Lorik The Defender (The Lorik Trilogy)
Page 17
Half an hour passed and there was no word from the castle. Then, like a nightmare, Lorik heard the buzzing of the Leffer wings. He sat up straight in his chair, knowing full well that it was too late.
“What the hell is that?” Vyrnon asked, straining to see into the darkness.
“Leffers,” Lorik said. “We’re too late.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“We have to go now.”
“You mean leave the others?”
“No, there’s no time. We have to return to the castle.”
“But you said—”
He didn’t have a chance to finish his argument. Lorik had stooped over and grabbed his boots just as a loud noise sounded from above. What little of the roof remained intact started to cave in.
“Into the tunnel!” Lorik shouted.
Both men dashed inside and down into the darkness as the Leffers, drawn by the light of the fire, smashed into the farmhouse. Their wings buzzed and the creatures growled like rabid dogs. Lorik knew that the huge creatures couldn’t squeeze into the tunnel, but he still wanted to get away from them. He leaned against one wall and pulled his boots on. His sprained ankle was swollen and sore, but he pulled his wet boot on despite the pain.
They couldn’t see anything in the darkness of the tunnel, having instinctively pulled back away from the entrance. Lorik sheathed his swords and leaned against the narrow wall for support.
“That was close,” Vyrnon said, his voice shaking.
“We have to get back to the castle,” Lorik said.
“But we can’t see.”
“It’s just a tunnel, there’s nothing to see.”
Lorik led the way. They passed through the standing water and the dripping ceiling. The tunnel was cold, but not freezing, and they made good time despite Lorik’s injury. When the water stopped dripping Lorik slowed his pace. He knew the pit was somewhere ahead and he didn’t want to stumble into it. Fortunately they saw light as someone entered the tunnel from the castle side before they reached the trap at the bottom of the stairs.
“Lorik,” Stone shouted. “Are you hurt?”
“Just a sprained ankle,” Lorik said. “I stepped in a damn rodent hole and twisted it.”
“Why didn’t you wait in the farmhouse?”
“It’s too late,” Lorik said. “The Leffer’s attacked. The castle is our only refuge now.”
“You mean we’re cut off?” one of the volunteers behind Stone asked.
“Yes,” Lorik said. “Our only hope now is to hold the castle. Let’s get to a fire and I’ll tell you everything.”
They hurried back up into the castle. There were still fires burning in various hearths. The volunteers had dropped everything, and hurried to the escape tunnel once the retreat had been called. Most of them had been roused from their beds. There was only a couple hours of night left, and Lorik dreaded what they would find in the morning.
The entire group of volunteers, including Vera and Vanz, gathered around Lorik while he told them what he’d seen. They all took a moment to realize that there was no real hope of survival. An army that vast would overrun the castle and kill them all.
“So there’s no hope then,” one of the younger men said, fear all too plain in his voice.
“There is always hope,” Vera assured them.
“We have a strong defensive position,” Stone said. “If we make it too costly for the bastards to attack us, we can survive.”
The volunteers all looked to Lorik, who had stripped out of his wet clothes and was wrapped in a blanket standing near the fire. He looked like an ancient god, angry and defiant. He waited a moment before he spoke.
“I won’t lie,” he said. “We’re facing near impossible odds. I don’t know how the army will fight. I don’t know anything about them other than they are slow and looked to be very strong. We’ll have to fight off the Leffers, but we’ve done that before. There’s a lot of them, but not so many we can’t prevail. Then we hold the castle no matter what. We’ll designate fall back positions, make use of the narrow corridors. We don’t stop fighting ever,” he told them, his ragged voice rising. “These creatures we face were once farmers and shopkeepers, they aren’t warriors. They are under the control of a dark power, but we fight for more than just our lives. In the north, the people we love will have to face every last one of these monsters that we don’t kill. So we’ll kill as many as we can. If you embrace that mission and you fight for the people you love, you’ll find a strength you never knew you had. You’ll find hope in this dark night. It may seem overwhelming now. You may see things that you wish you could un-see, but as long as you keep fighting, there is hope.”
“I’ll fight,” Stone said.
“And I,” said another volunteer.
Soon they were all chanting and raising their weapons in the air. Lorik looked at the small group of volunteers. They weren’t trained soldiers, but they had heart. He felt pride welling up inside him as he watched their enthusiasm grow. Even Vanz seemed prepared to take up a weapon and make a stand. They believed Lorik’s promise and had taken hold of the hope that flickered like a candle in a storm. Lorik could see the hope in all their eyes, except for one. Vera alone had the stern look of reality on her face. Her eyes were cold and Lorik could see the despair deep inside them. She had one hand on her stomach, in the other she held a short sword. She was no warrior, but she would have to fight before it was over, and she knew it. Lorik had to look away, as tears welled up in his eyes. Their hope was an illusion, a necessary fantasy to give them the strength to do what must be done, but Lorik knew the truth. They would all die, the city would be overrun, and there was nothing to stop the witch’s army from destroying everyone and everything they loved.
Chapter 20
A simple plan was laid out in the few short hours before dawn. Weapons were stashed in various places. Stone and Lorik tried to convince Vera to go down to the escape passage. Lorik couldn’t be sure, but he thought the mutated soldiers of the witch’s army were too big to get into the tight space. Vanz was busy moving food down into the small passage. If worst came to worst, they could take refuge in the passage or at least make a final stand where the enemy could only come at them one at a time.
Vera wouldn’t hear of it. She insisted on taking a place beside Stone on the castle walls. Lorik finally convinced her to serve as lookout on the high watchtower. Lorik and Stone joined her as dawn finally cast its light over the city and across the rolling hills. What they saw as the sky began to lighten was more frightening than any nightmare in the darkness. The city was crawling with mutated fighters, and thousands more were streaming around the castle.
“Oh,” was all Vera managed to say.
The witch’s army looked like a swarm of bees crawling over a beehive. They had breached the city walls by physically raising the portcullis and battering down the massive wooden doors. They thronged through the streets, moving closer and closer to the castle.
“At least there aren’t any Leffers,” Stone said grimly.
“They must have moved past the city,” Lorik said, looking north to where the enemy army was surging toward the horizon.
“What are we going to do?” Vera said.
“We’re going to fight,” Lorik said. “We’ll make them pay for every inch they take toward this castle. You keep an eye on the walls, but stay focused on the gate. They’ll tear it down eventually. When you see them starting to break through, sound the alarm, then get downstairs as fast as you can.”
“I want to help,” Vera insisted.
“You will be helping,” Lorik said. “There will be plenty to do. Get behind the first choke point and make sure the volunteers who make it there fight hard.”
“Where will you be?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
“We’ll be there, unless something happens. But no matter what, you have to stay calm. You can’t worry about us. Not until this is all over. Keep fighting and falling back. You understand?”
“I love you,” he said quietly.
“And I love you,” Vera said. “Don’t do anything foolish.”
“I promise,” he said. Then he hurried after Lorik.
“To the walls!” Lorik bellowed to the volunteers. “They’re almost here. Take your positions. When you hear the horn from above, fall back to the first choke point.”
Lorik felt his strength waning. He’d snatched a couple hours of sleep, which should have been plenty to restore his stamina, but his ankle was swollen and aching. His chest was black from where the Leffer had kicked him and it hurt to move his arms. He felt dizzy at times, his eyes burned, and his arms felt weak. One of his swords had been blunted from being thrust into the frozen ground as he leaned on it during his trek back to Ort City, but Stone had used a whet stone to sharpen it again. Still, Lorik felt tired and unprepared to fight, even though he knew he had no choice.
Lorik hobbled out the front doors of the castle and down the broad steps to the open courtyard. Stone walked beside his friend, neither speaking. They climbed the stairs that rose up to the castle walls on either side of the heavy, wooden gate, taking the most vulnerable positions.
The city was covered in a blanket of white snow and Lorik thought it only fitting that the filth and destruction around the city was now hidden. It was almost as if Ort City had been transformed into a place of innocence and purity.
“It’s a good day to die,” Lorik said.
The sky was clearing and the sun was reflecting off the white snow. The braziers along the walls had been filled with glowing coals. Lorik and Stone stood near the small source of heat that was positioned directly over the castle gate as they waited for the mutated fighters to arrive.
“They’re quiet, aren’t they?” Stone said. “I’ve never heard such a large group of people be so quiet before.”
“They aren’t people,” Lorik said. “Not anymore.”
They could see the witch’s minions moving slowly through the wide streets toward the castle. They spread out, moving through the ruined buildings searching for anyone who might be hiding there.
“They’re thorough,” Stone said.
“And slow,” Lorik said. “I hope they don’t move faster when they’re fighting.”
“You’ve looked better,” Stone said. “You sure you should be up here? You could direct the fighting from the castle.”
“No,” was all Lorik said.
His friend nodded and they waited in silence after that. Lorik tried to fill his lungs, but breathing deeply only made him cough. He wanted to lean against the parapet, but he didn’t want to seem weak in front of Stone and the others. He didn’t expect to live through the day, and as he waited for the mutated fighters to come within range of their weapons, he thought about Queen Issalyn. He should have written her and sent one of the volunteers back with the message. He felt bad having given her false hope. Under different circumstances, he would have loved her wholeheartedly, but it seemed as if the world they knew was coming to an end. As Lorik looked around the city, he couldn’t imagine how even the entire army from Baskla could stop the massive swarm of fighters.
The enemy soon closed the distance to the castle, plodding toward the thick walls with no apparent regard for the armed men on the walls. Lorik and Stone both selected pikes and began stabbing down at the mutated fighters. They were even more vile up close; their faces were swollen, their features distorted. They looked strong physically, but they gave no indication that their minds were intact. They had a vacant look in their oversized eyes, and didn’t even try to fend off the heavy axe blades that dropped onto their exposed heads and necks from above.
“They aren’t even defending themselves!” Stone shouted.
“They don’t have to,” Lorik said. “There’s so many, they’ll overrun us eventually.”
They stabbed down, again and again, killing the enemy fighters, who dropped to the snowy ground which was pink from the bloody spray. The ground near the castle gates was soon covered with bodies and slick with crimson mud. The mutated fighters near the gate raised their weapons to beat against the iron banded doors. Lorik and Stone fought hard, but looked more like farmers hoeing down weeds. The fighters ignored the danger from above and trod carelessly over the bodies of their fallen comrades. They carried thick, iron weapons that were little more than long strips of metal that had been sharpened on one side. Lorik thought the weapons must have been heavy, but the mutated fighters didn’t seem to notice the weight or care. Still, Lorik didn’t think the weapons would be very effective against the gates, which were reinforced with steel bands. The real danger lay in the pressure the enemy soldiers put on the crossbeam. They were big, strong creatures and there were so many of them, all pushing forward. The locking beams would break under the strain eventually.
Lorik and Stone concentrated their fight over the gates, but the enemy fighters around the walls began dropping to their hands and knees, one on top of the next. They were creating a living ramp to scale the walls. Lorik and Stone were forced to hack their way down the walls toward the next volunteer to keep the enemy fighters from breaching the castle. When the mutated fighters were killed, their bodies were used to help others climb. Occasionally the pikes would get wedged in bone and threatened to pull the volunteers over the wall. They had to drop the weapon and pick up another. Luckily, Stone had filled the barrels at the fighting positions with spears and pikes.
The first hour passed and the volunteers had slain over a thousand enemy fighters without a single casualty, but the number of enemy troops was limitless. The city was filled with fighters and thousands more were streaming past. Lorik had to take a moment to catch his breath. Bending over the parapet and hacking at the mutated fighters didn’t put stress on his leg, but his chest and back ached with the strain. He was just about to go back to his gristly business when he heard the thick locking beam crack.
The gate had three beams, one was a massive, square cut beam of oak. The other two were support beams that were thinner and lighter. The support beams lent added strength to central beam, but once the thick timber broke, the smaller beams would be quick to follow. Lorik knew it was only a matter of time before the evil army broke through the gate and stormed the castle. He renewed his efforts over the gate.
“Pace yourself!” Stone shouted to Lorik.
The big warrior was too winded to respond. He knew his friend was just looking out for him, but Lorik also knew that once the gate was broken down, it was only a matter of time before the mutated fighters backed the group of volunteers into a corner. Their superior numbers would eventually allow them to overwhelm Lorik and the people he cared most about.
His breathing was more of a rasping wheeze as he fought on. He knew he needed to conserve his strength if he was going to keep fighting, but he had already decided that holding the gate would be his final effort in the battle. Once the gate broke, he would cover the retreat of his men and if he died, so be it, he was just too tired to keep fighting.
A group of the mutated fighters managed to scale the wall on Lorik’s side of the gate and he was forced to confront them. He dropped his pike and drew his swords. He hurried to where the witch’s troops were staggering to their feet. The wall around the castle was wide enough that a horse could traverse it without fear of falling, but the mutated fighters made the space seem small. They could only come at Lorik one at a time.
“Here!” Lorik shouted, his voice a gravely bark. “Fight me!”
Two of the three fighters ambled toward him, the third turned and shuffled the opposite direction. Lorik rushed to meet them. The nearest fighter raised his crude weapon, but Lorik batted it aside with the sword in his left hand and then slashed through his opponent’s abdomen with the sword in his right. The man should have dropped, screaming in pain as his entrails fell in a steaming pile on the wall’s walkway. Instead he just looked down stupidly, as his life’s b
lood poured out of the wound.
The mutated fighter behind the first didn’t wait for his comrade to move aside, instead he rammed his makeshift sword straight through the first man. The thick blade punched through the wretched man’s back and shot out of the opening in his stomach. Lorik had to sway backward to avoid the deadly weapon. He slipped on the snow covered stone walkway and fell onto his back, pain shooting through his exhausted body from the jarring fall.
The mutated fighter shoved his dead comrade to the side, letting gravity pull the lifeless body off his long, rusty blade. Lorik rolled to his side and was scrambling in the blood slicked snow when a spear whistled past. The spear buried itself into the second fighter’s chest. Lorik stood looking on as the mutated fighter toppled off the wall and into the courtyard below. He turned and saw Stone snatching up another pike from the barrel of weapons and resuming the fight without so much as a nod in his friend’s direction.
Lorik pulled a spear from the barrel to hurl at the fighter trudging toward the next man on the wall, but his chest was so sore that he couldn’t throw the weapon with any accuracy or power. The spear flew wide and Lorik was shocked to see the volunteer run the witch’s soldier through with a spear of his own. For the first time in his life, Lorik felt helpless. His strength was ebbing away, but he swore to fight until his last breath.
He snatched up another pike and hacked at the fighters scrambling to scale the wall. Bodies fell, knocking the fighters behind them to the ground with bone breaking force. Once Lorik had stemmed the tide of fighters along the wall, he hurried back to the gate. The heavy wooden barrier was bending under the weight of so many fighters pressing against it. The wood creaked and the well-oiled hinges groaned. For the next hour, Lorik fought savagely, trying to hold back the witch’s horde, but eventually the heavy locking beam of the gate broke. When the beam snapped, it cracked as loud as thunder, and made all the volunteers flinch.