The Captive

by Paul Lauritsen

  As always, he was struck by the tranquility of this space. Fall was barely holding on, preparing to give way to winter, and the plants overflowing from the standing boxes around the fountain had turned vibrant shades of red, orange, and gold. Faded flowers nodded faintly on the ends of their stalks, and the gravel paths had loose petals strewn across them. The fountain burbled in the background, a pleasant counterpoint to the lower, steadier noise of the river drifting past at the base of the slight slope behind Oreius’ house. The trees rustled a greeting overhead, and birds darted among their lofty branches.

  At the edge of the glade, on the stone bench Relam remembered so well, was the sword master. Oreius’ gray hair and beard were longer and wilder than ever, but the sword lying on the bench beside him was immaculate.

  “Good afternoon, master,” Relam called, smiling. “Honing your senses again?”

  The old warrior stirred slightly, but did not turn. “No need. I heard you and the others coming a mile away.” He paused, then shrugged. “Well, not really a mile. But at least since the gate.”

  Relam laughed. “What else do you sense? Can you still smell the river, or has it lost its scent?”

  “Oh, it hasn’t lost it,” Oreius replied. “Though you’re making progress there. The stench is fainter now, and on some days it seems almost fresh.”

  The young king stepped up beside the bench. Oreius glanced up at him, sighed, then scooted over to allow Relam space to sit as well. Relam grinned and sat, leaning back a little.

  “You seem to have come through the war all right,” Oreius observed, looking him up and down. “That’s good. I had worried the fighting would change you.”

  “Change me how?”

  Oreius shrugged. “Hard to say. Wars make some men hard, callous. Others it breaks. Some,” he continued, glancing at Relam, “A rare, select group of individuals, are forged by such trials. They come away stronger, better prepared for what lies ahead.”

  “Only if they are prepared for the fight in the first place, master,” Relam replied.

  Oreius grunted. “You’re welcome, I suppose. Though it was your own persistence that secured you an opportunity to train with me, not through any generosity of spirit on my part.”

  “You refrained from throwing me in the river at least.”

  The ghost of a smile touched the old man’s face. “That is a punishment I reserve for special cases.”

  The young king sighed contentedly. Oreius’ garden was having its usual soothing effect, even though Relam could hear Johann and Wil arguing over something inconsequential in lowered tones. By the sound of things, his guards had gathered on the far side of the fountain for the time being, waiting.

  “How are you doing, boy?” Oreius asked earnestly, turning to face him. “The war may not have changed you much, but the crown is a heavier burden, and one you face every day.”

  Relam shrugged uncertainly. “Someone has to do it,” he replied quietly. “Being king isn’t what people make it out to be. It’s not fun. It’s all about responsibility and justice, working hard for the people. It forces me to spend endless hours in meetings with every major and minor official in the city, and listen to any idiot noble with an opinion.”

  “It seems you are learning why I never aspired to such lofty positions,” Oreius said wryly.

  “Would that I could do the same,” Relam muttered. “It’s already wearing on me, master.”

  “I know,” Oreius murmured. “I do not wish such a burden on anyone, but you must bear it. For the good of the realm.”

  Relam nodded resolutely. They sat in silence for a few moments, then Relam distinctly heard a series of knocks from the direction of the front of the house. He twisted around, puzzled, and saw his guards were already on their feet, hands on their weapons.

  “Now, who could that be?” Relam wondered aloud, frowning. “Narin, maybe?”

  “He was here yesterday,” Oreius replied. “So I doubt it. But, I suspect we’ll find out soon enough.”

  Voices began to carry from the side of the house now, and the side gate squeaked as someone opened and closed it. Relam recognized the two men who came around the side of Oreius’ house immediately and swore under his breath.

  “Ah, your majesty!” Clemon said breathlessly, hurrying to Relam’s side. “Commander Eckle thought you might be here.”

  The guard commander, following a few paces behind, bowed slightly in Relam’s direction, but kept his distance from the king and his four guards. They had a long-standing history with him, particularly Wil.

  “Has something come up, Marc?” Relam asked the chatelain, reluctantly getting to his feet.

  “Yes, your majesty,” Clemon replied pompously. “You have a most distinguished visitor from – ”

  “He can wait,” Relam said curtly, rolling his eyes.

  “From the South,” Clemon finished. “The Keeper, Khollo, has arrived to see you.”

  Relam heart leapt at this unexpected news. “In the city?” He hadn’t seen a dragon soaring overhead.

  “No, by the Midwood,” Clemon elaborated. “He sent a message for you by way of the city guard. It seems he felt soaring in on his dragon might cause quite a stir.”

  “By the Midwood,” Relam murmured eagerly. “I’ll ride out to him at once. Did he say what’s happened, why he’s here?”

  “No, your majesty,” Clemon said, “But it appears to be a matter of some urgency.”

  Relam nodded, distracted by his excitement at seeing Kanin and Khollo again. The Keepers had been gone for so long, with not even a visit to the mainland. What could have brought them all the way to Etares?

  “This is the Keeper you fought with in the South?” Oreius asked Relam sharply.

  The young king nodded distractedly. “You’re welcome to come and meet him if you like,” he suggested.

  “I think I would like that,” Oreius agreed, getting to his feet with a soft groan. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten out of the city.”

  Relam glanced at him slyly. “You’ve hardly left your house since the raid in the Midwood almost two years ago.”

  “I’ve been to the Citadel. And the palace.”

  “Grand adventures,” Relam said with a grin.

  “The Citadel certainly was,” Oreius grunted. “I’ll meet you lot at the west gate. It’ll take me a moment to saddle my horse.”

  “We’ll wait for you there,” Relam promised. “Wil, Galen, run ahead and have the city guard prepare mounts for the seven of us.”

  “Seven of us?” Clemon asked.

  “Aren’t you coming?” Relam asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “I have much to attend to,” Clemon blustered, swiping at his immaculate robes. “And of course, horses don’t tend to agree with me – ”

  “Then make that the six of us,” Relam called to Wil. “I guess I’ll see you back at the palace later, Marc. Anything else?”

  “The council wants to meet with you again,” the chatelain said quickly. “And there’s also the matter of those dreadful snowstorms in the northern – ”

  “I meant anything that needs to be dealt with today,” Relam clarified.

  “Oh,” Clemon said, frowning in concentration. “Not that I can think of, your majesty, no.”

  “Good,” Relam said, relieved. “I’ll be back tonight, then. Eric, Eckle, Johann, with me.”

  The guard commander and the other two men fell in behind Relam as he strode quickly around to the front of the house and the River Road. There, he lengthened his stride and marched rapidly to the nearest crossing, the guards hurrying in his wake.

  “Your majesty,” Eckle admonished, half jogging to keep up. “Please, slow down a bit. It’s not safe for you to go haring off – ”

  “Yes, it is,” Relam said impatiently. “I’ve got you, Eric, and Johann, and we’re in Etares, commander. We’re perfectly safe.”

  “On the west side of the city?”

  Relam winced. “It’s getting better,” he protested. �
��It’s a little more organized now, and with the new housing replacing those crumbling buildings by the river – ”

  “It’s still a relatively lawless sector,” Eckle panted, hitching up his sword belt. “We would . . . do well . . . to respect the dangers associated with it.”

  “We will,” Relam assured him. “By moving through quickly and not lingering any longer than we have to.”

  Eckle likely had a great deal to say about this perspective, but he somehow managed to bite it back and hold his tongue. Relam kept up the grueling pace, more because of his excitement at seeing the Keepers than because of the commander’s concerns. Eric and Johann kept pace easily, and maintained an outwardly relaxed air. But Relam knew the two men were searching every alley and doorway for a hint of danger, constantly on guard for any threat to their king.

  In due time, the dirty streets and decaying tenements which made up the bulk of the western section of the city began to give way to better-ordered and better-kept sections. By the time the small group had reached the outer wall, they were hurrying along a clean-swept avenue, surrounded by large, prosperous dwellings and strong, stout military buildings. Platoons of soldiers passed them in every direction, saluting Relam when they recognized him. Relam returned their salutes with grave nods but did not stop, instead proceeding directly to the stables beside the west gate.

  The stables were dark and filled with the musty smell of horses and leather, but the floor was clean and all of the gear and equipment was in order. In the center of the main aisle, an officer was speaking with a trio of stable hands, gesturing to several of the stalls at the rear of the building. Beyond them, four horses were already saddled, and two of them nickered at the new arrivals. The officer turned, surprised, then strode over with a wide smile.

  “Your majesty!” Hadere said enthusiastically, bowing slightly. “Welcome. It’s been too long since you last visited.”

  “Every day seems to get busier, commander,” Relam replied ruefully.

  “I understand,” Hadere agreed. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m managing,” Relam replied grimly.

  “The kingdom, yes,” Hadere said. “But how are you doing?”

  Relam looked up, startled, and saw a depth of concern and compassion in the warrior’s eyes he had not expected to see.

  “I could be better,” he admitted quietly. “It’s been a rough year since the Citadel.”

  Hadere nodded understandingly. “I know. You’ve had terrible losses, and been at the forefront of uprisings and savage wars, though you were only a cadet not so long ago. Trials like those . . . no one should have to suffer them. If you need some help or someone to talk to, I’m here for you. And I imagine Oreius and some others are as well.”

  Relam managed a slight smile at that. “I know, Hadere. And I’m grateful.”

  Hadere shrugged. “It’s the least we can do. You should know, Cevet has come to me several times since the battle against D’Arnlo.”

  “Cevet?” Relam asked sharply. “How is he? I haven’t heard a word from him!” Strangely, he felt betrayed that Cevet had sought the city guard commander out before he had come to Relam.

  Hadere shrugged. “He’s not well. The things Ryker did, supposedly for Cevet’s sake, weigh on him heavily. It’s almost all we talk about, that and what I knew of his father. He and I grew up together. But, Ryker chose his own path,” he added quietly, regretfully.

  Relam frowned. “If you see him again, let him know I would like to speak with him. He’s still my friend, despite everything that happened.”

  “I know,” Hadere said gently, “He just needs some time right now. I think – ”

  “Your majesty!” Wil called, leading out the last horse. “Everything’s ready. Is Oreius here yet?”

  Relam turned away from Hadere. “If he isn’t, he will be soon,” he said, shrugging. “We’d best get going.”

  “Until next time, your majesty,” Hadere said, bowing again.

  Relam nodded stiffly in return, then grabbed the reins of his horse and swung into the saddle. The others followed suit, all seasoned riders since the long campaign in the South. Relam waited only a moment for them to settle in, then slowly rode his horse out of the stable and towards the west gate. As he had expected, Oreius was waiting for them beside the portcullis, his mane of hair billowing around him.

  “Finally,” he said in a low voice as Relam drew level with him. “Thought you had gotten lost.”

  “Never,” Relam replied, grinning easily at him. As they approached the gates, several guards hauled the massive portals open and raised the portcullis, the rattling of chains drowning out all other sounds. The moment the way was clear, Relam urged his horse into a canter and then a gallop, flying across the flatlands towards the distant forest.

  As the wind rushed past his face, Relam began to relax, unconsciously shedding the burdens of a king for a few moments. Quite suddenly, he was just another young adventurer, riding off into the unknown, his sword at his hip and his friends around him. A sense of joyous freedom welled up within him, and a foolish grin spread across his face. Oreius glanced at Relam, and likely noticed his uncharacteristic cheerfulness, but made no remark.

  In less than an hour the forest came into sight. Soon after, Relam could make out a small camp at the edge of the trees, just off the main road from the forest to Etares. A massive emerald shape was sprawled around the edge of the camp, and a small dark figure was sitting on the ground, poking at a sizeable fire that could not have been started in the short time since the Keepers had arrived without the notable assistance of a dragon.

  Relam shouted a greeting and raised his right hand, palm outward. The young man sitting by the fire rose to his feet and raised his own hand in acknowledgement, letting it fall back to his side a moment later. Beside Relam, Oreius stiffened as he got his first good look at Kanin.

  “Now that,” he said finally, “Is a sight. A dragon! And I thought them to be naught but myths.”

  The young king grinned. “Wait until you meet the Keepers up close and you see Kanin in flight. It’s a truly impressive sight.”

  Oreius grunted in agreement, as though picturing the sight in his mind. A few meters short of the camp, the others fell back slightly, letting Relam proceed ahead. The young king drew his horse to a halt and swung down quickly, striding forward to clasp hands with Khollo. The young Keeper was tanned and lean from his time on the island, and his hair had grown almost as long as Oreius’.

  “Welcome back!” Relam cried, thumping the Keeper on the shoulder enthusiastically. “And a warm welcome to you as well, Kanin,” he added, releasing Khollo and bowing to the dragon. Kanin gave a gentle snort in reply, warm air rushing over Relam. The young king grinned again, feeling rather foolish but not particularly caring.

  “What news from the South?” he asked Khollo eagerly. “How long will you be staying?”

  “Not as long as we would like,” Khollo replied ruefully, glancing at Kanin. “We flew straight from Ethgalin, bypassing Narne and the West Bank on our way. We wanted to come to you first.”

  “Is something the matter?” Relam asked anxiously. He sensed movement behind him and saw the others were dismounting and advancing as well.

  The Keeper hesitated, as though considering how much to share. “Not yet,” he said finally. “But . . . maybe soon. We’re not sure.”

  Relam frowned. “So why – ?”

  “We ride in search of new Keepers,” Khollo broke in. “But we wanted to speak with you before we recruited any of your people.”

  “New Keepers? You found more dragons, then?”

  “A few,” Khollo said carefully. “And we feel it’s time to expand the order, just in case.”

  “Then you’re thinking there might be trouble?” Oreius asked gruffly from behind Relam.

  Khollo glanced at the older man curiously, then back at Relam.

  The young king flushed and hurried to introduce his friend. “I’m sorry, this is Oreius.
He is one of my advisors, and my sword master. Oreius, this is Khollo, High Keeper, and Kanin, Master of Dragons.”

  “It is an honor,” Oreius said, bowing deeply to Kanin and stepping forward to shake Khollo’s hand.

  Khollo grinned easily in reply. “If you trained Relam with the sword, you must be pretty good yourself. He held the front line almost single-handedly at Dun Carryl.”

  “I did my best,” Oreius replied. “Anyway, back to my question. Is there trouble coming?”

  “Maybe,” Khollo allowed, almost apologetically. “More a sense at this stage. We haven’t seen anything to confirm it . . . but Kanin’s senses have rarely been wrong.”

  “Instinct,” Oreius said knowingly. “I would trust it, Keeper. Better safe than sorry.”

  “Yes,” Khollo agreed. “That’s why we’re here. Do I have your permission to search out suitable candidates, Relam?”

  “Of course, Khollo,” Relam said. “Anything you need, let me know. Transportation, supplies, weapons, anything at all.”

  “Thank you,” the young Keeper said gratefully. “I would love to stay longer, but Kanin says we have lingered too long already. The search must begin.” The dragon snorted in agreement, extending a foreleg pointedly.

  “Are you sure?” Relam asked, disappointed.

  Khollo nodded ruefully as he climbed onto Kanin’s back. “I never argue with a dragon. Until next time, your majesty.”

  “Fair winds, Keepers,” Relam replied resignedly, stepping back to avoid being flattened.

  Kanin spread his wings, then stomped out the fire with a thick foreleg, effectively smothering it. Then, with a rush of wind he was airborne, winging his way into the distance. With a disgruntled sigh, Relam turned, mounted his horse, and headed back to Etares, and the burdens of a king.

  Chapter 3:

  The Search Begins

  Kanin glided effortlessly over the vast lands of the Sthan kingdom, maintaining such an altitude that he would appear as no more than a speck from far below. The height did not bother Khollo as much as it once would have. Flying with a dragon had that effect over time.