Stone nodded. The young man rose calmly and drew a short knife with an extremely thin blade. Then, he leaned toward the inn. Stone realized that if his foot slipped, Griff would fall, most likely injuring or even getting himself killed. Griff didn’t seem bothered by the height or the darkness. He felt along the window sill and then, using just one hand, he slid the knife through the tiny crack between the frame and the sill. It took less than a minute to pry the locking mechanism up so that the window could swing open like a door. The interior was pitch black. Griff leaned his body across the window sill with his feet still on the alehouse roof. He felt around in the darkness, wanting to be sure that there was nothing under the window that he might knock over or break when he climbed through. Once he was satisfied that there was nothing obstructing his progress, he climbed through, as agile as a cat.
“Griff?” Stone said, unsure of what to do.
“Come on,” the young man whispered.
Stone’s heart was hammering in his chest. He couldn’t keep from feeling weak and awkward. The mental image of him falling as he climbed through the window kept popping up in his head. He tried to push the fears away, but they wouldn’t leave. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his trembling hands. Then he reached out for the window frame. He knew in his mind that he needed to lean out over the gap between the alehouse and the inn, but his body seemed to reject the idea.
“What are you waiting for?” Griff hissed.
Stone didn’t answer. His mouth was dry and his legs felt shaky and weak. He leaned a little further, his arm stretching as far as it could. Then, gravity took over; for a split second he was falling. All his fear rushed up at him, and his heart beat so madly in his chest it took his breath away. Then his hand caught the window sill and the falling sensation stopped abruptly. He felt such a sense of relief that he wanted to cry. It was odd how facing an armed mob in Hassell Point hadn’t bothered him in the slightest, he thought to himself, but heights in the dark terrified him.
He gasped the solid wood frame of the window and vaulted forward. His legs were suspended in midair, but he pulled himself through the window and managed not to fall or make any noise. Stone immediately drew the dagger from his right boot and then one of the large knives with his left hand. He felt better immediately and stood up. Griff took his arm and whispered in his ear.
“The door is straight ahead. This is as far as I go.”
“Fine,” Stone whispered.
“Out of the door, to your right, you should see the landing. There’s a bit of light still in the common room, I’d bet. It should be enough for you to see your way down the hall.”
“Thanks,” Stone whispered back.
He moved slowly forward, one hand held out in front of him, the other he held close to his body in a defensive position. It took several moments to find the door. Stone was moving slowly to insure that he didn’t make any noise. He could hear the deep breathing of the room’s occupants. When he found the door he tried to lift the handle to open the door, but it didn’t budge. He tried again, and then he realized that the door was locked from the outside.
“The door is locked,” he whispered.
“I may be able to get you out, but I’ll need light to see by,” Griff explained. “If we wake people up, I can’t guarantee that they won’t make any noise.”
“Well, I can’t see any way around it. We’ll just have to take our chances.”
“Do you have some way to start a fire?” Griff asked.
“No,” Stone said in frustration. “Do you?”
“Why would I ask if I had what I needed?”
“We’ll have to wake someone up and find out if they have a light of some kind,” Stone said.
He moved over to where he heard the loudest breathing. There was a low, narrow bed and Stone crouched beside it. He lightly laid a hand on the person sleeping, the body was soft and warm. Stone could tell immediately that it was a woman. He gave her a light shake.
“Ah, what is it?” a sleepy voice mumbled.
“We’re here to help,” Stone said.
“Who are you?” the woman said in a frightened voice as she recoiled against the wall, pulling the blanket up for protection in front of her body.
“Friends, from Hassell Point,” Stone said. “We need to get out of this room.”
“How did you get into the room?” Her voice was rising in volume and some of the other people in the room were stirring.
“Please keep your voice down,” Stone said. “We came in through the window. What can you tell us about the lock?”
“How many of you are there?” the woman asked. She was obviously afraid of repercussions if things didn’t work out.
“There are two of us in this room,” Stone explained. “And more outside. Do you have a way to light a lantern or candle?”
“No, they didn’t leave us any lights. They use some sort of bolt on the door. A heavy one.”
“Can you do something about that?” Stone asked Griff.
“Maybe. Is it a sliding bolt or one more like the window lock?”
“It’s a simple bolt make from wood. It just slides down into a bracket on the wall and the door.”
“I can move the bolt,” Griff explained, “but it may fall if I do.”
“Damn,” Stone said. “That would alert the guard for sure.”
“What are you planning to do?” the woman asked.
“I’ve got to get out into the hallway to take out the guard on the landing. It’s the only way we can take the raiders by surprise.”
“You’ll have to risk it,” Griff said. “I’ll do my best, but I can’t make any promises.”
“Ma’am,” Stone said to the woman, who was sitting up on the bed now. “How many of you are in this room?”
“Just four,” she said.
“And how many raiders does Thuryk have with him?”
“Thirteen. The rest are out raiding.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Okay, Griff is going to unlock the door, but I need you to do something for me.”
“What is it?”
“I need you to climb out and tell my partner what is about to happen.”
“How?”
“You’ll have to climb down from the alehouse. Can you do that?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t do well with heights.”
“I can do it,” said another voice. This one was was obviously the voice of a young girl.
“Who said that?” Stone asked.
“My name is Senna.”
The girl moved closer to Stone. He could sense her near him, but he couldn’t see her and he didn’t hear her moving.
“How old are you?”
“Eleven,” she said.
“No, Senna, it’s too dangerous,” said the woman on the bed.
“But I love to climb. I’m really good at it. I’ve climbed over a hundred trees.”
“I’ll bet you have,” Stone said. “Come to the window and we’ll help you out.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” said the woman on the bed.
“We don’t have a choice,” Stone said. “If we make too much racket, my partner will have to help. Otherwise, we’re doomed before we even start.”
“I can do it,” Senna said. “What do I do when I get down?”
“Okay, on the far side of the roof is a stack of barrels. Use that to get down from the ale house. Then, go around to the front of the inn. My partner is there, pretending to stand guard. His name is Lorik. Tell him if he hears anything to come running. Can you do that?”
“Of course,” she said confidently.
She was already climbing out of the window before Stone could take hold of her arms.
“The ale house roof is straight out from the window,” he told her.
“Okay,” she said confidently.
She was stretching one leg across the gap while the other was pushing against the wall of the inn, just belo
w the window. Stone was holding her arm with both hands. He was just thinking how fearless the little girl was when she said, “I’ve got it.”
She turned her body, bracing herself against the window frame with her hands and bringing her other foot up and onto the roof of the ale house beside the first. In the pale light, Stone could just make out her body, rigidly stretching from the ale house to the window.
“Push my hands,” she told him.
Stone didn’t want to let go of the girl, but he put one hand out, palm facing the girl, and she put her own hand flat against it. Then he leaned out the window as far as he dared. Fear swam up from the darkness below, wrapping its cold tentacles around him and threatening to pull him from the window.
“Now push,” the girl said, her voice full of determination.
Stone closed his eyes and shoved. The girl reared back and then fell on her bottom on the rough shingles. She was safe, and relief flooded over Stone.
“Hurry,” he told her.
She nodded and slipped away, as silent as a shadow. Stone turned back to Griff, but couldn’t see anything in the room.
“Okay, Griff,” he said.
He moved slowly toward the door as he heard the younger man’s knife sliding between the door and the frame. It took him a few minutes to get his blade in the position he felt would give him the best chance of success.
“I’m ready when you are,” he whispered to Stone.
“I’m ready,” the warrior replied. He had his weapons back out and was ready to leap through the door when it opened.
Griff grunted quietly as he lifted the heavy bolt. It was a short piece of wood, and just as the door swung free, the wood slipped off the blade and clattered to the wooden floor. In the silence the sound was deafening.
“Move,” Stone said in a menacing voice.
He swung the door open and stepped out quietly. There was no light in the hallway, but the far end of the corridor was easy to see. Stone picked up the wooden bolt and pulled the door closed, before locking it. When he looked up he could see the guard at the end of the hallway. He had a sword around his waist and a covered lamp in his hand.
He was straining to see in the darkness. Stone froze, hoping the gloom of the dark corridor would hide him. The guard cursed and began walking down the hallway. Stone knew his chance to take the man quietly was gone. His best chance now was to surprise the guard by coming out of the darkness quickly. He trotted forward, staying on his toes to make as little noise as possible. When the guard finally saw him, it was as if a demon were emerging from the shadows. The guard froze, his eyes opening wide in surprise. The man’s mouth opened to shout for help and Stone’s dagger thrust forward. He had been hoping to stab the man in the throat but at the last second the guard tried to dodge the weapon. The dagger sliced the side of the man’s neck, severing the jugular vein but missing the man’s windpipe. He screamed as blood fountained into the air.
Stone slammed the heel of his heavy knife into the side of the guard’s head and ran past him. He came out onto the landing and saw the men below, already rising from their slumber. Most men would have been groggy, perhaps even frightened by the guard’s horrible scream, but these were raiders. They lived with danger, from the King’s army to the imminent dangers of the sea. They rose with weapons poised. None of this surprised Stone—he’d expected as much—but what he didn’t expect was to see Lorik come bursting through the door. The teamster was like a legendary warrior. He threw open the door and charged in with his axe held high. The raiders scattered like roaches from the light. The closest man tripped against the long bench beside him and Lorik’s axe slammed into him, severing his arm just below the shoulder and crunching into his ribcage.
Lorik spun, wrenching his weapon free and bringing it around in an overhead blow that sent blood and gore flying into the air. There wasn’t much light in the common room, and the embers in the fireplace gave the space a spectral, red light. Lorik brought the axe down on the next raider who had thrown up a short sword to block the blow, but the poorly-made blade splintered on contact, and the axe caved in the side of the raider’s skull.
One of the raiders had finally regained his courage and was charging toward Lorik, but the big man threw his leg out in a side kick that caught the attacking raider in the chest and stopped him in his tracks. Then Lorik screamed a vicious battle cry. It was a deafening sound in the common room, defiant and crazed. The raiders were armed, but they knew their weapons wouldn’t stand up to the heavy axe, and none seemed interested in the fight. Lorik moved toward two men by the fireplace, and as he did three more rushed for the door.
Stone was bounding down the stairs now. He saw Lorik catch one of the raiders’ cutlass blades on the long handle of his axe. The cutlass bit into the wood but was stopped by the core of steel that ran from the deadly axehead down inside the shaft of the axe. He spun away from the second raider, who thrust a long dagger toward his ribs, then he kicked the first outlaw’s legs out from under him and followed the man down with his axe. The heavy blade severed the raider’s head and stuck fast in the wooden floor. The second outlaw took another swipe at Lorik’s body with the long dagger. He swayed back, but the tip of the blade slashed across the bottom of his ribcage. It wasn’t a deep gash, but it hurt just the same, and Lorik roared as he jumped after the man, punching him hard in the face. His burly knuckles smashed the cartilage of the outlaw’s nose. Blood poured out like a freshly tapped keg of ale. The raider fell back into the fire, landing on the embers, his clothes catching fire instantly.
The screams of pain from the burning man were horrific, but Stone ignored them as he focused on his task. He ran past the first raider he saw, his heavy knife held so that the blade pointed down toward his elbow. He ducked under the raider’s hasty attack, felt the wind from the cutlass blade as it swooshed over his head, and then his knife was tearing through the raider’s thickly padded jerkin and severing the soft flesh underneath.
Blood and entrails poured out of the man as Stone ran past. There were only two raiders left in the common room, both waiting for Stone as he rushed toward them. One had a wickedly curved knife, almost as long as a short sword. He held it low, and the look in his eyes was deadly. The second man had a wooden club and looked frightened. Stone angled toward the second man. The outlaw with the curved knife pushed his companion toward Stone, hoping that as they fought he could angle around behind the young warrior. Stone didn’t even slow down; he just grabbed the outlaw’s club and slung him around. He was betting the raider wouldn’t attack him from the rear, as the man had seemed too frightened.
Now he was facing the man with the curved knife. The raider was ready for him, or at least he thought he was. Stone threw his dagger; it was just a distraction but the outlaw didn’t know it. While he swung his own weapon to bat the dagger away, Stone drew his other knife. The young warrior stepped forward and raised his left hand, so the raider could see his weapon. His right hand came up like an uppercut, and the knife in that hand extended out from his fist and caught the outlaw on the wrist, slashing open the flesh there and causing the raider to reel back and drop his knife. The look of menace left his eyes, replaced by fear and loathing. Even though the raider seemed to be unarmed and Stone’s own sense of well-being screamed at him to turn back toward the first outlaw, he instead moved forward slowly.
The raider jumped, raising one knee and then kicking out with the other leg. Stone spun to the side and was about to step toward the raider when he saw the flash of metal in the man’s unwounded hand. It was a small utility knife, but it would have been enough to wound Stone if he hadn’t jumped back just in time. Then, almost as if his legs had collapsed, he dropped low, then dove at the outlaw’s leg, stabbing down with his knife with a hammer-like blow that slammed the blade into the raider’s groin.
Stone felt the blade grind against the man’s pelvic bone as the outlaw shrieked and fell back. The knife was nearly pulled out of his grasp, but the brass knuckle guard helped him
maintain his grip. He was pulled forward as the blade wrenched free, and at that same moment the other raider lumbered forward with his club. He brought the blunt weapon down onto Stone’s upper arm, just below the shoulder. The blow knocked the young warrior down onto the rough floor but didn’t break any bones. Stone kicked out and tripped the raider just as Thuryk charged into the room, bellowing like a raging bull.
For an instant Stone and the raider with the club looked up, dumbfounded by the battle cry, but Lorik had already worked his big axe free and was turning to meet the infamous raider’s charge. Lorik was a big man, but Thuryk was a giant. He was easily a head taller than Lorik, with wide shoulders and thick arms. His chest was bare and broad, but not rounded like Lorik’s. His muscles showed like fibrous armor that was crisscrossed with old scars. The raider had no hair on the top of his head, but it grew like a thick hedge around his ears and the back of his skull.
He had a two-handed broadsword in his hands, and he wielded it as easily as a child would a toy. His eyes swept across the room, realizing in an instant that he faced his assailant alone. Thuryk was a killer, but he had grown accustomed to killing when the odds were greatly in his favor. His first blow was savage, but his heart was not in it. Lorik held his axe with one hand at the bottom of the handle, and one by the haft just under the head. He brought the heavy weapon up and caught Thuryk’s sword on the thick steel axehead. Sparks flew and Thuryk swore, but he struck again, this time swinging his weapon low at Lorik’s feet.
Stone and the raider who had attacked him watched transfixed at the fight between the teamster and the outlaw. They were both incredible physical specimens, like otherworldly beings battling in the soft red glow of the fire. Lorik’s battle axe was dull gray, a tool of death as severe as the Grim Reaper’s sickle. Thuryk’s sword was polished until it was as bright as a mirror, flashing in the red glow from the fire. Lorik danced back, light on his feet for such a big man. His heavy boots thumped on the wooden floor, as Thuryk’s sword whistled through the air.
Then Lorik went on the offensive, swinging the massive axe with just one hand in a level arc. The outlaw raised his sword, but the axe had too much momentum. Sparks flew again as Thuryk was driven back. Lorik followed his attack by spinning around and swinging the axe up over his head, intending to smash it down and cleave Thuryk’s skull, but the outlaw flicked his blade up, forcing Lorik to jump to the side. The axe crashed into a table, smashing a hole in the tabletop.
Lorik (The Lorik Trilogy) Page 15