The gargoyle crashed right where they had been standing. The big, bulbous body smashing to the ground so hard the shockwave nearly knocked Stone and Vera off their feet.
“It’s closing,” Vera said breathlessly.
“What?” Stone called, he was watching as the gargoyles lined up for their next attack.
“The opening in the castle,” Vera said.
Stone turned to look, but the gargoyle was now blocking the entrance. He had expected the creature to be hurt or even killed by the long drop, but the gargoyle was rising to its feet on its spindly legs, seemingly unharmed.
“Move,” Stone said, hurrying away from the lumbering gargoyle, just as the sound of another falling creature assaulted his ears.
They ran as quickly as they could, stumbling in the shockwave as the second gargoyle struck the ground just behind them.
“That was too close,” Stone said, glancing up at the swarm of gargoyles overhead.
“We can’t help Lorik,” Vera said, tears streaking from her eyes.
Stone glanced over his shoulder, but there was no visible opening in the ancient castle.
“We have to stay alive and hope he finds Issalyn on his own,” Stone said.
“And kill as many of these creatures as we can.”
She stopped suddenly, twisting out of Stone’s grip and then planting her feet just the way he’d taught her. Her arm rose, the spear coming up just below her ear, level to the ground. Then she threw it, leaning forward, putting all the strength of her legs, back, shoulders, and arms into the throw. The spear flew forward, straight at the nearest gargoyle who had just dropped from the sky trying to crush them. It raised a bony hand to ward off the weapon. The spear, which was aimed at the gargoyle’s chest, hit one finger, snapping it and deflecting the spear upward slightly. It sank into the green flesh, the entire steel head slicing into the creature.
“Let’s move!” Stone shouted.
Vera ran, holding Stone’s hand. Her head twisted around so that she saw the gargoyle with blood running down its round belly. It shuddered, and then toppled over, reverting to stone as it fell.
Chapter 30
Lorik moved from the pull of the vines into total darkness. He knew that he hadn’t moved far enough into the castle for no light to reach him, yet the darkness was all consuming. He couldn’t see, and he struggled to breathe. He could feel the darkness pressing in against him, but he kept moving forward, hoping that he wasn’t making a terrible mistake. He didn’t have time to think about the fear that was wracking his brain or the impending sense of doom that signaled the source of the dark magic he had felt even as far away as Ort City. He just moved forward, instinct driving him to continue moving.
Then suddenly, he was out of the darkness, but still in the dark. He could breathe and the terror of a moment before faded, like he had woken up from a bad dream. He shook the fear away and looked back over his shoulder. There was nothing he could see of any consequence. There were vines and then sunlight, but that light was suddenly cut off. The sound of stone grinding on stone shattered the silence and jarred Lorik’s nerves.
“Stone! Vera!” he shouted, but he knew they couldn’t hear him.
Then there was a thump as the stone doorway crashed shut and silence once more made the darkness seem overwhelming.
Lorik turned and moved forward again, away from the entrance he’d just come through. He knew his friends were locked out of the castle, but he hadn’t come here for them, and he wouldn’t find Queen Issalyn by going back the way he’d come. He could tell he was in a large room, even though he couldn’t make out any of the details in the room. There was soft light ahead; shadows were a dull gray in the distance and Lorik moved toward the light.
He came to a long, narrow corridor. There were window openings high on the wall. Sunlight filtered through the vines that covered the castle’s outer walls, and cast a very dim light into the hallway. Lorik moved forward cautiously, looking for traps or pitfalls. His ears strained for any sound, his eyes searched constantly for anything that might be waiting to do him harm.
Eventually he came to the end of the hallway, and found himself at the top of a long descending staircase. The open chamber fell away into utter darkness. Lorik felt his stomach lurch and he moved to the stairs, keeping his muscular back to the wall. He used one sword to make sure there was a step before he moved down. It was a slow exercise, but the last thing he wanted was to topple down to his death because he wasn’t being careful.
The darkness around him seemed to laugh and jeer at him. He felt fears that hadn’t plagued him since he was a child. He felt like a coward, and the darkness seem to mock him. He had to fight not to curse himself as he slowly descended. His heart thundered in his chest and he had trouble breathing. There were fluttering and shuffling sounds, barely audible in the silence, yet each one causing Lorik to almost panic. He felt as if something were watching him, waiting to attack and rip him to pieces. He felt a sense of loneliness that was so strong he wanted to crumple to the floor, curl up into a ball, and weep. Through it all, Lorik kept moving. He focused on each step, doing his best to ignore the emotional assault.
He wasn’t sure how much longer he could continue, when his hand felt an edge to the wall he was following. He took another step and realized he’d come to a doorway. He stepped through it and slowly made his way forward. After a few moments, he saw a soft glow ahead. He moved forward cautiously, unsure of what awaited him.
He came to another open door and when he looked inside what he saw shocked him. The room was large, and there were markings on the floor that seemed to glow with a ghostly, silver light. He took another step forward and he could see the candles around the altar. There was a woman lying on the stone pedestal. Lorik recognized her instantly and moved quickly into the room, brandishing his swords, expecting an attack at any moment. He turned in a full circle, his head turning quickly back and forth, but there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the room.
He hurried to the altar, terrified that he was too late and that Queen Issalyn had been sacrificed in some horrid ritual. To his great relief she seemed perfectly fine.
“Issalyn!” he said in a fierce whisper. “Issalyn, wake up.”
Her eyes fluttered for a moment, then they opened and focused on Lorik.
“Oh, no,” she said. “No, no, no, you can’t be here.”
“I am here, get up,” Lorik said, sawing his sword through the ropes holding her wrists.
He helped her sit up on the altar and then cut the ropes at her feet. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He felt heat rising up through him and he wrapped his massive arms around her, but then he pulled himself back.
“We have to find a way out of here,” he said.
She nodded and he took her hand.
“Gather a few candles,” he urged her, “and follow me.”
“I think this is a trap,” she whispered. “I think they used me to lure you here.”
He turned and looked at her. She was moving slowly, her legs shaking and her hands trembling as she stooped to retrieve a candle.
“We can’t worry about that now,” Lorik said. “Let’s get you to safety, then I’ll deal with whoever is behind this.”
Queen Issalyn picked up two more candles, then, holding the three tapers together, she limped toward the door.
“Are you hurt,” Lorik asked, standing close to her.
“I’m okay,” she lied.
The truth was her legs felt so weak she feared she might fall, but she wanted to get Lorik to safety. She couldn’t let Josston and Amvyr capture him. Lorik sheathed one of his fabled swords and took hold of Issalyn’s upper arm. She was reminded of the guards who had hauled her up from the dungeon far below. Their grip had been strong and painful, Lorik’s was just as strong, but gentle and supportive. His hand didn’t hurt her at all, and it made her feel stronger.
They were just about to walk out of the round chamber when Issalyn caught movement to her right. She stepped
forward, across the threshold of the door, but hands took hold of Lorik. He felt a burning pain at the touch of the people in the round room, but he couldn’t shake them off. He shouted in pain. Issalyn turned, hoping to help, but a wave of dark vapor pushed her back out the door, extinguishing her candles and slamming shut a heavy wooden door.
Lorik felt himself being hauled backward, and he felt helpless to stop whoever was doing it. He turned his head and saw two figures, their bodies and faces covered with the same glowing markings that filled the room. He realized they must have been in the chamber the entire time, but despite the light from the candles, their markings made them blend in so they were practically invisible.
“Get him on the altar,” a masculine voice said.
Lorik wrenched his sword arm free, but his weapon was knocked out of his hand and blinding fog covered his head. He wiped at his eyes with his free hand, but it didn’t help. He couldn’t see. He swung a massive fist blindly, but his arm was caught in the fiery grip again and held fast.
Lorik shouted angrily, but the voices just laughed at him. He realized one was female, but he couldn’t see either of his attackers. He felt the hard stone of the altar as he was pushed onto the stone pedestal. His muscles suddenly cramped and he cried out in pain. He felt his legs swing up and then he was pulled in four directions, each arm stretched out away from his body, each leg pulled down and away from the other. He struggled but was held fast in the invisible grip.
“It is time,” said the male voice.
The mist faded from Lorik’s eyes and he could see. The man standing near him was tall, thin, his upper body was bare but covered with the glowing markings, his face in shadow.
“Who are you?” Lorik said, his head thrashing from side to side.
“I am the chosen,” the man said. “I was brought here, to this sacred place, for the becoming which you will usher in.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” Lorik screamed.
A hand smashed into his face, snapping his head to the side from the powerful blow. Lorik looked up and saw a young girl. She had large eyes and a shapely face, but what Lorik noticed most was the resemblance. She looked like a young, feminine version of King Ricard.
“Princess Amvyr,” Lorik said.
“Not anymore,” the girl muttered.
“The princess is now my apprentice and soon to be High Priestess of the exalted order,” the man said.
“Your father searches for you,” Lorik said. “Don’t betray him.”
“My father doesn’t know me at all,” the girl said. “I know that now. I was never anything more than a tool to him. He wanted to use me to strengthen his domination over his kingdom, but that time has passed.”
“We shall usher in the new order,” the man said.
“And all who resist us shall be cast down.”
“And the Lord of Darkness will reign again,” the man said. “With me at his right hand.”
“And I at his left,” Amvyr intoned.
“Do you know what this is?” the man asked Lorik.
He was holding up what looked like a golden goblet, but the bottom rim had been removed, so that the stem stuck out from the bottom of the cup.
“This is a Larish,” the man continued, “it is a tool from beyond this world.”
“Looks like a broken cup to me,” Lorik growled angrily.
“In a fashion, it is a cup. It is the cup of the gods, used to remove one’s power. You have much strength, Lorik of Ortis. Yes, I know your name. Queen Issalyn told me all about you. I admit, I wasn’t sure you would come for her, but I have felt you approaching for many days now. I had planned to sacrifice your queen to my god, but the sacrifice of your power will be much greater. I shall milk your power, then present it to the Lord of Darkness by drinking it. I will add your might to my lord’s and usher in a new age.”
“No,” Lorik said, struggling against his bonds.
“Hurry,” Amvyr said.
Lorik cast a glance over at the young princess and saw that she was straining. It was the first time he had noticed that a black vapor was coming from her upturned palms and snaking around the altar before becoming leathery bonds that held him down. He was just about to curse her name, when the man slammed the Larish down into Lorik’s chest.
The pain that erupted as the pointed stem of the cup punctured his chest was unbelievable. It smashed through his sternum and dug deep into his diaphragm, just missing his large heart. His muscles across his chest and abdomen spasmed, and burning pain blocked out every other signal to his brain.
Then he felt something even worse than the pain. There was a powerful wrench, as if something was being jerked out of him, and he felt the magic of the Drery Dru being drained away. The feeling of loss was so great tears flooded from his eyes. The magic of the forest elves was good, and healing; it made Lorik feel whole, but as it was stolen he felt hollow and broken.
“Good,” the man said triumphantly. “Your power is greater than I imagined.
Lorik lay back on the altar, his body going limp as the power was pulled away from him. He could feel it tearing away from every muscle fiber, from the marrow of his bones, and from his still beating heart. His eyes closed and he wanted to die. He could live without being supernaturally strong, or unbelievably fast. He didn’t need to be able to run for hours, or go night and day without sleep. But he couldn’t imagine life without the touch of wholesomeness he had gained from the Drery Dru. It was as if they had all been slaughtered and he was helpless to stop it. The grief was so great, he didn’t resist.
Then, out of the pain and agonizing sadness, an image popped into his head. He could see a physical darkness rolling across the Five Kingdoms. He saw places he recognized, and people he loved. From Queen Issalyn banging futilely against the heavy wooden door outside the round room, to Stone and Vera running for their lives away from the valley, pursued by a horde of gargoyles. He saw Vyrnon with the horses in Forxam, Commander Lorys with his men searching through the forest for Princess Amvyr. He saw darkness covering the great trees of the Wilderlands, and his friends among the Drery Dru disappearing forever. He saw the refugees at the camp and the volunteers who stayed in Ort City, each one becoming a slave to the darkness. The vision moved on, and Lorik saw Chancy in the Marshlands, and far to the west he saw the wizard Zollin on the back of the great green dragon called Ferno. The wizard was with a beautiful young woman on the back of another dragon, and Lorik knew that not even they, with all their magical power, could stop the darkness.
Then Lorik heard a deep, thunderous voice begin to laugh. He struggled to open his eyes and he saw the huge horned head of a gigantic figure, with glowing eyes. The man who was milking Lorik of his magic didn’t see the figure, nor did Princess Amvyr. Lorik knew instinctively he was seeing the Lord of Darkness the man had spoken of, but the man was just a pawn of the massively powerful dark creature. Lorik understood that once the creature was released, he would sweep the man and the princess away like ash from a hearth.
Despair fell on Lorik like a torrential rain and once again he wanted to die, but just before he closed he eyes, he noticed that Amvyr’s struggles had almost overcome her. The mist she was producing was growing thin. With a mighty jerk of his arm, Lorik suddenly broke free. His fist came up and smashed the man in the side of the head. The man stumbled, losing his grip on the Larish as a crippling pain racked Lorik’s body and everything went black.
Chapter 31
Stone ran, pulling Vera along. She did her best to keep up, but Stone was zigging and zagging, changing direction so often she struggled just to keep pace. The gargoyles continued to drop. The danger wasn’t just from the heavy creatures dropping on top of them, but if they didn’t get enough distance from the gargoyles, they risked the vile beasts attacking them on the ground.
Stone was constantly looking up and down, trying to stay focused on where the gargoyles were and where they might fall, but he had to watch his step as well. There wer
e broken flagstones, mounds of rubble, and tough winter weeds all across the valley. Stone hoped that once they crossed the boundary that the stone gargoyles had formed around the village ruins that perhaps the green monsters would call off their pursuit. They were almost to the edge of the ruins when Vera fell. Her foot snagged in a dense clump of weeds and she stumbled, pulling her hand out of Stone’s. He slid to a stop and looked up, but a gargoyle was already falling. He knew instantly that he couldn’t pull Vera to her feet and escape the falling monster. He sprinted hard, dropping his sword and shield, then dove head first toward Vera who was struggling to her knees.
There was no way to be gentle as he tackled Vera, and he couldn’t keep from worrying about what he might be doing to their baby as he pulled her into a roll. Everything happened so quickly after that. They barely rolled clear of the falling gargoyle; the shockwave was so powerful it knocked the breath out of Stone, and stunned Vera. Stone struggled to his knees only to find the gargoyle swing a bony hand, claws extended straight at him. He had to drop to the ground again to avoid the swipe, and then, even though his chest ached terribly and he was gasping for air, he drew his knife and buried the blade deep in the gargoyle’s side. It wasn’t a killing blow, and he jerked the blade free as the bulbous creature turned toward him. It rose on spindly legs and Stone was grateful the creatures weren’t fast on the ground. If they had been, the swarm could have landed all around them and closed in with no chance of Stone and Vera escaping. Fortunately, most of the gargoyles were in the air and Stone only had to fight the one before him.
Vera was staggering to her feet, even as Stone tried to block the gargoyle’s next swipe. His thick knife was well placed and the creature’s arm hit the blade, severing the creature’s hand, but the force of the blow still knocked Stone backward. He fell, his head hitting a flagstone and making bright spots appear before his eyes. He was staring upward, when he noticed another gargoyle falling. He rolled clear, but the one handed gargoyle hadn’t bothered to look up and was charging toward Stone for the kill. The falling gargoyle hit the one handed creature and both were knocked to the ground. Enough bones were smashed in the one handed gargoyle that the creature quickly reverted back to stone, and the other gargoyle struggled to get on its feet.
Lorik The Defender (The Lorik Trilogy) Page 27