The Captive

by Paul Lauritsen

  “Then we’ll be on our way south,” Khollo decided.

  “How far south?”

  “To Narne, initially,” the young Keeper said, shrugging. “I’ll tell you more once we are gathered there.”

  “There are others you have found, then?” Sven asked, his voice turning cool and suspicious.

  “Only one other,” Khollo said with a sigh. “I would like to have two more. But Kanin and I are running out of ideas for places to search.”

  “The plains might be a good spot,” Sven suggested. “Lots of people there, and they don’t have the hatred of dragons like my kind do.”

  “Maybe,” Khollo agreed. “But first, we need to get you on a ship down to Jalakash, and maybe arrange for you to board another ship there headed to Narne. We’ll work out the details on the way.”

  Kanin stood, spreading his wings with a rustle of membrane and extending a foreleg for Khollo to climb. Khollo scrambled up onto Kanin’s back and settled himself at the front of the saddle, cinching the first line of flying straps over his legs. He glanced down at Sven, who was still standing on the ground, looking at Kanin nervously.

  “Is this safe?”

  “Of course,” Khollo assured him breezily. “Kanin can easily carry two, as long as we’re not attacked in midair.”

  Sven nodded nervously and stepped up to Kanin’s side. The emerald dragon watched him with one opalescent eye. The northman placed one foot on Kanin’s leg, testing the improvised ramp, then slowly inched his way upwards until he was sitting behind Khollo. The young Keeper patiently showed Sven how to use the flying straps. Then, he instructed Kanin to take off.

  The dragon lurched upwards in a flurry of beating wings. Behind Khollo, Sven grunted in surprise, then quickly tightened the flying straps even further. Khollo, on the other hand, calmly spread his map in front of him, keeping a good hold on it while he tried to figure out what direction they should be flying.

  He located Sven’s village first, thought it was barely marked on the map, then guessed at the direction they had fled during the abortive search for candidates. When he felt he’d determined their current position with reasonable accuracy, Khollo turned his attention to finding the source of the Lanis River, which ran right up to the Najni Range. There was a trading village at the head of the river. With any luck, he could find a small boat or skiff there to take Sven to a larger town, with ships which sailed further down the river.

  Are we going the right way? Kanin asked pointedly.

  Khollo grinned and folded the map up. Just a little more to the south, Kanin, and we’ll be there in a few hours.

  He half turned so he could speak to Sven. “We’ll set down in Welmire, and find you a ride to the coast. Should be there by the end of the day if all goes well.”

  Sven nodded jerkily, eyes fixed on the ground far below. Khollo decided to leave him be, facing forward and settling down for the long flight ahead.

  As they flew, a stiff wind began to blow out of the north. The surrounding air, already chilly, seemed to freeze in Khollo’s lungs. His eyes stung with the cold, and even the thick furs he was wearing were doing little to trap heat. Beneath him, Kanin’s scales were slick with frost and ice, coalescing from the clouds building around them. The emerald dragon flew on, striving for the mountains to the southeast and warmer climates.

  They had been flying for several hours when Sven tapped Khollo’s shoulder tentatively. Khollo turned slightly, so Sven would know he had felt the touch. “What do you need?” he shouted over the wind.

  Sven pointed towards the north, where a bank of dark clouds was forming. “See that?” he shouted, the wind snatching his voice away despite their proximity.

  Khollo nodded vigorously. “Yes, looks like a storm forming.”

  “If we see one of those in my village, everyone gets inside immediately,” Sven said.

  “Is it some kind of blizzard?” Khollo asked curiously.

  Sven frowned and shook his head, cupping his hands around his ears. Khollo repeated the question. The wind was really battering them now, coming directly out of the north and driving them towards the mountains.

  “Worse than a blizzard,” Sven said when he finally heard Khollo’s question. “Makes a blizzard look like a summer rain on the plains. That storm will be full of ice and snow, and it will be so cold you’d freeze in minutes. I’ve never known anyone to survive one on the ground. I don’t even want to think about what flying through one of those storms would be like, even with a dragon.”

  Me either, Kanin said, having overheard the conversation through Khollo. How close are we to the village?

  Still quite a ways, Khollo replied, gnawing at his lower lip, though he could hardly feel it. Could we shelter in the mountains?

  Ask Sven.

  Khollo repeated the question aloud for Sven, though it took several tries to fully communicate his message. It took another few minutes for Sven to respond and explain the situation.

  “The mountains will help,” he said, “But it would be unwise to try and outlast the storm among them. The best thing to do would be to put some large peaks between us and the north. They’ll break the force of the winds and the storm, but we’ll have to be quick.”

  We could run out of room in the mountains, Kanin interjected. There may not be enough space to safely maneuver, especially with this wind blowing the way it is. And if the storm catches me in a narrow pass . . . well, things could get interesting.

  Well, we can’t land and outlast it. You heard Sven, we’d never survive. It sounds like our only choice is to fly straight through the mountains as fast as we can.

  Then that is what we’ll do, Kanin decided. Hang on.

  The dragon veered sharply to the south, eliciting a startled cry from Sven. Then Kanin went into a shallow dive, gradually converting his altitude into speed. Ahead of them, the Najni range loomed larger and larger, the peaks dominating everything else in their field of vision.

  They flashed across the foothills, sweeping over a blur of gray, white, and brown terrain, broken lands of rock and snow. Khollo glanced back at the storm and his breath caught in his throat.

  The bank of gray clouds had become a wall of swirling black tempests, blotting out the horizon and turning the afternoon to night. Lightning flashed and crackled in its midst, and the wind had never been stronger. Khollo swallowed nervously and crouched low over Kanin’s back, willing the dragon to fly faster, to outrace this malevolent thing that was pursuing them.

  Kanin swooped between the first two mountains, beating his wings furiously as he weaved around the first of the great monoliths. Khollo started to relax as the wind faltered, swirling first one way and then the other, confused and turned by the unyielding mountains. Kanin moved into the second rank of mountains, gliding easily over a wide valley.

  Then, the storm reached the edge of the mountains.

  The wind was suddenly back, constricted and funneled between the mountains, a roaring torrent that slammed into them from behind. Kanin lurched underneath Khollo and roared in protest. Sven slammed into Khollo’s back, knocking him off balance. A moment after the wind hit came the snow and ice.

  Hard pellets battered at Khollo, bouncing off his back and head. He raised his arms to shield himself, shouting for Sven to do the same. The ice struck Kanin as well, ricocheting off his scales with a cacophony of high-pitched pings! The ice impacted his wings with dull thuds, then slid off the back of his wings.

  The snow did not hurt the way the ice did, but it swirled in a white blur, limiting Khollo’s vision to only twenty feet or so. He hoped Kanin could see better, that the dragon knew where they were going, that he had a plan to get them through this –

  CRACK!!!

  Thunder roared through the canyon as lightning strobed across the sky once more. This bolt struck high on the side of the nearest mountain, blasting rocks and snow into the air. Khollo shouted a warning across his link with Kanin and the dragon rolled over in midair, spinning away from the avalanc
he. The wind caught him in the middle of the maneuver though, and threw the dragon far off course. Wearily, Kanin beat his wings to regain altitude, then aimed for a gap between two more mountains. Khollo was thoroughly disoriented at this point, and had lost track of every direction except up and down.

  Even that was in question over the next several minutes. The wind controlled them, tossing Kanin about, spinning him around and over, making every foot of progress a monumental task. Khollo had long since gone numb with cold, but the snow and ice continued to swirl and batter at him. Sven was hunched over behind him, hanging on to Kanin’s back for all he was worth.

  Finally, Khollo felt a change. A shift. The wind weakened slightly, and for the first time in several minutes the storm was not deafening. It was still frighteningly cold and Khollo had no idea where they were, but they seemed to be on the fringe of the storm now rather than in its heart.

  He raised his head and squinted, trying to see what lay ahead. He could barely see past Kanin’s head, drooping wearily at the end of his long neck. The dragon was nearly done in, flying on his last reserves of strength. Yet still he flew on, laboring through canyon and vale, slowly edging out of the storm’s grasp.

  Night fell, but they continued on. Khollo dozed in the saddle, mind and body utterly spent. He guessed two hours had passed since sunset before Kanin spoke in his mind.

  We have made it . . . the edge of the mountains.

  Khollo peered into the darkness, but was unable to discern any change in the landscape. Are you sure?

  Yes. This land has different smells. We are near the edge of the Aswul Marshlands, I think.

  Then we are at least an hour or two from Welmire, Khollo replied. Set down somewhere, Kanin. We should rest for the night and continue in the morning.

  And hunt, Kanin agreed sleepily as he glided down to the ground.

  Yes, Khollo promised. As soon as we get Sven on his way. You’ve earned a good hunt.

  Kanin growled with pleasure, then landed with a thump, furling his wings. Before Khollo and Sven had dismounted, the dragon was sprawled on his belly, eyes closed, half-asleep.

  “We made it,” Sven said thickly. “We are not dead.”

  Khollo nodded wearily. “Yes,” he agreed. “Not dead is good.” He slid down from Kanin’s back and curled up at the dragon’s side for warmth. Sven followed suit and in minutes all three were asleep, thoroughly relieved they had escaped the tempestuous Northern Wastes.

  Chapter 6:

  The Burden of a Crown

  Relam pushed back from his oversized desk and rubbed at his eyes, exhausted. Then, he blinked slowly a few times and stared at the stack of reports on his desk. Unfortunately, it was only one stack of many. This particular pile had been a gift from his chatelain, Clemon, some discussion of the best way to establish a permanent border between Aswul and Gobel-Tek rather than just declaring the marsh belonged to one lord and the plains to another. Apparently, the inhabitants of those lands had finally noticed their territories tended to shrink and grow depending on wet and dry seasons.

  Frustrated with the endless arguments over boundaries and borders, the two lords had decided to do something about the situation at the end of Orram’s reign. Now, several months into Relam’s reign, they were drawing up preliminary agreements which may or may not look something like the final arrangement.

  The young king’s eyes wandered across the wide desk. At first, he had been pleased to have such a large space to attend to the business of a king. Now, he realized when one has a large space to work, people tend to put a large number of things to work on in that space. Reports, figures, treatises, tabulations, and all manner of documents covered the gleaming wood surface for much of its expanse. And Relam had only gotten through a fraction of the tasks waiting for him.

  He stood and turned towards the fireplace standing opposite the desk. A roaring fire blazed away behind a tall metal grate, warming the room. Relam added another log, prodding it into place with a poker, then went and sat in one of the two stuffed armchairs flanking the fireplace. The office was small enough that the chairs made it seem almost overcrowded, but Relam had insisted on having a place to sit that would not put him face to face with work every time he sat down.

  Relam twisted around in his chair and looked out of the tall window that stood opposite the door to his office. He could see the crescent moon through the glass portal, a little ways above the horizon. This was bad. It meant, based on recent moonrises and moonsets, the hour was after midnight. If Relam wanted to have any energy for tomorrow, he needed to be sleeping soon.

  The young king groaned aloud and lay back in his chair. What he wouldn’t give to be free of this burden. Off on an adventure somewhere, living by his wits and his sword. Or riding a dragon.

  That thought brought him up short, and he scowled moodily into the flames. It wasn’t fair. Relam had dreamed of dragons his entire life, researched them, made a small carving of one. And yet it was not Relam who found out he was heir to an ancient legacy of dragons and riders. No, it was Khollo who stumbled into this legacy and took it for himself. And now the younger man was off having grand adventures and raising a new Order while Relam was confined to the palace.

  A knock at the door interrupted his brooding. Relam sat up straighter in his chair, and shook his head to clear it. “Enter,” he called when he was ready.

  The door swung open and Galen slipped through the opening, looking around. “Still working, your majesty?”

  “I’m always working, Galen,” Relam replied miserably. “And you know better than to call me ‘your majesty’.”

  “Sorry, sir,” Galen amended. “Old habits die hard, I’m afraid. It still feels disrespectful to call you by anything other than your proper title. I’m only a guard after all.”

  “You know better than that too,” Relam growled. “You’re a friend, Galen. All of my personal guards are my friends. The lordlings too, and Oreius, Tar, and Yavvis. None of you need to bow and scrape to me, except on formal occasions, I suppose.”

  Galen nodded, accepting the lecture mutely, then moving on without further comment. “Anyway, it’s just as well you are still up, sir. You have a visitor here to see you.”

  “A visitor? Galen, it must be after midnight!”

  “About an hour into the morning, actually,” Galen agreed. “But you had been asking after Cevet recently and I thought turning him away out of hand would be a mistake.”

  “Cevet! Cevet is here? Bring him in, quickly,” Relam urged, his tiredness forgotten. “I haven’t seen him in ages.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this right now, sir?” Galen asked hesitantly. “You look exhausted.”

  Relam shrugged and looked himself over, noting with surprise that his clothes were rumpled and stained. His hair was probably a mess too. He had a tendency to run his hands through it when the reports became too tedious and dull. “Cevet’s a friend, Galen. Show him in, please.”

  “At once, sir.”

  Galen retreated to the door, cracked it open, then swung it wide to admit Cevet. The lordling was wrapped in a light cloak, the hood pulled forward to mostly conceal his face. He looked around the room as he entered, then pushed the hood back and moved forward purposefully.

  “Cevet!” Relam said cheerfully, rising. “Welcome! Come in, come in. What brings you here? Do you need something to eat? Something to drink? How is your mother doing?”

  “One question at a time,” Cevet said grinning wryly. “I take it you’re glad to see me?”

  “Of course!” Relam said, clasping hands with his friend. “It’s been too long.” It had been too long. He hadn’t spoken to Cevet alone since the days after the battle at the Citadel. “What have you been up to all this time?” he asked finally.

  Cevet’s expression darkened, and his mouth hardened into a thin line. He shed his cloak, tossing it over the back of the other armchair, then sat down. “A great many things,” he said finally. “Personal projects, mostly. I’ve been tryi
ng to get things done without being in the spotlight. It’s harder than I anticipated.”

  “You don’t have to hide,” Relam protested, gesturing to Cevet’s cloak as he took his own seat. “You did nothing wrong, Cevet. In fact, you acted with honor, joining me against your father and against the Citadel. You exposed – ”

  “I’m not ashamed of what I did,” Cevet said quickly. “I’m proud. I know I did the right thing. It doesn’t make it any easier to accept that my father was a traitor though. As for why I’ve been hiding, it has nothing to do with people judging me because of my father. Although,” he added sheepishly, “I haven’t come to see you before because I didn’t want to cause you any trouble, meeting with the son of a traitor and all. That’s why I came so late.”

  “And you just trusted I would be awake still?”

  “I could see the lanterns through the window. I assumed that meant you were still working.”

  “Good assumption,” Relam muttered, gesturing to his desk. “It looks as though working is all I’ll be doing for the foreseeable future.”

  Cevet snorted, his lips twitching in a half smile. “Anyway, the real reason I’ve been lying low is because of one of my personal projects. You remember that day at the Citadel, yes?”

  “I’ll never forget it,” Relam replied quietly.

  “Me neither,” Cevet agreed. “But at the time, we realized we may never know who all was involved in the rebellion, remember?”

  “Is that what you’ve been working on?”

  “A little,” Cevet said evasively. “It’s slow going. My father won’t help, and D’Arnlo’s dead, so there’s our two main sources of information cut off. Instead I’ve been looking into the people they kept close to them, trying to figure out if any of them turned.”

  “Any luck?”

  “Some leads and suspicions, nothing concrete,” the lordling replied. “But I’m starting to think this went deeper than we realized. And that it was in the works for longer.”