The Captive

by Paul Lauritsen

  “I will remind the clans of this,” Tarq promised. “But they have been stubborn so far. The primary issue is they cannot carry their villages with them. They are loath to abandon what has been built and maintained over generations. And there is some fear that if everyone gathers at Dun Carryl, the herds will suffer from overhunting and we will end up short of food anyway.”

  “That won’t be an issue,” Garnuk muttered. “Before long, the world will be ours, along with all of its herds. One season of overhunting in the mountains near here will not doom us.”

  “Is that how long this war will take?” Tarq asked. “A single season? It is a short time to take over the world.”

  “Based on this map, a vertag could run from here to the north and back again in that time,” Garnuk observed.

  “The distances may not be perfect,” Tarq admitted. “But the relative locations of all of these places should be reasonably accurate. Anyway, there will be battles to fight, cities to destroy – ”

  “And we have to wait for the Sthan and the Keepers to weaken each other,” Garnuk interrupted. “So, yes, it could take more than a season. And probably will. But even if this fight takes an entire year, thinning herds will not be an issue.”

  Tarq frowned doubtfully. “As you say, Ramshuk,” he finally replied carefully.

  “You disagree,” Garnuk observed. “That is good. I don’t want to be surrounded by rams who agree with me all the time no matter what. Now, have we heard anything from the Banuk?”

  “They have not broken from their original plan,” Tarq rumbled. “We have had no contact from them, and neither have the other clans. The secret valley is closed. I have not been able to get an operative within sight of the walls, and we’ve lost three already.”

  “Give it a while, then try again,” Garnuk suggested. “Send them as an emissary, on official business. That might give the Sentinels pause before they strike.”

  “Not likely, but it is worth trying,” Tarq said, shrugging. “I do not think the Banuk will be swayed. Even Koah, who once fought alongside us, wanted nothing to do with our new cause. It seems their brief foray out of isolation was enough to make them retreat for another thousand years.”

  “They are weak,” Garnuk snarled. “They are cowards.”

  “Yet they have survived,” Tarq pointed out. “They have survived and lived in peace, unless they allow conflict through their gates, like with the Black Hawks.”

  Garnuk glanced up at the captain. “What exactly are you trying to say, Tarq?”

  “Nothing, Ramshuk, just that the Banuk have survived successfully. I would not call them cowards,” he added. “After all, there were many fierce fighters on both sides during the uprising. And we both fought alongside Carh and Koah – ”

  “They are not cowards when the battle is begun,” Garnuk allowed, “They are vertaga, after all. But they are weak when it comes to beginning a conflict in the first place. They run the other way, they hide in their secret valley, and they refuse to join with us when the fate of our entire race is in the balance.”

  “It is their choice,” Tarq said.

  “It is not!” Garnuk shot back. “I am Ramshuk, and have authority over the clans. If I say we march to war, we march. All of us, even the Banuk. Their warriors are sorely needed if we are to win this fight.”

  “Why?”

  “What?” Garnuk snapped.

  “Why do we need their warriors?” Tarq elaborated.

  “It should be obvious,” Garnuk said angrily, “Or have you gone soft as well and forgotten how wars are fought and won?”

  “Could we not increase our strength by training the warriors we already have?” Tarq asked stubbornly, “Are there not other ways to maximize the capabilities of our forces? Ways beyond coercing unwilling warriors onto the battlefield?”

  “There are,” Garnuk replied. “But they all . . . take . . . time!” He slammed both fists down on the table to emphasize the last word. “Time is what we do not have, Tarq! The Sthan are weak right now – ”

  “And may grow weaker if we give them the opportunity,” Tarq added calmly.

  “May,” Garnuk growled. “I will not bet the future of my kin on ‘may’, Tarq. If we wait and the Sthan don’t crumble, what then? We will have missed our opportunity, and doomed ourselves to obscurity and a slow decline into extinction.”

  Tarq said nothing in reply, but Garnuk could sense the other vertag was troubled.

  “We wait another week or so,” the Ramshuk continued after a moment. “If the Keepers have not returned, then we will begin calculated strikes with Zanove around the Sthan Kingdom. Until then, keep close tabs on the Sthan power struggle and on the Banuk. Discreetly find out if we could buy the loyalty of the human outlaws as well. If we can augment our forces with mercenaries, we may not need the Banuk after all. And if we can turn a few against the Council of Masks, it would open up a great wealth of information and opportunity for us.”

  “Humans fighting for vertaga?” Tarq asked. “It will not work, Garnuk.”

  “We don’t know that yet,” Garnuk replied. “Look into it, Tarq, that’s all I ask. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The Ramshuk looked away from his old friend and focused instead on the map, indicating the captain was dismissed.

  He heard nothing for a moment, then slow footsteps echoed through the chamber as Tarq moved away. The door opened and closed, and then Garnuk was alone.

  The Ramshuk sighed heavily, glancing at the map in front of him again. The sheer size of the Sthan Kingdom was daunting. The amount of land they would have to traverse, conquer, and hold was unfathomable. Garnuk had run all the way to the Sthan capitol, Etares, once. It had taken him several days, and he had started from a point near the West Bank fortress. To run all the way to the frozen northlands would take more than twice as long, even if he could keep up the scorching pace he had maintained during his mission to assassinate the previous Sthan king.

  Until he had seen this map, more extensive than any the vertaga had, Garnuk had not grasped the enormity of what he was attempting. Of course, there was another option he had not considered. Why measure distances by how far a vertag could run when he had the ability to fly with Zanove?

  The Ramshuk pushed back from the table, gathered his papers, and strode from the hall. The two guards outside saluted as he passed but did not follow. Garnuk needed no guards, and his business was his own.

  Garnuk moved quickly through the warren of passages in Dun Carryl until he came to Zanove’s hall. He paused for just a moment outside the chamber, organizing his thoughts and squashing any he did not want the silver dragon to pick up on. Then, prepared to continue his mind games with the young dragon, the Ramshuk pushed through the double doors and into the dim hall.

  He sensed Zanove immediately this time, perched on a ledge about halfway up the far wall. The silver dragon, sensing the game was up, flew down to join him. Zanove had grown even since the clan gathering. He was now taller than Garnuk at the shoulder, and his whole body was covered in lean muscle.

  Is it time? Zanove asked hopefully

  Garnuk shook his head. Not yet. Very soon now though. You are nearly ready, and an opportunity has presented itself. Next week or the week after, we will strike.

  That is good, Zanove said, kneading his claws against the stone floor, setting up an awful screech. I am starting to feel trapped in this cave. It is dark and small. I did not mind so much when I was younger, but I need space to stretch my wings.

  Garnuk looked Zanove over critically. You are bigger, he allowed, Are you big enough to carry me?

  Maybe, Zanove replied, extending his wings to either side. We can try. You will be fighting with me when we venture out into the world, right?

  Yes, Garnuk said, moving to Zanove’s side and climbing up onto the dragon’s back. He looked around for a good handhold, but didn’t really see one. I’ll have to make a saddle or something, he mused.

  What is a saddle?

  A place for me to sit.
>
  You are sitting just fine right now.

  A place for me to sit and also hold on, Garnuk elaborated. Right now, I think I’d fall off if we flew too much.

  Then we will fly only a little. If I can carry you, Zanove added, flapping his wings experimentally.

  Let’s find out, Garnuk urged. I’m ready.

  Zanove stretched his wings and flapped strongly, setting up a roaring wind around them. Dust and small bits of stone from the scarred floor were stirred up by the wind, thrown against the walls. Zanove flapped again and again. Then, he rose from the ground a few feet and hovered there, flapping occasionally to maintain his height.

  You are heavy, he observed, twisting his head to look back at Garnuk. But I can manage.

  Garnuk smiled grimly. That is good. We will need to fight together to be successful.

  He could not take down the larger cities with just Zanove, but they could go ahead of the vertaga army and clear out some of the smaller villages. Or fly out to the side of the army and eliminate minor objectives to save time. But how much flying could Zanove do, how far would the dragon’s strength stretch?

  I will get stronger, Zanove promised. Garnuk scowled, having forgotten for a moment that the dragon could listen to his thoughts. He berated himself furiously for the slip, then returned to the calm focus he normally maintained in the silver dragon’s presence.

  I know, Garnuk replied. You have already made excellent progress, Zanove.

  You have not even seen me fly yet!

  The silver dragon lurched underneath Garnuk, and they were suddenly rocketing towards the far end of the room. The Ramshuk bellowed in surprise and quickly wrapped a thick forearm around Zanove’s neck, holding on for all he was worth. Zanove turned in midair and kicked off the far wall, the impact nearly shaking Garnuk loose, then they were airborne again in a half-bounding, half-flying leap.

  Zanove continued on like this for some time, ricocheting off of the walls, floor, and ceiling. Once, he flipped upside down and pushed off the very top of the room, plummeting straight down towards the floor. At the last moment, the silver dragon extended his wings with a SNAP of captured air against membrane and pulled out of the dive. Garnuk nearly lost his grip during this maneuver, hanging by one clawed hand from Zanove’s neck for a few moments before he was able to swing his legs back over the silver dragon’s back.

  As Zanove kept bounding and flying, Garnuk gradually adapted to the rhythm of the beasts movements. He learned to anticipate Zanove’s intentions as they approached a wall, learned to understand how he would need to move to counter the forces involved in the sudden direction change. And there was something Garnuk had not anticipated, a joyous freedom that came with flying, even in the strange hopping parody Zanove was limited to in this chamber.

  The next time Zanove dropped low to the ground, Garnuk waited until the moment when the floor was closest. Then, he swung his legs over Zanove’s back and dropped lightly to the ground, landing on all fours and straightening slowly, stretching muscles that were sore from clinging to Zanove for so long. The silver dragon noticed his absence a moment later and spun back towards him, landing heavily a few feet away.

  Is something wrong? he asked worriedly. Did I hurt you?

  No, Garnuk reassured him, chuckling to himself. I am simply tired. And I am not used to flying the way you are. You didn’t wear yourself down too much did you?

  I need to rest, Zanove replied, and I need to eat. But my wings are not overstrained.

  Good, Garnuk murmured, relieved. Thank you, Zanove, for flying with me. Rest, get stronger, and soon we will fly against this cruel world and remake it. We will fight together, as one mind, and we will conquer our enemies.

  And destroy the Keepers, Zanove added, so my brethren may return safely.

  Yes, Garnuk agreed. It all begins soon, Zanove. Rest and be prepared. Once things get moving, there will be little time to recover or heal. We will be on the move constantly, fighting, flying, and burning. There is much that needs doing.

  Rest, Zanove murmured, dropping to the ground and folding his wings. Is there food somewhere?

  Garnuk nodded. I’ll have food sent to you.

  Zanove made a contented rumbling noise deep in his chest, and his scaly eyelids snicked shut over his opalescent eyes. Garnuk watched the dragon a moment longer, then turned and left the chamber. He left orders with the guards to fetch a meal for the dragon, then retreated to his own chambers. There, he pulled out the map Tarq had prepared for him and studied it thoughtfully.

  Zanove would be ready, Garnuk had no doubts about that now. The silver dragon was strong and fast, and had good instincts. What he needed was experience, a few easy victories. The fledgling towns springing up in the Renlor Basin would do, and perhaps some of the larger villages closer to Ostgard and Ardia. A few flaming passes at Ishkabur wouldn’t hurt either, although it would take much more than that to bring down the city. Garnuk scowled as he remembered the last time he had visited the city of men, when the green dragon had appeared for the first time and scorched the Usurper’s forces. Yes, Ishkabur would be a worthy target.

  But when the time came to confront the Keepers, he would need something grander. Something they could not ignore, that would bring them racing to Garnuk, heedless of the danger. A target which was far more . . . personal. He scanned the map, searching for inspiration, then his eyes chanced on a small mark with a pair of words beside it. The Ramshuk smiled to himself, baring his fangs. This would be perfect. When the time came, Garnuk knew exactly where he would strike.

  Chapter 15:

  Outlaws and Uprisings

  Relam was the first to the council room at the next meeting. For the first time since he had been crowned king, he had managed to finish all of the daily tasks put before him. Meetings with nobles and other officials, briefings with Clemon, reviews of the major events happening in the kingdom, all had gone smoothly. In fact, Relam had ended up with an hour left over, during which he had managed to clear a small portion of his desk entirely. That one, small, bare expanse of wood seemed a major victory, and a sign things were finally turning around.

  And now he was early to his meeting with Cevet, Sebast, and the other regents. Of course, he reflected sourly, they still weren’t regents officially. The Assembly was digging through the regent article as Clemon had predicted, examining every phrase, word, and letter to be absolutely sure they didn’t have any issues with it. The High Council in particular was being thorough, especially Lord Garenes.

  Relam had been puzzled by this, until Clemon offered his personal insights into the matter. As the new Head of Assembly and the Head of the Council, Lord Garenes wielded the most influence out of any noble, but would also be held responsible for the outcome of the regent article. If something related to the regents were to happen that put the Assembly in a bad light or caused trouble for them, he would be the first to be blamed. Relam had been fascinated by this dichotomy – how having great power also made you a greater target. It was not so dissimilar to his own situation as king. He had power, more power than anyone in the kingdom, and so certain groups were attempting to dethrone him. That Lord Garenes, whom Relam maintained a deep-seated suspicion of, should be in the same situation was a novel concept.

  As he sat there, ruminating on the dangers of power, the council room door opened and Jatt entered. The Reshi heir looked around, blinked, then took his usual seat near the far end of the table. He still looked mildly confused, as though wondering how Relam had beaten him to the meeting. The young king grinned at the idea, and leaned back in his chair.

  Sebast was the next to arrive, striding purposefully through the door, his boots ringing on the hard stone floor. He nodded perfunctorily to Relam, then took his seat to the king’s left, dropping a stack of papers on the table. At first Relam thought they were for him, then Sebast started looking through the sheets of parchment rapidly, scanning their contents and mumbling to himself. While he was doing this, Knet and Delan entered, discussing so
me matter or other, and then Cevet. The Thius heir slipped in the door unobtrusively and moved to his seat in silence, hardly glancing at the other regents.

  When they had all had a moment to get settled, Relam leaned forward to start the meeting. “It’s good to see you all again,” he said cheerfully, looking around the room. “How are things going in your areas of the kingdom?”

  Sebast cleared his throat. “I’ll go first, if no one minds.”

  “I won’t stop you,” Delan drawled, leaning back in his chair and glancing sideways at Sebast. “My region is doing quite well, so I don’t have much to discuss.”

  Relam frowned at the young Lord Laurencian, then turned back to Sebast. “What do you have, Sebast?”

  “A couple things,” the lordling replied. “First, something not related to my region. Related to the Assembly, actually. They’re still reviewing the regent article of course – ”

  “And will be for some time,” Cevet muttered disgustedly, shaking his head.

  “ – but they’ve come up with a new angle on it,” Sebast finished. “Some of the great lords, my father included, are of the opinion that you have created these positions to weaken the great lord houses. By removing the heirs from the Assembly, you may be scheming to make sure they never assume council seats.”

  “That’s ridiculous, of course,” Relam replied, snorting. “If any of you want to pursue a career in the Assembly once your parents step down, I won’t stop you. Or, I suppose you could leave that for a younger sibling if you prefer.”

  “That,” Sebast said, “Is the issue. Most of us don’t have younger siblings, Relam.”

  The young king frowned. “I hadn’t realized,” he said slowly. “Is that normal?”

  Delan shrugged. “Once a great lord produces a male heir, they usually don’t bother having more children. It just leads to conflict over who the rightful heir is, or the best suited to serve in the Assembly. Then there’s the matter of the heir who gets left out. What purpose do they serve? What role is there for them to fill?”