The Captive

by Paul Lauritsen

  “Maybe,” Khollo said, shrugging. “Maybe not. We’re going to need more Keepers. For those who are willing and ready, there will be opportunities.”

  “What, just run off to a deserted island and learn to raise dragons?” Eralm asked, raising a bushy gray eyebrow.

  “Better than getting carried off,” Khollo chuckled, “That’s how I got to Ethgalin the first time. Kanin literally kidnapped me then carried me in his claws most of the way there.”

  “Over the sea?”

  “Yeah,” Khollo said, thinking back. “We were really high up, too. I was terrified he’d drop me or we wouldn’t see land again. I didn’t know then if dragons could swim or not.”

  “Can they?”

  “Not well,” the young Keeper replied. “They’re pretty big, see, and they’re really not built for it.”

  “Hmm. Pity. They would make fine warships if they could swim. Just imagine, diving under the waves then rocketing up out of the depths, spitting fire . . . ”

  “It would be impressive,” Khollo agreed, picturing the sight. “Might be something we practice once we reach the island.”

  The hatch in the center of the deck opened and L’tel’s dark head popped out, looking around warily. The sailors scrubbing the deck nearby paused in their labor, watching expectantly. But L’tel calmly climbed out of the hatch, shut it again, and joined Khollo and Eralm at the stern of the ship.

  “Keeper,” he said, nodding deferentially to Khollo.

  Khollo grinned. “My name is Khollo, L’tel, and I’m not much older than you. Use my name, please.”

  “I am trying,” L’tel replied. “But I am unused to speaking so familiarly with masters of dragons.” He turned to Eralm. “How goes the voyage, captain?”

  “Four days in, nothing to complain about,” Eralm said breezily. “Smooth seas for the most part, don’t expect that to stay the same the whole way through though.”

  “Why not?” Khollo asked.

  Eralm turned and stared at him in disbelief. “You expect to sail for eighteen days on the Southern Sea and see nothing but calm waters?”

  “Should I not?”

  “No!” Eralm said vehemently. “The Southern Sea is a tempest waiting to happen, lad. If there is one thing that is absolutely certain, it’s that we’ll run into a gale at some point.”

  “What are the odds we get to fifteen days without one?” Khollo asked, thinking he could hole up safely on Ethgalin with Kanin if the storm held off long enough.

  “Not much better,” Eralm informed him, clearly enjoying his role as expert. “Think of it this way. Have you seen the number of grains of sand on a beach?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now, imagine you wanted to pick up one very specific grain of sand. So, you reach down and grab a handful. Still following me?”

  “So far.”

  “All right. Now, the odds that you have the grain of sand you were looking for in your handful of sand is about the same as the odds of going eighteen days on this stretch of water without a real southern tempest blowing up.”

  Khollo tried to do the math and guess at a rough percentage, but failed miserably. “What about fifteen days?”

  “Well, for fifteen days you might could get two handfuls of sand,” Eralm said. “Still leaves an awful lot of beach though.”

  Khollo nodded dejectedly. “It certainly does.” He turned to L’tel, wanting to move away from the idea of violent storms at sea. His stomach was starting to churn again. “L’tel, are any of the others up yet?”

  “Sven is up,” L’tel reported. “Well, he’s awake. I don’t know about up.”

  “Understandable,” Khollo said, grinning, “What about Aralye and Halena?”

  “Don’t know.”

  Khollo nodded. He had expected as much. “All over the seasickness?”

  “Mostly,” L’tel grunted.

  “Good!” Eralm chimed in. “That means it’s time for breakfast. Jorgen, where’s the salted pork at? And break out some biscuits while you’re at it.”

  “Aye, cap’n!” Jorgen called.

  Khollo glared at Eralm. “Are you really trying to taunt our recently settled stomachs with food?”

  Eralm gave him a look of wide-eyed innocence. “Taunt you? Of course not! I’m just looking after your well-being, master Keeper. After all, you and the others haven’t eaten hardly anything over the last few days. Isn’t that right, Jorgen?”

  “Aye, cap’n,” Jorgen agreed, reaching into a sack with one hand and withdrawing several hard biscuits. “What they do eat the fishes have been eatin’ soon after!”

  He laughed and tossed Eralm a biscuit, which the captain caught easily. Jorgen tossed one each to Khollo and L’tel as well, then grabbed another for himself. “Reile will be around with the pork in a moment,” he told them. “And that’ll make a right proper breakfast at sea. Nothing quite like a biscuit and salted pork to go with the view of the waves and the smell of the sea.”

  “Nothing like it,” L’tel echoed, eying his biscuit like he was considering throwing it overboard.

  Eralm laughed again and took a bite of his biscuit. It was hard enough that no crumbs fell from the biscuit as he waved it in front of Khollo and L’tel.

  “Eat, it’s good for you,” he instructed. “You may not believe me, but having something in those stomachs of yours will go a long way towards stabilizing them. You keep them empty, you’ll only get sick again. And you’ll get weak too, which is the last thing you want when we get caught in a storm.”

  “Enough with the storms,” Khollo muttered, taking a tentative bite out of his own biscuit. The bread was hard, and not much different in texture from a rock. “Isn’t it supposed to be bad luck or something to talk about storms at sea?”

  “Only if you’re talking about how beautiful the weather is and how you haven’t seen any storms,” Eralm replied. “I figure if I talk about a storm enough, it’ll never happen.”

  “That’s not how nature works,” L’tel told the sailor, shaking his head. “The rains come when the gods will them to. They bring life and growth as a reward for our devotion.”

  “Not here,” Eralm countered. “Here, the rains are a punishment for attempting to defy the fates and cross the sea. We’re taunting it, you see, mocking its power. It’s only a matter of time before the sea rises up and attempts to destroy us.”

  “With weather in the sky?” L’tel demanded.

  “The sky and the sea are closer than you think,” Eralm told him. “See how they touch in the distance there, all the way around?”

  “That’s how horizons work,” L’tel said didactically, rolling his eyes. “The land does it too.”

  “Yes, but not the way the sea does.”

  Khollo looked from one to the other, realizing L’tel and the captain had very different beliefs they were intensely devoted to. He also recognized neither one would be able to change the other’s mind. People were strange this way. To avoid being caught in the middle of the heated argument he was sure was on the way, Khollo casually moved away from the helm and ambled forward until he was leaning against the mast, just a few feet from the hatch that led below decks.

  A few minutes after he moved, the hatch opened again and Sven climbed out, stretching his arms overhead and looking around. He saw Khollo and grimaced. “Still nothing but water?” he asked.

  The young Keeper nodded. “And lots of it. Should be that way for a while yet,” he added sympathetically.

  Sven shook his head. “I wasn’t made for this. These lands are too warm, and this much flowing water is unnatural. Give me back the ice and snow of the north.”

  Khollo glanced at the muscular youth from the north, noting that Sven had chosen to wear a thin vest with no shirt and only lightweight pants. “You’ll get used to the warmer weather,” he reassured the young recruit. “Ethgalin stayed reasonably warm the whole time Kanin and I were there, and that was in the dead of winter.”

  “Does that mean it also gets
hot like the Sabashrin in the summer?” Sven asked worriedly.

  “Not really,” Khollo said, frowning, “In fact, it seems to stay roughly the same temperature most of the year. It’s a different sort of place. You’ll understand when you see it.”

  Sven nodded, looking around the deck of the ship. “What’s Jorgen got there?” he asked, squinting at the first mate.

  “Breakfast,” Khollo said, holding up his half-eaten biscuit. “If you’re up for it.”

  “Might be,” Sven said. “I’m almost hungry enough that I don’t care if I see it again.”

  Khollo winced at this but made no comment as Sven shuffled across the deck to get his breakfast from Jorgen. While he was gone another sailor, Reile, started moving about passing out strips of cooked salted pork. Khollo took his and looked at it, deliberating. Reile noticed his doubtful expression and laughed, slapping the young Keeper on the back heartily.

  “Go on, eat! You’ll waste away just looking at food. Yer stomach’ll manage it fine, trust me.”

  Khollo took a careful bite and chewed slowly. There wasn’t much flavor to the meat. In fact, most of what he tasted was salt. Grimacing at the unappetizing fare, he took another bite and reached for the water flask hanging from his hip.

  Sven rejoined him a moment later and they ate their breakfast in comfortable silence. Well, near silence. At the helm, an argument had broken out over the true nature of storms, and there was a good deal of hand waving and shouting going on. Khollo was relieved to note that although Eralm was clearly caught up in the argument, he never released his steady hold on the helm. Several minutes into the argument, the hatch in the center of the deck opened again and Halena peered out, grunting with the exertion of climbing the steep stairs.

  “What’s all the shouting?” she asked.

  Khollo nodded in L’tel’s direction. “Our captain and L’tel seem to disagree on what rain is.”

  “Oh,” she said, brow furrowed. “Is it really that complicated? Rain is water, and it falls from the sky.”

  “Usually,” Sven agreed. “I don’t see what the fuss is about. If you want breakfast, Jorgen and Reile are handing out biscuits and pork.”

  Halena hesitated, then heaved herself up out of the hold. “Well, might as well try something,” she decided uneasily.

  “It helps,” Khollo promised as Halena stepped away from the hatch. A moment later, a hand appeared on the railing and Aralye climbed into view, slightly hunched over and pale. Khollo stepped forward quickly to offer her a hand up.

  “I’m fine,” she grunted, swatting his hand away. “I don’t need your help.”

  Khollo shrugged and went back to his spot by the mast. “Just thought I’d offer,” he said pleasantly. “At this point, we all know how miserable seasickness is.”

  “I never should have come,” Aralye grunted. “Four days of endless rocking and plunging, bad food, dark cabins. It’s enough to make anyone sick.”

  Khollo merely shrugged again. “Well, I’m sure you’ll adjust eventually. If you’re interested, Jorgen and Reile – ”

  “Don’t mention breakfast,” she snarled at him, clambering out of the hold and shutting the hatch behind her. “I don’t even want to think about food.”

  The girl stumbled off towards the bow, still hunched over, one hand gripping the railing tightly and the other held pressed to her side awkwardly. Khollo watched her for a moment, concerned, then sighed. “Maybe we won’t get to training today after all.”

  “She’ll be fine,” Sven said, unconcerned. He took another bite of his own breakfast. “We all adjust at different rates, I guess. What about you, Halena, feeling better?”

  “A little,” she replied. “Aralye’s had it the worst out of all of us, I think,” she added quietly, so the other girl wouldn’t hear. “And she’s used to being tough and capable too, so this weakness is especially hard for her. We should try to cut her some slack.”

  “Cut her some slack?” Sven asked in disbelief. “We’ve taken the last four days off!”

  “Well, I was sick as well,” Khollo reminded him. “But I see your point, Halena. We need to get started on training today, but we’ll take things slow and I’ll keep an eye on Aralye.”

  Halena nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Jorgen ambled up to them, carrying both breakfast sacks now. Apparently Reile had handed his off to the first mate as well. “Anyone else looking for breakfast?” he asked, looking around the small group.

  “Me, I guess,” Halena said, trying to force a cheerful smile.

  Jorgen chuckled quietly. “You don’t sound too confident, miss. You should eat though. Here, take these.”

  He handed her a portion of salted pork and a biscuit, then tilted his head back and sniffed at the air curiously. “Smell that?” he asked, glancing at Khollo.

  The young Keeper paused and smelled the air, then shrugged. “Nothing but salt water,” he replied. “Why?”

  The first mate shrugged uncertainly. “Dunno. It smells different to me. Not like the sea usually does.” He glanced up at the sky, which was almost cloudless. “It smells . . . I don’t know, restless.”

  “You can smell that?” Sven laughed.

  “Yeah,” Jorgen replied, totally serious. “Usually means a storm, but not with that sky.”

  “We’ll keep an eye out,” Khollo promised. “The moment we see anything – ”

  “ – we’ll run below deck,” Halena finished, smiling brightly. “And let you sailors handle the ship.”

  “That would be wise, miss,” Jorgen said, nodding gravely. “A storm on the Southern Sea is no place for land-dwellers to be stumbling about on deck. If you see a storm, you get down to those cabins and don’t come out until we send someone after you. Clear?”

  “Perfectly,” Khollo agreed. “No problem, Jorgen, I’ve no desire to get in your way when you’re trying to keep the ship afloat.”

  “We ‘preciate that,” Jorgen muttered, looking around the deck. “Has the other girl had anything to eat yet?” he asked, noticing Aralye standing at the bow.

  “No,” Khollo replied. “And, I don’t think she will.”

  “Well, guess I should check anyway,” Jorgen said, hefting the sacks again.

  Khollo watched him go, then a thought occurred to him. He leaned towards Halena and lowered his voice. “Halena, was Aralye armed?” he asked urgently.

  The girl’s eyes widened slightly. “She always carries her dagger . . . you don’t think there will be trouble, do you?”

  “With the mood she’s in, there could be,” Khollo murmured. The two halves of the Sen-teel were hanging at his hip and on his back, but they weren’t terribly useful against a dagger.

  “Well, then this could be entertaining,” Sven observed, finishing his breakfast and standing upright.

  “Someone could get hurt!” Halena protested.

  “Jorgen’s tough,” Sven replied, totally unconcerned. “And he’s got his own blade to boot. He’ll be fine.”

  “Yeah, but Aralye’s fast,” Khollo muttered. “And dangerous.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah,” Khollo said, raking a hand through his hair. “She just about shot me when Kanin and I first met her.”

  “Why?”

  The young Keeper glanced at Sven and shook his head. “Kanin was hungry. He killed a few deer and it turned out she’d been trailing them for a few days.”

  “Oh no,” Halena said.

  “It wasn’t too bad,” Khollo assured Halena quickly. “She only shot at me once.”

  Halena turned and grabbed his arm, turning Khollo so he faced the bow. “I was talking about that.”

  Khollo followed her gaze and saw that Jorgen was quickly backing away from Aralye, both hands up in a placating gesture. Aralye was in no mood to listen to reason though. A few vigorous slashes of the dagger in the air between them encouraged Jorgen to retreat a little further, then the first mate headed aft, shaking his head.

  “Well, she didn’t want
anything to eat,” he said as he passed Khollo and the others.

  “We noticed,” Khollo said drily. “You all right?”

  The first mate shrugged. “She didn’t get me. Wasn’t movin’ too quick with the seasickness and all.”

  “Good,” Khollo said, relieved. “At least no one was hurt.” He glanced at Halena. “We should try to get her dagger away from her before we start training though.”

  “I can lift it,” Sven said immediately. “No problem.”

  “What, you mean steal it?” Halena demanded, rounding on him.

  “Did I say steal? I’m just going to borrow it for a bit, make sure she doesn’t use it on us. I’ll give it back after training, just stick it in her cabin or something.”

  “That could go wrong in a lot of ways,” Khollo warned.

  “So could letting her keep the dagger.”

  Khollo went to reply, but they were interrupted by a sudden escalation in the argument at the Southern Star’s stern. The young Keeper looked and saw Jorgen had joined Eralm and L’tel, and now all three of them were yelling and gesticulating wildly. The rest of the crew had stopped their work around the ship and were watching with considerable interest. It was not long before L’tel threw up his hands in disgust and wandered away from the two sailors, who continued arguing but with considerably less passion than before.

  “Fools,” the young plainsman said as he joined Khollo and the others in the middle of the ship.

  “What happened?” Halena asked, before Khollo could stop her.

  “They believe storms are violent responses to man tempting the sea,” L’tel muttered. “And Jorgen believes rain comes when some great whale sneezes.”

  “I see,” Halena said carefully, brow furrowed. Sven was barely containing himself, the muscles in his face twitching spasmodically. Khollo had to bite his own tongue to keep from laughing.

  “Well, they’re sailors,” the young Keeper finally said. “They look at things a little differently. Anyway, are you lot ready to get started on some training?”

  “With no dragons?” L’tel asked.

  “Well,” Khollo replied, shrugging, “There’s a lot more to being a Keeper than just dragons. I figured we’d start off easy today, talk about how the original Order of Keepers was founded, some history of the dragons and all of that.”