It was midnight when the attack came. The raiders had quietly surrounded the camp and they moved in together. Most of the women were still asleep when the raiders fell upon them. Stone had been dozing, unable to rest, when he heard the battle cries of the raiders. The moon was nearly full and a silvery light rested on the camp, enough to see the looming shadows of the Norsik raiders.
“Vera!” Stone shouted.
They had already made a contingency plan if they were attacked at night. Vera was to get on Stone’s horse and ride south, as hard and fast as she could, but when the call came she hesitated. All her life she had suffered loss and now she knew that riding away would mean that she would never see Liam again. Her heart beat so hard her chest hurt.
“Go!” he shouted again.
She ran to the horse. It was already saddled and she climbed up quickly. Her dress started to tangle around her legs but she hiked it up to her thighs, all thoughts of modesty lost in the chaos.
“I love you!” Stone shouted, then he slapped the horse hard on the rump. The horse jumped away and Vera kicked it into a gallop.
Stone turned to see three raiders running toward him. Their swords all dripped with blood. Stone drew both of his knives and ran to meet the raiders. The first raider was tall and raised his sword over his head for a hard downward slash, but Stone slid feet-first past the warrior, his knife slicing the boot of the raider. The blade gashed the raider’s ankle bone before severing the thick tendon that connected to the Norsik’s heel. The man toppled forward with a cry of pain and Stone, staying slow, spun past the second warrior, who thrust his sword down at him.
With a swipe of his knife Stone knocked the raider’s blade away and used the momentum to launch himself into the third raider’s legs. Both men fell in a tumble, the second raider skidding to a halt and turning back to finish Stone. But Stone was faster on his feet. He slashed the thigh of the man on the ground and sprang back up to face the second raider. The Norsik warrior thrust his sword out toward Stone’s chest. Stone pivoted away from the blade but didn’t see the foot that kicked out at his knee. The raider’s boot heel hit Stone on the side of the knee, pushing it inward. Stone felt a stabbing pain in his knee and his leg gave out beneath him. The raider jumped onto Stone, but before he could attack he found both of Stone’s knives buried in his chest. The man groaned as his lifeblood gushed out onto Stone, soaking his clothes from neck to stomach.
Stone rolled the raider off him and staggered to his feet. His leg was nearly useless and he was forced to hop awkwardly on one foot. There was nothing but screams and shadowy movement around Stone. He tried desperately to see what had become of Vera, but she was nowhere to be seen. He hoped desperately that she had gotten away, but there was no way to tell for sure. He moved toward the raider writhing on the ground not far away. It was the man Stone had tripped. The raider gripped his thigh, trying to hold the wound closed. Stone dropped onto his good knee beside the raider and cut the man’s throat. More blood spattered his face and neck.
Stone got slowly back to his feet only to find a raider slaughtering an older man who was trying to defend his wife. Stone knew he was too late to save the man, but he hobbled forward anyway. The raider was bellowing a gruesome battle cry as he slit the elderly man’s neck.
“Let him go!” Stone shouted back.
“Hork jovila!” the raider answered.
Stone raised his hands like a fighter, the brass knuckle guards catching the silvery moonlight and the bloody blades dripping with death.
The raider flung the dying man aside and rushed toward Stone, who tried to spin out of the raider’s path, but ended up falling when his injured leg failed him. The raider turned, while Stone, on just one knee, slashed at the warrior’s stomach. The raider swayed backward, avoiding the knife blade. Normally Stone would have spun forward, bringing his second knife into play, but he was stuck on one knee, unable to get back to his feet without putting his hands on the ground. The raider bellowed again and brought his thick sword down in a chopping motion. Stone crossed his own blades to catch the sword. The raider then kicked forward, hoping to catch Stone on the chin, but Stone let himself fall backward. His bad knee stuck at an awkward angle, but there was nothing Stone could do. He fell onto his side and swiped a knife at the raider’s shin, but missed.
As Stone struggled back onto his knees the raider kicked out at Stone’s face. Instinctively Stone tried to duck away, but the boot smashed into the top of his head. His world went fuzzy for an instant, and then the sounds of screaming and slaughter suddenly stopped, replaced by a loud ringing. Stone felt hot blood running through his hair. It felt like a bug was crawling across his scalp. Still, his instincts for survival caused him to look up and see the raider grinning down, preparing to drive his sword through Stone’s chest. Then suddenly a blade punched out from inside the raider’s stomach. The warrior screamed as blood rained down on Stone. He rolled aside as the raider fell to his knees, clutching at the blade that had been slammed into his back and come slicing out his stomach.
Stone looked up and saw the elderly woman standing behind the raider, blood on her hands from the sword she had used to kill the man who had killed her husband. Stone struggled to his feet, causing hot blood to run down into his face from the wound on his scalp. His head throbbed from the kick and his knee was screaming in pain, but he was alive. He wiped the blood from his eyes and hobbled forward.
Another raider came running out of the darkness. The man saw Stone and veered to the side, but Stone jabbed out with his knife, nicking the man’s shoulder. The raider ran on, looking for an easier target. Stone hobbled further and came to raider on top of a young girl. The raider was so intent on ravaging his victim that he didn’t hear Stone behind him. Stone grabbed the raider’s hair and yanked the man’s head back before sawing his knife across the man’s throat.
After helping the young girl to her feet, Stone turned to find three more raiders facing him. They were wild-looking men. The sides of their heads were shaved and their faces were covered in a dried and flaking paint. They wore strange shirts with no sleeves and wide leather belts. Unlike the other Norsik raiders, these men used metal chains with thick, spiked metal balls as weapons. They swung their chains around and around, the heavy weapons making the muscles in their arms stand out.
Stone didn’t wait for the men to attack; instead he went on the offensive, feinting toward his left and then diving low to his right. The man on Stone’s left swung his chain, but Stone wasn’t there. The man on the right was still twirling his weapon when Stone buried his knife in the man’s abdomen. Stone dropped to the ground and the wounded raider fell beside him. The raider in the middle swung his chained ball at Stone, but despite his injured knee Stone rolled out of the way. Then, just as quickly, he rolled back, grabbing the chain while the ball was still stuck in the ground, and jerking the raider forward. The raider tripped on the writhing body of his companion and fell onto Stone. The crash knocked the breath out of Stone, but he managed to slide a knife between the man’s ribs. He was trying to heave the now inert body off him when the third raider hurled his mace at Stone. The spiked ball slammed into the dead raider’s back and knocked the body back on top of Stone. Another heave from Stone timed at the same moment the raider jerked back on his chain allowed Stone to slip out from under the body of the dead raider.
While the Norsik warrior prepared for another strike, Stone slipped his fingers out of the brass knuckle guard of the knife on his left hand. He grabbed the blade in his right hand and threw the knife at the raider. The heavy knife ripped the raider’s shoulder before flipping up and disappearing in the darkness. The knife left a ragged gash, but it didn’t stop the warrior. He staggered back from the unexpected blow, then lunged forward again, swinging his chain hard. Stone raised his knife to ward off the blow, catching the chain instead of the spiked ball. The ball and chain twirled around the blade and the raider jerked his chain back. The knife blade snapped at the hilt and Stone was left only w
ith the handle and brass knuckle guard.
He rolled to his side and hopped onto his good leg, facing the raider. The man looked angry, but he didn’t rush in to attack despite the fact that it appeared Stone had no more weapons. Instead he gave his chain a half-hearted swing toward Stone’s head. Stone dodged back and then regained his balance. It flashed through his mind that he was going to die, but he didn’t have time to consider the horrific possibility or react to it. Instead, he feinted forward, then hopped to the side. The raider had swung his chain in response to the feint and was just getting the heavy weapon back under control when Stone dove into him. The chain flew from the raider’s hand as they toppled onto the ground. Stone was on top and immediately he lifted his upper body, preparing to punch down with the brass knuckle guard, but the raider caught Stone’s arm with one hand and grabbed his head with the other, pulling Stone back down on top of him.
The two men squirmed and blood poured from Stone’s head wound. Stone tried to wrench his hand free but the raider held on. Then Stone used his other hand to push on the raider’s chin. It gave him the leverage he needed to pull away from the man. He wrenched his other arm free and punched down. The brass knuckle guard smashed the raider’s nose, and then a deep-seated fury came over Stone. He punched and punched, breaking bones and shattering teeth. One of the raider’s eyes popped from its socket, then the bones began to cave in. Stone punched over and over until exhaustion overtook him. The raider was dead, and Stone fell over onto his side. He needed to wipe the blood from his eyes, but he couldn’t. His arms were too heavy. Breathing was difficult. All he knew was pain. And then, mercifully, the world went black.
Chapter 31
Vera rode hard, kicking the horse to greater and greater speed. And then the worst happened: the horse tripped over the body of a slain refugee and stumbled. Vera went flying through the air and crashed hard on the ground. She didn’t move at first. Her whole body hurt, and then she felt a hand grasp her hair and pull.
She screamed, her hands going up and then her body rising as her feet struggled to take her weight. She was suddenly looking into the painted face of a Norsik warrior. She had a knife on her belt, but just as she drew the blade the raider knocked it out of her hand.
“Sor koggie!” he said in a ragged voice.
Then he backhanded Vera so hard her world went black. She wasn’t sure how long she was unconscious, but when she woke up she was being dragged over the rough ground. Her hands were tied together, and although she couldn’t see what was happening, she could hear the sounds of slaughter all around her.
Hot tears sprang up in her eyes. One eye was swelling shut and burned from her salty tears. She could hear other people sobbing around her, women and children. When the raider stopped dragging her and dropped her hands, she struggled to sit up and look around. She could see other people, women mostly, but a few children, too, all tied like she was. There were raiders scattering the belongings of the people who had followed her from the fort and the villages she had passed through. She wondered where Liam was. Her beloved would have died rather than allow her to be taken as a slave. Grief for Liam crushed her heart and she, too, began to sob.
It was at least an hour before the sun came up, although Vera had no real concept of the amount of time that passed. With the light of day came the crushing realization of what was happening. The raiders ate the food that she and the other refugees had brought with them. Then they rounded up their prizes like cattle and tied their hands together in long lines. The raiders talked in jubilant voices as they prepared to take their captives back to Norsik. Vera used the time to look for Stone’s body. There were dead women and men, almost all elderly, everywhere she looked. The Norsik had taken only the healthy women and most of the children. She saw a few fallen raiders but not many. The Norsik left all the dead behind, including their own, and began marching the captives north.
Vera could see that the Norsik had divided themselves into two groups and were going in two different directions. Only about half of the raiders were returning north with the captives, while the rest continued south, looking for more plunder. The wagons were filled with the treasures the raiders had been carrying, and since the horses had been scattered or slain, the raiders themselves pulled the wagons.
They moved slowly at first. The other women with Vera were exhausted and in shock. Grief lay like a heavy weight around their necks. They marched all day, returning to the northern road that would take them through Timmons Gate and past Fort Utlig. A small glimmer of hope remained for Vera. She knew that if Lorik were still alive there was a chance he would intercept the raiders and win her freedom. It was a desperate hope, but it was all she had.
Grief for Stone rose up in waves. One moment she would be okay; the next moment wracking sobs consumed her. Some of the captives were wounded or hurt. Vera’s body was sore from being thrown from her horse and her left eye was completely swollen shut, but she was still able to keep up the demanding pace set by her captives. Some of the other girls weren’t. After being beaten bloody, anyone who slowed the march north was killed.
Vera tried her best to encourage the women and children around her. The raiders didn’t seem to mind her talking as long as they kept moving. When evening finally came, they made camp. The raiders ate and drank, but the captives were only allowed to drink for a short time from a nearby stream. They received no food and were forced to sleep and even relieve themselves with their hands still tied together. The next morning they were taken back to the stream at dawn, and then the march resumed. Vera’s muscles all hurt, she felt like she had sand in every joint, and her face ached terribly. But she did her best to keep up.
The raiders abused the weakest captives, but the rest were untouched. Vera had known rough men who knew nothing of intimacy and she thought she could have survived if the Norsik raiders had abused her, but apparently they were reluctant to damage their healthy captives. Vera guessed that there were just under a hundred women and children healthy enough to survive a long march.
They were finally given food, which they were forced to eat as they walked. Her wrists bled from the ropes, but her heart hurt most of all. When they passed the first smoldering remains of one of the villages, she felt faint. More plunder that had been left at the village was piled into the wagons, and some of the healthier women were forced to push the wagon. Fortunately the road wasn’t steep and the wagon rolled along the hard-packed earth easily enough.
Occasionally they passed bodies of people who had been killed along the road, but most of the unfortunate Ortisians had been burned in their settlements. On the third day they came to the scene of a massacre that gave Vera her first taste of hope in days. They had been marching all day and it was midafternoon. Ahead of them they saw flocks of vultures, some on the road and others still circling low in the sky. Vera wondered at first what had happened, but when they got close to the massacre, the Norsik stopped the march. The captives were closely guarded, but several of the raiders wandered among the bodies, shooing the carrion birds away. They spoke in a language that was utterly foreign to Vera, but she could tell by their body language and the tone of their voices that they were angry.
When they finally started marching again, they left the main road and circled around the massacre. Vera and the others strained to see what had happened, but the raiders cursed them and beat some until the women and children stopped trying to look. But it was obvious that whatever group had died in the road, the Norsik were concerned about it. That could only mean that a group of the raiders had been killed, Vera thought.
The women were afraid to talk while they were near the bodies, but later that evening after they had made camp, the rumors started.
“Perhaps it was King Oveer’s soldiers,” someone suggested.
“I think it was a group of raiders,” another woman said.
“If it was Norsik, who would have done it?” asked a third woman.
“They probably killed each other,” said another w
oman. “They’re savages after all.”
“It could have been the volunteers at Fort Utlig,” Vera said.
“I thought you said they were sent out to warn the villages,” the first woman said.
“They were, but they may have come back together. They may be fighting the Norsik,” Vera said. “There is still hope.”
“How can you hold out hope?” one of the women asked. “Your man was killed. My whole village was destroyed. What hope can we have except for a quick death?”
“Don’t talk that way,” Vera said. “There is always hope. We just have to stick together. We have to stay healthy and look out for each other.”
“Sure, until they sell us and we become slaves,” said the woman. “You know what they do to slaves, don’t you?”
“No, and neither do you,” Vera argued. “And fearing the worst won’t help anyone.”
“Who died and left you in charge?” the woman said, but the old phrase brought tears to her eyes.
“I’m not in charge,” Vera said. “But I’m not giving up, either. The reason they made us go around those bodies was because they were Norsik, I’m sure about that. They don’t want us to see that they can be beaten. They don’t want us to rise up against them. We have to hang on to hope. We don’t know what the future holds. We have to be ready to look out for ourselves.”
“She’s right,” said one of the other women.
“Someone killed a band of raiders,” someone else said, whispering the hopes of all the captives. “That means there is still someone willing to fight for us.”
“That’s right,” Vera said. “That’s absolutely right.”
Lorik The Protector (Lorik Trilogy) Page 27
