“What the hell is this?” Stone said in a loud voice, slurring his words and swaying on his feet. “Your children dressing like savages or something?”
“Ca looki somby, Ortii!” one of the Norsik shouted.
The farmer was too frightened to speak, and Stone looked puzzled. He needed to get the other raiders out of the house and in the yard.
“What is this jibber jabber?” he bellowed. “Where is Sorni? She needs to put her husband to bed. He’s had a might too much nip tonight, if you take my meaning.”
The two raiders on the porch spoke to one another, but then the farmer fainted from fear. Fortunately, it looked like he had just passed out from too much liquor.
“See!” Stone shouted. “I told you he needed a bed. I’ve carried him home, now come and help me get him inside.”
It wasn’t clear whether the Norsik understood Stone, or just acted instinctively. They came out of the house, all but one of them, and then down the steps into the yard. Stone waited, swaying on his feet, his hands now under his cloak and grasping a knife in each hand. He looked from the approaching Norsik raiders, who didn’t look worried in the slightest, to the farmer on the ground. He felt confident the raiders had believed his story, but there was still one raider in the house. It was imperative that he get inside before the raider had a chance to slaughter the farmer’s wife and daughters.
“Now!” Stone shouted.
He sprang forward, slashing his knife at the closest raider. The raider tried to ward off the blow, but Stone’s blade slashed through the muscle of the raider’s forearm. The man screamed, but so did the farmer’s sons, who came running in from either side of the yard. They had been hidden in the darkness, but now they sprinted forward, all four armed with spears. Stone had worried that they might grow squeamish at the last minute, but the boys had slaughtered farm animals all their lives. They didn’t hesitate to attack the Norsik. Three were run through with the spears, but one managed to avoid the deadly attack.
Stone’s opponent was still on his feet, but screaming and holding his arm. Stone ignored him for a moment and leapt to the aid of the boy who had missed his opponent. The raider had drawn his short, curved sword, but Stone smashed the brass knuckle guard of his knife into the raider’s head just behind the ear. The man fell just as Stone spun around and dropped to one knee. The wounded raider was slashing his sword at Stone, but the weapon whistled harmlessly overhead. Stone stabbed his knife into the raider’s inner thigh and felt the blade drag across the thick leg bone. The raider staggered backward and Stone saw blood arcing into the air like black rain drops. He knew he had severed a major blood vessel and that the raider would soon bleed to death, so he turned and sprinted toward the house.
He burst through the door just as the final raider was dragging the farmer’s wife out of the bedroom. Her daughters were shouting and trying to pull her back into the room, but the raider had her arm in a tight grip and wasn’t going to be denied. Stone saw the raider’s sword coming up and he reacted instantly, using one knife to block the sword and the other to gash the raider’s shoulder.
The Norsik roared in anger and kicked the farmer’s wife behind her knees, causing her to fall while he backpedaled away from Stone. The farmer’s wife was on her hands and knees between them now, and Stone hesitated for an instant, not sure how to attack without endangering the woman between them. Then, from behind Stone, a spear came whistling over his shoulder and skewered the raider through the chest, pinning him to the wall.
Stone glanced back and saw the farmer’s oldest son, standing on the porch just outside the open door. He nodded, and Stone returned the gesture. The fighting was over and now his overtaxed nerves made Stone tremble. He wasn’t afraid of fighting, but risking the lives of people he cared about was hard to deal with. He wasn’t sure why he cared so much for the farmer and his family; perhaps it was because in some ways he envied the farmer’s life. He could imagine himself and Vera on a farm, surrounded by children and grandchildren. It was a life he had never thought possible until he had met Vera, and now he wanted it more than ever, but he was reminded that evil men always target the innocent and the weak. He didn’t want to lose Vera, and seeing the farmer’s wife so helpless at the hands of the Norsik raider left him shaken. But he pulled himself together and stood up straight.
“All right,” he said. “Gather your things. We’re riding out of here tonight.”
The sun was rising as Stone led the small caravan away from the farmhouse. It had taken a little while for the farmer and his wife to deal with killing six men, even if they were Norsik raiders. Stone and two of the farmer’s oldest sons carried out the raider who had been pinned to the wall with a spear. There had been screams and even vomiting, which the farmer’s wife insisted on cleaning up before they left.
The farmer had a large wagon, and two of the seven horses the farmer owned were hitched to the wagon. The farmer’s four oldest sons rode horses, while the rest of the family rode in the wagon with a few prized possessions and enough supplies to sustain the large family for several weeks. The seventh horse was tied to the back of the wagon. The other farm animals were let out of the barn to fend for themselves.
Once Stone had the family moving south, he turned and rode hard for Farns Cove. He was so tired that he fell asleep in the saddle more than once. His back and bottom ached from being in the saddle so long, but he reached the small coastal town just before sunset. As he spread the word about the Norsik, most of the residents took the news in stride. They were used to raids and rumors of uprisings, but a few opted to pull stakes and move on. Stone had a hot meal at the Traveler’s Haven Inn and then slept until early the next morning. The innkeeper wasn’t leaving, but he had replenished Stone’s rations and served him a hot breakfast before Stone rode out again.
This time Stone pushed hard to the southwest. It was more important than anything else that he catch up with Vera now. He had done his duty, and although he still felt a twinge of guilt over having left Lorik to fight the raiders without Stone’s help, he knew that confrontation, either for good or for bad, was over now. The only thing he could hope to do was to find Vera and maybe gather a little news about the conflict along the border as he went.
It took three days of hard riding, but he finally met up with the growing caravan of travelers. Vera’s group had grown when it reached Timmons Gate, where many of the locals joined them in fleeing south. Vera had stopped her group for two hours, letting them rest while many of the townspeople gathered their belongs and joined her. There weren’t many horses left in the small town, but she found two that could pull a wagon loaded with food, barrels of ale, blankets, and what little medicines could be found. There was no healer in Timmons Gate, but an older woman who made a living as a midwife had a store of herbs and medicinal supplies that she brought along with her when she joined the group.
They set out late that same afternoon and traveled south until just before sunset. No word from the fort had come in, and Vera could only hope that was a good sign. Her greatest fear was that Lorik would be killed by the Norsik raiders and Liam would be cut off from her. But she did her best to keep the group moving. They set out early the second day, but most of the travelers were women who were forced to carry their belongings on their backs. They moved slowly and had to stop often for rest. Vera and the midwife were kept busy helping the travelers who fell victim to exhaustion, blisters, and footsoreness.
It was late on the fifth afternoon when she saw Liam riding toward her. She wanted to run to him, but she didn’t have the energy. She spent all her time either walking or helping those in need, often late into the night. A few of the travelers had fallen ill and she had spent a few nights sitting up with the sick. She refused to take a space on the wagon with the children, insisting that someone else take her turn riding for an hour.
When Stone drew close enough she went out to meet him. He looked haggard, but she thought he was as handsome as ever.
“It took you long
enough,” she said with a smile.
“Too long for my taste,” he said.
“Do you think we’ve come far enough south?”
“I don’t know,” he said honestly.
“We’ve passed several villages. Surely the Norsik won’t come this far.”
“It’s a hell of a chance to take,” Stone said. “We need someone to ride back and scout what’s happening. I haven’t heard anything from Fort Utlig or even Timmons Gate.”
“Neither have I. No word at all. But we’re all tired and worn down. We could use a break if you think it’s safe enough.”
“I don’t know,” Stone said, wishing Lorik were there to give them some direction. “I guess I need to think about it a while.”
Vera called a halt to the day’s travel. It was only a little more than an hour before sunset. They set up camp and Stone took inventory of who had joined the group. It was mostly women and children, but a few men were there as well. He wished he had told the farmer and his sons to join Vera’s group, but he had sent them south on their own. Whatever needed to be done for Vera’s group of travelers he would have to handle himself.
There were no other riders, and Stone’s horse was worn down considerably from the frantic pace he’d kept. He settled in near a small fire with Vera as night fell. They shared a simple meal and sipped a little ale.
“You look tired,” Vera said.
“You do, too.”
“Maybe we should rest here for a few days?”
“No, that wouldn’t be wise,” Liam told her. “Tomorrow you need to continue south. I’ll ride back and see what I can learn.”
“Can’t someone else do that?” Vera asked.
“I’m open to suggestions,” he said. “Who else has a horse?”
Vera frowned. She knew that Liam had to be the one to go, but she resented his leaving her so soon. She sighed and put her head on his shoulder.
“This isn’t how I imagined it,” she said. “I never thought life outside Hassell Point would be so difficult.”
“Things never turn out to be as easy as we think they’ll be,” Liam said. “But at least we’re together.”
“For tonight,” Vera said, pouting. “Then you are leaving me tomorrow.”
“Well then, I guess we’d better make the most of what we’ve got,” he said.
Then he kissed her.
Chapter 27
The next morning there were raiders camped all along the edge of the Wilderlands. Lorik had never seen so many people at one time in his whole life. Constable Yorn was simply terrified. He stood frozen on the top of the watchtower, incapable of doing anything else. Lorik had wanted to keep his small band of mounted volunteers out of the fortress, but there were simply too many raiders. There was no way for his men to harry the raiders without being slaughtered. The only question left was whether the Norsik would attack the fort. Their numbers seemed so overwhelming that it was practically inconceivable that they wouldn’t.
Lorik made sure that the walls were defended, but even with every man on the walls, they had less than twenty men all told. Yulver was still with his ship out in the harbor, and the rest of the volunteers had been sent out to warn the surrounding settlements. Not long after sunup the Norsik sallied forth. There was none of the organization one might expect from a large group of fighting men. The Norsik traveled in groups, moving together but not in formations of any type. To Lorik’s relief he could see that most of the raiders had no interest in the fort. If they had concentrated their attacks on the fort, it would have been overrun in short order. As it was, only a few of the smaller bands showed any interest in coming near the wooden palisades, and after Lorik and his volunteers killed several of the raiders with well-aimed spears, most of the tribes lost all interest.
Unfortunately, one of the raiders who was killed was an important member of one tribe of nearly thirty men. They obviously felt honor-bound to avenge their leader’s death. They ran straight toward the gate and Lorik held his men in check. Yorn kept watch on top of the stone tower, while Lorik prepared to fight with the men on the walls. He had spread the twelve men under Yorn’s command around the walls and kept his six volunteers together at the gate. They had enough spears for one more volley, but Lorik bade his men to wait until the raiders were running straight toward the large wooden gate. Lorik was sure the gate would hold against their charge, but he didn’t see any reason not to slow them down on the way.
“Wait for it,” he called out as the screaming tribe came closer. “Wait for my command!”
The six men with Lorik had come to trust their leader. They were all from the Marshlands and most had known Lorik all their lives. He had served as a teamster for nearly twenty years, first with his father and then by himself after his father died. In his early thirties now, he was old enough to command respect from the other volunteers, but it had been his skillful tactics along the Sandah Gulf and in the Wilderlands that had won their allegiance.
“Now!” he shouted again.
They threw their spears at the same time, each targeting the lead runners. Four men fell from the volley, and several others tripped over the rolling bodies and spear shafts that stood out at odd angles from their comrades’ bodies.
“Steady now!” Lorik shouted as the rest of the tribe circled the fallen and came toward the gate. “We hold our ground. We don’t have to kill them all, just keep them off the walls.”
The volunteers had several baskets of sizable rocks to throw down on the enemy. They also had swords, but even when leaning out over the palisade the swords weren’t useful weapons. Lorik had one of the few available bows, and he used it to good effect. His men dropped stones on the raiders who were throwing their shoulders into the gate, which soon caused the raiders to pull back. The Lorik took careful aim and let his first arrow fly. It was a perfect shot and the arrow buried itself in the chest of one of the larger raiders.
His men cheered, but Lorik simply drew another arrow and took careful aim again. Three more raiders were wounded before the tribe withdrew out of bow range. Normally, Lorik would have ridden out and confronted the raiders, but there were still hundreds of small groups leaving the Wilderlands and pouring over the open countryside. The attacking tribe considered their options and decided to split their forces. They were just over twenty men now, and they divided into four groups. One stayed near the gates, but the others went to the other sides of the fortress.
“They’re splitting up,” said one of the volunteers.
“They’ll get inside,” said another nervously. “We can’t defend every part of the fort.”
“We’ll have to do the best we can,” Lorik said.
He stayed by the gate and sent two others to confront each of the other attacking parties.
“Use whatever you can find to beat them back,” he told them. “Just keep them off the walls.”
“But Yorn’s men aren’t trained fighters and we don’t have time to gather more spears from the armory,” said the nervous man.
“True, but we hold the high ground. We’ll have a chance to strike first, before they’re even close to us. Make the most of that. Remember, you don’t have to kill them, just keep them off the walls.”
Lorik watched his men go, then turned his attention back to the group that had moved out of bow range, but were still obviously hoping to get in through the gate he was guarding. He looked around, hoping none of the other tribes would decide to join the attack. It was a tense few moments, then one of the Norsik bellowed a bloodcurdling war cry and the tribe attacked.
Lorik’s aim wasn’t as true as before. His first shot missed as the group of six men came running toward the gate. He nocked another arrow and took his time. The second arrow hit one of the runners in the upper arm. The raider stumbled but managed to keep his feet under him and continue running. The raiders were more confident than ever, and Lorik could hear his men shouting and cursing as the other groups pushed toward the walls.
Lorik suddenly became
aware of the intense pressure on him to win this fight. Sweat ran down his forehead and into his eyes as he tried to aim another arrow. His hands shook slightly and once again his arrow missed the mark, slamming into the ground ahead of the raiders. He fumbled with another arrow, finally managing to nock it just as the raiders neared the gate. He fired down and wounded another of the raiders, but the remaining five slammed into the gate, rocking it inward despite the massive beams that locked it in place. The wood groaned, making a popping sound, and the hinges strained against the gate doors. The gate held, but raiders were pulling back and preparing to make another run against the gate, and Lorik wasn’t sure how long the gate would last.
He nocked another arrow and took careful aim, letting out a deep breath and then holding his breath for the release. His hands trembled and his arms felt weak. He thought he would rather be on the ground with his battle axe than on the wall with a bow. He was a fairly decent shot when he wasn’t under pressure, but seeing an enemy rushing toward him in battle and feeling overwhelmed left him out of sorts.
He fired, releasing the arrow just before the raiders rushed back toward the gate. They didn’t have the same momentum this time, and Lorik’s arrow caught one of the raiders in the chest. The other four men slammed into the gate again, but without making much of an impact. Lorik grabbed one of the fist-sized stones in a basket beside him and threw it straight down, knocking another of the raiders senseless. The remaining men turned and ran. Lorik nocked an arrow and fired after the fleeing Norsik. The arrow arced through the air, then fell hard into the leg of one of the raiders. He screamed and fell but was quickly back up, hobbling away as fast as he could.
Lorik turned and ran around the parapet that lined the inner wooden palisade. The other volunteers had pushed back the other groups of raiders as well. The angry tribe of Norsik warriors had pulled back and were licking their wounds. Dead men ringed the fort, and the sight of their fallen comrades was enough to ward off further attacks. The Norsik were fierce warriors in battle, but they preferred sacking villages, plundering, and taking slaves. There were too many easier opportunities among the undefended settlements to waste much time attacking the fort. An hour later, all the Norsik had passed out of sight.
Lorik The Protector (Lorik Trilogy) Page 24