Lorik (The Lorik Trilogy) (5 page)

The pirates who rushed to attack the Riders fared no better. The outlaws were practiced killers, and the sailors had very little experience fighting men on horses. The big animals reared, kicked and danced from side to side, forcing the pirates to keep their distance or risk being trampled. Their weapons were too short to be effective, while the Riders all had long swords. They hacked and slashed, fighting from a higher position, so that the movement of their horses and even gravity gave their blows added force. The sailors had to hold up their heavy cutlasses to defend themselves, and their guards were easily battered down. Most of the Riders were content to swat away the pirates who came too close, but Marsdyn was in a blood fury. He had two swords and was equally deadly with each. He guided his horse with his knees, moving the animal first one way and then another, looking for opportunities to strike a killing blow.

The pirates scattered, over half of their number either dead or wounded, and the rest lost all interest in the fight. They ran into the darkness, most toward the harbor and the safety of their ship. But Marsdyn wasn’t done with the fight. He spurred his horse and gave chase, hacking his sword into the backs of any pirate he caught.

Lorik stood watching the macabre scene. The darkness of night and the uncertainty of death seemed to press in on every side. The pirates had dropped their torches and most had sputtered out, leaving only a dim light. Lorik felt his stomach twist hard and he bent over, heaving.

“That’s a bloody waste,” said Chancy. “Men killing each other and for what? What did that Stone fellow do that a whole ship’s crew would come after him?”

“You saw him,” Lorik said. “He’s like a death reaper with those knives of his.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it, that’s for certain.”

“I know,” Lorik said in a grim voice. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it.”

Chapter 4

The next day, Lorik slept late. He had spent most of the night helping move the bodies of the slain pirates. The stranger named Stone had left the scene with the Riders, leaving their gruesome mess for the locals to deal with. Lorik had brought an old wagon, hitching to it Sultan, a stud horse he rarely used on his travels. He, Chancy, and several other men loaded the bodies into the wagon, while several others gathered brush and driftwood to build a pyre. They burned the corpses, and Lorik saw the sun rise as he dashed the wagon with cold seawater and scrubbed it with an old brush to get the blood and gore out of the wood.

It was mid-afternoon when he heard the soft knock on his door. He didn’t want to get up. He didn’t often have the luxury of sleeping on a bed, spending most of his nights sleeping on or under his big wagon. He was tired, his stomach hurt, and his shoulder was very sore, the blood having seeped through the bandage that Chancy’s wife had made for him.

He rubbed his eyes and smoothed his hair back out of his face. Then he went to the door. He was bare-chested, wearing only light woolen pants. He opened the door and found Vera waiting for him.

“You’re hurt,” she said, stepping inside without being invited. “We need to get that bandage off, but I better soak it first.”

“What are you doing here, Vera?” he asked.

“I heard what happened,” she said angrily. “You’re lucky to still be breathing.”

“It had to happen sooner or later. There’s no way to live so close to outlaws and not step on someone’s toes sooner or later.”

“Later would have been just fine with me, thank you,” she said, bringing over a basin to the small table in Lorik’s kitchen.

The house had been his parents‘ and was small but solid. It had two bedrooms, a sitting room, and a kitchen. It was was luxurious by the standards of most people living in the Marshlands. There was a large stable on the property where Lorik kept his wagons and the big Shire horses that pulled them. There was also a corral, although it was small. The property was set back from the city proper, but close enough that Lorik could walk wherever he needed to go in Hassell Point.

“You don’t have to do this,” Lorik said, sitting down at the table and propping his wounded arm on it.

“I know that, but I can’t let you get blood poisoning and die,” she said in a mocking tone. “You’re my ride out of this place. I need you healthy.”

She situated his arm across the basin and then poured clean water from a pitcher over the bandage. The water wasn’t hot, but it made the cut sting and burn. Vera then cut the bandage and slowly pulled it free from the wound. The cut was straight, and there was no sign of putrefaction. She sniffed it and then washed it with more water. The dried blood was slowly rinsed off and Vera repeated rinsing and dabbing at the wound with a clean cloth until fresh blood oozed. Then she packed the wound with salve she had brought with her in a small crock. Finally, she rewrapped his shoulder.

The entire time she worked, Lorik sat with his eyes closed, feeling her soft hands as they skillfully helped him. He wanted to love Vera, and in a way he did. He certainly enjoyed making love to her, but their love was a warm, deep friendship. He knew he would do anything for her and he enjoyed being with her, but he did not love her, not the way she deserved. He would have married her, but it wouldn’t have made either of them happy; he knew that. The truth was, as wonderful as it felt to have Vera fuss over him, Lorik doubted that he would ever fall in love with a woman. He was too old, he told himself, too set in his ways.

“You didn’t have to fight Grayson,” Vera said when she was finishing his bandage.

“It wasn’t my idea,” Lorik said.

“I just mean, you don’t always have to look out for me. I do just fine on my own, you know.”

“I know,” he said truthfully. “I don’t worry about you, but I wasn’t going to let that popinjay think he could do whatever he pleased with you.”

“Some men get possessive,” Vera said. “It comes with the job. He wasn’t the first, you know. In fact, you tend to get that way yourself.”

“Well, I don’t mean to. I just want you to be happy.”

“Who says I’m not happy?”

“Me,” Lorik said. “I’ve known you too long. There have been very few times when I’ve seen you happy and for the last few years I haven’t.”

She sat down across from him and looked at the table. He was used to seeing her in the tavern, all made up to entice the men who came to drink, or lying in bed with him, after she had taken care of his needs. Now, she looked older: the weight of hard living was beginning to show. She was still beautiful, but there were a few silver hairs sprinkled into her light brown hair. It was pulled back into a tight braid and tied with a simple, pink ribbon. She looked tired.

“What can I do to make you happy?”

“Nothing,” she said, and there was a note of resignation in her voice. “I can’t say why I’m unhappy, Lorik, but my life has grown dull. I don’t want to be an old lady, still wenching when no one wants me. I’m lucky in some ways,” she said. “I never had children.”

“And that’s lucky?” he asked.

“Children would have forced me to make decisions I didn’t want to make,” she explained. “And I’m not sure I could bear the thought of something happening to a child.”

“You would make a great mother. It’s not too late, you know.”

“If it was meant to be it would have happened by now. I’ve been careful, but I’m not perfect. I’m barren. I know it and I’m okay with it.”

Lorik’s heart ached for her. She had compromised so many times and lost so much, each time doing whatever it took to make the best of a bad situation. Now, she would not even know the joys of motherhood.

“So where are you planning to go?” he asked her.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve got some coin saved up. Enough to let me find a place I like. I’ve never been outside of the Marshlands before. I want to see a bit of the world before I settle down.”

“And what are you going to do? I mean, how will you make a living?”

“I’ll get by,” she assured him. “I always do.”

“I thought you were leaving this life behind.”

“I am,” she said. “In fact, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep at it much longer.”

“So stop,” Lorik pleaded. “You can move in here until you’re ready to leave Hassell Point. I have an extra room, you know. My parents would have wanted you to have it.”

“No, I still need a little more money and I don’t want to leave Quaid in a pinch. He’s looking for a replacement, but it takes time.”

“You always think of everyone but yourself,” he told her. “That’s why you’re unhappy.”

“And being selfish would make me happy?”

“No, not selfish, just human. Everyone needs to take care of themselves sometimes, otherwise they won’t be around to help others.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” she said. “I’m leaving. I’m going to see a few things other than the shabby old harbor and the endless blue ocean. I want to see mountains and snow. Maybe even a dragon.”

“A dragon?” Lorik scoffed. “You know that isn’t true. It’s just rumors. There are no such thing as dragons, not in Yelsia or anywhere else.”

“Probably not,” she said, smiling. “But I like to think it’s possible.”

“Anything is possible, I guess,” Lorik said. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind, about staying here I mean? There’s plenty of room and I won’t bother you, I promise.”

“No, Lorik, I can’t. You’re a good friend for offering, though.”

“You came here to take care of me and I’ve done nothing but tell you what you should do with your life. I don’t think that’s being a good friend.”

She smiled, and for a moment she was so beautiful that Lorik’s heart ached. He would have liked to have made her smile like that all the time. He knew he would have done anything to make her smile, even if that meant cutting off his own legs. Perhaps the fact that being with him didn’t make her smile was how he knew they weren’t in love.

“Come on,” she said, “walk me back home.”

He stood up and tested his arm. It was still extremely sore, but the salve was helping already. It was a thick, greasy mixture and it kept the bandage from aggravating the wound.

“I’ll just get my shirt and boots,” he said.

After he dressed they walked back to the Boggy Peat. People smiled and waved when they saw them. Lorik couldn’t help but wonder what people would think when Vera left the Point. She was a vital part of the harbor town’s life and he knew he would miss her, miss their long conversations, and the way she made him feel at ease. There were other wenches, but no one could take Vera’s place. She was more than just a wench; she was his oldest and closest friend. He hated the thought of losing her.

At the tavern she hurried back to her own rooms while Lorik sat and had a drink. He felt like getting drunk. He wanted to forget the melancholy that Vera’s decision to leave town had cast on him.

He ordered saka and sipped it slowly. He watched as the light faded in the windows and the atmosphere in the tavern changed. It went from being a lazy, quiet place in the late afternoon to being a lively, loud place once night fell. Lamps were lit on the tables and groups of people began to arrive. They laughed and talked, their voices rising louder with each round of mead.

Lorik was hungry and was about to leave when Stone came into the tavern. He was alone again, but instead of approaching the bar he looked around the room until his eyes settled on Lorik. He made his way through the crowd, and Lorik felt his stomach tightening with tension. He had his axe, but he doubted he could match the stranger’s speed. Stone had suggested that no retaliation was needed from the Riders, since Grayson had challenged Lorik and the two had fought fairly. Still, it was not uncommon for the Riders to challenge new members to do something to prove their loyalty. Killing Lorik in retaliation was just the sort of deed that would cement his place in their gang.

“Do you mind?” Stone asked, pointing at the seat across from Lorik.

“No, I was just about to leave,” Lorik said.

“Stay for a moment, if you can,” said the stranger. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

“I prefer a straight fight,” Lorik said, steeling himself for the confrontation.

He had to admit that fighting made him nervous, if not outright afraid, but he’d learned at a young age to master his fear. He could shove it down and do what he had to do. The images of the men he’d seen slaughtered the night before tried to rise up and embrace him in terror, but he shook the feelings off and pushed the memories out of his mind. They wouldn’t help him survive in a fight with the stranger and so he discarded them as quickly as they came.

“I’m not here to fight you,” Stone said with a smile. “Why would I want to do that?”

“I’ve no illusions that Marsdyn will let things slide after I killed Grayson.”

“You didn’t kill Grayson, Mert did that.”

“Marsdyn won’t see it that way.”

“Maybe, maybe not, but I’m not here to fight you. I don’t do other people’s dirty work.”

“What do you do?” Lorik asked.

“Oh, a little of this, a little of that. I hear you are a teamster. You make runs through the marshes?”

Through them, sometimes around them, it just depends on the weather and what people need.”

“You do it alone?”