I’m a teamster. I can haul the supplies if someone has a wagon and team they can loan.”
There were questions and details to be worked out. Over a dozen men volunteered to help. Three of them were experienced riders and Lorik sent them out immediately. One went east and the other two west with strict instructions to observe and report. A wagon was loaded with food and supplies. Weapons were gathered and horses were tied to the back of the wagon. The town could supply only ten horses, but more were promised, and Lorik hoped he could get the rest from Fort Utlig. By late evening, they were headed back.
“Well, I didn’t believe you could do it,” Stone said. “But I’m impressed. You’re quite the politician.”
“Shut up,” Lorik said.
“I’m just saying you did good.”
“Why does it feel like your compliments are always veiled insults?”
“Hey, that hurts,” Stone said, trying not to laugh. “You’re paranoid, you know that?”
“I’m not paranoid, you’re just an idiot.”
“How is this going to work?” Stone asked. “I can’t be your right-hand man if you don’t trust me.”
“I trust you in a fight,” Lorik said. “I trust you when you’re sleeping. That’s the best you’re going to get from me.”
They made the trip back to the fort in only three hours. They arrived just after sunset and were met by a crowd of very worried women. Vera was in the lead and explained what had happened.
“The damn fool constable shot arrows at us,” she said angrily. “He said if we wouldn’t do as he commanded, he would see that we all hung from walls.”
“He did what?” Lorik demanded.
“He wanted your volunteers to hand over their weapons and join him in the fort. They refused and he ordered his men to shoot them down. It’s a miracle no one was hurt.”
“They actually fired arrows at you?” Stone asked.
“Yes,” Vera said. “We had the good sense to fall back out of range, but we can’t risk going back to the camp.”
“This has gone on long enough,” Lorik said.
“What are you going to do?” Stone asked.
“What I should have done from the beginning,” Lorik said. “I’m going to teach this constable his place.”
Chapter 19
Lorik made sure that everyone was settled for the night. He set watches and assigned volunteers to stand guard around the camp. He didn’t want a Norsik raiding party sneaking up on an undefended camp. Including the women and children, there were over forty people in the small camp. Vera and the other women took charge of the supplies while Stone saw to the horses, which had to be watered and hobbled close to the camp. Once the activity had died down Lorik slept for a few hours. Now that he had a plan in place, he rested more easily.
Two hours before dawn, Stone woke him up and made sure that Lorik had everything he needed. The most difficult part of the plan would be getting over the wooden palisade. But Stone had retrieved one of the Norsik grappling hooks from Yulver’s ship and had tied knots in the rope to make it easier for Lorik to climb. Stone wanted to go with Lorik, but the teamster insisted on going alone. He left Stone to wake the volunteers and make sure they were armed and ready outside the gates of the fort.
Lorik expected that the northern wall would be manned and that the expanse between the fort and the Wilderlands was being watched for Norsik invaders. Likewise, Lorik expected that there would be men on the southern wall watching his camp. So Lorik circled wide around to make his way slowly across the killing ground to the fort’s western wall. After several moments of watching and waiting, he threw the grappling hook up over the palisade. Stone had tied thick swatches of cloth to the hook to muffle the sound as it banged over the wall. It hit with a deep, resonating thunk. The sound was loud to Lorik and he expected the sentries to investigate, but after several moments it became clear that no one had noticed.
He pulled the rope slowly until the hook caught on something that felt solid. Lorik put all his weight onto the rope to test it. The hook didn’t budge, so Lorik began climbing the rope. Getting up the wall wasn’t difficult, but doing it quietly made the task much more complicated. Once he reached the top of the wooden wall, he waited and watched, but there was no movement inside the fort. He climbed slowly over the lip of the wall and found himself on a narrow platform. The walkway was adequate for keeping watch or for using bows to fire down on attackers, but not wide enough to allow fighters to hold the walls. Of course, the Norsik weren’t known for laying siege to the fortresses that guarded the Ortisian border along the Wilderlands. The Norsik were great trackers and woodsmen; they were hunters and raiders, not conventional soldiers. They certainly wouldn’t have been a big threat to a fully armed legion of soldiers on an open field of battle, but that wasn’t their way. They preferred to overwhelm unprepared groups, take whatever they wanted, and slink away again.
Lorik found a small ladder and climbed down into the open yard of the fortress. He could see buildings along the outer wooden walls and a large well in the center of what he guessed was the parade ground where the soldiers would practice hand-to-hand combat or wile away the hours between duties. The main structure was the large stone tower at the center of the fort. Lorik wasn’t sure how he would get into the tower, but he was certain that Constable Yorn was inside.
He moved quickly and quietly across the open ground and then skirted around the tower. He found the door to the tower both unguarded and unlocked. He couldn’t believe his good luck. He went inside and crept slowly along the dark stairwell. He wasn’t sure how he was going to find Constable Yorn’s quarters, but he guessed that the top floor of the tower was reserved for the ranking officer, so he climbed to the top floor and slowly opened the door.
The room beyond was dark, but Lorik could hear deep snores from inside the room. He entered and slowly moved toward the snoring. He couldn’t see, so he slowly slid his feet in front of him, keeping his hands stretched out to feel for any furniture or obstacles in his path. His feet found carpet, a thick wool rug. Then, a moment later, he came to a table that he had to circle around. The sky was just growing pink outside when he found the door to an inner chamber where someone was sleeping.
Lorik slowly opened the door and was about to slip inside when he heard a deep-throated growl. He had grown overconfident by the lack of resistance so far, but he instantly knew he was in trouble. The growl grew in volume, then the dog barked.
“What?” came a voice from inside the room. “What are you barking at, Nimrod? Is it another rat?”
Lorik breathed a sigh of relief. He had feared that Yorn would call out for guards or help, but apparently the dog’s barking was so common he didn’t even consider that there might be an intruder.
“Well, go get it or stop barking,” the man in the room said.
Unfortunately, the dog didn’t stop barking and the occupant was forced to light a lantern and get up. He grumbled the whole time.
“If I find out you just need to be let out I’m going to ring your mangy neck,” the man said. “I could have used another hour of sleep. Leading this rabble isn’t easy, you know.”
The light grew closer to the door and Lorik slipped back out of the way. The door opened and the dog came running out, barking furiously but thankfully not attacking. Lorik had a dagger but he had brought no other weapons. He didn’t want to fight the men inside the fort, only Yorn, and he wasn’t trying to kill anyone. He especially didn’t want to hurt the dog, but he had been ready to.
“What is it?” the man said in annoyance as he stepped through the door.
Lorik swung a big overhand right punch, slamming his fist into the constable’s nose and snatching the lantern with his left hand to keep it from crashing to floor. Blood gushed from the man’s nose as he toppled over backward. Lorik recognized the rat-faced man and knew he had found Constable Yorn. The dog continued to bark, but Lorik ig
nored it. He hurried over and kicked Yorn hard in the side.
The man was sputtering and struggling to get to his feet. Lorik watched him for a moment, then walked over to the main door and set the heavy wooden beam across it. Then he returned to where Yorn was getting to his knees, struggling with the blood that was pouring from his nose.
“You bastard!” he cried.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Lorik said. “I really didn’t think I’d find you this easily, but you’re a royal fool, Yorn, you know that?”
“Guards!” he shouted. “We’re under attack!”
“No you aren’t, and I doubt they can even hear you. They weren’t on the walls, did you know that? Surely you set a watch, but the men don’t even respect you enough to stay awake through the night.”
“They’ll come,” he sputtered, on his hands and knees. “You broke my nose. I’ll have you whipped and then hung from the fortress walls.”
“I don’t think you’ll do anything of the sort,” Lorik said. “I have half a mind to cut your throat and toss you into the sea. What do you think about that?”
“You can’t,” he said, fear making his voice whiny. “I’m a constable. Lord Emry and his soldiers will hunt you down if you kill me.”
“The nobles have all marched south with our king and his army,” Lorik said. “Who do you think will care about your fate now that you are surrounded by common men? They don’t respect you, and they surely won’t miss you.”
“I’m in charge of this fortress,” he cried.
“Well, you’re making a real mess of it. Why don’t we come to an agreement? I’m not interested in knocking you off your little platform. If you want to play lord of the manor, I’m fine with that. You can stay here in charge of the fort, but you have to allow the women inside. It’s too dangerous to leave them out there unprotected. And you have to share your men with me. I’ll be in charge of the patrols riding along the Wilderlands, but we need to keep our horses in the stables here and know that we have a refuge of safety. Can you do that?”
Lorik The Protector (Lorik Trilogy) Page 16
