Lorik The Defender (The Lorik Trilogy)

by Toby Neighbors

  The creature roared in fury, the scream of rage sounded like the screech of the panthers that sometimes hunted in the Marshlands. Lorik knew he was turning the tide, but when his own magic closed the distance it began to be disrupted. It was like sand in a storm, being blown away. Lorik had to push harder, to force his magic to move deeper and destroy the creature’s darkness. A bright light erupted near the creature, and Lorik felt his magic moving closer, but he also felt the magic being consumed. That part that blew away was lost, and Lorik could tell that the magic inside him wasn’t limitless. He had used a great part of it already and he instinctively knew that if he continued the fight, it would take all his magic. The special touch of the Drery Dru would be lost to him.

  In his heart he mourned the loss. When the man with the markings on his body had used the Larish to steal the forest elves’ magic, he had felt robbed and helpless. But now it was his decision. He had to give up the magic freely if he was going to succeed. For a moment he wavered, wondering if he could just flee. The creature was weakened and alone. It might be years, maybe even decades before it was strong enough to become a threat again. Lorik wanted to leave, to find Issalyn and reclaim Ortis. He wanted to be forever by her side, to live in happiness away from war and strife. But he knew deep down that if he didn’t stop the evil creature, whatever it cost him, that no one would live in peace. The creature would get stronger and stronger, eventually strong enough to consume not only Ortis, but the entire Five Kingdoms and beyond.

  He felt tears run down his checks as he redoubled his efforts. The magic rushed out of him in a powerful surge. The bright light moved toward the creature, who took a step backward. The bright magic of the Drery Dru was held at bay, slowly being stripped of its potency. Lorik stepped forward, the force that had been buffering him was no longer strong enough to stop him. The creature took another step back.

  When Lorik moved forward, so did the bright sphere of light. He heaved against the invisible wall of magical resistance. The muscles in his legs, shoulders, and back burned with the effort. Then the creature took another step back, but this time the pig pen caused it to stumble. It reeled, backpedaling desperately in an effort to stay on its feet. Lorik felt the barrier that held him back slip away and he rushed forward, his boots splashing through the thick muck of the pig pen.

  Then the ball of light engulfed the creature and it toppled onto its back. There was a terrible howling noise. Black bolts of lightning raged out in every direction. The ball of light shrank down to a single point, growing so bright Lorik had to close his eyes but he could still see the light. Then with a powerful sound like thunder, the light shattered the creature’s dark magic and raced up the pit and out of the castle.

  Lorik was left standing in the center of the ruined pig pen. He was out of breath, and every muscle in his body ached. It was as if he’d just run for miles and miles, but the supernatural stamina he’d enjoyed since the Drery Dru had healed him after his fall from the King Tree was gone. He bent over, supporting his weight on his knees while he caught his breath.

  Then, to his surprise he heard a gasping cry. He looked up and saw the blood covered creature. It was still alive. It lay on its back, the long arms and legs curled unnaturally, and seemed shriveled. The creature fought for breath and Lorik knew he needed to act before the thing regained its strength.

  Each step was difficult, his massive legs felt heavy, as if the muck that clung to his boots from the pig pen was made of lead, not swine feces. He plodded forward, climbing slowly but deliberately over the far side of the pig pen which was still intact. The bloody creature was only a dozen paces away now. Lorik lumbered toward it, raising his sword in his weary hand as he went.

  The creature caught sight of him, and tried to scurry away, but its limbs were useless. It opened its mouth, the forked tongue fluttering as it hissed. Lorik slammed his sword down, driving the point straight through the left eye socket. The creature’s body spasmed, then thrashed wildly. Lorik used his second sword to decapitate the creature, then he kicked the writhing body away. Unbelievably, the creature continued to hiss at him, its jaws snapping together over and over as if it would devour him if only it could get close enough.

  Lorik was tired, but he didn’t feel like his quest was finished. The creature was somehow still alive. He needed to destroy it utterly. Looking around, he noticed the small cell, with the wooden gate. He walked over, leaving one sword lodged in the skull of the evil creature. He heaved against the gate, which had one side still chained shut. The wood splintered and then broke free. The wood would burn, Lorik knew that, but he needed some way to really get the fire burning.

  He was so tired he had to bend down and catch his breath again. That’s when he saw the pile of straw that had been Queen Issalyn’s bed while she’d been a prisoner in the pit. He crawled into the cell and gathered as much of the hay as he could. Then he piled the dry straw on the floor and took hold of the broken gate. The gate was made of strips of wood, woven together. He hacked at it with his sword until he had a good pile of wood on top of the straw. Then he went over to the evil creature’s body. The wiry muscles were flexing and quivering. He swung his sword and lopped off one of the creature’s legs, then another, then one arm, then the other. Finally he cut the long, emaciated body into four pieces. Black blood and entrails oozed out onto the stone floor. He carried the remains, which still quivered and shook, back to the pile of hay and wood. Then, piling the body parts on top, he pulled a torch from its sconce and tossed it onto the hay.

  The dry straw erupted in flame, spreading rapidly and billowing smoke. The wood took a few minutes to catch fire, but when it did it burned hot. The body parts seemed to shrivel even more in the flames. The stench was terrible, but Lorik watched his adversary burn. Then he retrieved the head. The creature’s good eye swiveled up to look at him, the jaws still snapping. He carried the head by holding the sword; he didn’t want to touch the head with his hands or give those sharp teeth something to sink into. He went back to the body of the man with the markings. He bent over, his back aching, and pulled his dagger free of the corpse. Then he stood up, and spoke to the creature’s head.

  “Let’s see if you live through this,” he said.

  Then he stabbed the dagger up through the chin of the decapitated head. The blade was longer than the creature’s head, and the point punched through the top of its skull. The brass cross piece forced the ghastly mouth shut. Lorik put the head on the ground and jerked his sword out of the eye socket. The ruined eye was full of black ooze. He picked the head up using the handle of the dagger and carried it back to the fire. The heat of the fire was enough that Lorik didn’t want to get too close. The one good eye watched him, the eyelid open wide, the dark pupil huge and full of hate. He tossed the head into the flames. There was a shrieking hiss and a puff of acrid, black smoke, then the flames engulfed the creature.

  Lorik moved back and leaned against the smooth, stone wall. He was extremely tired. He slid down the wall and sat with his knees up and watched the fire burn. The feeling of evil finally receded and Lorik knew he could rest. But first he had to find a way out of the castle ruins and find his friends.

  Chapter 35

  Stone used his knife to cut several of the vines, then hurried back toward the long hallway where Vera and Queen Issalyn waited for him. Even though he knew where the hallway should be, he still felt exposed and afraid as he made his way through the darkness. He began to doubt himself and the fear of being lost forever in the darkness almost made him turn back, but then he saw the ghostly light of the hallway. The afternoon was waning and the winter sunlight was weak as it began to set. There was just enough light left to make out the hallway.

  Stone came hurrying in, relieved to be able to see something after being in the overwhelming darkness of the other room. Vera was pacing nervously and Queen Issalyn sat on the cold floor, her back to the wall. She was shivering from cold and Stone noticed for the first time that the temperature was dropping. H
e was just then cooling off from his race across the valley and his fight with the gargoyles.

  “I’m here,” he said, his voice echoing strangely off the stone walls. It was obvious that castle ruins weren’t used to sounds. His voice seemed unnatural in the tomb-like castle.

  “Thank goodness,” Vera said, as she rushed to him.

  “We thought the worst,” Issalyn said as she struggled to her feet.

  Her legs were even shakier now; the muscles, having grown weak from lack of use, were now exhausted.

  “It was unbelievably close,” Stone said. “But in the end, I had some help.”

  “The king’s soldiers?” Vera asked.

  “Actually, I think it was a troll.”

  “A toll?” Queen Issalyn asked.

  “I think so. It fought off the gargoyles and led them away so I could escape and get back here.”

  “It’s a good thing you made it when you did,” Vera said. “We’ve almost lost the light.”

  Stone opened his pack and gave Vera some food. She split the salted meat and stale bread with Issalyn. They were both starving and ate quickly, while Stone used two leather thongs to tie the vines together. He took his knife and chopped down on the ends of the vines, splitting the end he intended to burn several times, so the woody vine would take the flame more easily. He had feared the vines would be flimsy, but they were stiff and made a decent torch. Stone ripped his sleeve off and tied it around the end of the vines, then used his small patch of kindling to get a tiny fire started. The sparks flew from the flint as he scrapped his thick knife blade across it. Some the sparks landed in the small patch of straw and Stone blew on it gently. The flames licked upward and Stone held the torch over it until the fabric took the flame.

  Issalyn and Vera had moved in close, drawn to the small bit of light the fire gave them. There wasn’t enough heat to truly warm themselves, but once the torch was lit Issalyn held her hands over the remains of the tiny fire. It was the first true heat she’d felt since being locked in the dark pit.

  “Anything happen here while I was gone?” Stone asked.

  “Yes,” Vera told him. “I don’t know what happened or what it means, but a bright light shot up out of the bottom of the pit.”

  “When?” Stone asked.

  “It was a while ago now.”

  “Well, something must be alive down there. And light is good. Let’s go see what we can find.”

  “I don’t think I can,” Issalyn said, her voice trembling and on the verge of tears.

  “It’s okay,” Vera said.

  “I can’t go back down there,” she said, hovering over the tiny, dying fire.

  “Stay here,” Stone told her. “We shouldn’t be gone too long. I only brought one torch though.”

  She nodded.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Vera said. “We understand.”

  Stone nodded, then he and Vera ventured off down the long hallway. The torchlight seemed to fill the corridor for several feet in front of them with light. There were strange markings on the walls. Stone didn’t know if they were runes of some ancient language or just archaic symbols. They were strange and made him feel a little frightened. He wanted to get Lorik and get out of the ruins as fast as possible.

  “This place is creepy,” Vera said in a soft voice.

  “I know, all I want to do is get out of here.”

  “Do you think it’s possible that Lorik is still alive?”

  “Yes,” Stone said, choking down the fear of finding his friend dead that suddenly rose up in his mind’s eye like a ghostly premonition.

  They got to the stairs and the light of the torch was gobbled up by the overwhelming darkness. Stone pulled the coil of rope over his head and shoulder and handed it to Vera.

  “Let’s see what we’re dealing with. Stone held the torch low, inspecting every step.

  “Wait, why don’t we tie the rope to each other, just in case the stairs give out under you,” she said.

  “It’s a good idea, but if I fall I would just pull you down with me,” he explained.

  “Then I’ll go first,” Vera suggested.

  Stone wanted to object, but he knew it was the best plan. Still, letting the woman he loved, who was pregnant with their first child, go ahead of them into a dark, horrifying pit, seemed like insanity.

  “I’ll be careful,” she said, already tying one end of the rope around her waist.

  “Okay,” Stone said.

  He waited until she was finished, then handed her the torch. He tied the rope around his waist, then held the slack coiled in one hand. Vera moved past him. Stone pressed himself against the wall, and Vera rubbed her body against his, kissing him briefly as she passed.

  “I can’t wait to get out of here,” Stone said grinning.

  “For lots of reasons,” she said, smiling back at him.

  They were focused on each step, Vera holding the torch low. Stone stayed several steps behind Vera, bracing himself on each step just in case he had to catch her. They were moving slowly down the spiraling staircase and didn’t notice the spark of light moving more swiftly up the stairs far below.

  When they finally reached the section of stairs that the evil man once named Josston had destroyed, they stopped and took stock of the situation. It was the first time they had looked at anything beyond the next step. Vera held her torch high, trying to cast as much illumination around the huge, cavernous pit as she could. The crumbled section of stairs reached halfway around the circular room, and disappeared into darkness.

  “Damn,” Stone said. “I had hoped that it wouldn’t be so bad.”

  “What do we do?” Vera asked.

  “We can’t go across,” Stone said.

  “How about pulling me up?” came a familiar voice.

  They both looked over the stairs, their hearts racing, but they couldn’t see anything. Lorik’s torchlight shown into the darkness, but there was nothing to see but more empty space, and they couldn’t see the stairs directly below them.

  “Lorik?” Vera said excitedly.

  “Is that really you?” Stone said.

  “Who else would it be?” Lorik asked.

  “How did you survive the fall?” Stone questioned.

  “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it once we get out of this place.”

  “Okay,” Vera said smiling. “Do you have a plan?”

  “I was going to try climbing the wall, but if we had a rope you could—”

  “We have a rope!” Vera cried, already untying it from around her waist.

  “Be careful,” Stone urged.

  She untied the rope and dropped her end over the edge of the last stair. It dangled down and Stone fed out the slack. He had almost uncoiled the entire length of rope when he finally felt Lorik take hold of it below.

  “I’ve got it,” he said.

  “Tie it to your waist and we’ll pull you up,” Vera said.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he replied. “I’m heavier than the two of you combined.”

  “Well, just find a way to get up here,” Stone said. “I’m ready.”

  Vera took hold of the rope and braced her feet the way Stone was bracing his. They leaned back, almost laying down as Lorik began climbing. The rope creaked as dust and bits of rock from the brittle steps rained down where the rope rubbed against the jagged edge. Lorik braced his feet against the wall as he climbed hand over hand up the rope.

  Vera strained as she held the rope, her hands burning and a constant fear that she would lose her grip made her grind her teeth together. Stone leaned back against Lorik’s weight on the rope. He pulled with all his strength, straining every muscle and working to make sure his feet didn’t slip on the stone steps.

  Lorik’s hand came up into the torchlight where Vera had propped it against a step. Then his forearm and elbow. The weight on the rope eased a bit and Lorik pulled himself up onto the steps, a torch between his teeth and his chest hea
ving as he panted for breath.

  “See,” Stone said, gasping for air himself. “Piece of cake.”

  They gathered themselves and hurried back up the stairs. With Lorik’s torch their light was doubled and they were all anxious to get out of the castle ruins. When Queen Issalyn saw Lorik, she almost fainted and collapsed in his arms.

  “We’ll celebrate later,” Stone said. “We may still have gargoyles to contend with.”

  They hurried out to the larger room. The darkness receded from the torchlight and they could see the faded remains of huge murals painted on the nearest wall. The scene showed a man all in black, leading an army to war on a huge, black stallion.

  “Quaint,” Stone said sarcastically.

  “It’s Josston,” Isslayn said, holding Lorik’s torch high to study the features of the darkly clad man.

  “Who?” Vera asked.

  “The man I fought,” Lorik said. “He had markings all over his body in some type of glowing paint.”

  “He was the man who tricked me and kidnapped Princess Amvyr,” Queen Issalyn said. “He looked like a knight when I met him.”

  “Looks like he’s been around a while,” Stone said.

  “He isn’t anymore,” Lorik said grimly.

  They hurried toward the entrance. The thicket of vines still covered the doorway, but they could still see that words were carved into the stone around the door frame.

  “I’ll go first,” Stone said. “Then Vera, Lorik and finally Queen Issalyn. My lady, you must stay close to Lorik. We may not be able to stay together.”

  “Then we meet by the old camp,” Lorik said.

  “Alright,” Stone agreed. “Here goes nothing.”

  He thrust himself into the thick tangle of vines, fully expecting the unnatural darkness and wave of panic to overwhelm him, but this time there was nothing but stiff, woody vines. As he pushed through, the fading sunlight shown into the room. Stone looked up, blinking, but there were no gargoyles. He looked around the edge of the ruins, but the stone pedestals were empty too. Stone worried that it was a trick, but as Vera stepped out behind him he had no reason to run.