Lorik The Protector (Lorik Trilogy) (6 page)

He was still trying to figure out what had made Vera so angry when Jons joined him. The slender sailor leaned back against the railing and looked up at the sky. Scattered clouds scuttled across the blue expanse.

“This was exactly the kind of day that Selber loved,” Jons said. “He wouldn’t want you to be unhappy.”

“That’s unavoidable,” Lorik said.

“That’s what most people say about the rocks here in the Graveyard, yet Yulver has spent his life avoiding them.”

“Not you, too,” Lorik said. “Vera was just here trying to cheer me up. She thinks I have a need to save people.”

“Do you?”

“Of course not, but I do believe in honor, in helping those in need.”

“That’s a good thing,” Jons said.

“I agree.”

They stood silent for a moment. There wasn’t enough room on the ship for a truly private conversation, but the other passengers did their best to give Lorik and Jons space.

“I’m sorry about your arm,” Lorik said. “I should have listened to you.”

“Nonsense,” Jons said. “We all made our own choices, including that wretch we left on the rocks back there. He’s paying for his mistakes. I could have gone back to the ship at any time. No one could foresee the events that were coming.”

“Still, it’s keeping you from doing your job.”

“That’s not such a bad thing,” Jons said. “I could get used to lounging about on deck all day.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Yulver said as he walked back to where Lorik and Jons were talking. He growled an order to the men at the bow of the ship whose job was to use long bamboo poles to keep the boat from drifting too close to the submerged rocks. The poles, found only in the Marshlands, were strong but lightweight—one of Yulver’s secrets to navigating the Sailor’s Graveyard.

“There’s a storm coming,” he told Lorik. “There’s no way to clear the Graveyard before it hits.”

“Are you certain?” Lorik asked.

Yulver gave the teamster a withering look that made the bigger man shut his mouth.

“I’ve been sailing longer than you’ve been alive. The storm is coming. And it’s apt to be a bad one. I want you to get all the passengers ready.”

“Okay, what do we need to do?”

“I don’t know yet, but we’re all going to get wet and if we aren’t careful we could lose a man or two, or worse, wreck the ship. If the storm lasts long enough I may need you to relieve my men at the oars. You think you can get these volunteers of yours in some kind of order?”

“We’ll be ready,” Lorik promised.

“Good, there isn’t much time left. I’m guessing the storm will be on us within an hour.”

Yulver walked away, returning to his position at the helm. Lorik looked up at the blue sky. There were a few more clouds, but he saw no sign of foul weather.

“How does he know a storm is coming?” Lorik asked Jons.

“I’m not sure. I’ve heard tell that some folk can feel a storm coming in their bones, especially after an injury.” Jons pointed to his broken arm. “Perhaps I’ll be able to feel foul weather coming on now.”

“You can thank me later,” Lorik said.

They both laughed, and Jons went to see what he could do to help. Lorik looked back out over the ocean. All around them were jagged rocks, like the rotting bones of some huge beast. He couldn’t imagine them surviving in the middle of a storm. Yulver had them on a slow course, twisting and turning through the rocky seas. So far they had sailed safely through the Graveyard, but if the storm was as bad as Yulver predicted, he wasn’t sure how long they could keep their safe trek up.

He decided the most important thing to do was to make sure Stone and Vera were ready for whatever was coming.

It only took half an hour for the weather over the Sailor’s Graveyard to change completely. The clouds, which had been white and fluffy, began to fly across the sky and were replaced with thick, dark clouds that seemed to boil up out of nowhere. The wind buffeted the ship and made the tips of waves foamy and white. Thunder began to roll across the open expanse of sea, and as the storm clouds grew closer, the wind blew harder and the waves grew bigger.

The sailors seemed unfazed. Yulver had to shout to be heard over the crashing waves and keening wind. Rain began to fall in thick sheets and the day turned almost as dark as night. Lorik kept the volunteers in a long row along the center of the main deck. They stayed low, most slumped over their knees, a few vomiting into buckets. The ship rocked hard and the sailors worked their oars expertly to keep the ship off the rocks. Lightning crackled across the sky, revealing towering waves and jagged rocks.

Stone and Vera huddled next to the ship’s mast. Lorik stayed near Yulver in case the captain needed him or his men to do something. An hour passed, and everyone was soaked and shivering, but the storm was only beginning.

“Is it always like this?” Lorik shouted to Yulver, a grim-faced man with a thick beard and sunken eyes.

“No,” he shouted. “Most storms blow over much more quickly. We’re in for a bad one tonight. And there’s no way to ride it out or find a safe harbor.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Yulver shouted angrily, “that we’re fighting for our lives.”

Lorik wasn’t afraid of a difficult fight, but he hated feeling like he couldn’t contribute. The storm grew stronger. Yulver couldn’t sail in the storm; he could only work to keep the ship from being smashed into the rocks.

At one point they heard the ship’s keel scraping against a submerged rock, the wood splintering, and everyone on board froze as they waited to see what would happen. Then a wave lifted the ship up and Yulver commanded his men to row madly, even as the ship teetered on the top of a huge wave. The ship plunged down the far side of the wave and everyone held their breath to see if the ship would slam down into the rock below, but the wave had moved them past the submerged boulder.

Two sailors were thrown out of the boat as they tried to keep the bow of the ship from sliding into a huge rock that reared up suddenly to the port side of the ship. Bamboo poles shattered and sailors screamed in near panic as their comrades were tossed over the side of the ship.

Cries of “Man overboard!” echoed around the ship, but everyone knew there was nothing that could be done to save the lost sailors.

“Man your stations!” Yulver cried. “Man your stations or we’ll all be lost.”

The sailors, to their credit, continued to fight the waves and wind. Lorik and some of the other volunteers spelled a few of the sailors at the oars. Lorik’s hands were bleeding and raw from working the long oar for less than an hour.

They had been battling the raging the storm for almost three hours when disaster finally struck. The ship was tossed too close to a huge rock, and the oars on the starboard side snapped like twigs. The men manning that bank of oars were hit by their oars with such force that many were killed outright; others had major injuries such as broken bones. The ship swung awkwardly in the trough of a wave.

“Ship the oars!” Yulver shouted to the men on the port side of the ship.

Lorik and some of the other men were trying to help the injured sailors, but Yulver’s voice called them back.

“Leave those men!” he bellowed. “Man the push poles on all sides!”

The sailors snatched up more of the long bamboo poles and spaced themselves out around the ship.

“I want one quarter sail,” Yulver commanded. “And double the rigging lines.”

Several sailors shimmied up the single mast which was a thick, tree-trunk–like pole that tapered near the top. The mast had one crossbeam with a thick canvas sail tied to it. The men straddled the crossbeam, crawling out toward the edges to untie the sail. Other sailors took hold of the thick ropes that were connected to the bottom edges of the sail. When the sail was untied the sailors on deck pulled their lines until the sail hung about five feet from the crossbeam. Then they tied their ropes to metal cleats that were fixed to the ship’s rails. All the while the rain fell and the waves crashed over the ship.

“I need your men bailing water!” Yulver shouted to Lorik.

“Aye!” Lorik shouted back. “All right men, you heard him. Start bailing water! And stay out of the way of those men with the poles.”

“Are we going to make it?” Vera shouted at Lorik.

“I don’t know. Stay close to Stone. If the ship breaks up, look for something to keep you afloat.”

“What about you?” she asked.

“Don’t worry about me,” he called back over his shoulder.

Vera hung her head and Stone wrapped his arms around her. They huddled, shivering. Both felt helpless and more terrified than they could ever remember. Lightning continued to flash in the thick clouds above them, and thunder shook the ship with each rolling clap.

Yulver was joined at the ship’s wheel by three other sailors. With the sail set and straining in the wind, the ship seemed to fly over the waves. It took the strength of all four men to control the ship’s wheel. The long, sleek ship groaned under the strain as the waves lifted and dropped the vessel. The mast seemed especially vulnerable as it bent and flexed under the strain of the howling wind. The ropes creaked, and water washed across the deck in thick waves.

Another man was knocked overboard, this time by a massive wave that crashed onto the stern. Lorik was bailing the water that got caught in the cargo hold. His volunteers had formed a bucket brigade, on one side passing heavy buckets of seawater from the hold to the ship’s rail, the other side passing the empty buckets back.

The water that sloshed across the deck could flow out through the scuppers—large holes in the ship’s railing right next to the deck—but some of it inevitably found its way into the hold, which contained only watertight barrels of food and fresh water on this particular voyage.

Then a wave lifted the ship high and plunged it down into a valley between the waves. The rear of the ship snagged on the edge of a submerged rock and ripped the steering cables free of the thick steering rudder. The carefully crafted steering mechanism became worthless, and the ship began to spin.

“What’s happening?” Vera shouted.

“I don’t know,” Stone replied.

“The steering’s gone, Captain!” shouted one of the soldiers.

“Break out the steering oar!” Yulver roared.

The three men who had been wrestling with the ship’s wheel jumped down into the cargo hold. The ship was pitching up and falling down waves, which only made wrestling the heavy wooden steering oar even more difficult. Lorik dropped his bucket and helped the three exhausted sailors. The steering oar was a long, flat wooden plank that tapered almost like a knife blade. A short handle protruded at an angle from the plank. It was a simple device, and once the men carried it to the rear of the ship and slipped it into the groove, it gave the Captain basic control of the ship.

Lorik returned to bailing water, but soon the sky cleared and the rain stopped. Lorik felt like shouting for joy even though the waves were still towering all around the ship.

“We did it!” he said exuberantly.

“Did what?” Yulver growled.

“We rode out the storm.”

“We’re in the eye of the storm,” Yulver said. “It isn’t over, not by a long stretch.”

“But the rain stopped.”

“Aye, and the wind has died down, but that’s because it is a major storm. They almost always have a calm space inside the storm.”

“You’re saying that the storm isn’t over?” Lorik asked, trying his best not to let despair crush his spirit.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Yulver said. “If it were daylight you’d see the storm all around us.”

“Is it possible for us to stay here, in the center until it plays out?”

“No, even in open water that’s unheard of.”

“Yulver, I would never presume to tell you your business, but we won’t survive another storm. We’re all exhausted, and the ship is taking on water.”

“Life at sea is not for the fainthearted,” Yulver said with a wicked grin.

“We’re all for life,” Lorik argued. “So how do we ensure that we survive this mess?”

“He’s right, Yulver,” Vera spoke up. “Your crew needs more help than I can give them.”

“I know,” said the old sailor. “Our best bet is to run for land, but even under full sail, I doubt we could navigate the coastline fast enough to keep from being smashed against the rocks by these waves.”

“What about turning farther out to sea?” Jons suggested. The wounded sailor had been helping wherever he could on the ship.

“We could be blown farther out than we want to go,” Yulver said. “And we’re taking on water.”

“There’s no doubt we’ll have to keep bailing for days,” Jons said, “but at least we might get a little space from these rocks and see if we can ride out the storm.”

“What about the wounded men?” Vera asked.

“We’ll just have to do all we can for them on board,” Jons said. “If we go into the water, none of them will survive.”

“All right, Lorik, you keep your men bailing. We’ll head out to sea. If we die, at least it won’t be while we were running to shore like cowards.”

The sailors all gave a cheer, but the volunteers looked at Lorik with dread in their eyes. Stone looked grave and Vera was white with cold and fear. Still, there was nothing any of them could do but keep pitching water over the side of the ship and hope that Yulver was making the right decision.

Yulver barked orders to his men. They lowered the sail and moved half of the oars from the port side of the ship to starboard. The
Dancer
was a fast ship, whether under sail or with men manning the oars, but in the eye of the storm the wind shifted constantly, and the sailors manning the oars were exhausted. It was a difficult hour, and then the storm hit again. Luckily, there were fewer of the ship-wrecking rocks to be avoided the further they went from land.

Yulver knew that sailing into the open waters of the ocean carried its own risks. He had no easy way to navigate. Normally, navigation was simple—just keep the shore in sight—but he knew they would be too far out to have any hope of seeing land, even from the top of the mast. Normally, he could use the sun and stars to navigate by, but the cloud cover was thick, and it might be days before he could know for certain what direction they were traveling. They would also have to ration their supplies and be wary of temperature changes. Normally temperatures were not an issue on the ship; there were times when it got cold on board, but during the winter Yulver could beach his ship at night and his crew could build fires to keep warm. But in the open seas, with no real cover to be had from the elements, the nights could become bitterly cold. Still, he had no other options.

The second half of the storm was worse than the first. The waves were huge, easily twice as tall as the
Dancer
was long. Lorik was busy bailing water from the hold when disaster struck again. The hold was pitch-black, and the water sloshing at his feet was cold. The only positive thing Lorik could focus on was that the water level wasn’t rising. Then he heard a groan and felt the ship shudder.

“Something’s wrong!” he called up to Yulver.

“Strike the sail!” Yulver shouted to his men.

Before his men could carry out the order, a crack sounded, almost as loud as thunder, but sharper and higher pitched. Then the mast, under strain from the high winds, broke in half, just above the deck of the ship. The rigging held the massive wooden pole and crossbeam for only a few seconds, but it was long enough for the crew and passengers to scurry out of the way. Then the ropes snapped, at first just a few, causing the mast and sail to jerk violently, and finally the remaining ropes broke under the strain. The wind blew away the sail like a kite, but the thick, tree-like stump of the mast gouged a hole in the deck before being dragged away, smashing the ship’s railing and sending the vessel spinning.

“Back to your oars!” Yulver shouted.

“What about the sail?” Vera yelled to Lorik. “How will we get home without it?”

“I don’t know!” Lorik shouted back.

The sailors were rushing back to their benches and Yulver was wrestling with the steering oar. Lorik ran to his aid and threw his considerable strength into steering the ship back into the massive waves.

“We have to keep her pointed into the waves or she could be rolled,” Yulver explained.

The
Dancer
wasn’t fully under control as they crested the wave, which tilted the ship sideways and sent debris, along a few of the volunteers, tumbling into the sea.

“Without momentum the steering oar is practically useless,” Yulver said.

“Row for your lives!” Lorik shouted.

The sailors, drenched and exhausted, fell to their work without thinking. Their bodies moved almost in unison. Keeping the ship moving in the storm was incredibly difficult, especially with the short-staffed crew, but every man knew that their survival depended on keeping the ship moving.

“Keep us heading into the waves,” Yulver told Lorik. “I have to inspect the damage.”

The captain hurried away and Lorik was left to steer the ship. The night was almost pitch-black, but he could feel the motion of the ship and see huge, looming shadows like demonic mountains rolling toward the ship. The steering oar wanted to move on its own, almost as if it were alive. It took all of Lorik’s strength to control it. He planted his feet and held the swaying post as firmly as he could.

Lightning continued to crackle and pop overhead, giving him glimpses of activity aboard the ship. Several of the volunteers were now simply huddling in fear. Lorik had known fear in battle, had faced death in the dark of night when his parents died. He knew that fear had a way of getting inside a person and robbing them of strength and will. Being on board the
Dancer
in what felt like the worst storm in history was terrifying. But part of him wanted to scream at the frightened men. He knew being stuck on a ship in the dark storm was frightening simply because a person could not escape. But they weren’t helpless. Every man could do something to improve their chances of survival.

“Men!” he bellowed in the dark. “Do not lose hope. Fight! Do whatever you can to help the ship. This storm won’t last forever. Bail water, row, help the wounded. Do whatever you can, but don’t give up hope.”

There were cheers and screams of defiance. Lorik leaned into his work, focusing his concentration on keeping the ship moving into the waves. The ship bucked and pitched. Just keeping his feet was difficult, and he knew that every person on board was struggling. Still, there was nothing more to be done other than wait and work and pray that the storm passed.

Lorik had no idea how much time passed as he stood by the steering oar. His muscles burned with fatigue, his hands and feet felt numb with cold. His eyes stung from the salt water that was constantly spraying up from the sides of the ship. He was soaked and yet thirst gnawed at his strength like a rat chewing its way into a granary. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the sound of the thunder grew more distant. The powerful thunder claps changed into long, rolling grumbles. The waves and winds continued to batter the ship, and rain continued to fall, although now it seemed more like a gentle rain rather than the driving gouts that seemed bent on drowning them.

When dawn came it was dull and gray. Thick clouds hung low over the sea, and the light was dim. The ship looked as if a giant had picked it up and rolled it down a steep hill. There were injured men lying on the deck, most of them near or under the cabin pavilion. Lorik had no idea how the men had managed to stay on board the ship as it pitched and dove over the waves. There were bits of wood and rope scattered all over the deck. Their personal belongings had been stowed in heavy chests, but those chests were nowhere to be seen.

Vera moved from man to man, offering what little assistance she could. Stone stayed with her, helping support her as the ship heaved on the heavy seas. The sailors at the oars continued to row, but their pace was slow and their bodies sagged. The rowing benches had rails that the sailors could hook their feet into, allowing them to stay in their places as the ship rose and fell, but it took every muscle in their bodies to keep working.

Yulver was still inspecting the damage to his ship. The starboard side of the ship was almost destroyed. The oar locks were all busted, and how those sailors kept their oars working Lorik had no idea. The mast had smashed through the railing on the starboard side as well. There was a long, ragged hole in the deck, but luckily it was all above the waterline. The hold still had water sloshing about, but Lorik didn’t know if that was just from the waves breaking over the ship or if they were taking on water from a hole in the hull.

When Yulver returned to the steering oar he looked grave.

“What’s wrong?” Lorik asked.

“Everything,” the sea captain said. “We’re in a bad way. I don’t think I’ve ever seen things this bad.”

“The storm?”

“No, the storm is passing. We should be in calmer waters in a few hours. Calm enough that we can take turns getting a bit of rest. The bad thing is not knowing how our rations are doing. We can’t risk moving the water barrels up to the deck, at least not until the waves calm down, but with those casks soaking in seawater, there’s almost no chance our supplies won’t be compromised.”

“What do you mean?” Lorik asked.

“I mean the saltwater will ruin our fresh water. We’ll have nothing to drink. And without some break in this cloud cover, I have no way to know where to go. Not to mention we don’t have a sail. It could take days of constant rowing to get back to land under the best conditions.”

“I don’t like your tone,” Lorik said.

“I don’t like it either,” Yulver agreed. “But I won’t pretend we’re not in a bad spot.”

“So what do we do?”

“We keep sailing, that’s all we can do. We pick a direction and hope for the best.”

“What direction do you suggest?” Lorik asked.

“Well, the storm is behind us. It may take us longer to reach calm seas, but I don’t think we have a choice. We have to turn around.”

They waited until they crested a wave and then threw themselves into the steering oar. The oar fought back. Lorik thought the wooden oar was difficult to control when he was fighting just to keep the ship moving forward, but turning the vessel was even more arduous, and as they rose up on the next wave the ship tilted to port so far that everyone was forced to grab onto anything sturdy to keep from falling into the water. Lorik was sure they were going to roll over, but at the last possible second, the ship crested the wave and tilted back upright.

There were screams of panic, but no one was lost, and by the time the next wave lifted them up they were turned sufficiently to ride it out without the threat of being rolled. Lorik and Yulver straightened the steering oar, both men breathing heavily. Lorik’s mouth was dry, and swallowing was difficult. His tongue felt swollen and he couldn’t keep himself from gnawing at it involuntarily.

“Go see to your people,” Yulver told Lorik. “I’ll take over here.”

Lorik nodded and stumbled away. His legs felt like huge sacks of rice. His back ached and he rubbed his hands together in hopes of warming them a little. His first stop was to talk to Stone.

“Are you guys okay?” Lorik asked.

“We’re great,” Stone said sarcastically. “Having the time of our lives. Don’t let me forget to thank you for this wonderful trip when we get back to shore.”

“I don’t control the weather,” Lorik said. “Besides, you lived through it. Don’t be such a baby.”

“How long until we reach shore?” Vera asked.

“We don’t know,” Lorik told her as he wiped the rain from his face and then sucked the water from his hand. It was salty, but he could feel his body craving more. “Yulver is hoping the seas will calm down in another hour or two.”

“I hope so. These men need more help than I can give them.”

Lorik turned to the men still bailing out the ship. Everyone was working again now that there was enough light to see by.

“Why did the captain turn the ship around?” one of the men asked.

“It’s our best chance of getting back to shore,” Lorik said. “How’s the water level?”

“Holding steady at the moment. It’s hard to tell for sure with the ship moving so much.”

“Here, take a break and let me have a turn.”

Lorik dropped down into the hold. He could stand up in the small space and see onto the deck. His back sent icy daggers across his waist as he bent over and then straightened again. The bucket seemed twice as heavy as it had before. Stone appeared over the edge of the hold, replacing the volunteer who had been there a moment ago.

“That was one hell of ride,” Stone said. “Out of the frying pan and into the fire, huh?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Lorik agreed. “I’ve seen massive storms living in Hassell Point. Some even tore the town to pieces, but that was the first time I’ve been at sea during one.”

“I hope it’s my last,” Stone said. “Give me a horse or even just let me walk. I’ll never complain again.”

“I know what you mean, but it’s a miracle we’re still alive. I can’t believe we weren’t smashed to pieces on the rocks in the Sailor’s Graveyard.”

“Nor can I,” Stone said, as he lifted the bucket of water from Lorik and handed it to the next man.

The seas slowly calmed over the next several hours, but the sky refused to clear. Shortly after midday Yulver ordered their food supplies to be lifted up out of the hold. There was still a steady rain falling, but the waves were small enough that they weren’t crashing over the sides of the ship.

There were four large casks of water in the hold. One was nearly empty and the water inside was salty. They cracked open the next two and found that both were contaminated with seawater.

“How does this happen?” Lorik asked Yulver, struggling to keep fear out of his voice.

“The salt water seeps through the wood,” Yulver explained. “It only takes a tiny bit to ruin a whole cask.”

“So what do we do if they’re all ruined?”

“We’re doing all we can now,” Yulver said. “My men are dumping the ruined water overboard. They’ll scrub the barrels with rainwater and we’ll have to hope that the rain keeps falling and gives us enough water to get back to shore.”

“It sounds like a lot of hoping,” Lorik said.

“It is. We’ll have to ration whatever we get. It’s not going to be a pleasure cruise.”

The rain continued to fall for the next few hours. Everyone was cold and miserable, but at least they were collecting water. They slept in shifts. Lorik and Stone continued to row while the sailors and volunteers slept. The ship was still taking on water, but the rate of incoming water had slowed down. Yulver remained at the helm, the very picture of a seasoned sea captain. Lorik kept his head down and focused on rowing in time with Stone. They were both exhausted and their efforts produced very little in the way of forward motion, but it was enough to allow Yulver to steer the ship.

“How do we know we aren’t just rowing around in circles?” Stone asked in a quiet voice.

“I don’t know, but I trust Yulver. He’s been sailing his whole life.”

“I have to admit, I never thought this is how it would end. I don’t know what I’ll do if Vera doesn’t make it.”

“She’s going to make it,” Lorik said. “We’re all going to make it.”