Lorik The Defender (The Lorik Trilogy)

by Toby Neighbors

  There were six guards left, four had taken defensive positions around King Ricard. Of the two left to fight, one was moving his horse toward Lorik, the other was circling around toward Stone and Vera. Stone was still watching Commander Lorys who was pretending that his horse was acting strange and forcing the soldier to not engage. The men who had ridden north with Commander Lorys watched from a short distance away, but without an order to attack, they did nothing to engage in the skirmish before their king.

  Lorik had to duck under the slashing blade from the third guard. On his knee, Lorik slammed the butt of his sword into the guard’s horse. The thick pommel struck the horse in its hind leg, causing the beast to stumble. Lorik launched himself up, spinning as he rose, his long, muscled arm extended with his sword blade arcing toward the guard. Lorik twisted his hand at the last minute, so that the flat of the blade clashed against the guard’s helmet. The man toppled from his horse, and Lorik landed on the balls of his feet, ready to attack his next opponent. The guard that had been circling Lorik to close on Stone suddenly looked unsure.

  “I could have killed them all,” Lorik snarled. “I will kill anyone else you send against me.”

  “I am king of this realm,” Ricard shouted back in anger. “I will not be defied. Kill him!”

  The guard turned his horse, but Lorik was already moving. He ran forward, straight toward the king, his massive legs churning as he ran, his swords held in front of him. The guards around the king tried to move forward to intercept Lorik, but before he reached the group, Lorik slid down and slammed the handles of his swords onto the ground. The earth rose like an ocean wave as Lorik’s magical power flowed into the ground. The wave raced ahead of Lorik, the horses of the king’s entourage neighed in terror, then the wave tossed them all into the air.

  Stone and Vera watched in awe as King Ricard and all the men with him were thrown from their saddles. Lorik stood, turning his back on the king and walked slowly back toward Vera and Stone. Vyrnon appeared from behind the long column of soldiers with Lorik’s horses. He was in charge of the horses and had seen Lorik’s mount trotting back toward him after Lorik had dismounted to fight. Vyrnon had caught the horse and was leading it forward again, along with the rest of their horses and supplies.

  “Your king is looking in the wrong place,” Lorik said to Lorys, who had finally gotten his horse under control. “We are going north. I’ll save the princess if I can.”

  Lorys nodded. The final guard had not attacked, instead he hurried to the king’s aid. None of the men with King Ricard were injured, but they all looked terrified at Lorik, who was climbing back into the saddle as Vyrnon held the horse’s reins.

  Lorik gave King Ricard a baleful look as he led Stone and Vera around the Baskla ruler. Vyrnon followed several paces behind the others, leading the line of horses in his care. King Ricard didn’t speak, he stood surrounded by his men, his clothes covered in mud. Once Lorik had regained the road on the far side of King Ricard, he spurred his horse into a gallop.

  They came to Forxam the next afternoon. Unlike the other kingdoms, Baskla was heavily forested and the terrain was rugged to say the least. Even the broad road that ran south from the capital city into Ortis rose up and down over the steep hills and deep ravines. Forxam was built on the crown of an especially large hill. Much of the forest around the city had been clear cut and terraced for farming. There were homes and shops in the valley around the city, and a large stone wall surrounded the castle.

  “Should we go up?” Vera asked as the city came into view.

  “No,” Lorik said. “The queen isn’t here.”

  “We could rest for the night, resupply,” Stone suggested.

  “Alright,” Lorik said. “We’ll need to leave the horses here anyway. But let’s find a place on the far side of the city.”

  The road that led north to Forxam turned west once it reached the capital city. The next major town in Baskla was Nockles where an ancient stone bridge crossed the Black River. The road then meandered southwest to Fort Jellar on the border of Yelsia across from Ebbson Keep. North of Forxam, the roads were more like game trails. The forest encroached on all sides, with tree branches often spreading over the road and tree roots pushing up through the hard packed earth in places, making travel hazardous.

  Lorik made arrangements for their spare horses to be stabled in a livery in Forxam. Vyrnon was loath to stay behind, but Lorik left him to care for the horses. Stone rented rooms at an inn while Vera bought more food for the journey. Night had fallen by the time everything was settled and although Lorik was anxious to keep moving north, he didn’t mind getting a warm meal. He ate his fill then turned in for the night. Vera and Stone did the same.

  The next morning they rode out of the city, it was the first time the three of them had been alone in a long time. Lorik rode ahead, followed by Vera, then Stone. There were places that the trail was only wide enough for the group to ride single file, and the weather grew worse. It snowed, and everything was wet. Vera developed a cough and Lorik slowed his pace to keep from pushing her too hard. It was difficult finding wood that was dry enough to burn, but Lorik made sure they had a fire each night and that it burned through the long hours to keep Vera warm.

  Lorik wasn’t sure where he was going or what they were going to find. The pull of the darkness grew stronger and Lorik led them off the trail. They were forced to make their way through the forest which was difficult. The leaves had fallen off the trees; the wet trunks looked black against the gray sky and snowy ground. The ravines were steep and slick, the hills rugged and treacherous to scale, but Lorik pushed on. They were forced to leave the horses behind as they meandered up and down the unforgiving countryside.

  It took four days of difficult travel but finally they came to the top of a hill and Lorik called for them to stop.

  “We’ll make camp here,” he said, his heart pounding as he stood looking out over a wide valley.

  “Camp already?” Stone said. “You’re getting soft old man.”

  “Don’t tease him,” Vera said. She was clearly exhausted. “I could use a break.”

  “Why here?” Stone asked.

  “Because the queen is being held right down there,” he pointed.

  At first all Stone and Vera could see was more rugged landscape. There was a hill and vine covered rock formations. It was as desolate as the rest of the countryside they’d fought through since leaving Forxam.

  “I don’t see anything,” Vera said.

  “Take your time,” Lorik replied.

  He turned away and began gathering wood for a fire. Vera and Stone continued looking and slowly they began to make out what lay in the valley.

  “Is that castle ruins?” Vera asked.

  “Where?”

  “Right over there, that big mound.”

  “That’s just a hill,” Stone said.

  “I don’t think so, it’s made of stone.”

  “There are rocks everywhere here,” Stone said.

  “And those outcroppings are old buildings,” she continued.

  “I don’t see it.”

  “You will soon enough,” Lorik said. “We’re going down there in the morning.”

  “Why wait,” Stone asked.

  “Because there’s a lot of dark magic in this place,” Lorik explained. “I think it’s best if we proceed with the maximum amount of daylight.”

  “You really think Queen Issalyn and the princess are down there?” Vera asked, moving closer to Lorik as he prepared the sticks and leaves he’d gathered for a fire.

  “I don’t know for sure,” Lorik said. “But whatever has been drawing me north is down there. I can feel that.”

  “So it’s magic,” Stone said. “That’s going to be fun to deal with.”

  “Whatever we find,” Lorik said. “You two have to stay together, and don’t take any unnecessary chances.”

  “You sound downright paternal,” Stone said.

  “Quit yapping and get some rest
,” Lorik warned. “Whatever we find down there, it’s not going to be easy to kill.”

  “Do we have to kill it?” Vera asked.

  “Yes,” Lorik said. “I’m sure of that. If we don’t defeat it, the evil will spread like a plague.”

  “And here I thought the witch’s army was the worst thing we’d be facing,” Stone said.

  Vera kept feeding their small fire and prepared food. It was a simple stew, but savory and hot. Stone and Lorik sharpened their weapons. The weather grew worse, snow began to fall, but it soon turned to sleet, pelting them with icy shards. They covered their heads with damp blankets and tried to sleep. It was a long, cold, night, the stars and moon hidden behind thick clouds and the only light in the unnaturally quiet forest was from their small fire, which spit and sputtered in the icy snow and sleet.

  Lorik closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but it wasn’t easy. He felt like he was finally at the end of a long journey, only it wasn’t just their trek north. He felt that the next day would be the conclusion of something much bigger. It felt so big in fact, that Lorik was afraid. When he was a small boy, he’d often lain in bed, feeling small and insignificant. The world had seemed so vast to him then that he couldn’t imagine not getting swallowed up in it. Now, as he lay huddled under a blanket, the wet ground soaking through his clothes and their camp fire only teasing him with the illusion of warmth, he felt the same terror he’d known as a child. The source of magic in the valley below was so deep and dark that he knew the odds were good that by going down in search of Queen Issalyn, he would probably be lost forever. That thought filled him with dread, but he never considered not going. His love was in the valley, and nothing would keep him from coming to her aid, not fear, not evil magic, not even his own death.

  Chapter 28

  Queen Issalyn wasn’t sure how many days had passed. The torches were a constant source of light, and the only variation to her days were the delivery of meals. She soon grew to hate the gruel she was served, but she waited anxiously for the wretched creature that brought her food. Issalyn tried in vain to communicate with the woman, if that’s what she really was. Occasionally an animal would disappear from the pens, but Issalyn never saw the beasts taken. She slept often, and never felt rested. When she wasn’t sleeping on the bed of hay, she was leaning against the wooden barrier to her cell.

  Then, finally she heard voices. Men were coming. She felt both hope and fear. Perhaps they would set her free, or perhaps they were coming to kill her or worse. She couldn’t stop playing out the nightmarish possibilities in her head. She strained to see who was coming, but it was only as they drew near to her cell that she could see them in the wavering torchlight.

  Josston was in a long robe, his riding clothes gone, and no weapons were visible. He was followed by two of his guards, both were big men. Unlike their master, they still wore the rugged clothes they had worn on the trail, and still carried dangerous looking daggers in their thick, leather belts. Issalyn felt her heart fluttering in her chest as the men drew near. Her breath caught in her throat and she had to fight the urge to scream as they came in front of her cell. She could feel the evil intent radiating from Josston as if it were a bad smell.

  Then they passed her by, the guards glancing down at her, but Josston ignored her completely. She felt a sense of relief and then a sense of dismay. They weren’t there for her, they were leaving her in the filthy prison.

  “What do you want?” cried the terrified voice of Amvyr.

  “Come out or I’ll come in after you,” said one of the guards. “You won’t like it if I have to do that.”

  “No!” she screamed. “Leave me alone. Get away from me.”

  “Come here!” the guard bellowed.

  Issalyn could hear him grunting as he crawled into the cell to get the princess. She pressed her face against the wooden slats, trying hard to see what was happening, but she couldn’t. They were close to Issalyn’s cell, but too far for the queen to make out what was happening.

  “Don’t touch me!” bellowed Amvyr. Then she screamed.

  “I’ve got you now, you little brat,” the guard said angrily.

  There was another scream; this time it was born of pain and Issalyn could hear the guard grunting with effort as he pulled the princess from her cell. Issalyn could hear Amvyr kicking and thrashing in an effort to get away from her captors, but it was all to no avail.

  “Bring her,” Josston said, walking back the way he had come.

  Issalyn felt a wave of icy terror wash over her, making her skin contract into goose bumps as Josston hesitated by her cell. Then he bent down, so she could see his face. He looked different, there were dark circles under his eyes and his lips seemed thinner as they drooped in a frown.

  “I had plans for you, my lady,” he said in a grim tone. “But those will have to wait. It seems you are better served as bait and soon I will have a bigger prize. Then, perhaps I shall sacrifice you in homage to the Lord of Darkness.”

  He smiled wickedly and Issalyn shuffled back from the bars of her cell. Josston laughed cruelly and then rose to his feet.

  “Let us go, the time grows near,” he ordered his men.

  “No!” screamed Amvyr.

  Issalyn watched as the two guards dragged the princess away. Once they passed her cell, Issalyn crawled forward, straining to see what was happening, but they were soon out of her field of vision. A sense of dread came over the queen. She was afraid of what Josston meant to do to her, but she was also afraid of what he meant by saying she was better used as bait. She had no idea what that meant or who might be tempted by her being held captive. No matter what the evil man had in store for her, Issalyn knew it wasn’t good. She wasn’t going to be ransomed and rescue seemed impossible.

  She crawled back into the recesses of her small cell, letting the darkness hide her. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She was scared for Amvyr, scared of what Josston was planning to do, and most of all she was scared that Lorik was coming for her. She had secretly been hoping that he would somehow find her and rescue her from Josston’s clutches, but she had never really let herself imagine it. The hope Lorik had represented hovered just under the veil of despair that covered her, but now it broke through only to be snuffed out by Josston’s vile threat. She was bait and Issalyn feared that Lorik was rushing headlong into the trap Josston was setting.

  She cried herself to sleep and several meals passed before she heard voices again. She thought briefly that it was Josston returning Amvyr to her cell. Issalyn had almost given up hope that the young princess was still alive. The voices were muffled, and Issalyn couldn’t make out what was being said. She pressed herself into the wooden slats again, straining to see and hear what was happening. The voices were similar to what she heard before, but something was clearly different as well.

  One of the voices was softer, higher in pitch, more feminine. Fear crashed over Issalyn like a thunderstorm as she recognized the voice. Amvyr was laughing, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. It wasn’t the laugh of a young girl, full of hope and happiness, but rather the cruel cackle of a woman with evil intent.

  Issalyn backed away from the slats of her cell, but a woman’s skirts came into view. They turned and stopped directly in front of Issalyn’s cell. Then, Amvyr bent low, her face peering through a gap in the wooden barrier.

  “Time to go, Queen Issalyn,” she said, a teasing tone to her voice.

  “Where?” Issalyn managed to ask.

  “With me,” Amvyr said slyly.

  “Amvyr, what is going on? What did they do to you?”

  “Come here and let me show you,” the girl said.

  The chain that held the cell closed rattled against the wooden gate. Queen Issalyn slid herself back in the cell instinctively. Terror was encircling her heart and panic threatened to overtake her.

  “No,” she said in shaky voice. “Leave me alone.”

  “Damn,” said one of the guards with Amvyr. “Why do they always do that?”

&nbs
p; “Your turn to crawl in there,” the other guard said in a gruff voice.

  “No,” Amvyr said. “I’ll do it.”

  She was still bent low, peering into the cell. There was a wicked light in her eyes. She beckoned to Issalyn.

  “Come out, it’s your time.”

  “No!” Issalyn said, her back pressed against the cold, stone wall.

  Amvyr reached out a hand and a smoky, black, vapor began to snake its way toward Queen Issalyn.

  “No!” the queen shouted. “Get away from me.”

  The vapor moved closer, slithering like a serpent. Issalyn drew her legs up toward her chest, but she couldn’t get away. The vapor moved closer and Issalyn kicked at the magical mist. First, her foot flew through the vapor as if it were a bank of fog, but then, as Issalyn tried to draw her foot back, the vapor wrapped around her ankle and seemed to solidify. The black mist transformed into a glossy, black, leathery appendage that wrapped around her ankle and slow pulled her out of the cell.

  “No!” screamed Issalyn, clawing the hard, stony walls and floor of the cell as she desperately tried to hold herself in place.

  She screamed, her voice cracking as pain erupted in her throat. She felt her fingernails snap as he tried to find a handhold on the stone floor. One fingernail tore free of the nail bed, sending burning lances of fire down her finger and into her hand.

  Amvyr stayed hunched in front of the cell as the mist slowly drew Issalyn out of the small room. When the Queen was close enough, one of the guards bent low and took hold of Issalyn’s thrashing legs.