The Captive

by Paul Lauritsen

  Halena sighed heavily. “I thought so.”

  Khollo waited for her to say more. “Is something wrong?” he asked uncertainly when she did not continue.

  “I can’t go,” she said finally. “I have too many responsibilities here. I live with my grandfather, now that my parents are gone, and he can’t work to support himself.”

  “There must be a way,” Khollo said hopefully.

  “Not that I see,” Halena said with a sad smile. “I can’t leave him.”

  “What if he was being looked after by someone else, taken care of?” Khollo suggested, thinking quickly. “We can’t take him with us, but I have friends who would not mind taking in an old man. What’s he like?”

  “A hero,” the girl said, smiling at the thought. “He used to be a warrior, but not anymore. His strength and skill are gone now, and he values peace more.”

  Khollo smiled, seeing an obvious solution to the problem. “I happen to know a war hero as well,” he said. “And he could benefit greatly from your grandfather’s company. What if I arranged for the two of you to stay with him for a little while, while Kanin and I finish our search? Then we can leave for Ethgalin and your grandfather can stay with my friend.”

  The girl wavered, considering his offer.

  “Please, Halena,” Khollo urged her. “You have a rare gift. There are few people in this world suited to be Keepers. And we need every one of them right now.”

  Still, Halena hesitated. “I want to meet this person first,” she said finally. “But assuming this arrangement works out and my grandfather agrees . . . I’ll go.”

  Khollo breathed out a sigh of relief. “Good,” he said, nodding to himself. “Very good.”

  Kanin stretched out his neck and touched Halena gently on the forehead with his snout. You are most welcome, kind one, he said, his mental voice surprisingly soft. The Order will be lucky to have you.

  Halena smiled her warm, friendly smile again and caressed Kanin’s scaly jaw. “Where does your friend live?” she asked Khollo absently. “Somewhere comfortable enough for an old man, I hope?”

  “It’s not a grand city,” Khollo said quickly. “In fact, it started as a fortress. But it’s been expanded to a sort of combination village and stronghold, and there are many good people living there now, soldiers, farmers, craftsmen, all manner of people. Your grandfather will be welcome.”

  “Where is it?” she asked again.

  Khollo smiled. “The West Bank,” he said. “My uncle Janis rules there. He will take good care of your grandfather.”

  “And it is not so far from the coast,” Halena mused. “Maybe this can work out,” she murmured, half to herself, nearly daring to believe. “Of course, we can’t make the trip on our own, not so soon after the war.”

  “You’ll have guards,” Khollo promised. “I’ll arrange it with the lord of Ardia. Do we have a deal?”

  Halena smiled at him again. “Deal,” she said, smiling.

  “Good,” Khollo said, relieved. “I’ll take care of your escort, then Kanin and I will be on our way in the morning.” He glanced at the dragon ruefully. “The Sthan kingdom is a rather large place to search, after all.”

  Chapter 4:

  The Will to Rule

  Garnuk strode through the heavily guarded doors and into the large cavern that had become the home of Zanove, the silver dragon. Inside, Garnuk stopped, cocked his head, then smiled to himself.

  I have found you. Come down from the ceiling, he told Zanove.

  There was a pause, then the silver dragon landed heavily in front of him. At just over three months of age, Zanove was already longer than Garnuk was tall, and heavily muscled. The dragon had not breathed fire yet, but Garnuk knew this would come in time. Hopefully sooner rather than later. Already, he was confident the dragon could easily overpower a couple of Sthan soldiers. Or a vertag warrior, if need be.

  You sense me too easily now, Zanove complained. This game has lost its fun.

  Garnuk bit back an angry retort that he had no time to waste on games. Instead, he rubbed the dragon’s snout roughly and thumped its scaly neck affectionately. Ever since Zanove had hatched, he had known no one but Garnuk. Initially, the little dragon had been excited by this new world. But, confined in his cavern, he quickly grew bored and continually created ways to amuse himself and pass the time. Hiding from Garnuk was but one of them.

  How is the world beyond this room? Zanove asked curiously. Safe for me yet?

  Garnuk shook his head. The world beyond is cruel and dangerous, he instructed the dragon. You are not large enough yet that I would risk exposing you to it.

  The Keepers again?

  And other fiends, Garnuk agreed. You are safe in here, where I can protect you.

  Zanove shuffled his wings restlessly, but did not question Garnuk further. The steady indoctrination against the Keepers and the outside world was working surprisingly well. Then again, Garnuk mused, the dragon had no experience or knowledge to compare against Garnuk’s view of the world. He did have to guard his thoughts carefully though, lest Zanove perceive he was not being entirely truthful.

  With a heavy sigh, Garnuk turned away, preparing to leave again. The dragon snorted in dissatisfaction and trailed him curiously.

  You must go already? Zanove asked plaintively.

  Garnuk nodded absently. Yes. I know it is hard, but you must stay. Grow stronger, fly more. Until you are big and fierce enough for what lies ahead.

  Soon, Zanove said hopefully. The dragon butted Garnuk with rough affection, then retreated deeper into the cavern. Garnuk stopped just inside the doors, then slipped through one of the portals quickly, pulling it shut behind him. The guards outside, thoroughly bored with their duties, barely even glanced at him. Garnuk smiled grimly to himself. If they knew what they guarded, they might find this job more interesting.

  “Let no one in or out, without my seal,” Garnuk instructed them again, just to be sure.

  “Aye,” one guard replied with an enormous yawn that bared his fangs. He caught Garnuk watching him and straightened quickly. “No one in or out, you have my word.”

  Garnuk frowned, then marched quickly along the short corridor until it joined one of the larger passages of Dun Carryl. Here there were far more vertaga, occupied with a variety of tasks. A group covered in stone dust and sweat passed Garnuk going the other direction. The construction crew had apparently just finished their shift in the ruined portions of the city mountain. Garnuk made his way there now, to the massive central chamber the dragon Kanin had cracked open during his attack on the mountain. An attack which had cost Garnuk everything.

  For one brief moment, he’d had it all. The downfall of the Usurper, his family made whole once more. Then it was all torn away in an instant, in an avalanche of dirt and shattered stone. The great chamber was bordered on one side by open air now, the old western gate buried under uncounted tons of debris.

  Garnuk stepped into the main chamber, and quickly located Tarq. The warrior had become a sort of personal assistant for Garnuk, managing day to day tasks and helping his former general get the vertaga people back on their feet after the war with the Sthan. The former captain of Shadow Squadron was arguing with a small group of masons and foremen, embroiled in a heated debate over the reconstruction. Garnuk waited until the small group had dispersed, then quickly joined Tarq before some other problem could arrive.

  “General,” Tarq said, dipping his horned head respectfully. “We are progressing on schedule.”

  “Good,” Garnuk said, nodding curtly. “What of the clan chiefs? Have any arrived?”

  “Ten, so far,” Tarq reported. “They are all from nearby settlements though. I would not expect the full council to convene before the end of the week.”

  Garnuk sighed heavily. “This was one part of being Ramshuk I never enjoyed,” he murmured distractedly. “The politics of it all.”

  “They will not all be happy to see you rule once more,” Tarq mused. “But you have more t
han enough support to be confirmed as Ramshuk over all vertaga. Although,” Tarq added, glancing sharply at Garnuk, “It would help things if while the clan chiefs were here you spent more time among them and less time locked away on your private projects.”

  The Ramshuk’s head snapped around, and he frowned at Tarq. “Private projects?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Tarq replied, eyes narrowed. “I know you, Garnuk. You’ve been distracted lately, preoccupied with something. You always act like this when you are planning something. The more secretive and distracted you are, the bigger the plan.”

  “And you are concerned about what my plans might be?” Garnuk asked evenly.

  Tarq inclined his head. “Perhaps. Considering our recent tragedy and the fragile peace we have gained.”

  Garnuk cursed inwardly. He should have known Tarq would notice. The captain knew virtually everything that happened in Dun Carryl, maybe even more than Garnuk himself knew. Tarq would be aware Garnuk had handpicked guards for a special sentry duty, would know Garnuk had returned to the same chamber every day for nigh on three months before Zanove’s hatching, and would have noticed the Ramshuk was often sequestered in the silver dragon’s current home. How much else did the captain suspect though?

  “Tarq,” Garnuk began, “You are right. I have been planning something.”

  The other vertag’s expression immediately became guarded. “And what have you been planning, old friend?”

  Garnuk hesitated, looking around uncertainly. “Not here,” he said finally. “Can they manage without you for a while?”

  “Probably,” Tarq agreed, surveying the small horde of stone cutters and laborers.

  “Good, then come with me,” Garnuk said, turning and striding back into the labyrinth of passages which honeycombed Dun Carryl. Tarq followed quickly, the echoes of their footsteps ringing through the enclosed stone halls.

  As they moved through the city mountain, vertaga called greetings to Garnuk and inclined their heads respectfully. The Ramshuk nodded curtly to each in reply, preoccupied with his own thoughts. Despite his distraction, Garnuk did not fail to notice the few rams who did not react cheerfully to his presence. Many had hailed him as the savior of all vertaga, but there were still some who whispered that Garnuk was the only reason the previous Ramshuk, Norkuvad, had failed to destroy the world of men. Garnuk had asked Tarq to investigate this faction, find out who their leaders were, but there were no results yet.

  Garnuk continued on resolutely; the hallway began to empty out as they moved deeper into the mountain. Finally, he reached the smaller passage that led to Zanove’s cave. He looked around to see if there were any observers, and noticed a cloaked ram standing against the wall not far away. The Ramshuk turned away from the hall and folded his arms across his chest, eying the newcomer. Tarq stepped up beside Garnuk, hand resting on the handle of his axe.

  “He’s watching us,” Tarq murmured. “Even though he is pretending not to. I saw his eyes gleaming under his hood.”

  “Aye,” Garnuk agreed. “So what now? Approach him?”

  “He could be an assassin!” Tarq hissed. “And you want to get closer to him?”

  Garnuk shrugged. “There’s two of us.”

  “And there could be a lot more of him nearby, waiting to spring a trap,” Tarq whispered vehemently.

  Garnuk winced, guessing his companion could have easily been heard across the hall. Whispering was not a strong point for most vertaga, and Tarq was no exception. Sure enough, the cloaked vertag started across the hall at a slow pace, edging closer to the Ramshuk and his companion.

  Garnuk drew his sword with a rasp of leather on steel. “No closer,” he warned. “Not until I know who you are, stranger.”

  The vertag hesitated, then stopped. “You know me,” he replied after a moment. “But we should really go somewhere more private to talk. I am not supposed to be here, strictly speaking.”

  There was something familiar about the voice, and in the way the mysterious visitor carried himself. Garnuk leaned forward, trying to peer under the hood. The other vertag obligingly shoved it back slightly, revealing hard, craggy features and a pair of bright, intelligent eyes.

  “Koah!” Tarq bellowed happily. “It has been too long!”

  “Shh!” Koah said sharply, pulling his hood forward again and stepping closer. “As I said, I am not here. Is there somewhere we can speak? I bring word from Banta Kodu.”

  Garnuk nodded, then retreated into the smaller hallway. He heard the others follow with a slight shuffling of leather on stone. The Ramshuk led them a ways down the hall, past Zanove’s chamber, then stopped and turned around, inclining his head to Koah.

  “Welcome to Dun Carryl, old friend,” he said, smiling slightly. “It has been far too long.”

  “And much has transpired,” Koah added. “The world is changing quickly. Too quickly for the Banuk.”

  “At least our people are safe now,” Tarq said awkwardly. “The Sthan believe us destroyed.”

  “For now,” Koah agreed. “It only takes one sighting to raise the alarm though. It’s only a matter of time – ”

  “Every clan has strict orders to stick close to their settlements and avoid contact with men,” Garnuk interrupted. “Nor are they to pass anywhere near the borders of the Sthan Kingdom. It was my first command as Ramshuk.”

  “A good start, but not enough,” Koah said, shaking his head. “Not nearly enough. If a hungry group of vertaga trail a herd to the edge of the mountains, do you expect them to give up?”

  “Not likely,” Tarq muttered, rubbing his own stomach absently.

  Koah flashed a grin at his former comrade. “Precisely. Our people will not remain hidden forever, Garnuk. That’s why I’m here.”

  “I don’t understand,” Garnuk said slowly, glancing at Tarq. The other ram shrugged to indicate he was similarly baffled.

  “Let me start at the beginning,” Koah said, frowning at the ground as he gathered his thoughts. “You remember the mood of my people when you left Banta Kodu?”

  “I was barely alive,” Garnuk grunted.

  “I remember,” Tarq replied, his voice low. “I had never seen such anger and hurt.”

  “Neither had I,” Koah agreed. “The Banuk were torn apart by the civil war. Neighbors fought against neighbors, comrades slaughtered each other in the street, and why? They were caught up in a fight between outsiders. The Banuk have never been tolerant towards other tribes, but since you left their isolationist nature has become almost fanatical. The Sentinels are roving further abroad, and anyone within three leagues is killed on sight.”

  “That’s extreme,” Tarq observed. “We never would have gotten close to Banta Kodu if we’d had to sneak past patrols for ten miles to get to your walls.”

  Koah nodded gravely. “That’s the idea. The Banuk have completely shut themselves off. This way, some of our kind might survive.” He paused, glanced at Garnuk. “To that end, there will be no Banuk representative present at the gathering of clans.”

  “What?” Garnuk demanded.

  “The Banuk no longer bow to the Ramshuk,” Koah said, inclining his head. “We will remain apart, and with any luck we will survive.”

  “You abandon your kin.”

  “My kin are the Banuk,” Koah shot back. “We have longer memories than the other tribes, Garnuk. We have records of the last time the vertaga were nearly wiped out. Outside of roughly a hundred scattered survivors, the Banuk were all who remained.”

  “And what if the Banuk had fought?” Garnuk growled. “What would have happened then? What if the Banuk,” he continued, stepping into Koah, driving the other vertag back, “Stood with us now? Your clan is the largest and most powerful, with some of the finest warriors in the mountains. Yet you hide, and slaughter your own kind if they come too close to your halls.”

  “Because every time you outsiders do get close it results in tragedy,” Koah growled. “The other clans have no restraint. Despite having land and good lives, the
y seek to expand, dream of overthrowing men and ruling the world. And, despite failure after failure, they keep trying! Twice in ten years, Garnuk!” The Sentinel stopped and took a deep breath. “The only path to survival now is isolation. The Banuk will endure. Even if the rest of the vertaga are not wise enough to follow our example.”

  “Why, you cowardly – ”

  Garnuk held up a hand, quelling Tarq’s indignant protest. “You are right on one point, Koah, but one only. Men will find us again. Perhaps soon. But this time, we will be ready. We will surprise them, and we will destroy them.”

  “You speak as though you are already making plans for another disaster,” Koah observed, eyes flashing. “Did you hear nothing of what I said? Another war would be the doom of the vertaga!”

  “Unless our enemies are too busy fighting amongst themselves,” Garnuk murmured. “And besides, we have a hidden strength which they will not expect.”

  Tarq straightened at this, looking at the former Ramshuk curiously. Koah sneered openly, casting a contemptuous gaze at the pair.

  “You don’t believe me,” Garnuk said quietly. “Come and see for yourself then, old friend.”

  The Ramshuk turned and led the two vertaga to Zanove’s door. There, he dismissed the guards on duty with a curt gesture and shoved into the cave. The doors slammed shut behind the three rams, nearly catching Koah, who had hesitated on the threshold.

  Inside the cave, Garnuk looked around. The space was dim as always, and the silver dragon was playing its usual games. As he craned his neck towards the center of the ceiling, a voice spoke in his mind.

  Back so soon?

  Yes. I have brought visitors. Come, join us, but do not startle them if at all possible.

  Are they dangerous?

  They are warriors. They tend to respond aggressively to surprises.

  There was a pause, then a dim acknowledgement came from the silver dragon. Garnuk grinned as he ascertained its origin. Zanove was behind them, clinging to the stone above the cave’s entrance.