Lorik The Defender (The Lorik Trilogy)

by Toby Neighbors

  “I guess I better get him upstairs while he can still walk,” Vera said.

  “I am happy for you,” Lorik said. “You’ll never know how much.”

  “I know you are,” Vera said, smiling at him. “I’m happy too, just a little scared to let it show.”

  Lorik watched as she escorted the shuffling Stone out of the dining room and off to bed. Lorik didn’t envy his friend’s condition come morning, but Stone was tough. He might be hung over in the morning, but Lorik doubted the younger man would let it show.

  The night wore on. Most of the volunteers were responsible enough not to get too far into their cups. Lorik began to feel the need for sleep. He went up to the second floor and began searching for an empty room. He found one and stretched out on the wide, goose down mattress. It felt odd to sleep on such a soft bed, after months of sleeping on the ground. The castle was quiet and Lorik lay thinking about the enemy army he could feel approaching. Finally he made up his mind and decided that he needed to see what they were up against. He would leave in the morning, leaving Stone and Vera in charge of overseeing the castle defenses. He could travel faster on foot and alone. He would scout the enemy and then return, hopefully with a plan on how to slow the witch’s horde. Maybe if he was lucky, he would find a way to defeat them entirely. He fell asleep hopeful for the first time in weeks.

  It was cold the next morning; the ground was white with frost and even inside the castle, frost made intricate patterns along some of the stone walls. Lorik rose early, needing only a few hours of sleep to feel completely refreshed. He had thought that he would be the first person awake, but Vanz was already up. The older cook was not the kind to shirk his duties. When Lorik came down to the kitchens in search of rations for his scouting mission, he found the older man hard at work.

  Lorik filled his sack with bread and cheese. There was no meat, dried, salted, or even fresh, so Lorik had to settle for some overripe vegetables.

  “These carrots will last, lord,” Vanz said.

  Lorik had informed the man that he wasn’t a lord, but Vanz insisted on using the title anyway. He brought out a bunch of carrots and stuffed them into Lorik’s pack.

  “Had I known, I could have prepared something suitable,” the cook said.

  “There’s no need,” Lorik said. “Don’t trouble yourself on my account. I can find food along the way if I’m gone that long.”

  “Are you sure going alone is a good idea? Give us an hour and we’ll be ready to ride out with you.”

  “Ride out where?” Vera asked, sweeping into the castle’s kitchens as if she were the king’s own steward.

  “I’m going to scout the enemy,” Lorik said. “And no one is going with me. I can travel faster by myself.”

  “You can die faster by yourself too,” Vera said sternly. “At least take Liam with you.”

  “No,” Lorik said. “He can’t keep up. Especially not this morning, I’d wager.”

  “He’ll be fine. You don’t need to be in such a hurry.”

  Vanz went back to his work, stirring the large pots of simmering porridge. Vera marched up to Lorik and put her finger on his chest.

  “You’re no good to us if you’re dead,” she said firmly.

  “I’m not going to engage the enemy, just find out what we’re up against. Then I’m coming right back here. I’ve made up my mind, there’s no sense arguing about it now.”

  “You said you wouldn’t do this again,” Vera said. “You know what happened the last time we split up.”

  “Yes, I know,” Lorik said, remembering that it was his plan that led to Vera getting captured by the Norsik and Stone getting injured. “This is different. I want you and Stone to remain here, together, and wait for me. I have to know what we’re dealing with. We’re in a good position, but we need a plan, a strategy for engaging the enemy.”

  “Fine,” Vera said, her voice cutting like a knife in the quiet kitchen. “Go if you must. I’ll never understand the male need to search out danger.”

  “Thank you for your blessing,” Lorik teased.

  Vera leaned close. “Don’t think for one second that I don’t know what you’re doing. You think you can take on the world since you’ve changed. And perhaps you can, but you still need us. Don’t forget that. And we need you, Lorik.”

  “I’ll never forget it,” he said solemnly. “I cherish it.”

  “Good, be safe,” she said.

  “I will, I promise. Now, you and Stone are in charge. Do whatever you can to make sure this castle is as fortified as it can be. And keep sentries on the watchtowers.”

  Vera nodded then rose up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Lorik looked at his friend for a long moment. There was color on her cheeks and her eyes were bright. He’d always heard that pregnant women had a glow about them, and he decided it must be true.

  Then he left. He had the Swords of Acromin strapped to his back and the pack of rations over one shoulder. He jogged out of the city, using the small doorway they had discovered near the northern gate. Then he ran, going around the city and finally moving south along the wide road. He could run just short of an all-out sprint for hours. The exercise felt good; he could feel the muscles in his legs churning as he ran. The cold air was harsh in his lungs, but he soon got used to the sensation. The sun was high, but it gave no warmth. The countryside seemed bare, deserted. Nothing moved, not even wild animals or birds. Lorik’s head swung from side to side as he ran, scanning the horizon for any sign of the enemy.

  Three hours into his run, he saw something moving in the distance. At first he thought it was his eyes playing tricks on him, but after a few more minutes, he was certain that something was moving toward him. What made it so hard to believe was the sheer size of the mass of creatures. He couldn’t make out what they were exactly, but there appeared to be tens of thousands of them.

  At first Lorik couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The rolling hills of Ortis were like an ocean of grass. Lorik lay down on the top of a little rise and waited for the enemy to come into view. Soon he could hear the horrible buzzing of Leffer wings. He looked and saw the horrific monsters at the front of the army. His heart sank, but it wasn’t because of the Leffers, who were spread out like skirmishers at the front of the witch’s army. He could see between the flying horse creatures, and what he saw filled him with dread. The witch’s army was indeed made up of mutated people. Lorik could see their grotesquely twisted features. There were thousands of them walking or shuffling along. They were taller than a normal person, Lorik could tell that even at a distance by comparing them to the Leffers on the front lines. They had massive muscles bulging in strange ways. They were deformed and unnatural looking. They moved slowly and without any sort of natural curiosity about the land around them.

  Lorik watched them for nearly an hour, until the massive horde was less than a thousand yards away. When he could feel the ground trembling from their heavy feet as they plodded constantly forward, Lorik knew he needed to fall back. It was impossible to hide from the terrible army; they stretched from horizon to horizon. Lorik knew that their plan to make a stand in the King’s Castle at Ort City was doomed. The city might offer them protection for a while, but the vast numbers coming against them would make fleeing impossible.

  Lorik rose to his feet with a heavy heart. He knew deep down inside him that even the combined forces of Ortis and Baskla wouldn’t be enough to stop such a massive enemy. They would sweep across the land like locusts. Even if Lorik managed to survive the coming battle, Ortis and the other Five Kingdoms would never be the same.

  He started walking back toward the castle. Ort City was miles away, and Lorik knew he needed to get there as soon as possible. They would need to abandon the castle and come up with a new plan to slow down their enemy. He wracked his brain as he walked and almost didn’t notice the sound of the buzzing Leffer wings as the horrid, flying creatures closed in on him.

  Chapter 18

  Lorik finally came out of his mental
stupor and noticed the sound of the approaching monsters. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a dozen of the flying creatures closing in on him, their long hair streaming out behind them, their open mouths revealing their pointed, black teeth. Lorik knew he could run, but he didn’t know how fast the Leffers could fly. He’d never retreated from them before, but he’d never fought so many at once all by himself.

  He turned, drawing both his swords and charged toward them. He guessed it was the last thing the horrible creatures expected him to do. He had to feint to his left then dive to his right to avoid the strike of the nearest creature’s scorpion tail. He spun, extending his arm and the massive sword as he turned. The blade tore into the horse flesh just behind the creature’s foreleg, then it rattled along the beast’s ribs like a child banging a wooden sword along a row of fence posts. The Leffer reared away from the sword and crashed into the creature to its right. Lorik turned and found another Leffer approaching. His new foe reared, its heavy hooves pawing at the air while its tail dropped low and swung at Lorik from the side. He jumped backwards and slashed his sword down, lopping off the bulbous stinger from the segmented, scorpion tail. The Leffer shrieked in agony and shock, but Lorik didn’t have time to relish his victory. The other Leffers were circling around, trying to cut off his escape. Little did they know that escape wasn’t Lorik’s plan.

  He dashed past the two wounded creatures, moving closer to the approaching army rather than away from it. The surprised monsters were forced to turn. They flew just above the ground, their bodies held aloft by the large, filmy wings that buzzed like dragonflies. Fortunately for Lorik, the Leffers couldn’t maneuver like a dragonfly. They were fast enough in one direction and could angle after their prey without slowing, but turning around took much longer. Lorik sprinted ahead, attacking the slower creatures from the rear. He didn’t bother trying to kill each one; instead he slashed through their rear legs, severing some, crippling others.

  He was soon covered in hot, black blood, but half of the dozen Leffers were wounded and out of the fight. Lorik kept the writhing bodies of the wounded creatures between himself and the others who still sought to capture or kill him. Even though the creatures could still fly without their legs, the wounds Lorik had inflicted were bad enough that they dropped to the ground, roaring in pain and anger.

  Lorik slowly backed away, using the time to hook his swords together. The Swords of Acromin had special handles that locked together to create a double ended sword with a long handle in the middle. Lorik spun the weapon around his massive body.

  “Come on then, you bastards!” he shouted.

  The uninjured Leffers spread out around their wounded and came forward more slowly. Lorik hadn’t known the creatures to use strategy in the past and he hadn’t heard anything from them that sounded like communication. They growled and roared, they even screeched in agony when he wounded or killed them, but they didn’t talk. Still, they seemed to be pairing up, which would make his job much more difficult. Lorik also noticed that more of the Leffers were coming forward to join the fight, and the mutated army was plodding on and on, drawing closer to Lorik each moment he waited.

  He needed to get back to the castle and mobilize everyone. He realized they would not be prepared to flee. All their work had been to fortify the castle for an attack. He needed to get back and get everyone moving away from the castle.

  He mentally kicked himself for not returning to Ort City at speed once he realized the danger the evil army posed his small group of volunteers. If he’d run back, he doubted that the Leffers would have caught up to him, at least not while he was close enough to the massive army that reinforcements could have joined the fight. But in the back of his mind, he knew that he had been spoiling for a fight. He’d promised Vera that he would be careful, but the truth was he walked when he could have run because he wanted to be attacked. He wanted a reason to vent his frustration and take the fight to his enemies rather than waiting for them to come to him.

  At the pace the army seemed to be moving, Lorik guessed they would arrive at Ort City around nightfall. He didn’t know what they would do then, perhaps besiege the city, or even fight through the night. But Lorik did know that his small force wasn’t enough to slow the massive horde of mutated fighters. The Leffers would fly over the walls, just as they did when Queen Issalyn was there. Most of the castle’s defenses would be pointless against the flying creatures. Even if Lorik’s volunteers managed to fend off the Leffers, the mutated army would cut off their escape.

  Lorik decided to flee. It wasn’t in his nature to run from a fight, but he had to consider the men who were counting on him to lead them in this fight. There would be plenty of time to wage war, but only if he could warn his friends and allies of the massive army approaching.

  He turned to sprint away, hoping the Leffers wouldn’t be able to catch him or match his pace for long, but, his first step landed in a small hole. It was the den of some innocent creature, perhaps a rabbit had burrowed down into the soft soil for safety. Lorik’s foot sank into the hole and twisted painfully as he fell. He cried out, but there was no time to worry over his injury. He rolled to his knees and glanced at the Leffers who were getting closer by the second. They had spread out and were coming at him from three different directions. If they closed on him, he would be overcome in seconds.

  He got to his feet. His ankle wasn’t broken, even though he knew that any normal man’s leg would have snapped easily from such a fall, but it felt weak and every step sent lightning strikes of pain up his leg. He ignored the pain and limped away from the approaching monsters. Every step hurt, but he couldn’t worry about it, he had to keep moving. If he stopped, he knew he would die.

  The Leffers, sensing his weakness increased their pace. They flew with steady speed, but two of the creatures came down to the ground, folding their wings against their bodies and using their massive legs to gallop forward. The Leffers were much faster on the ground. The thundering hoof beats reminded Lorik of the big Shire horses he’d owned as a teamster. The big horses rarely ran, and when they did they weren’t all that fast, but they were incredibly hard to stop.

  Lorik kept moving away, but a glance over his shoulder made it clear he couldn’t outrun the Leffers that were galloping toward him, not with his ankle injured. He cursed his bad luck, then turned to make a stand against the creatures. He bent his knees and raised his sword across his body, trying to think of how he might defend himself.

  The Leffers closed in and Lorik prepared himself. His muscles bunched as he prepared to leap to the side. He guessed that the massive horse bodies that were thundering toward him couldn’t stop easily, if he could dodge away, he might buy himself enough time to attack them as they turned back for him. His body was tight as every muscle flexed in preparation, like a tightly coiled spring waiting to launch himself out of the path of the galloping monsters. But, to his dismay the Leffers separated, anticipating his maneuver, so that there was no chance for him to leap to one side out of the way of the rushing creatures. His plan had been to move to one side, so that only one of the creatures could effectively strike out at him, while the other would be blocked by its companion. By separating, they cut off his escape. He saw the deadly tails lower; they were like curved sickles waiting to cut him down like ripe grain.

  Lorik knew he couldn’t jump to the side and escape, so instead he waited until the very last second. He knew he had to time his maneuver just right or he would be killed, or even worse captured and mutated like the other wretched souls in the witch’s army. Using the massive strength in his good leg, he jumped straight up just as the Leffers reached him. They raced past as Lorik somersaulted in the air and came back down. His sprained ankle gave out underneath him as he landed and he fell to his hands and knees, almost dropping his sword as a wave of pain washed through him.

  Then he was up, hobbling toward the two Leffers who were sliding to a halt so they could turn and attack again. The others were still closing, their buzzing wing
s made his head seem to rattle, but he ignored everything except the fight ahead. The Leffers turned, moving in sync, just as Lorik reached them. He dropped under the strike of the nearest monster’s tail, rolling over his shoulder and coming up on his good leg. He thrust his sword out to the side, driving it up and into the human chest of the monster. It fell with a crash as Lorik hopped around to face the other Leffer.

  The dead creature lay twitching at Lorik’s feet, its tail still thrashing in the air. Its companion tried to dart forward, but Lorik merely hobbled back, keeping the body of the Leffer between him and his remaining enemy. When the creature took to the air, flying up and over its fallen partner, Lorik moved again, this time to the rear of the defeated monster. The flying creature tried to follow him and was stabbed in the side by the fallen Leffer’s flailing stinger. Lorik had no idea if the stinger would pump venom since the creature was dead, or if it would even have an effect on the other Leffer, but to his surprise the attacking creature’s body went stiff, then it dropped to the ground with a crash.

  Lorik didn’t wait to see if the creature was dead or alive. He turned and ran as fast as his injured leg would carry him. Pain erupted with every step. His good leg was soon burning from the exertion. Before hurting his ankle, he could run for hours without feeling tired. Now, it seemed his endurance had evaporated. Perhaps it was the injury, or possibly the fear. His heart was pounding and as he glanced over his shoulder, he saw the other four Leffers closing in.

  He topped a small rise and turned to make his stand. His ankle was hurting more with every step and he knew that soon it would be difficult to support his weight on that leg. The Leffers were close, they had regrouped and were coming at him all together. The four creatures flew quickly toward Lorik, who was wracking his brain to come up with a strategy to defeat them.

  He unfastened his swords and sheathed them both in one smooth motion. Then he drew his dagger, which was a small handled weapon, with a simple brass hand guard. The blade of the dagger was tapered and razor sharp. The blade was as long as a grown man’s forearm, from wrist to elbow. He felt the dagger’s weight. It wasn’t made for throwing, but he had no choice. He held the dagger by the blade and then threw it. It flew end over end, spinning toward the nearest Leffer, who saw it coming and swayed aside, letting the weapon fly harmlessly by. Lorik had expected as much. Fortunately the Leffer behind the leader hadn’t seen the attack and couldn’t move away fast enough. The dagger sank deep into its shoulder and the creature roared in pain, rearing as its front hooves pawed the air and the back hooves staggered to the ground. Lorik didn’t know if the creature was out of the fight, but at least he’d succeeded in slowing it down.