The Captive
Page 21
“A good place to start,” L’tel rumbled. “History is important.”
“I’ll fetch Aralye,” Halena said. “I’m the one she’s least likely to stab,” she added optimistically.
Khollo shook his head as Halena moved across the deck, wobbling every few steps. “Sven, L’tel, be ready to run over and take that dagger away if it comes to it.”
“I’ve got an idea for that,” Sven said. “When they get back, suggest we go below decks. I’ll follow Aralye down. Should be able to nick the blade while we’re on the stairs.”
“Better you than me,” Khollo muttered. “If you succeed, blink twice next time I make eye contact with you.”
“Got it,” Sven promised.
The girls returned then, Halena leading Aralye slightly. The girl from the marshes was still moving cautiously, hunched over, as though in constant pain. When Khollo suggested they go below decks to talk, both girls agreed immediately. Khollo led the way, watching out of the corner of his eye as Sven sidled up behind Aralye.
When they were all down the stairs safely, Khollo looked around the cargo hold for a good place to sit. With all the sailors above, there was plenty of space. He settled on a group of crates that looked reasonably comfortable, and led the others there. While everyone was finding a seat, Khollo glanced at Sven and made eye contact. The northman grinned and blinked twice.
When everyone was situated, Khollo leaned forward from his perch, elbows resting on his knees. “So,” he began. “I figured we’d take it easy today, talk a little bit about how the Keepers were started, where the dragons came from, that sort of thing. Sound good?”
The others nodded eagerly, hanging on his every word. Well, except Aralye. She still seemed preoccupied, but he could tell she was trying to pay attention. Khollo gathered his thoughts, thinking back to when Ezraan had told him this same story, then began to speak.
The young Keeper spoke of the wild dragons first, of their depravations in the north, their near war on the race of the men. He then moved on to the wars men created for themselves – the disputed inheritance of a kingdom that had plunged realm after realm into an endless world war. Some had heard bits and pieces of the tale before, Aralye and Sven mostly, but nobody had heard it in its entirety. They listened with rapt attention throughout.
When they came to the origins of the Keepers, there was a collective outburst.
“You and Kanin have the same names as the original Keepers?” Sven demanded. “That’s not possible!”
“That’s strange,” Halena agreed.
“Improbable,” L’tel rumbled.
Aralye said nothing, but her distracted frown deepened.
“It’s weird,” Khollo agreed. “But, I don’t think it’s really all that important.”
“It could be,” Sven mused. “Like destiny or something, you and Kanin restarting the cycle.”
“Or completing it,” L’tel suggested.
Khollo wasn’t sure what to do with those suggestions, so he quietly ignored them. “Anyway, naming peculiarities aside, here’s how the Keepers rose to power.”
He explained how the original Khollo had raised and trained the fledgling dragon, then acted as an emissary and peace broker between nations. Halena was suitably impressed by this, as was L’tel, but Sven seemed mildly disappointed that more nations had not resisted the Keepers and forced them to fight. Khollo spoke at length about the demise of the wild dragons, and the extension of the two original Keepers into an Order of dragons and men sworn to protect.
Khollo then moved on to explain why the Keepers had withdrawn from the mainland, isolated themselves from the rest of civilization. How they had built a home for themselves far away from the depredations of the rest of mankind, but close enough so they could intervene if violence seemed imminent. He glossed over much of the rest of the Keepers’ history, since he did not know it himself, concluding with the fact that they had died out roughly a thousand years ago.
“How?” Sven demanded.
Khollo shrugged. “I don’t know. Naturally, the library of the Keepers didn’t say,” he added with a grimace.
“That seems like it would be important to know,” Sven muttered, “So the Order doesn’t fall again.”
“Have to build it again first,” L’tel countered. “That is more important right now.”
“No sense in building it, then losing it immediately!”
The two fell to squabbling so Khollo rolled his eyes and turned away, intending to see if Halena or Aralye had anything to add. As he did, he felt a low, rumbling shudder through the crate he was sitting on and was instantly alert.
“What is it?” Halena asked, noticing his reaction.
“I don’t know,” Khollo muttered, getting up and running to the hatch. “A feeling, I guess.”
The others followed him up the stairs and onto the deck. Khollo gave the horizon a cursory glance and his stomach clenched. The southern horizon, dead ahead, was a wall of gray-green clouds. Lightning illuminated them from within, in a near-constant series of flashes.
The young Keeper ran to the helm, where Eralm was grimly fixing a longer oar in place of the normal rudder.
“Well,” the captain said, “Looks like we’ve got our storm. A true southern gale if I’m any judge.”
A particularly bright burst of lightning flashed, and thunder roared across the sea. The sailors on deck swore and began stowing loose gear and preparing the ship for the gale, checking ropes and sails. Khollo’s four recruits had followed him aft, and were standing there uncertainly.
“You should get below,” Eralm said, glancing at Khollo and the others. “Quickly. That storm is coming in fast.”
“Do you need any help?”
“None you can provide,” Eralm replied, forcing a grin. “That’s not meant to be an insult, it’s just the truth. I need only experienced hands on deck, people who know how to handle themselves in rough seas. Your lot would only be in the way.”
Khollo hesitated a moment longer. “If you need some extra muscle or more hands – ”
“I’ll ask Jorgen. Now go! Get below decks, and seal the hatch. We’ll send for you when the storm is over.”
The young Keeper nodded and gestured to the others. L’tel, Sven, and Halena hurried towards the hatch. Khollo followed them, urging them down into the hold. As he made to climb down himself, he realized he hadn’t seen Aralye. He looked around wildly and saw her, clutching the starboard rail, leaning out over the edge of the ship.
Swearing, Khollo slammed the hatch shut and ran across the deck. As he did, the first drops of rain began to fall, making it slick. The waves were getting higher too, the deck rolling and pitching under him. He moved the last few feet in a staggering parody of a run, slamming into the rail next to Aralye and bruising his side.
“Aralye, come on, we have to get below!” he shouted.
The girl shook her head. “One minute. I’m going to be sick.”
“You’ll be worse than sick if you stay up here much longer,” Khollo told her. “Come on!”
Thunder roared again and the rain started coming down in earnest, battering the deck of the ship. Khollo glanced at the stern and saw Eralm was yelling at his sailors, signaling them to do something with the sail. Khollo had not the expertise to make out precisely what was supposed to be done.
“Come on, Aralye!” he urged.
“Go, I’ll be there in a moment.”
Khollo growled in frustration, then grabbed her arms and heaved her away from the rail. She shouted at him and tried to hit him, fighting his every move. Khollo reflected that it was just as well he had let Sven take her dagger.
A rogue wave crashed over the bow of the ship, water rushing over the deck and draining over the sides. The sailors maintained their footing easily, but Khollo and Aralye were knocked over. Khollo groaned and rolled over, crawling over to Aralye on hands and knees. The girl was lying face down still, shaking.
“Come on!” he shouted over the storm.
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“I’m going to die,” she muttered feverishly, “I’m going to die on this stupid boat.”
“Not yet,” Khollo grunted, gripping her arm again. “We’re going to crawl to the hatch and get below deck.”
He started towards the hatch, half dragging Aralye. The girl seemed petrified, hardly able to move. Khollo’s side flared with pain with each step that took them closer to the hatch, but he kept moving. Finally, they were there, sprawled over the hatch.
“I’m going to open it!” Khollo shouted into Aralye’s ear, leaning over so he could be heard over the storm. “The moment I do, you have to get down those stairs. Do you understand?”
She looked up at him and blinked, then nodded mutely.
“I’ll be right behind you,” Khollo promised. He took a deep breath, then heaved the hatch open. Rain started falling into the opening immediately, startling Sven, who was waiting on the stairs.
“What took you so long?”
Khollo pushed Aralye towards the opening, helping her find her footing. “Help her!” he roared to Sven.
The northerner didn’t ask any questions. Instead, he guided Aralye down the steps quickly, giving Khollo room to descend as well. As the Keeper swung his foot down to the first step, a monstrous wave slammed into the starboard side of the ship, causing it to heel over. Khollo, caught halfway through the hatch, was banged around against the edges of the portal, then he lost his footing and fell awkwardly into the cargo hold, cracking his head. His vision swam and went dark, but he could hear shouts and the roar of the storm.
Then, mercifully, the roar faded. Khollo thought he must be slipping towards unconsciousness for it to be so dark, then a shuttered lantern was lit a few feet away. His vision blurred and swam and he tried to sit up. Immediately, strong hands were there to help him.
“Keeper,” a deep, slow voice said. “Are you hurt?”
“Of course he’s hurt,” Khollo heard Sven mutter in reply. “You saw him fall!”
“Stop arguing, both of you,” a new voice interrupted. Halena, Khollo realized. “Move Aralye to a drier spot. I’ve no idea how you managed to get so much water in the hold.”
“At least I got the hatch shut!” Sven protested.
Khollo groaned and blinked, trying to focus his eyes. A face was swimming in front of him, but he couldn’t make it out. He thought it might be Halena.
“Khollo, can you hear me?”
“Yeah,” he replied thickly.
“Can you see me?”
“Sort of?”
“He must have hit his head, pretty hard too,” Halena reported. “Sven, sit him up please.”
“That’s what I was doing when you sent me to move Aralye,” he muttered. “And who put you in charge?”
“Do you have any experience as a healer?”
“No.”
“Then I’m in charge.”
Khollo grinned at that, or at least, he tried. As Sven tried to move him though, his right side flared in agony. He cried out, and Sven flinched back as though stung.
“He’s hurt,” the northerner reported.
“Thanks for the expert opinion,” Halena replied drily. “L’tel, fetch a towel will you? And a basin.”
“What do you want that for?” Sven demanded.
“You’ll see.”
Khollo blinked blearily. None of this was making any sense. A moment later, L’tel returned. He could hear the plainsman’s heavy footsteps. There was a brief pause, a slight splashing noise, then he caught a face full of icy water.
The young Keeper spluttered in surprise and started to complain, but almost immediately someone was drying his face off again. “Sorry,” Halena said, “Just needed something to shock you out of whatever haze you were in.”
Khollo shook his head and opened his eyes. He could see better, but things were still a little fuzzy. He could also feel the pain in his side, a throbbing ache the like of which he hadn’t felt since . . . since the battle at the West Bank.
He reflexively raised a hand to his ribs, testing them. His side flared and he immediately pulled back, grimacing.
“Ribs?” Halena asked immediately. “We should bind them, it’ll help them heal better.”
“They’ll . . . be fine.”
“Nonsense. Sven, L’tel, help me here.”
“I’ve got it,” Sven said, holding up Aralye’s dagger. “If you don’t want the shirt back, this’ll go a lot faster.”
“That’s fine,” Khollo grunted. “We can use it to wrap my ribs.”
A few quick slashes was all it took. While Sven cut the ruined shirt into strips, Halena moved the lantern closer to Khollo’s bare chest to examine the wound. As the light moved across his tanned skin, she gasped in surprise.
“What?” he asked, looking down at himself worriedly.
“Those scars,” she whispered, sounding horrified. “Khollo, what happened to you?”
“Whoa,” Sven muttered, looking up from his task. “I thought we were peacekeepers.”
L’tel leaned over to inspect Khollo as well. “You do not get scars like those by being peaceful.”
Khollo sighed. “Before I met Kanin, I was a cadet at the West Bank. It was attacked by vertaga. One of them just about tore me in half.”
“That’s what it looks like,” Sven observed, a note of awe creeping into his voice. “And you survived?”
“Kanin helped. He reached out to me and kept me alive until the healers were able to get to me.”
A low moan came from the other side of the hold and Halena turned quickly. “Aralye?” she called.
“Here,” the other girl groaned. “What happened?”
“You and Khollo just about got caught in the storm,” Sven replied.
“Actually, we did,” Khollo muttered, wincing. He looked past Halena and the others to where Aralye was sprawled on her side, hair plastered to her face. The girl was wide-eyed and pale, but she seemed to have the shaking under control for the moment. She saw Khollo and shrank back out of the light.
“It’s all right,” Khollo reassured her. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” Sven told him. “You’ve got blood all down your right side, you look like you were drowned in the ocean, and you’ve got some nasty bruises and scrapes on the left side of your face.”
Khollo probed the side of his head curiously. It came away red and sticky. “Oh,” he said. “Well, I will be fine. How’s that?”
“More believable,” Sven told him. “Assuming Halena’s the healer she thinks she is.”
“My mother was the healer,” Halena told him. “Until she died. What I know I learned from watching her. Now, L’tel, hand me that basin again. We need to get these wounds clean. Sven, can you help Aralye back to her cabin?”
“No problem,” Sven agreed, helping Aralye to her feet. They set off down the corridor slowly, stumbling and lurching with the back and forth movement of the ship.
Halena and L’tel cleaned Khollo’s wounds efficiently, then bound them with his shirt and a few other rags they found lying about. When they had finished, his chest was mostly encased in linen and a bandage around his head covered his left eye. The young Keeper got to his feet shakily with their help. The ship was still rolling and bucking underneath their feet, and Khollo had to clutch a nearby pillar for support. Thunder roared overhead and he looked up sharply. With his injuries, he had nearly forgotten the fury of the storm outside.
“Thanks,” he said to the others, nodding gratefully. “We should get back to our cabins now though. That’s the safest place to be with this tempest.”
“How bad is it?” L’tel asked. “I mean, you and Aralye saw it firsthand.”
“Bad,” Khollo told him. “I’ve never seen anything like it, anywhere in the world. The blizzard Sven and I flew through in the north comes close, but that was different.” The young Keeper took a few cautious steps, switching his grip to a new support every few feet. Halena and L’tel followed him wordlessly, watching.
Halena nodded distractedly. “Khollo, you said we were peacekeepers. I understand you got those wounds before meeting Kanin, but you fight a lot, don’t you?”
Khollo nodded. “This job is dangerous, Halena. I won’t deny that. Sometimes, the peace breaks and we can’t do anything about it. In that case, we have to fight to restore it. When you have to fight, people get hurt. And on a battlefield, like against the vertaga, Keepers are the obvious targets because of their power and abilities.”
Halena bit her lip worriedly. “I’m not sure I can do this, then.”
“You can,” Khollo assured her. “It’s not all fighting, and your dragon will help. But remember, while we do not seek out fights, we won’t shrink from them either.” He glanced up at L’tel, grimacing. “Some fights have to be fought, whether we like it or not.”
The plainsman’s face remained mostly impassive, save for a few twitching muscles. Khollo wasn’t sure what was going through L’tel’s head, but he thought the massive youth was struggling with this new idea. Halena seemed similarly preoccupied. Khollo sighed and limped into his cabin, climbing awkwardly into his hammock.
“Go, rest,” he told them. “I’ll be fine.”
L’tel nodded and lumbered off. Halena watched him for a moment, then issued a final warning.
“Don’t test those ribs,” she said. “And don’t play with the bandages either. Just rest and let your wounds heal.”
“I will, Halena,” Khollo said with a wan smile. “Thank you.”
The girl retreated from his cabin, closing the door behind her. Khollo sighed and lay back but he did not sleep. Instead he dozed, occasionally woken from his stupor by the sound of the storm outside, battering away at the Southern Star.
About an hour after Halena had left, a tentative knock came at the door. Khollo looked up, curious. “It’s open,” he called.