Lorik The Protector (Lorik Trilogy) (7 page)

“There’s that confidence I remember,” Stone said. “You have a knack for staying positive no matter how bad the circumstances get.”

Lorik just smiled, knowing that his outward demeanor didn’t match his inward feelings at all. He felt like lying down and going to sleep. He didn’t care if he died; he just wanted to rest. But there was something inside him that simply refused to give up. After several hours, Yulver woke his crew and set them to work rowing the boat. Lorik and Stone bailed water from the hold for nearly an hour. They each got a small cup of rainwater to quench what was becoming an unbearable thirst. Then they stretched out on either side of Vera and fell asleep.

It was only the extreme fatigue that allowed anyone to sleep in the rain. The sailors were accustomed to wet conditions, but the others weren’t. When Lorik woke up several hours later he was stiff and tired. The rain was still falling softly, and he slowly climbed to his feet. The sun was setting behind a thick bank of clouds, but there was no land in sight.

“No sign of shore?” Lorik asked Yulver, who was back at the steering oar.

“No,” he said grimly.

“At least we still have rainwater,” Lorik said, rubbing his wet arms to try and warm himself a little. His teeth were chattering and he couldn’t stop shivering. “Can I have a drink?”

“No,” Yulver said.

Lorik wanted to curse. He wanted to tell Yulver that he could damn well drink what he wanted, whenever he wanted, but he knew that was selfish and foolish. He looked into one of the water barrels. It looked like it had less than before he fell asleep.

“It’s not accumulating fast enough,” Yulver explained.

Lorik put the collar of his shirt into his mouth and sucked the water out of the drenched cloth. It was salty and he knew it wasn’t helping, but it lifted his spirits.

“We’ll survive,” he said.

“I hope you’re right,” Yulver said as the last of the weak sunlight vanished. “I hope to all the gods you’re right.

It was another long night for Lorik. He alternated bailing water and rowing. Working warmed his body only a little; his hands and feet still ached with cold. His hands were so raw from handling the wooden oars that even the smallest movement hurt. But Lorik kept working anyway. He reasoned that pain was a sure sign he was alive. The night seemed to last forever, but eventually the dawn came, and with it clear skies and sunshine.

Yulver was hopeful they could reach familiar waters by nightfall. Using the sun as his bearing and urging his sailors to row with all their strength, they turned west. No one knew exactly what direction the ship had been sailing in the night—they could have been going around and around in circles. Over half of Yulver’s crew was either missing or injured. Some had even died in the cold, wet conditions on board. Stone had done his best to keep Vera warm through the night, but when he woke up that morning, Vera was shaking with cold. Their clothes were still wet from the rain and waves. There was very little water and no food at all. Stone touched Vera’s forehead and felt a raging fever.

“Lorik,” Stone croaked.

“Ah, you’re awake at last, eh? Did you have a restful night?”

“Vera’s sick,” Stone continued, ignoring Lorik’s joking. “Help me.”

Lorik hurried over and felt Vera’s forehead. He had been planning on getting some rest. His body ached with cold, hunger, and thirst, but he hoped he would be able to sleep a few hours. The oblivion of sleep was the only respite from the pain, hunger, and unending work.

“She has a fever,” Lorik said, after feeling Vera’s check. “We need to get her out of these wet clothes and warm her up.”

“How?” Stone asked. “There aren’t any dry clothes anywhere. I’m not going to lay her out naked in front of all these sailors.”

“Give me a moment,” Lorik said. “We’ll figure something out.”

He looked around the ship. It was mostly open deck. The hold was still taking on water, although they were able to keep it under control by bailing. The cabin, which was really just a pavilion with posts for corners and canvas walls, had been rolled up and secured during the storm.

“The canvas,” Lorik said.

“It’s wet,” Stone complained.

“Yes, but we can make a curtain with it. It’s the best chance we have of giving her some privacy, plus it will allow the canvas to dry in the sunshine, so we’ll have something to cover her with tonight.”

“Okay, I guess you’re right. Set something up, I’m not leaving her.”

Lorik recruited two of the volunteers who had not fallen asleep yet. The deck was littered with bodies and debris. The injured sailors had been laid in a neat row under the cabin’s pavilion by Vera and Stone, but the volunteers, who had worked through the night with Lorik, had stretched out wherever they could find space. Jons was busy clearing the deck of wreckage. There were several pieces of shattered oars and Lorik appropriated them to build a shelter for Vera. It was like building a fort as a child, but eventually he did it.

“That’s quite the construction you have there,” Jons said.

“It’ll do the job,” Lorik said.

“What’s it for?”

“Vera,” Lorik explained. “She’s fallen ill.”

Stone carried Vera over to the shelter. It was set up just behind the cabin in the stern of the ship. It was open to the sunshine, but the canvas blocked the wind and gave the area some privacy.

“She needs water,” Stone said.

“We haven’t got much to spare,” Yulver said. He had moved the water to a single barrel, which was barely half full, and positioned it close to the steering oar so that he could watch over it personally.

“She can have my ration,” Lorik said.

“And mine,” Stone added.

“I guess I could spare mine as well,” Jons said.

“That should be about one full cup today,” Yulver said. “And if we don’t reach land, half a cup tomorrow. After that, you three will be dead and we’ll all be out of water.”

“Cheerful guy, isn’t he?” Stone said sarcastically. He scooped out half of a small metal cup of water. “Half now, half later in the day,” he added, making sure that Yulver understood he expected to get more water later.

“Better use it while you can,” Yulver said glumly. “This sun will dry it up faster than she can drink it if you aren’t careful.”

Stone went into the small makeshift shelter while Lorik stretched out on the deck just outside. Jons had slept through the night, so he began to check on the wounded sailors. The sun was bright overhead, and although the wind seemed cold, everyone on board the ship was soon sweating from the sunlight. Many moved into the shade of the cabin, but there was only so much room. The sailors rowing the oars were soon on the verge of exhaustion. The water in the barrel was tepid, but they gulped it down eagerly. Unfortunately, there just wasn’t enough water to keep the men hydrated. Some vomited, others fainted, but by midday, no one had the strength to row the ship.

When Lorik woke up, it was midafternoon. He had gone from cold and stiff to hot and sore. His body ached all over, especially his back. His mouth was so dry his tongue felt swollen and fat between his teeth.

“I need some water,” he said, but there was no reply.

The ship was drifting aimlessly with no sign of shore. Everyone on board was slumped on the deck, even Yulver.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Lorik shouted. Only a few sailors stirred.

Lorik rose to his feet, but dizziness forced him to pause for a few seconds. Then he stomped back to where Yulver was passed out beside the steering oar. He grabbed the older man by the shoulder and shook hard.

“What are you doing?” he shouted straight into Yulver’s face. “Wake up!”

Yulver groaned, his eyes fluttering and then finally focusing on Lorik’s face.

“What’s going on?” Yulver asked.

“We’re adrift, that’s what!” Lorik thundered at him. “Why aren’t your men rowing?”

“They haven’t the strength,” Yulver said, a little of his fiery spirit returning.

“By the gods, man, if we don’t row we’ll all die,” said Lorik.

He ripped the lid off the barrel of water. Only a tiny bit sloshed around the bottom. He dipped the metal cup in and scrapped up enough for one swallow. Then he swooshed it around in his mouth before spitting it back into the cup. It took all his will power not to drink every last drop in the barrel.

“Swoosh your mouth and spit,” Lorik said, thrusting the cup at Yulver.

The grisly old sailor didn’t hesitate. He turned up the cup and let the lukewarm water pour into his mouth. Then, like Lorik, he spat it into the cup.

“Stone!” Lorik shouted.

“What?” said the young warrior, his speech muffled by his parched mouth, which struggled to form the words.

“Come here,” Lorik said.

Stone crawled out from under the canvas tent, which had dried in the bright sunlight and constant wind. He struggled slowly to his feet. Lorik held out the cup of water he and Yulver had swooshed around their mouths.

“Thanks,” Stone said, reaching for the cup.

“Don’t drink it,” Lorik said, ignoring the look of indignation on Stone’s face. “It’s almost all that’s left. Just wet your mouth a little and save the rest for Vera.”

“Just a sip then,” Stone said.

“No, swoosh it around your mouth and spit it back in the cup. If you swallow it, I’ll throw you overboard.”

Stone’s need for water was so great it battled with his sense of reason. He knew Lorik was right, but he still wanted to drink the water. He wanted to drink and drink; it was almost all he could think about.

“Okay,” he said in an unsteady voice.

He pictured Vera in his mind as the foul water rushed into his mouth. It tasted so sweet to Stone that his eyes burned, but there wasn’t enough water in his body to produce tears. Still, he spit the water back into the cup.

“How is Vera?” Lorik asked.

“About the same, but not as cold.”

“Get her dressed, then get back out here. We’ve got to row this ship.”

Stone slowly ducked back into the tent.

“Jons!” Lorik bellowed.

“I’m coming,” the wounded sailor called back. “I wasn’t sleeping,” he teased. “I was just checking my eye lids for cracks.”

“Sure, sure,” Lorik said. “Give this water to Vera. Then keep her warm. I’m trusting you.”

“I understand,” Jons said, eyeing the cup of water enviously. “Is there any more water?”

“No,” Lorik said fiercely. “And if we’re going to survive, we can’t turn on each other.”

“I won’t drink it,” Jons said.

“Rest if you can,” Lorik explained. “You’ll have to relieve Yulver soon.”

“I can stand my watch,” grumbled the older sailor.

“You’ve been awake longer than any of us,” Lorik argued. “You’ll need to rest soon. Just make sure you have us on a good heading.”

Stone crawled back out of the tent.

“She’s covered,” he said.

“All right,” Lorik said. “Time to row.”

They both took seats in the middle of the ship. Neither were as skilled as the sailors, but both were determined to get Vera back to shore. They began to row, and soon sweat covered their aching bodies. The sun was setting and the temperature was dropping. Every once in a while Lorik shouted back to Yulver, making sure the older man was awake. When night fell, Yulver called to Jons and took the younger man’s place with Vera. Jons used the stars to navigate and they made slow but steady progress through the night.

Lorik couldn’t remember ever hurting as bad as he did on the rower’s bench. His muscles burned, his butt ached, and his mouth was so dry it felt like his tongue had grown into a large, hairy strap of leather. He tried his best not to chew his tongue, but it was impossible. More than once he tasted blood in his mouth, salty and metallic.

When the sun rose they could see the Sailor’s Graveyard ahead of them. It wasn’t land, but they all knew it meant that land wasn’t too far away.

Jons roused Yulver, who had trouble waking up but finally rose. Stone and Lorik were beyond exhausted, but they kept rowing. Jons roused some of the other sailors, shouting and shaming them into helping. Before long there were six other men rowing. Jons, slumped against the railing at the bow of the ship, called back directions to help Yulver navigate through the rocks.

More than once the oars tangled. Stone and Lorik were slower than the other men at first, but after a couple of hours, the sailors could barely keep pace with Lorik and Stone. Their minds were a fog, but their bodies continued rowing out of sheer muscle memory. By nightfall the sailors were once again too exhausted to keep rowing.

Lorik wanted to stop rowing. He didn’t care any longer if he lived or died, but he knew if he stopped, even to get a sip of water, he would never be able to start again.

“We have to stop,” Stone mumbled.

“No,” Lorik said. “Do it for Vera. Do it if you love her. Don’t quit.”

“I can’t,” Stone moaned in agony. “I’m dying.”

“We’re all dying. Just row.”

Somehow the two men found the strength to keep moving. Time seemed to stand still, but the boat moved slowly through the dangerous stretch of water. And finally, around midnight, they heard waves crashing onto the shore.

“Land!” Jons cried in a hoarse voice that was barely more than a whisper. “Land ho!”

“Almost done!” Lorik cried.

They felt the ship lift and propel forward as the waves around them began to break toward the shore. Then they heard sand grinding under the ship’s broken keel. Lorik thought he’d never heard anything so joyful in all his life.

“We’ve got to pull her farther up on the beach,” Yulver said.

Stone crawled back to check on Vera. Lorik and Jons woke as many of the other sailors as they could while Yulver tied a rope to the ship’s bow. Then, with every muscle aching, hardly able to stand up, Lorik led the men off the boat. He fell into the salty water, resisting the urge to drink the salty brine. The water was waist deep and cold. It shocked his body into motion. He climbed up onto the beach and caught the rope that Yulver flung to him. The other men soon joined him, and they pulled the ship as high onto the shore as they could.

There were tall trees growing not far from the water’s edge. Most were pine or cedar trees. Lorik tied the rope to one of the trees as the sailors fell to their knees in the sand. Lorik wanted to join them, but he knew they weren’t out of danger. He had to find fresh water or they might still die. He didn’t know how Vera was faring, but he knew she would never recover if he didn’t get her water soon.

“I’m going to find water,” Lorik said to Jons.

The other man just nodded knowingly, then collapsed.

Lorik’s feet felt like stones. His back ached so badly with every step that it took all his strength to keep moving. The stars were out and bright, but the moon was hardly a sliver in the sky. Along the shore the trees grew thick. Lorik leaned on them as he moved inland. Growing up in the Marshlands, finding water had never been difficult, but now as he stumbled in the darkness, he knew finding water would not be easy.

He had hoped that they might land closer to a settlement or just a homestead, but there was nothing in sight. The shoreline along the Sailor’s Graveyard was isolated, since very few ships could land there and no major roads ran through the area. Lorik might have wandered all night if he hadn’t heard a dog growl at him. There was a small hut set among the trees that was difficult to see in the night.

“Hello,” Lorik called out in a raw voice. “Is anyone there?”

It took a few moments, but then someone answered.

“Who’s out there?”

“We need help,” Lorik said. “Our ship was in the storm.”

“No one sails through the Graveyard and lives to tell about it,” said the voice.

Lorik saw light spill through the hut’s small windows. The occupant must have used hot coals to light a candle.

“We need water.”

“Well, there’s plenty in the well there, but I’m not letting you in. If you come any closer than the well, I’ll set my dogs loose on you.”