Lorik The Protector (Lorik Trilogy)

by Toby Neighbors

  But after several hours of climbing, the outer walls of bark became rotten and brittle. There were gaping holes at first, then huge missing sections. Finally, the outer bark ceased and Lorik climbed higher on the knot-like trunk, rising into the first direct sunlight he’d been in since entering the Wilderlands. He stopped his ascent to rest and to take in the magnificent beauty of the world around him. He wished that Vera and Stone could see what he was seeing. He was hundreds of feet above the surrounding redwoods. As far as Lorik could see in every direction was an ocean of evergreen boughs. Above him, the knotty trunk narrowed but continued ever higher.

  Lorik’s muscles were trembling from the long, difficult climb, and he took his time. He held on with his left hand and shook the muscles in his right arm. Then he hooked his arm through a vine and shook his left. His broken hand was sore and aching, but thus far his grip had held.

  He was hungry now, and his mouth felt as dry as ever, but he continued climbing. There was no way to simply give up other than to let go and fall to his death. He focused on simply finding the next handhold, the next crevice his foot could slip into. More time passed and Lorik felt like his whole life he had been climbing the Kingtree. The sun seemed like it wasn’t moving, and now, exposed to the wind, he was colder than ever. His hands ached with cold and his feet were becoming numb.

  The thin clothing Shayah had given him did little to hold in his body heat and his sweat seemed to run in icy trickles. Still, there was nothing he could do. He kept climbing, and eventually the tree narrowed until it was only about twice as thick as Lorik himself. It was still climbable, but it swayed and rocked in the freezing wind. It also felt spongy—not completely soft, but less sturdy—and he feared his weight would be too great for the vines and roots he was clinging to.

  When the sun finally began to set, the temperature dropped rapidly. His worry turned to full-blown fear as twilight came on. Finding good handholds and footholds was becoming harder, and without being able to see, his progress would slow to a crawl. His hands and feet were growing more and more numb, and the realization that soon he wouldn’t be able to continue filled Lorik with a crushing sense of disappointment. He had come so far and the thought of it all being for nothing was almost too much to bear. He held onto the tree, watching the last orange rays of sunlight fade from the sky. Then the stars appeared, brighter and seemingly closer than he had ever seen them. There were more of them, too, a vast magnitude of bright pinpoints of light. It felt as if they were watching him.

  He remembered, then, that Hennick had said the Drery Dru would be watching him. And he thought of how many people far below were waiting for him, hoping to see him, desperate for his strength and his compassion in their hour of need. His thoughts about death slowly receded as he thought about the hundreds, possibly thousands of people far below him who were dying or who would die if he failed.

  His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed with determination. Then he continued climbing. The pain in his hand was forgotten, his aching muscles ignored. His mind was completely focused on each step he took. The temptation to hurry was strong, but he fought it back, checking each handhold and foothold to make sure it was strong enough to bear his weight.

  Ice crystals formed in his beard, but he kept climbing. His skin felt cold and windburned, but still he kept climbing. His fingernails and toenails were torn and bloody, but still he climbed higher. Sleep pulled at his eyes and the wind pushed his body, trying to blow him off the Kingtree, but Lorik held tight and forced himself to keep moving.

  Hours passed. The moon rose and set. And still Lorik climbed. Then, without warning, he reached a cleft in the massive Kingtree. Tired and cold, he climbed into the small opening. The tree continued up, but in the darkness Lorik couldn’t tell how high it went. Inside the cleft, Lorik was protected from the worst of the wind and he was able to curl up, keeping a strong grip on the Kingtree, and sleep. It wasn’t a deep, refreshing rest, but he dozed, letting his trembling muscles relax for the first time in many hours.

  When the sun rose Lorik opened his eyes and watched the sky turn from purple to pink to red as the sun appeared. It was, Lorik thought, the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. He was tired, hungry, and incredibly thirsty, but he couldn’t do anything about that now. His lips were dry and cracked, his hands and feet were sore, and his muscles still ached, but he knew he had to continue the climb.

  Now that he could see in the clear morning sunlight, he inspected his perch. It was small, and the tree continued up so high that the top was lost from his sight. Where he sat was an opening, and he could see that inside the knotty mass of roots and vines he had been climbing, the interior was hollow. Above him, the tree narrowed significantly; in fact, Lorik doubted that the tree above him would support his weight. He wasn’t sure what to do; he only knew he couldn’t stay where he was.

  The wind was especially cold and had changed directions with the sunrise, so that now it blew against him, chilling his aching limbs. He was shifting around, hoping for a better view of the tree above him, when light reflected from somewhere within the tree. Lorik stopped and leaned inside the tree. It was much darker inside the gnarled mass, but light found its way through the tiny spaces between the roots and vines. He couldn’t see clearly, but there was something there, below him and inside the tree trunk. The wind blew harder, rocking the Kingtree, and once again Lorik saw a glint of light. He looked up again, seeing the towering crown of the tree swaying in the wind, and made a decision. He decided to go inside the tree. Whatever was glinting in the scarce sunlight was manmade, or at least not organic, he decided.

  He slowly shifted his weight again, this time letting his legs dangle into the dark opening of the tree trunk. He found footholds and shifted his body weight again. This time he was hanging out into open space, rather than clinging to the face of the giant tree. There were still vines and roots that provided plenty of handholds and footholds, but he was forced to support his own weight, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep up the descent this way for long. Still, inside the tree the wind was much less severe and the temperature was warmer, too. He moved slowly, taking his time and checking each grip to make sure he had a solid hold. His broken hand ached terribly, but he was forced to use it and he simply had to ignore the pain.

  He climbed down for what seemed like an hour and finally got close enough to see what had been reflecting the light. He saw two swords, mounted on a small pedestal inside the tree. Lorik’s heart began to race. He still had a long way to climb, but he moved more quickly, anxious to get to the swords. As he got closer he could see that there was a floor below him, and hope swelled in his chest. Tears stung his eyes as he descended, and after what seemed like eternity he set his feet on level ground and let go of the Kingtree.

  The space he was in wasn’t much bigger than he was; there was barely room to stand beside the pedestal that the swords were mounted on. They were hanging blades down, their pommels pointing up toward the top of the Kingtree. Lorik could hardly believe his eyes. He had done it! He had found the swords of Acromin! The swords were similar, but not identical. They both had long, straight blades that curved upwards just before the tip, which was needle-sharp. The long edge was smooth and sharp, while the shorter, back edge was serrated. The blades were exactly the same length and but the pommels were completely different. The first was the normal length of a two-handed sword, with silver and gold threads woven into what appeared to be redwood bark hair that covered the pommel. The hand guard was silver, with tiny tree designs engraved in the precious metal. The other sword had a much longer handle, easily three times as long as the first with none of the ornate carvings that the other sword had.

  Lorik was hesitant to touch the swords; they were so incredible and he was so relieved that just breathing was a challenge. His heart was racing as he reached out and took hold of the first sword. He lifted it from the wooden stand and carefully turned it so that the blade was up. He examined every inch of the sword, taking i
n its amazing beauty and craftsmanship. The space inside the Kingtree was too narrow for him to swing the sword and really test its balance but he could tell the sword was perfectly made. It had weight, but wasn’t heavy, and it gave him a sense of strength as he gripped it.

  The second sword was too long to turn upright in the narrow space. And as he lifted the second sword his mind turned to the problem of getting both weapons safely back down. He was tempted to stay inside the tree and rest. There wasn’t much room, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about falling while he was in the tree.

  Then suddenly there was a crack. The popping sound was so loud Lorik was afraid that lightning had struck the tree. And then, while he was still holding both swords, the floor collapsed beneath his feet. He dropped through the narrow opening, clutching both swords flat against his body, as fear ripped at his heart like a flower caught in a violent storm. He bounced against the insides of the Kingtree, the tough roots and vines peeling away his skin where he bumped against the roots, then after a long moment of terror the tree widened and there were vines crisscrossing the interior of the tree. Lorik was flipped and tumbled down through the massive tree.

  He felt his body being destroyed as he fell and he realized he was dying. With each vine he hit more bones snapped. The pain was overwhelming, but his adrenaline, jumpstarted by the terror of the fall, kept him conscious despite the pain and panic. His head thumped against the thick roots, his arms and legs broke in multiple places. His ribs snapped like twigs and his back cracked over and over. Throughout it all, his only thought was to hold onto the swords, to protect the swords with his body. Death had come and it was not holding back, and Lorik could do nothing but accept the inevitable, protecting the perfect swords out of sheer instinct.

  The fall seemed to last a lifetime. He saw Hassell Point again in his mind. He saw his parents, healthy and happy together. He saw Chancy and Yulver drinking together, saw Stone and Vera sitting close the way lovers do. He saw the horses and wagons he had worked with for so long, and relived the turbulent sea voyage up the coast and through the Sailor’s Graveyard in an instant. Finally he saw the sweet, caring faces of the Drery Dru, thousands and thousands of faces, watching him fall with looks of compassion.

  The impact at the Kingtree’s Perkote, where the tree’s canopy began hundreds of feet above the ground, was slowed by the thickening vines Lorik tumbled through. Lorik’s body ripped through some of the vines, bounced and twirled off others. Then he hit the solid wood of the massive tree trunk below him. He felt everything in his body suddenly dying bit by bit.

  “He’s alive,” Shayah said, as she bent over him.

  “Not for long,” said Hennick, their faces bright and cheerful despite the awful news Lorik knew was true.

  “He has the swords,” Shayah said.

  “Yes, he protected them all the way down,” Hennick said.

  “He gave his life for them,” Shayah said. “What incredible valor.”

  “He gave his life to protect the swords,” Hennick said in a loud voice. “Now we shall save him.”

  Lorik heard a thunderous cheering, then everything simply faded away.

  Chapter 36

  Light. It was the first thing Lorik understood. Light was not just shining on him, it was shining in him. He opened his eyes and saw tiny forest elves clothed all in white. The light seemed to be coming from them.

  Then he felt the pain. His body was completely ruined. He could feel bones splintered into his flesh, organs ripped apart, his skin peeled from his body. He had no idea how he was still alive. The intensity of the pain soon grew overwhelming and he passed out again.

  When he woke up again things were different. He felt strange. He didn’t open his eyes but he could feel every part of his body, and they were changing. His muscles, every fiber of them, were growing. Blood ran through his veins in an intoxicating dance. His heart beat so strongly he couldn’t believe it. He could feel it pumping the blood through his body, like a drum beating the cadence of the dance. His bones felt like iron and his mind was light, his thoughts fast and nimble, like a deer dashing through the woods.

  Time passed—Lorik wasn’t sure how long—while he lingered in this strange state of self-awareness. The most overwhelming thing he felt or recognized was the lack of pain. He didn’t move a muscle; there was no need to. Everything inside him was alive and moving. He reveled in what he could feel and understand: it was like seeing a sunrise for the first time. Then he slept, a deep, healing, dreamless sleep.

  When he woke up he was in a small room in a hammock much like the one he had awakened in before. He looked around and saw the strong grain of the wood on the walls, and a small, arched window that let in a gentle sunlight.

  Lorik realized his body didn’t hurt. He raised his arms and looked at his hands. There was no sign of any damage, not even his broken right hand with the bone that had been out of place before. He made a fist and there was no pain, only strength. He sat up, expecting to find bandages, but he found only simple garments much like Shayah had given him before his climb up the Kingtree.

  He stood up and stretched, and his body felt strong. He looked down and saw what looked like someone else’s body. He had always been a muscular man with a barrel chest and big shoulders and arms, but now his body looked like a statue chiseled out of marble. Every muscle stood out, and there was not an inch of fat on him. He couldn’t help but smile. He wanted to run and jump, to feel the power of his body in action, but the room he was in was much too small for that.

  He stepped to the small doorway and had to stoop low to duck out. He was back in Erkadine, he realized, and Hennick was waiting for him.

  “You’re awake. That is good,” Hennick said. “How do you feel?”

  “I feel amazing, but how is that possible? I should be dead.”

  “You should be, but you aren’t. Our magic is strong, and though we do not use it often, you were found worthy.”

  “I can’t thank you enough,” Lorik said. “I found the swords!” he exclaimed, remembering that he had completed the task Hennick had set for him.

  “You did indeed. They wait for you with Shayah. The Drery Dru have waited a long time for the Protector to come. I admit, I did not think it could be you. Watching mankind destroy for centuries has left me cynical, I’m afraid, but your actions have proven me wrong and I could not be more glad of it.”

  “I’m not sure what to say,” Lorik replied.

  “Before you go I want to share with you a prophecy from my people.”

  Lorik knelt down beside the small elf.

  “The Protector, it is said, will come during the dark hour. It is said he will face many dangers. It is not certain whether you will live or die,” Hennick said sadly. “Some believe that in protecting our people and yours, you will have to make the ultimate sacrifice. We cannot know if that is true, because only you can choose your fate. Your choices now will make that sacrifice necessary in the future, or perhaps not. I can only say, follow your heart, great one. It is that part of you, that deep inner strength that has brought you this far, that quality of character, that will see you through.”

  “I understand,” Lorik said, not really understanding, but feeling richly blessed to receive such praise from the chief of the Drery Dru.

  “I think in time you will understand,” said Hennick. “For now we must say goodbye, but perhaps you will return. If you do, the Kingtree is yours.”

  “Mine?”

  “Yes.”

  “But I thought that the Kingtree was linked to your people.”

  “And so it is,” Hennick said with a smile. “But now so are you. You carry the light of the Drery Dru. You are the Protector.”

  Lorik felt something in his heart and mind click into place. He wasn’t sure what it was, and he certainly didn’t understand everything Hennick had said, but he knew something was right for the first time in his life.

  Hennick led Lorik out onto a wide tree limb. Above him were the interloc
king branches of the giant redwood trees. The branches were covered with Drery Dru. The tiny tree elves clapped and cheered when they saw him. It was a cacophony of sound that died only when Shayah approached from another tree, carrying the sword with the shorter handle. Behind her came another elf with the other sword. And behind them both came more elves, some with Lorik’s boots, others with an intricate belt and sheaths.

  “Lorik the Protector,” Shayah said. “Here are the swords of Acromin, which are now the swords of Lorik. With them come the blessing of the Drery Dru. May they bring you good fortune and a swift return.”

  “Thank you,” Lorik said, taking the weapons as the onlookers cheered again.

  “Here is a belt, woven by our most skilled craftsman,” Shayah said.

  She helped him strap it on. One belt went around his waist, and another over his shoulder. The three straps came together in one buckle that was worked into the shape of the broad leaves from the forest floor. He snapped the belt together and slid the short-handled sword into the sheath at his waist, while the longer-handled sword slid into the sheath on his back.

  “We mended your boots and clothes as well.”

  “I didn’t know they needed mending,” Lorik said.

  “They have been altered to fit your new shape, great one,” Shayah said with a ghost of a smile.

  Lorik found it difficult to read the body language of the Drery Dru, since their chubby little faces were always smiling and innocent. Their looks of childlike wonder rarely changed.

  “And now, you must go,” Hennick said from behind Lorik. “But know that the Drery Dru will aways welcome you. The Kingtree is yours, and perhaps one day you may plant the seeds of a new forest.”

  Cheers erupted again as Lorik accepted his belongings. He smiled and waved, and then a simple rope was lowered beside him. It had a loop at the end and a knot at shoulder level.

  “We will lower you down,” Hennick said.