Lorik The Protector (Lorik Trilogy) Read online

  Lorik The Protector

  © 2013 Toby Neighbors

  Published by Mythic Adventure Publishing

  Post Falls, Idaho

  All Rights Reserved No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any print or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Cover Designed by Camille Denae

  Copy Editing by Jodie Young, www.RooftopCopy.com

  Books by Toby Neighbors:

  Wizard Rising - 5K Book 1

  Magic Awakening - 5K Book 2

  Hidden Fire - 5K Book 3

  Crying Havoc - 5K Book 4

  Fierce Loyalty - 5K Book 5

  Lorik (The Lorik Trilogy Book 1)

  Third Prince

  Royal Destiny

  The New World

  The Other Side

  You may join the mailing list to get emails whenever a new novel is published at http://www.tobyneighbors.com/contact-me.html

  And don’t forget to like the Toby Neighbors Author page on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/TobyNeighborsAuthor

  Dedication

  To Camille, the love of my life,

  Nothing makes me happier than spending everyday with you.

  I love chasing our dreams together.

  Chapter 1

  Lorik hit the bearded man so hard he heard the man’s ribs snap. The pain from the massive blow was etched on the bearded man’s face as he staggered backward, gasping to refill his lungs with air, but Lorik had no intention of letting up on his opponent. He charged in and wrapped both of his arms around the man’s upper legs. Then he lifted, feeling the strain in his back and hips before slamming his opponent into the dirt and driving his thick shoulder into the man’s abdomen.

  Lorik heard a gurgling wheeze come from the man’s chest. As Lorik rose, lifting one bruised and blooded fist to continue the fight, he saw the man’s eyes roll back into his head. Lorik froze for a second, his mind registering the fact that his opponent was unconscious, then he punched down hard, driving his fist into the man’s face. Lorik felt bone shatter and cartilage crunch in his opponent’s face. The man’s nose was smashed into a pulp, and blood spurted out of it like a ripe cherry that has been squeezed too hard.

  Lorik raised his fist again, his vision as red as the blood that dripped from his knuckles, but before he could strike again someone grabbed his arm and someone else wrapped a thickly muscled arm around his neck. Lorik was pulled backwards, away from his bearded opponent. At first Lorik struggled against the men, but then his vision cleared and the rage that drove him to fight subsided to its usual place, simmering just beneath the surface of his calm outward demeanor.

  “He’s finished, mate,” said Jons.

  “You won,” the other man said. His name was Selber. “You won. It’s over.”

  “That’s six in a row, Lorik,” said Jons, still holding tightly to Lorik’s deadly right arm. “Haven’t you had enough?”

  “No,” Lorik said, spit flying. “Find me another!”

  Jons was a tall man, lanky but athletic. He was one of the sailors from Yulver’s ship, which had been sailing north through the Sailor’s Graveyard with men from the Marshlands. Men from all over the kingdom were traveling north to fight the Norsik invaders who were crossing the Wilderlands in droves ever since King Oveer had ordered the entire army to march south to Osla.

  Jons nodded to the man who was promoting the fights. It wasn’t uncommon for sailors to gamble when in port. They played games of chance, threw dice, or sometimes pitted animals against one another. This time the animals were men, and none seemed capable of standing against Lorik. The thickly built teamster had been a brooding menace since he had joined Yulver’s crew. He rarely spoke, and when he did it was usually to criticize or insult one of the many young men from the rice farms who volunteered to join Lorik and Yulver in defending the kingdom from the Norsik slavers.

  Yulver had sailed north from Hassell Point, eventually rounding Grendol’s Shelter and hugging the coast as they approached the Sailor’s Graveyard, a treacherous stretch of sea filled with submerged rocks. Depending on the tide and the winds, sailing north through the Graveyard was either risky or idiotic. Yulver had a light ship and made his living moving cargo up the coast through the Graveyard. The pirates who plied their trade on the eastern coasts of Ortis and Osla simply couldn’t match the speed of Yulver’s ship, and very few captains were willing to risk losing their ships on the jagged rocks of the Sailor’s Graveyard.

  Yulver had decades of experience at sea, and almost as many years sailing the rock-infested waters of the Graveyard. He was a careful, calculating man who had heard about the fights taking place near the quay in a sandy area known as the Pit. He had suggested that Jons and Selber take Lorik to the Pit to see if the brooding teamster could blow off some steam. No one had expected Lorik to tear through six men and still be anxious to fight more.

  “The bear is ready for another victim!” the fight promoter shouted like a carnival barker. “Who’ll be next to step into the Pit with him? I’ve got three gold crowns for the man who can stop him!”

  The sailors who lined the circular area were busy laughing and shouting. They were all looking to see who might accept the promoter’s challenge. When one man finally stepped forward, no one expected him to have the slightest chance. He was thin, with a lean build, but he looked like he needed a good meal and a week’s rest. His hair was disheveled and his clothes soiled.

  “We have a challenger!” the promoter shouted, inciting a roar from the crowd of spectators.

  Coin was exchanged as bets were made. Lorik didn’t see his thin opponent, who had his back turned to the big teamster. Lorik had fought much bigger men and he had no doubt he could beat the new challenger, but there was something oddly familiar about his new opponent. Lorik waited while the smaller man wrapped his hands with long strips of cloth and then stretched his arms, back, and legs.

  “He’s a milksop, that’s for certain,” said Selber, who was himself a mousy man with a large potbelly and shifty eyes that made most people nervous.

  “Don’t underestimate him,” Jons said.

  “Well, no, I didn’t mean that,” Selber said. “I just meant he shouldn’t be too difficult. I mean, just look at him. I’d think a stiff breeze would knock him over.”

  “That’s what the promoter wants us to think,” Lorik said, his voice low.

  “You know this guy?” Jons asked.

  “I think so,” Lorik said. “If he’s who I think he is, he’s the promoter’s ringer.”

  “So you want to call it a day?” Jons asked.

  “Of course not,” Lorik said.

  “But you just said the guy’s a ringer,” Selber said. “Why face a guy who won’t fight fair?”

  “Selber’s right,” Jons said. “You don’t need to fight this guy. Let’s go get a drink and maybe get you some companionship. I know a few of the wenches in this town—very friendly, and they won’t try to rob you if you fall asleep.”

  “That sounds like a good plan to me,” Selber said. “Some ale would be great right about now.”

  “No,” Lorik said.

  “But why?” asked the mousy sailor.

  “Because if that’s who I think it is, he has some explaining to do.”

  “He won’t be talking in the Pit, Lorik,” Selber said, almost whining.

  “Oh, he’ll talk to me,” Lorik said.

  “All right,” the promoter said, “all bets are in and we’re ready to turn these animals loose. What do you say?”

  The crowd chee
red. The noise reminded Lorik of ocean waves breaking against the beach. Lorik heard it all, and yet none of it registered as anything but noise. The red rage that colored everything he saw when the fighting started was already beginning to dance around Lorik’s peripheral vision. He didn’t know why he was so angry, but his rage had been slowly building for weeks. Nothing in his life seemed important anymore, and all he really wanted to do was to hurt someone.

  He moved forward with his head bowed. His hair was wet from sweat and hung down around his face. He hunched his shoulders and walked slowly toward his opponent, never looking up. As the distance closed he could see the other man approaching. He was smaller than Lorik, whose arms, legs, and chest had grown thick and strong from years loading and unloading cargo from the wagons he used to transport goods. His opponent was well built, too, but his muscles were smaller, more compact, and wiry.

  Lorik raised his fists into a protective position in front of his face as the two men came within range of one another. Then he dropped his hands a little and raised his head, looking straight into the eyes of his opponent, who was stunned with surprise. Lorik took advantage of his opponent’s hesitation. He snapped out a jab, light and fast, that popped the smaller man in the nose, though he pulled the punch a little at the last second. The blow did little real damage but it sent Lorik’s opponent stumbling backwards. Lorik immediately kicked out, catching the smaller man’s foot and tripping him.

  Lorik pounced on the man, landing with his left side pinning his opponent’s chest. With his left arm Lorik pinned his opponent’s right arm, and with his right leg Lorik pinned the man’s left arm. Then Lorik brought his right elbow down to smash the smaller man’s face, but instead of driving his elbow down to do the most damage, Lorik hit his defenseless opponent with his forearm and pressed his weight onto the man’s head.

  “Good to see you again, Stone,” Lorik whispered.

  Stone squirmed, but didn’t speak.

  “How’s Vera? I didn’t expect to find you here,” Lorik said. “I thought the two of you would be settled down on a nice farm somewhere, or perhaps running an inn.”

  Stone kicked his legs and heaved Lorik over his head. The big man had known such a move was coming and immediately rolled to his feet. Stone was fast, even in the sand of the Pit. He was on his feet just a fraction of second faster than Lorik, and he drove his fist into the bigger man’s kidney. Then he followed up with an overhanded blow that took Lorik in the chest and knocked him onto his back.

  Lorik grunted from the impact as his back hit the sand, but even though he was gasping for breath, he immediately rolled away from his attacker. Stone drove a foot down just behind Lorik’s head, and the big teamster knew that his opponent was toying with him. He had seen Stone cut down almost an entire crew of pirates on the street in Hassell Point. The smaller man was a natural fighter, whose size was simply no indication of what he was really capable of doing.

  Lorik was trying to get back onto his feet when Stone kicked him in the side. The blow could have broken several ribs, but it landed across his lower stomach and with less force than Lorik expected. It still drove the remaining wind from the teamster’s lungs. Then a brown leather boot was swinging for his face. Lorik raised his arm and blocked the kick, although the impact jarred his arm and shoulder.

  Stone hopped backward, favoring his foot as Lorik climbed back to his feet. He lumbered forward; his desire to inflict pain was gone. He felt tears stinging his eyes, and he didn’t know if he was happy to see his friend or angry that Stone was here fighting for money when he had promised to give Vera a new life.

  He feinted to his left, then struck quickly to his right, but Stone ducked under the heavy punch and delivered a strike of his own, a lightning-fast uppercut into Lorik’s stomach. Stone circled and continued punching, driving his fists into Lorik’s back and then his other side, each blow leaching away a little more of Lorik’s strength.

  Lorik lunged toward Stone, grabbing one leg as the smaller man hammered down on Lorik’s head with the side of his fist. Lorik heaved upward, but Stone kept his balance, hopping on one foot to avoid being brought down. Lorik released the leg and jumped forward, hoping to butt his head into Stone’s chin, but the smaller man was too fast, spinning to avoid being hit and at the same time leaping onto Lorik’s back.

  Lorik fell to the ground, the weight of Stone on his back driving the air out of his lungs. He gasped, sucking sand into his mouth and down his windpipe. He arched his neck, craning it backward to keep his face out of the dirt and at the same time giving Stone the opportunity to wrap an arm around the bigger man’s throat. Lorik felt his wind cut off, and he rolled to his side. He reached up to try and pull the arms away from his neck, but he couldn’t get hold of Stone’s arms or hands.

  “Just let me win,” Stone whispered. “We need the money.”

  The thought of giving up was appealing to Lorik. He had no real desire to hurt his friend, and he was tired. He wanted to give up, to close his eyes and slip away into darkness, but giving up wasn’t in his nature.

  He lifted himself to his hands and knees, with Stone still clinging tightly to the choke hold and with his legs wrapped around Lorik’s waist. It took nearly all of Lorik’s strength to stand up. His body was screaming for air and his vision was beginning to blur. Sparks of light were dancing before his eyes and he could hear his heart pounding as the blood rushed through his body.

  Then Lorik jumped. It wasn’t a great leap—just a small hop—but with Stone’s added weight on his back it wasn’t difficult to fall backwards. He raised his legs and let all his weight land on the smaller man. Lorik felt the air from Stone’s lungs rush out, and the grip on his neck loosened. Lorik and Stone both gasped at the same time, but Stone still had all of Lorik’s weight on his body.

  Lorik pulled Stone’s arm off his neck and rolled away from his younger opponent. The crowd was in a frenzy as Lorik staggered to his feet. He could see the sailors and merchants cheering madly, but he didn’t hear them. At first Stone didn’t move, he just lay gasping on the sand, but then he, too, rolled to his knees and then staggered to his feet.

  Neither man wanted to finish the fight, but there was no alternative. Stone moved forward slowly and then punched Lorik with a hard right hook. The impact snapped the teamster’s head to the side but didn’t even stagger Lorik. The left hook that followed did even less damage. Then Stone punched straight at Lorik’s nose, but the bigger man caught the punch in midair, stopping it inches from his face.

  He saw the look of despair on Stone’s face. Lorik knew if they had been fighting with weapons the struggle would have had a different outcome. He shoved his friend backward, then took several steps forward and swung a massive uppercut at Stone’s midsection. He let his weight and strength and momentum give power to the blow, but he kept the shot low, not wanting to break ribs or do permanent damage. Pain disfigured Stone’s features as the smaller man fell backward into the sand.

  Normally Lorik would have fallen on top of his opponent and pummeled the unfortunate soul until Selber and Jons pulled him off. This time he just just kicked sand onto Stone, who was squirming on the ground in an attempt to fill his collapsed lungs with air. Lorik looked over at the fight promoter, who was nothing more than a con artist making a profit off the sweat and blood of other men. He spat in the man’s direction, receiving a withering glare of hatred in reply.

  Jons and Selber hurried to Lorik’s side.

  “Time to get you back on board the ship, eh?” Jons asked.

  “No,” Selber complained. “Let the man have a drink or two first. He’s earned as much.”

  “I’ll bring him an entire keg of ale if that’s what he wants,” Jons said. “Let’s just get you back on board in one piece.”

  “No,” Lorik said. “I have a friend to find.”

  Chapter 2

  Vera sat in the common room of the smallest inn in town. The harbor town had more than its share of taverns and inns, most doing a steady bu
siness with the sailors who stopped in the harbor. The Sailor’s Graveyard kept the larger merchant ships away, so most of the visitors were small-time pirates, adventurers, treasure hunters, or fishermen, but they all needed food, shelter, and more often than not the comfort of a woman’s arms. Vera was glad that she no longer catered to those needs.

  She and Stone had been forced to stop their search for a new life when news reached them that the king had ordered all his troops south, including those normally tasked with keeping the peace and guarding the Wilderlands from the Norsik. Stone’s gold had secured them a room in the small inn, but it was risky to spend gold when lawless men felt freed from the worry of dealing with soldiers or justice of any kind. Stone preferred to earn silver instead. Vera didn’t like to see him fight, and neither of them enjoyed making money from sailors’ lost wages, but she saw the benefits: not only did it provide them with funds, but Stone’s reputation in the small town gave her an added bit of security. People knew that Vera was Stone’s woman, and as such, they gave her respect.

  Lorik’s lip was bleeding and his muscles felt weak. His head was soaked with sweat and his knuckles were skinned and bloody. The inn was dim but not crowded. It took a moment for the big man’s eyes to adjust, but Vera recognized him instantly. Her heart leapt into her throat and she froze in panic and fear. Lorik was her oldest and dearest friend, but he looked in that moment like a vicious animal, the type of ruthless killer she remembered from her days in Hassell Point, where pirates and outlaws congregated.

  Once his eyes adjusted to the gloom of the inn, he moved toward her, his feet dragging across the rough-hewn planks of the floor. The common room had grown silent, and the only sounds were Lorik’s ragged breathing and his heavy boots shuffling across the floor.

  “Oy! We need ale over here!” said an older man with skinny legs and a protruding belly.

  “Give me a few minutes alone,” Lorik said.