“Perhaps not directly,” Stone said. “But Yettlebor has made bad men rulers in a kingdom that is already fractured and divided. Before King Oveer left Ortis, taking all his nobles and soldiers with him, a man who was treated unfairly could appeal to a greater lord. Now these mercenaries have unfettered control over the people living on the lands that have been in their families for generations. Suddenly the new lords are cruel men, with no oversight and no accountability. If you don’t act to stop Yettlebor, many more will die under his rule than if you raise an army to fight him. And the wanton cruelty will go on for years, Lorik. Now you just think about that.”
“I’m taking lessons on Kingdom Law from a man who not long ago was on the wrong side of that law,” Lorik teased.
“You have to know the law if you’re going to break it. That way you don’t get hung or dismembered over some trifling incident.”
“I’m not discounting your ideas,” Lorik said. “We may discover that your way is the only way, but I want to make sure it is the only way before we act.”
“Just don’t take too long to decide,” Stone said. “There is one thing we know for sure. Yettlebor wants you dead. If we give him too much time and opportunity, he might succeed.”
Lorik thought long and hard about what Stone had said. His friend was right in many ways, but he wasn’t sure if the end really justified the means. Did fighting a war really mean saving lives? Lorik couldn’t quite wrap his mind around that idea. He wanted to protect his people, but did the people of Ortis even want that help? Did they really see him as their protector, as their king? He wasn’t sure. And what about the magic that the Drery Dru had urged him to find? So far, Lorik had found nothing and felt weaker by the day. He tried to convince himself that he was just exhausted because he hadn’t slept well in days, but that wasn’t what bothered him. It was the fact that just a year before he could have jogged all day and night without needing to stop. He felt as if the mystical power he’d once wielded gave him the right to rule, but somehow it had been taken from him, and he had no idea how to get it back.
They made camp late in the evening, with no fire. They were all exhausted, but Lorik forced himself to keep watch. He sat up for hours, his mind wandering at times, but he had a clear view of the area around their camp. Even in the darkness he felt confident that he could see a man or animal approaching. Stone relieved him half way through the night, and Lorik fell asleep on the ground with no blanket or even a cloak. When he woke up he was cold and stiff, but he felt better than he had the day before.
“We don’t have a fire for food, so drink a little wine to warm yourself up,” Vera told him.
The wine she had was nothing like the sweet, fruity wines of the Drery Dru. Vera’s wine had an astringent quality that made it difficult to drink, but it did warm Lorik up. After an hour of walking his horse, Lorik no longer felt stiff. The day was bright and cool. It made Lorik feel like anything was possible. It was after noon when they saw the rider. The rolling hills made it appear as if the rider was sometimes there, and sometimes gone, but eventually they came close enough to make out a few details.
“It’s not a soldier,” Stone said.
“It’s not even a man,” Vera said. “That’s a woman.”
“Why would a woman be all alone out here?” Stone asked.
“Can’t a woman go for a ride without having a man along?” Vera asked. “Are we all so weak and frail that being alone means something terrible has happened?”
“No,” Stone said. “I don’t mean that.”
“He just means it’s unusual,” Lorik explained. “And right now, unusual could be dangerous.”
“I know that,” Vera said with a scowl.
“I don’t like it,” Stone said.
“Maybe you two should hang back a little,” Lorik said. “We’re still far enough away that it isn’t obvious we’re riding together. Just watch and see.”
“We should probably stay together,” Vera said.
“Sometimes caution is the wiser choice,” Lorik said. “It’s probably nothing, but if I need you, I’ll call. If all is well but you should follow from a distance, I’ll put my hands on my hips.” He demonstrated, putting his hands on his hips and pointing his elbows out away from his body. It was a common gesture but one that would be easily identifiable even from a distance. “If there is trouble you can ride to the rescue.”
“Don’t let your guard down,” Stone warned.
“I won’t,” Lorik replied. “I’ll see you both soon.”
Lorik rode ahead of his friends, trying to ignore the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He had thought at first that the rider was Issalyn. He hadn’t heard anything from his lover since she had set out for Ort City. He was hopeful that didn’t mean that she was through with him, but they had drifted apart. His reluctance to take the throne of Ortis galled her. He knew that, but he was finally coming around. He just hoped it wasn’t too late.
The rider finally came close enough that Lorik could see she was armed. She wore a cloak and hood, but was thin and had a short sword hanging across her left hip. The horse she rode was a big, strong looking animal, and she had supplies packed in large canvas bags that were hanging just behind her saddle. She reined in her horse and waited as Lorik approached.
“I’m Lorik,” he said, when he was close enough that he didn’t have to shout to be heard.
“Lorik of Hassell Point?” she asked.
“That’s right.”
“I am looking for a man named Lorik,” the woman said. “He knew a forest elf by name. One that was my mistress’s favorite.”
“And who is your mistress?” Lorik asked.
“If you are the man I seek then you know that already.”
“Vilenna was my lady, Queen Issalyn’s friend among the Drery Dru,” Lorik said.
“You are the man I seek. I am Kierian.”
“So now I know your name, but not why you have sought me out.”
“My mistress has a message for you.”
The woman slipped from her horse. She moved like the dark panthers Lorik had seen in the marshlands. They were always poised for action or danger and could run or attack depending on the circumstance. The woman named Kierian seemed just the same. She was attractive, her face was oval shaped, and she had long dark hair tied neatly inside the hood of her cloak. Lorik felt himself tense involuntarily as she approached. Stone and Vera had brought his swords and they were secure just beneath the edges of his saddle where they were difficult to see. It took all of Lorik’s will power not to draw the blades and move away from Kierian.
She reached into her cloak and then withdrew a small scroll. Then she sauntered back to her horse. Lorik wondered if any man had ever resisted her. Even though the long cloak hid her figure he could see just enough of her body to be enticed. She turned when she reached her horse and pulled herself up into the saddle in one smooth, graceful motion.
“Aren’t you going to read it?” she asked.
Lorik looked down at the small scroll. It was a note, written on thick vellum, wrapped around a bronze rod of ornate design. The wax was impressed with the queen’s signet ring. Lorik wondered where Issalyn had gotten the ring. She had gone back to Ort City to reason with Yettlebor, hoping her status would afford her safety and some significance in the court. Apparently, she had been well received, Lorik thought.
He broke open the seal and read the scroll.
Come with Kierian to the palace. Yettlebor seeks your death. We shall smuggle you into the city and ensure that you are safe. All my love,
Issalyn
Lorik looked up from the scroll. Kierian hadn’t moved. He looked at her, studying her, trying to decide if any of what he was seeing was real. He couldn’t imagine where this woman in front of him had come from. She was obviously a capable person, but Ortis had been ravaged by the witch’s creatures who carried away most of the kingdom’s population to be mutated into monsters that served as her army. Issalyn, when Lor
ik had found her, had been served by warrior servants, but none of them were as beautiful or as deadly as Kierian appeared to be.
“Will you come?” Kierian asked.
Lorik hesitated only long enough to signal his friends behind him. He put both hands on his hips with his elbows out to either side and then nodded.
“I’ll come,” he said, nudging his horse forward.
Kierian smiled, and Lorik felt an unwelcome tingle run through his body. Then she turned her horse and led him away.
Chapter 22
Lorik kept his distance from Kierian. She always rode ahead, and when they made camp for the night, he stood watch. To her credit she didn’t push him to do anything differently. She was perfectly content with her own thoughts and didn’t try to spark a conversation. In fact, she didn’t say anything to him other than what was absolutely necessary until they came within sight of Ort City.
It was late in the evening of their second day together, and the city was a dark mass that was just beginning to twinkle with lights. Kierian stopped her horse and rummaged through one of the large canvas sacks that were slung behind her saddle, and after a moment she came up with what she was looking for.
“Here,” she said, holding out a bundle to Lorik. “Put this on.”
He took the item. It was cloak, much like her own, but made of rough material that reminded Lorik of the sacks used to store rice in the Marshlands.
“The king isn’t looking for you yet, but you stand out. Try hunching a little and keep the hood pulled up.”
“Why the secrecy?” Lorik asked. “Why not ride into the city triumphantly? I have nothing to hide.”
That wasn’t really Lorik’s desire, but he wanted to hear how his guide would respond. She flashed him a smile and there was a twinkle in her eye that told him she would love nothing more than a good fight.
“You would be captured,” she said.
“I might surprise you.”
She tilted her head as if he were a curiosity. “I’ve heard the stories, but the king has his most loyal and skilled warriors near him at all times. Even with your legendary swords, I doubt that you could defeat them all… alone.”
“I’m not alone. I’ve got you with me.”
“What makes you think I would fight the king’s soldiers?”
“Call it a hunch,” Lorik said. “But we can try things your way.”
“That is wise,” Kierian said. “But perhaps one day I shall see your famous blades.”
Lorik wasn’t sure if Kierian was being sincere, or if she was challenging him. He didn’t want to fight a woman, and Kierian certainly seemed sure of herself, but he reminded himself of what Stone had told him. A man as desperate as Yettlebor wouldn’t hesitate to do anything. He needed to be on his guard and get a lay of the land before he made any certain moves.
“You are Issalyn’s emissary?” Lorik asked.
“The queen sought out my services.”
“So you aren’t close to her?”
“I’m not a servant if that is what you are asking.”
They were moving toward the city again, following a dirt track that led through the sprawl of huts and hovels that surrounded the city. The last time Lorik had been to the capital of Ortis, it had been abandoned, or so it had seemed.
“Were you in the city when the creatures attacked?”
“Creatures?” Kierian asked.
“You know, the scorpion-tailed beasts that carried people away.”
“I was.”
“But you survived… how?”
“I was not seen.”
“That seems a little too simple.”
“I was there when you came to fight the witch’s army,” Kierian said. “I saw you fighting, and I saw what you did after. I saw how you treated those wretched souls who were left behind.”
“You mean the people the witch mutated,” Lorik said, feeling insulted somehow that people were so quick to turn against the witch’s pawns. They hadn’t chosen to side with the witch, or wanted to be magically transformed into towering abominations. They were once neighbors and friends of the people who survived, yet everyone seemed to think the worst of those less fortunate people.
“They’re people, not unlike you and me,” Lorik said, trying not to let his frustration bleed into his voice.
“If you say so.”
“What would call them?” Lorik asked.
“Enemies,” Kierian said simply.
“Not after the witch’s power over them broke.”
“So you say,” Kierian replied. “But they are dangerous foes, and a people without a kingdom. Letting them live was more cruel than a quick, clean death.”
“I’ve had enough death,” Lorik explained. “I’m a protector, not an executioner.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Where did you hide?”
“In the shadows. This may surprise you,” she said, leaning close to Lorik, “but people rarely look into the dark places.”
Lorik felt a shudder run down his spine. He was surprised to find that he was more than a little frightened by Kierian. She was mysterious and cagey, yet clearly dangerous even though the reason for that danger was not as obvious as it should have been. She was unlike any woman Lorik had ever known. Vera had always been the type to speak her mind, and since leaving Hassell Point she could be as sharp-tongued as anyone, yet her strength and fury was straight forward. There was nothing elusive about Vera; she was exactly the person you expected her to be—Kierian was the opposite. Nothing about her made sense to Lorik, and that unsettled him.
They rode to a nondescript livery that was near the city walls. Many of the structures in and around the city had been destroyed during the invasion of the witch’s creatures. The sounds of construction were everywhere, but the livery seemed to be in good order. They settled their horses into stalls, and Kierian paid the stable master, who obviously knew her. There were no familiar greetings or even polite conversation. The owner of the livery was an older man, and Lorik guessed he knew better than to ask questions that would not be welcome with his borders.
“We should wait until it gets dark to go into the city,” Kierian said.
“Won’t they close the gates?” Lorik asked.
“Yes, but there are other ways in. You of all people should know that.”
Once night fell they ate a quick meal that Kierian procured from one of the nearby inns. They ate and waited. Lorik was anxious to push on, but he forced himself to be patient. He wanted to see Issalyn, but he was also afraid of what he might find. She might be in trouble, or worse yet, she might have decided that she no longer wanted to be with him. They weren’t married in the traditional sense, and she had been unhappy in the Wilderlands. Yet he hoped that her note meant that she still wanted to be with him, even help him succeed in becoming king.
Once the sun had been down a few hours, Kierian led them around the city. They stayed close to the city wall. The guards patrolling above them would have had to look straight down to see them, and in the darkness Lorik doubted they would be visible at all. Eventually they moved away from the city. Lorik would have asked where they were going, but he saw the small farm that was nearly a mile from the city proper and knew that a secret tunnel led from the farmhouse to the castle inside the city. It was close to midnight when Kierian knocked on the door of the small house. It had been hastily rebuilt after the witch’s scorpion-tailed monsters had broken through the roof.
A toothless man answered the door. Kierian gave the man a gold coin, which he immediately tucked away in his ratty looking robe. Lorik could smell the man’s filth even before he entered the house. They moved quickly to a tall cabinet that hid a staircase leading down into the secret tunnel. The smelly man shoved it aside, and Kierian went first into the gloomy tunnel. Lorik was wondering if they would cross the entire way back in darkness, but once the cabinet sealed off the light behind them, Lorik saw a flickering light in the distance.
There was a strange sen
se of familiarity to the tunnel, which had been a useful escape route for Lorik and his men when the witch’s army attacked. It had also been their refuge, saving them from being overrun by the hordes of mutated people bewitched by the sorceress in Olsa. It took them a while to walk the entire length of the tunnel, and Lorik guessed that an hour had passed when Kierian threw the latch that held the secret door in place and led Lorik up to the storage room in the bowels of the castle.
There wasn’t much light in the room, but Lorik noticed that some things had been removed. There were no more books scattered around on the various pieces of antique furniture that were piled haphazardly into the room. He didn’t have time to explore, because they moved quickly into the dungeon beyond, but he wondered about the books he'd seen before—books about magic.
Unlike the last time Lorik had been in the castle, there were now people locked in the dungeon’s cells. Torches burned in sconces but cast very little light into the small, terrifying rooms. Lorik longed for the stench of the cabin once the smells of human waste, death, and decay that lingered in the dungeons assaulted his senses. They passed through the long corridor as quickly as possible, and just like when Lorik had used the castle as his base of operations during the Witch’s War, he felt the seductive call of magic from the secret room as they passed it. He could feel the darkness calling to him, but he had no time to explore the long forgotten mysteries in the castle dungeon. Somewhere Issalyn was waiting for him and he didn't want to let her down.
They climbed the spiral staircase that led up into the castle proper. Although Lorik had spent time in the royal fortress and had even fought the witch’s mutants through many of the rooms, he wasn’t familiar with the layout. Kierian led him down hallways and up narrow staircases. Finally they came to plain room with a padded bench against one wall. There was no other furniture and only two brass candelabras on either end of the small space for furnishings. An ancient but well woven tapestry covered the wall opposite the bench.
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