Yulver directed the Dancer straight up to the harbor. Massive wooden gates stood closed at the quay, but there was a sentry on duty. Lorik and the other volunteers, along with Vera and Stone, disembarked and walked to the gates.
“Who goes?” shouted the sentry.
“Volunteers,” Lorik shouted back. “We’re from Hassell Point, in the Marshlands.”
“Fort Utlig is closed,” the sentry shouted. “No one is allowed inside.”
“We’ve traveled a long way, friend,” Lorik said, holding his temper in check. “Perhaps there is someone in charge who could help us find our place. Isn’t there a volunteer force here fighting the Norsik?”
“Nay, not at this fortress,” the sentry replied. “And Constable Yorn isn’t seeing visitors.”
“We’re not visitors,” Lorik said. “We’re here to help push back the bloody Norsik. Go fetch whoever is in charge before I climb up there and knock some sense into your thick skull.”
Lorik brandished his battle axe to emphasize his point and a worried look crossed the sentry’s face. After a few moments spent wrestling with what to do, the sentry disappeared behind the big gate. Vera cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow.
“Very diplomatic, Lorik,” she said.
“This is unbelievable,” Lorik replied. “We come all this way only to be told to go home while all around us the Norsik are running loose in the countryside. Unbelievable.”
“Who do you suppose this Constable Yorn is?” Vera asked.
“Constables usually enforce the peace in small towns,” Stone said. “I can’t imagine why a fort filled with soldiers would need a constable, though.”
“Perhaps he’s from a village nearby,” Vera said.
“The king’s army has all been sent south,” Lorik explained. “The nobles, too. So whoever is in charge must have gotten their authority from the locals.”
They waited nearly ten minutes before the sentry returned, this time accompanied by a rat-faced man with thin, greasy hair, a drooping mustache, and red, watery eyes. The rat-faced man looked at Lorik’s volunteers and frowned.
“Who are you?” the man asked.
“My name is Lorik, and these are volunteers from Hassell Point. We’ve sailed north to help in your fight with the Norsik.”
“You are liars,” the rat-faced man said, his voice a sneer. “No one sails north through the Sailor’s Graveyard.”
“Yulver sails the Dancer through the Graveyard,” Lorik said. “He has for two decades. Now, why don’t you let us in? We’ve had a long, difficult journey.”
“I’m sorry for your troubles, but this is a fort. We don’t let just anyone in. How do I know you aren’t Norsik raiders who are pretending to be Ortisians?”
“You’ve got eyes, man,” Lorik said. “Do we look like Norsik tribesmen? Do we sound like them? We’re from Hassell Point.”
“Hassell Point is full of thieves and pirates,” the man announced.
“Aye, that’s true, but there are also good folk in the Marshlands. These volunteers and I have come to help turn back the tide of Norsik invaders.”
“I will take your requests under consideration. Until I have reached my decision you may make camp to the south of the fortress.”
“Under consideration?” Lorik said loudly. “You pompous fool, I’ve no time for your consideration. I’ll tear your gates down and lop off your ugly head.”
“Lorik!” Vera said. “Calm down. You won’t do us any good making enemies here. We came to fight the Norsik, not our countrymen.”
“You would do well to listen to the lady,” the rat-faced man said. “I am Constable Yorn and I’m in charge here. If you give me any trouble I’ll have you run back out to sea.”
“I doubt you could run a wheelbarrow out to sea,” Lorik said angrily. “Who has put you in charge of this fortress?”
“The people of Fort Utlig. I am their protector, and you will be wise to keep your impudence to yourself, Marshlander.”
Yorn and the sentry disappeared. Lorik gripped his battle axe and considered hacking his way into the fort, but thought better of it. The other volunteers were grumbling, but Vera quickly took charge, leading the group away from the gates and around the tall wooden palisade. They spotted a small camp not far away and walked to it. There were tents and shelters made from pine boughs. At the center of the camp was a small well. There were nearly a hundred people in the camp, mostly women and children. The group of volunteers was met by a kind-faced woman with two children watching bashfully from behind her skirts.
“I’m Lorna,” she said. “Are you here to help at the fort?”
“We are,” Vera said. “Why are you all camped here?”
“Constable Yorn won’t let anyone but soldiers inside the fort. Our menfolk have come up to volunteer, but we’ve had to make camp here.”
“This is ridiculous,” Lorik said.
Vera ignored his outburst and kept talking.
“Well, we’ve been asked to make camp here as well. Is there a place where we might find shelter?”
“There’s very little supplies outside the fort. There is a town about half a day’s walk to the south, but you’d have to have coin to buy supplies, I’m afraid.”
“Don’t the townspeople want to help the volunteers who come to support their fight against the Norsik?” Stone asked.
“Well, the people hereabouts haven’t really had a need for help. The Norsik raiders avoid this area. When the king’s soldiers were stationed here they would ride patrols along the Wilderlands, but now that they’re gone, the Norsik just go around the forts. Constable Yorn keeps his soldiers inside the fort in case the Norsik attack.”
“That’s a damn foolish strategy,” Lorik said. “There are raiders crossing the gulf every day, as far out as Ange Point. How can anyone fight the Norsik if they hide inside a fortress all day?”
“I don’t know,” Lorna said, shame coloring her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
“Well, it isn’t your fault,” Vera said, giving Lorik a scathing glance. “You don’t have any control over what this constable does. It looks like you are making the best of a bad situation, and doing a splendid job at that. Is there anything we can do to help?”
“Oh, no. We get by just fine.”
“Well, we’re going to set up our camp right here,” Vera said.
They spent the rest of the day setting up a makeshift camp. The only supplies they had were what they had on the Dancer, and Yulver didn’t like them taking his supplies. He had intended on sailing south again after delivering the volunteers to Fort Utlig, but with the gulf full of Norsik raiders and his crew down by half after the massive storm, he was forced to stay in harbor. There wasn’t enough sailcloth to make individuals tents, so they settled for one large canopy that would keep the weather off them while they slept. The volunteers cut reeds from around a stream that wound down into the gulf. They laid the reeds out on the ground as a moisture barrier while they slept.
The sailors stayed on board the Dancer, but the volunteers camped just outside the fort. The temperature dropped steadily as the sun went down, and they were forced to build fires just to keep warm. Food was in short supply, too, so Yulver shared what was left of the ship’s rations with the other refugees outside the fort.
Lorik simmered for hours, his mood growing worse with each minute that passed. He couldn’t believe that the defense of the kingdom was being left in the hands of a self-important local constable. Yorn had proven himself useless in Lorik’s eyes. He had hoped to get horses once they arrived. They needed to be able to cover ground with such a small group of volunteers, and fighting from horseback would give them an edge over the Norsik, who rarely rode horses.
The night grew cold and no one rested well. Most of the refugees were women and children, which Lorik knew would mean that sickness and infidelity were only a matter of time. He couldn’t keep his volunteers from mingling with the women, who busied themselves cooking for Lorik’s men.
“How the hell should I know?” Lorik said angrily. “Nothing is as it should be here. The very men volunteering to fight are kept out of the fort, while those in charge hide inside. This is the most idiotic endeavor I’ve ever heard of.”
“So make it better,” Vera said very matter-of-factly. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
“No, I’m here to fight,” Lorik said.
“Fighting is only half the battle. These people need a leader. Someone to look after them and focus their efforts.”
“I’m no leader,” Lorik countered. “You’d be more fitted to lead than I would.”
“Don’t be a fool, Lorik,” Vera hissed. “This is your chance to let your quality show. Don’t let an arrogant little man stop you. If you take charge and start to make a difference against the Norsik, word will spread. You’ll have men from all over the kingdom coming to join you.”
“That’s not my responsibility,” Lorik said.
“No, it’s the king’s, but he isn’t here, is he?” Vera said. “Nor are the nobles who grow fat off the hard work of the common people. But you are here. These men all look to you. You’ve already bloodied the nose of the Norsik raiders all along the gulf. Now is your chance to make your mark. Isn’t that what you’re really after?”
“You said that was my problem, that I’m always looking out for everyone but myself.”
“Yes,” Vera said. “I said that. But now that very quality is what is needed most. We need someone to lead the fight against the Norsik. I think that person should be you.”
“I agree,” Stone said.
The other volunteers chimed in one by one. They were all younger men, but they had heard the stories of how Lorik and Stone defeated Thuryk’s raiders and Marsdyn’s outlaw gang in Hassell Point. And there was no doubt that Lorik’s fame would spread even farther as people began to tell how they had survived the storm while sailing the Sailor’s Graveyard, and defeated the Norsik all along the coast of the Sandah Gulf.
Lorik didn’t respond; he just grunted and went for a walk. It was very dark outside the fort, as the stars shone but the moon was hidden. It was cold, but Lorik didn’t mind. He kept warm enough just walking, and his mind was too preoccupied to really notice how cold he was. Something Vera had said resonated deep inside him. He couldn’t put it into words, but he felt closer to his purpose in life. There was something that felt fulfilling about taking the volunteers and leading them against the Norsik.
It was late when he returned to the makeshift camp. Most of the volunteers were already asleep. He stoked the fires and added more wood, then lay down for the night. He didn’t get much sleep and was up before dawn. He had a few ideas, so he got the volunteers moving as soon as it was light enough to see what they were doing. South of the fort the land was wide, flat, and open, and Lorik lined up the volunteers there, fourteen men in all. Each had a sword and several knives or daggers. He put them through a few paces. They could all handle their weapons well enough. They were farm boys, strong and hard working, but not warriors. They would need to practice together and they would need shields as well.
“Have any of you ever ridden a horse?” he asked.
They all shook their heads. Lorik groaned. He had wanted to have someone besides himself who could handle a horse.
“I’ve got a little experience on a horse,” Stone said from behind Lorik.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m here to help.”
“I don’t think Vera would approve,” Lorik said, smiling.
“You know better than that. She wants me to make sure you don’t get killed.”
“Well, I will need someone to help me train these volunteers.”
“I can teach them some knife skills and help with riding lessons, but where are you going to get horses?”
“From the fort,” Lorik said, smiling again.
“You’ve got a plan, then?”
“It’s more of a rough outline.”
“All right, that’s good enough for me.”
They spent the morning teaching the volunteers to work together. It wasn’t soldiering in the finest sense of the word, but Lorik had plans to hit the raiding bands of Norsik that were coming into Ortis through the Wilderlands. They would have to move fast, anticipate one another’s actions, and move on quickly after each attack.
Lorik kept a close watch on the fort. It didn’t take long before he noticed men watching from the wooden palisade. He guessed those men had come to fight, but after being locked up in Fort Utlig for a while, they were probably restless and irritable.
After an hour of drills, Lorik sent the volunteers to get something to eat. There was very little left in the camp, but the women had said there was a village a half a day’s walk south. Lorik and Stone set out after getting a quick bite themselves and giving the volunteers instructions for the day. None were to set foot inside the fort. He didn’t want to return and find all his men stuck inside with Constable Yorn.
The walk to the village was pleasant enough. Fall had arrived and the trees south of the Wilderlands were turning different colors. There were bright yellows and dark reds, with every shade in between. Some of the leaves had started to fall, and the temperature was low, so walking in the sunshine felt good.
They reached the village at midday and discovered a bustling town. They could see smoke rising from several structures and heard the familiar ting ting of blacksmiths at work. Best of all, they could smell meat roasting and bread baking.
“How do you propose to get everything we need?” Stone asked.
“Not sure, but I’m hoping that these folks will listen to reason.”
“That’s not likely,” Stone said with a grin. “Most people don’t like to reason when it comes to parting with their goods.”
“If they don’t we’ll move on and they’ll be left completely unprotected.”
“What about Constable Yorn?”
“If they know the good constable, they’ll know they are in desperate need of help.”
Stone laughed. He liked spending time with Lorik. The teamster was a hard worker and had a strong sense of right and wrong, but he never pushed his feelings or ideas on anyone. He just always found a way to get what he needed. And he had accepted Stone without needing to know the younger man’s past. Stone had not always been a strictly moral person, but life on the run had given him the sense of freedom and prosperity he desired. All his life it seemed Stone had been scratching and clawing for the crumbs off someone else’s table. He had been rejected by most people who got close enough to really know him. Stone and Vera were the only exceptions. He had never felt like he belonged anywhere until he met them, and he knew he would die before he let anything happen to them.
They walked into the town past several small homes and well-built cottages. There was an inn at the center of the town and a small open market that was empty now. They saw a few people watching them. Lorik was an intimidating figure with his massive axe and broad shoulders. Stone’s low-slung twin knives were an oddity, too, but they labeled him as a dangerous man.
Lorik approached the first person he met in the street.
“I’m looking for someone in charge of this town,” he said politely.
The man looked at Lorik for a moment, then nodded his head toward the inn.
“Brotas is head of the town council. He runs the inn.”
“Thank you,” Lorik said.
The man nodded again and continued on his way.
“Well, at least maybe we can get a mug of ale while we talk to this Brotas,” Stone said. “I’m thirsty after that long walk.”
“Yeah, hopefully we’ll be riding back,” Lorik agreed.
“I thought you planned to get horses from the fort.”
“I will, but I’m also planning to get a wagon and a good team to deliver goods to the camp.”
Stone nodded, not sure how his partner planned to get everythin
g he wanted from the town without money. He deeply regretted having lost his own stash of gold and silver during the storm at sea. It would have made everything so much simpler.
They entered the inn and took a seat at a long table. The windows were open to allow the cool autumn air inside. There were a few groups of townsfolk sitting and drinking in the common room. There was no fire burning, but the fireplace looked well used. A woman with glossy black hair appeared. She had two mugs of frothy ale that she sat gently on the table in front of Lorik and Stone.
“What can I do for you gentlemen?” she said.
Lorik thought she was comely, and she had the look of a woman who worked hard—the kind of woman other men flirted with, but that took no nonsense from any of them.
“I’m looking for Brotas. I was told he was here.”
“Aye, I’ll fetch him. Shall I bring you something to eat as well?”
“No, thank you,” Lorik said. “The ale is fine for now.”
“Suit yourself,” she said.
Lorik couldn’t tell if she was irritated or not, but the look on Stone’s face let Lorik know how his partner felt without saying a word.
“We can’t eat until we know how much they’re going to help us,” Lorik said.
“You were pretty confident before,” Stone groused.
It was only a minute or so before Brotas appeared. He was a small man, but it was obvious he thought of himself as a very important person. Lorik had dealt with people like Brotas many times, but this time would have to be different. This time he had to convince the man to provide resources directly to Lorik and Stone, rather than sending everything to the fort where Constable Yorn would hoard it.
“You looking for me?” Brotas said as he approached.
“Yes,” Lorik said standing up and extending his hand. “My name is Lorik. I’m leading a group of volunteers against the Norsik.”
Brotas grunted, his eyes narrowing.
“What has that got to do with me?” he asked.
“Well, we’re looking for resources,” Lorik said, trying to keep his face from giving away his doubts as he bluffed. “There hasn’t been any help delivered to Fort Utlig since the king’s soldiers left.”
Lorik The Protector (Lorik Trilogy) Page 15