“I know,” Lorik said. “Let me think about it.”
Lorik tossed and turned through the night, unable to sleep. He worried about everything and couldn’t shake the feeling that Stone was right. They needed to go into the Wilderlands, but that wasn’t a comforting thought. Lorik had never been afraid of the dangers in the Marshlands near his home in Hassell Point and he knew that many people north of the Marshlands would never get close to his swampy homeland. Still, entering the towering forest of the Wilderlands gave Lorik pause. He remembered how it felt to ride for days past the massive redwood trees and stare into the dark recesses of the Wilderlands. He didn’t believe in ghosts and didn’t think that the Wilderlands were a haunted forest, but seeing the massive trees in person made those superstitious stories seem more plausible.
When the sun came up Lorik rose and shook away the fatigue of his long night. He knew what he had to do. He was in the stable saddling his horse when Stone found him.
“Where are you off to?” he asked.
“I’m going to scout the forest,” Lorik replied. “I need you keep the volunteers training. I’ve had them riding every day and working with the spears you made.”
“How long are you planning on being gone?” Stone asked. “You know if you get lost in there we probably won’t be able to find you.”
“I won’t get lost,” Lorik said. “Besides, it’s not like I can leave a golden thread to trace my way back home.”
“Look,” Stone said, stepping closer to his friend, “I’m not joking around here. I think scouting the forest is a good idea, but don’t take the Wilderlands for granted. There’s a reason people say the forest is haunted.”
“You sound like an old lady,” Lorik teased, hoping he sounded convincing. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“You don’t believe in dragons, either, but there’s word of one in Yelsia.”
“Rumors,” Lorik said. “That’s all any of this is. I’m scouting, nothing more. I’ll be careful and I won’t get lost.”
“All right, when should we expect you back?”
“I’ll scout for three days,” Lorik said. “Then I’ll come back.”
“You have everything you need?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“All right,” Stone said, standing back while Lorik mounted his horse. “I’ll see you in a week or sooner.”
“A week or sooner,” Lorik repeated.
They shook hands, and Lorik guided his horse out of the stable. The large open yard of the fort was busy. The women worked hard every day, some cooking, others mending clothes or helping set up the many buildings that lined the interior walls of the fort. Others were sanding down spear shafts or wrapping the handles with rawhide. The men were busy too, some standing watch on the walls, others seeing to the maintenance of the fort. Some helped craft the weapons while others honed blades and spearheads on big grinding wheels.
Lorik felt good about the productivity of the fort. None of it was really his responsibility—he’d left that in the hands of Constable Yorn—but he liked seeing things accomplished. He rode toward the gate only to be stopped by Vera.
“You be careful,” she said sternly.
“Stone already gave me that speech,” Lorik said.
“Well, maybe you need to hear it again. You know people get lost in the Wilderlands. Not to mention the fact that there are creatures in there that have never seen the sun.”
“People say the same thing about the Marshlands,” Lorik said.
“And there are plenty of dangers there as well. Just because you’re used to making your way through the swamp doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take the dangers of the Wilderlands seriously.”
“Vera, I have to go and see what’s happening. We can’t afford to be caught off guard.”
“I know,” she said. “I’m not trying to stop you, but I want you to be careful.”
“I will be,” he said. “I promise.”
She reached up and he took her hand. There were more words behind the look she gave him, more sentiment, more concern, but she didn’t say more. She just squeezed his hand.
“I’ll see you in a week or sooner,” he said.
“All right,” she said.
He nudged the horse and rode out of the fort. Beyond the gate he could see the Dancer. The ship was being rowed around the small harbor, and Lorik waved to his friend. Then he turned his horse and rode to the north side of the fort. There were five hundred yards of open ground between the tall wooden palisade and the towering redwood trees of the Wilderlands. Just the sight of the massive trees made Lorik feel small and helpless, but he rode forward, refusing to look back. As he came nearer to the edge of the forest he couldn’t help but look up. The trees towered so high he felt like he would topple out of the saddle trying to crane his neck to glimpse their tops.
Then, after checking to make sure his weapons were close to hand, he rode forward. His horse seemed unfazed by the ancient forest, and Lorik steadied his nerves, determined not to let his emotions get the best of him.
Circling the first massive tree was an almost unbelievable experience. The trunk was bigger around than most houses. He rode on, into the quiet, dark interior of the forest. The warmth of the sun was absent, and Lorik shivered. He could see well enough—it was like twilight in the forest—but when he looked up, the foliage of the trees was lost in the gloom far above him. The forest floor seemed soft, as his horse’s footsteps made slight thumping noises rather than the normal clopping steps he was used to. After an hour, he dismounted. Most of the forest floor was bare earth, but in some places moss grew thick, and occasionally he saw strange fan-like plants that seemed to thrive among the massive tree roots.
There was no path to follow since there was so little foliage along the forest floor. Lorik moved slowly, winding around the trees and doing his best keep moving north. Occasionally he heard the sounds of birds whistling and singing overhead. Time seemed to stand still in the gloom. He walked until his stomach growled with hunger and he guessed it was close to midday.
He sat down and allowed his horse to munch on the fan-shaped leaves nearby. He had seen no sign of the Norsik, nor of any creatures. The ground, as soft as it was, bore no footprints, and the trees showed no signs of marking by animals.
Lorik ate in silence, feeling more alone than he ever had in his life. When his parents died, he had felt a thick blanket of loneliness come over him, but Vera had been there to comfort him. When she had left the Marshlands with Stone, he had felt a different kind of loneliness, but it was more of an empty feeling, as if he had no love left in his heart. He had spent time with friends in Hassell Point, but he was sure he hadn’t been much fun to be around. Still, the way he felt now was completely different. He felt utterly alone, and a deep despair started to creep over him.
He finished his meal and mounted his horse again, determined to shake off the strange emotions that made him long to turn back and gallop for the open fields south of the forest. He tried not to think about how good the sunshine would feel on his skin or how cold and empty the forest felt.
After a few more hours, a strange mist appeared among the massive trees. It drifted toward Lorik, who had to fight the urge to run from it. He understood now why so many people thought they saw ghosts in the Wilderlands. The mist moving among the trees despite any type of breeze was unearthly. The white fog sprang up from the damp ground and added moisture to the already cold atmosphere.
When the sun began to set, a deep darkness came over the forest incredibly fast. Lorik was left in the dark, scrounging for fallen branches to build a fire with. He pulled long strips of fibrous bark from one of the trees and used flint with his dagger to start a fire. The flint and steel sparked, giving off small flashes of light, and Lorik fought the sense of panic that had been rising in his heart. It took a little longer than normal to ignite the fuel for the fire, and the branches were damp rather than dried out the way most fallen branches become, but having grown up in the Marshlands, Lorik was acc
ustomed to working with damp wood. He soon had a very small fire going, but it gave him enough light to see by. He made a mental note that if he came back into the Wilderlands he needed to bring torches.
There were plenty of fallen twigs to use in the fire, but larger branches were few and far between. The tree bark seemed to burn best, but it didn’t burn long. Lorik used his dagger and could peel off long sections of bark. In some places the bark seemed to hang off the tree trunks like a snake shedding its skin.
Once Lorik had a decent fire going he unrolled the blanket he kept behind his saddle, then saw to his horse. He had food in his saddlebags for himself but nothing for his horse. He realized that he wouldn’t be able to stay in the forest much longer unless he found something for his mount to eat. The horse nibbled at the moss, but Lorik could tell the horse was hungry. He dug through the saddlebags and found some vegetables he had brought to make a stew with. A few potatoes, carrots, and onions were all he had, but he gave the potatoes to his horse and saved the carrots for another time. Water seemed to be rare in the Wilderlands, too. Lorik couldn’t remember seeing a stream all day. He had a canteen of water, and he sipped from it while he ate the bread and cheese he was having for supper.
The fire seemed to hold back the mist, but Lorik could see it, ghostly white just within the circle of dancing yellow light from his fire. He stretched out on his blanket and rested his head against his saddle. He was used to being able to see stars overhead, but now the sky above was completely black. Even in the Marshlands, where the weather could sometimes blot out the sky, it didn’t seem as dark as in the Wilderlands.
Lorik kept a pile of the tree bark beside him and tried to sleep. But he could only doze, and the night seemed to last forever. It even crossed Lorik’s mind that perhaps he had entered a thicker part of the forest where the sun was unable to penetrate at all, but eventually dawn came and the gloom receded. The cold had settled in on Lorik through the night and even the fire didn’t help. He shivered as he climbed back into his saddle and began riding north once again. He had no appetite and it wasn’t long before a strange sensation came over Lorik. He felt like he was being watched. He told himself it was just nerves, but he couldn’t shake the strange sensation. He kept turning to look behind him, but he saw no one.
It was nearing midday when he heard the sound of voices ahead. He stopped his horse and listened. At first it was just whispers, and he had to fight off the feeling that he was hearing ghosts. Slowly the sounds grew. He couldn’t hear footsteps but he could hear people talking. It was the strange language of the Norsik. Lorik dismounted and moved slowly toward the east, hoping to skirt around the band of raiders and perhaps approach them from behind, but he soon found that there was more than one band of raiders. It was a large group of Norsik, more than any one tribe or clan. They were moving en masse and heading south through the forest.
Lorik wanted to climb a tree and get a better view of the raiders, but there was no way to scale the massive trees and no place to hide his horse. He listened as long as he dared, then turned south. He led his horse as quickly as he could through the forest, waiting until he couldn’t hear the voices behind him anymore. Then he mounted and rode hard for Fort Utlig. He told himself he was hurrying to bring news back to the settlements along the Wilderlands, but he knew that more than anything he just wanted to get out of the gloomy forest.
Night overtook him once again, but this time, after starting a small fire and feeding his horse the carrots and onions in his saddlebags, Lorik wrapped bark around the butt of his battle axe and used the long-handled weapon like a torch so that he could keep traveling. It was well past midnight when he broke clear of the Wilderlands, and when the sky opened up and he could once again see the stars, he breathed a sigh of relief and rode hard toward the fort.
Chapter 25
“You saw them?” Constable Yorn asked. “You’re sure it was a Norsik raiding party?”
“Who else would it be?” Vera asked angrily.
They were in the large room that had once been the home to the ranking military officer of Fort Utlig and was now the personal quarters of Constable Yorn. The sun had not yet made an appearance, but the sky was growing lighter in the east. Lorik stood looking out the large windows that faced the Wilderlands. He felt a gnawing fear in his stomach. The Norsik were coming, and there were far too many to be stopped by his small band of volunteers.
“It could have been anyone,” Constable Yorn snapped. “People see strange things in the Wilderlands. It could have been just his imagination.”
“No,” Lorik said.
“We have to prepare for the worst,” Stone said quietly.
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” Yorn said. “We can survive in this fort all winter if we need to.”
“I’m not talking about the people in this fort,” Stone said.
“There are people all over Ortis who will be overrun,” Vera said. “We have to send out riders to warn them.”
“No, we need every man to hold this position,” Yorn argued.
“The Norsik won’t stay and lay siege to this fort,” Lorik said. “We’ve talked about this before. They’ll spread out through the countryside to raid every homestead and village they find. They’ll take anything of value, including slaves.”
“So what can we do about that?” Yorn asked. “Our duty is to stay here, to hold this fort at all costs. If we leave the fort we’ll never get rid of the Norsik. They’ll dig in and take over.”
“That’s true,” Lorik said. “We do need to hold the fort. But it isn’t the only thing we have to do.”
“What are you suggesting?” Vera asked.
“Three things,” Lorik said. “We have to send riders to warn the villages and settlements, but we also need to slow down the Norsik if that’s possible. And we have to hold this fort.”
“If we hit the Norsik when they’re out of the Wilderlands, even on horseback, are we really going to be more than a mild annoyance?” Stone asked.
“No, we won’t be,” Lorik said. “I think our best chance is to hit them while they’re still in the forest.”
“You mean go back into the Wilderlands?” Vera asked.
“Yes,” Lorik said. “I’ll take six men with me. Stone, you and the others warn the settlements. Vera, take as many of the women and children from here as you can and head south. Go straight to Timmons Gate and warn them, but then you’ve got to keep moving. Head for Ort City.”
“Lorik, it would take weeks to get there, even on horseback,” Vera argued.
“I don’t think the Norsik will move too far south, but we can’t be sure.”
“I’ve never even heard of Norsik raiding parties banding together,” Yorn said skeptically. “Are you sure there’s more than a couple dozen?”
“I think there are hundreds,” Lorik said. “I don’t know for sure because I couldn’t see them.”
“If you couldn’t see them, how do you even know it was the Norsik?”
“I heard them,” Lorik said.
“That’s good enough for me,” Stone said. “I’ll ride east as far as Farns Cove, then I’ll turn south and catch up with Vera.”
“I think going to Ort City is too far,” Vera said.
“It’s the only city of size we can count on,” Lorik said. “Splitting up isn’t the best idea, but if we get overrun, we need a place we can all find.”
“All right, I understand,” Vera said. “I’ll keep moving south until Stone catches up with us.”
“We have a lot to do and very little time,” Lorik said. “You need to get the women moving as soon as possible. We don’t have enough wagons for everyone to ride, so you’ll be moving slower than the Norsik. Don’t waste time. Push hard.”
“I will,” Vera said.
“All right, let’s get busy.”
Stone and Vera hurried from the room, but Lorik and Yorn stayed.
“I need to know that when my men return you’ll let them back in the fort,” L
orik said quietly, turning away from the window for the first time. “They’ll be killed if you don’t.”
“I can’t risk the safety of this fort,” Yorn said.
“I’m not asking you to. I just need to know that if I don’t make it back, that my men won’t be left outside, even if the Norsik aren’t far behind them.”
“I’m not a coward,” Yorn hissed.
“I never said you were,” Lorik said. “But by the gods, if you double-cross me this time I’ll split your head like a ripe melon. Do you understand me?”
Yorn started to argue, but the look in Lorik’s eyes made him hesitate. He nodded and Lorik left the room.
Down in the yard Vera and the other women were making quick work of getting their belongings packed up. Most of the women had come carrying few possessions, and so there wasn’t much for them to gather up. The children were loaded into the wagon and Lorik made sure the draft horses were hitched correctly. Vera had ridden with Lorik enough times to feel confident handling the team.
“Keep moving south,” Lorik told her. “You can always come back later, but if you’re caught by the Norsik...” he let the awful thought trail off.
“We won’t be,” Vera said. “Just take care of yourself. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“I won’t,” Lorik said.
She kissed his cheek and squeezed him hard for a moment, then she climbed up into the wagon. Stone was coming out of the stables, leading a horse and followed by several other men.
“You have your knife?” Stone asked Vera.
She nodded.
“Keep moving. I’ll catch up to you no later than the fourth day,” he promised.
“You be careful, don’t push yourself too hard.”
“I won’t,” he said.
She leaned over, and they kissed passionately for a moment. Lorik stood back watching, his heart aching for his friends. He felt guilty that they were even here. He once again felt like a fool for having come north. He had expected to find more volunteers prepared to hold the border against the Norsik, but in the end he had only the few volunteers he had brought north from Hassell Point.
Lorik The Protector (Lorik Trilogy) Page 22