The Captive

by Paul Lauritsen

  I think I understand, Zanove said. So, I am facing north, but if I turn right, towards east, north will be to my left and east will be in front of me?

  Yes, Garnuk replied once he had examined and reexamined Zanove’s statement thoroughly. That’s right.

  I understand! Zanove crowed. This is good, I will continue to learn, and I will be a smart and powerful dragon. Our enemies will stand no chance against us.

  Because you know directions?

  Zanove snorted. No, because I have proven I can learn. Now you can teach me everything and we will be unstoppable. Aren’t you an intelligent vertag?

  Extremely, Garnuk replied with no trace of modesty.

  Good. Then I will be an extremely smart dragon!

  Garnuk chuckled and patted the scaly neck reassuringly. Of course, Zanove, he agreed. Just follow me, listen and obey. Do this, and you will rise to greatness.

  The silver dragon hummed contentedly, a rumble deep in his chest that vibrated through Garnuk’s entire being. It was a strange feeling, but not unpleasant. Garnuk checked the surrounding landmarks again, and realized they were drifting a little too far east now.

  A little to the left, Zanove.

  The silver dragon shifted automatically, then increased his speed. How many villages will we raid tonight?

  As many as we can reach before first light, Garnuk told him grimly. We don’t want to be seen abroad after daybreak. It is best if the humans do not know of us just yet.

  Won’t they know when they find the villages destroyed?

  These places are isolated, Garnuk replied. It will take some time for them to figure out the villages are gone, then to determine if there was even a village there in the first place. The bulk of towns in the Basin were burned to the ground last year, so scorched remains are almost commonplace. They may come across a freshly burned village and think it is from the war.

  Humans are not intelligent, Zanove decided. Not like us.

  They are reasonably intelligent, Garnuk corrected. And an average human is smarter than an average vertag. It would not be wise to underestimate them.

  But we are not average.

  No, Garnuk agreed. No, we are not average. We are something far greater.

  Zanove flew on, hurtling through the night. Garnuk kept his eyes focused on the ground, peering through the darkness to catch the first glimpse of their target, a fledgling village in the process of being rebuilt. One of Shadow Squadron had provided a detailed map of the small cluster of buildings, as well as a thorough count of the people who called the place home. Garnuk checked the report again, gripping it tightly to keep the wind from snatching it away. Seventeen villagers, all adults, living in six buildings in various stages of completion. This would be too easy.

  I see something, Zanove announced

  Garnuk stared past the silver dragon’s head, trying to make out shapes in the dark, but could see nothing. Your eyes must be stronger than mine, the Ramshuk admitted with some surprise. He had not thought such a thing possible. What is it you see?

  Zanove shared an image with him across their mental link, an image of a small, dark, cluster of buildings. Solitary lanterns hung at the entrance to four of them, the other two mere skeletal frames without much in the way of roofs or walls.

  This is it, Garnuk told him. This is the place.

  Time to flame?

  Nearly, Garnuk agreed. Now, remember, there are seventeen humans here. They must all die.

  They will, Zanove promised.

  Good. Begin the attack.

  Zanove rotated his wings abruptly, flinging them into a steep dive. The speed of their passage sent air howling through the slits in Garnuk’s helm, and the wind tore at him with invisible fingers. He gripped the saddle tightly and leaned low over Zanove’s neck, watching the still, dark buildings of the village. They were rapidly drawing within range now. Another few seconds and –

  The night was lit up with Zanove’s fire. A gout of flame erupted from the silver dragon’s maw, devouring the roof of the first house and splashing across the front entrance. The fire immediately caught and began to spread, consuming the structure. Thick black smoke billowed up from the building, and Garnuk heard the first screams of the villagers inside. Zanove was already on to the next house though, rampaging through the village, turning night to day. Garish shadows cast by the lurid red and orange flames danced across the entire scene.

  Zanove torched a third building, but this time he dragged his tail low and knocked in the front wall as well. The structure collapsed in a shower of sparks, crushing whoever had been inside. The skeletal frames of the uncompleted buildings met the same fate, then Zanove was upon the last house, setting the thatched roof alight with contemptuous ease, then dragging his tail through it and dropping it inward on the inhabitants.

  While the silver dragon flamed and soared, Garnuk watched the perimeter of the village. The hellish light of the flames was wreaking havoc on his ability to see in the dark, as were the narrow slits of his helm, but he could still make out some details. He noticed movement at the edge of the tiny village, not far from the last house Zanove had destroyed.

  We missed two, he told Zanove, directing the silver dragon towards the place where he had seen the movement.

  Not for long, the silver dragon snorted, swinging around immediately.

  Flames roared from Zanove’s mouth, consuming a wide swath of the plains. It did no damage to the village or its inhabitants, but it did illuminate the area much better so Zanove could see his targets. There were two, as Garnuk had thought, both men armed with bows. One of them shouted a warning and raised his weapon, an arrow already on the string. But he was too late. A hundred arrows would not have saved the two archers with Zanove this close. The silver dragon roared and wreathed the two men in an inferno, incinerating them instantly.

  Garnuk looked back over the village as Zanove lazily gained altitude, circling over the destruction. The only signs of movement were the dancing flames and the settling wreckage of some of the buildings that had not already been destroyed. Nothing else moved, not animals or humans. They had succeeded.

  Knock down what’s left, Garnuk said to Zanove, relishing the sight of the destroyed village. You have done well, Zanove. Finish the job here and we will try a larger target next.

  The silver dragon growled triumphantly and swooped low, knocking in the remaining buildings. There were no more cries from within, just the crackling of the fires and the crash and crunch of debris.

  They will burn, Zanove said eagerly, gaining altitude again. They will all burn before us.

  Villages are easy prey, Garnuk warned him. There were no warriors here, no armies. And no Keepers. We will have to face real battles eventually if we are to succeed.

  Good, I like a challenge.

  Garnuk grinned to himself, then directed Zanove to adjust his course to the west. After a brief moment of confusion, the dragon sorted out his directions once more and sped off into the night. Garnuk twisted around in the saddle to look back, nodding grimly to himself. One successful mission down.

  They flew for another hour, the featureless landscape of the Renlor Basin rolling past beneath them. Garnuk kept his bearings by watching the mountains to the south, distant and distorted as they were. He knew the mountains, knew where they stood and how to navigate them. They had always been his guides and his shelter. While they were within sight, it made sense to use them at every opportunity.

  When he calculated that they were drawing near to the next village, Garnuk pulled a second report out and skimmed it briefly. This village was larger, more than thirty people. It had also been one of the first villages to be refounded after the war. There would be one two-story structure, a tavern, and a collection of smaller buildings. There were a few outlying farms as well which would have to be dealt with, and quickly.

  What is the plan? Zanove asked, intruding on Garnuk’s thoughts.

  Garnuk folded the report up and tucked it away. This village is large
r, and there are farms around it. They must go first, or some of them might escape.

  Where are the farms?

  They’ll be the solitary buildings off by themselves, surrounding the rest of the village. We’ll fly around the village, staying low to the ground, and take out the farms. Then we skim into the village proper and knock it all down.

  Sounds easy.

  It should be, as long as we stay focused. A thought occurred to Garnuk, and he quickly passed it along to Zanove. No roaring or growling when we take out the farms. It might wake the villagers and give them a chance to run.

  I will obey, Zanove said reluctantly, but I wish I could roar, so they would fear and know their doom is coming.

  When we attack the main village, you can roar all you want, Garnuk promised.

  The first farm is coming up now, Zanove reported. Hold on!

  The silver dragon dove again, and Garnuk resumed the nearly prone position he had adopted during the first attack. He was, he realized, little more than a passenger while Zanove did all of the work. Or had all the fun, depending on one’s perspective.

  Zanove destroyed the first farm with quiet efficiency, setting the barn, shed, and house alight with quick bursts of flames, then collapsing all three on the second pass. Human and animal screams were muffled by the mounds of wreckage, but the sound of the buildings falling was much louder than Garnuk had anticipated. Sensing the Ramshuk’s displeasure, Zanove beat his wings faster, moving towards the next homestead at an even greater speed.

  The second farm met the same fate, but there were still two to go and Garnuk could see lights kindling in the main village. The lights were confined to the buildings for now, but in moments the humans would be leaving their homes to investigate the commotion. And they would see the burning farms and the soaring dragon and they would scatter.

  I’m going as fast as I can, Zanove said quickly, forestalling the question. Buildings do not fall quietly!

  It’s not your fault, Garnuk promised. I miscalculated. We will have to adjust our plan somewhat. Burn the last two farms, but then drop me near the town.

  You might get crushed.

  Maybe.

  Or burned.

  Probably not.

  Zanove rumbled unhappily, then broke off the exchange to focus on destroying the next farm. When the third farm too was reduced to rubble, he returned to the issue.

  The humans might attack you.

  Garnuk laughed and drew his massive sword with one hand. I’m counting on it. Don’t worry about me. I’ll stay away from the buildings. And if you see my armor in your path, don’t flame. I can handle whatever these villagers might throw at me.

  I don’t like it.

  You don’t have to like it, Garnuk snapped. You just have to obey. I am the tactician here, I make the plans. You follow them, and do what I tell you to do. Yes?

  Yes, yes, Zanove agreed quickly. I will drop you off, then burn the rest of the village.

  Garnuk grunted in acknowledgement.

  I have angered you, the silver dragon said quietly. I am sorry.

  Focus on the task at hand.

  Zanove fell silent, but Garnuk could still sense the beast’s guilt through their mental link. As they approached the final farm though, he sensed a change in the silver dragon. In an instant, the guilt became a white-hot anger and rage. The flames which burst from Zanove’s mouth burned brighter and fiercer than ever, nearly blinding Garnuk with their brilliance. The Ramshuk covered his eyes and Zanove wheeled away, zipping back towards the town. People were in the streets now, holding torches and lanterns, shouting for a bucket brigade to be formed. They did not seem to understand their true peril.

  I’m going to swoop low, Zanove warned. You’ll only have a small window to jump before I have to pull up again.

  Don’t worry about me, Garnuk growled. Just get the rest of those buildings burning!

  Zanove growled in agreement and dropped lower to the ground. A low rumble started to build within the dragon’s chest, and as they reached the edge of the town he let out a roar that shook Garnuk’s fangs in his head and set his horns vibrating. The village seemed to freeze as every eye turned in their direction, then Garnuk was vaulting off of Zanove’s back, sword in hand, while the silver dragon careened on through the town, flame roaring from between his jaws.

  Garnuk landed and watched as the street went up in flames, people scattering. Zanove paid them no heed for the moment, flying straight to the two-story inn and tavern. The silver dragon set the upper reaches of the structure alight, then lowered his head, folded his wings, and crashed through it with a mighty roar.

  The Ramshuk gaped in amazement as the building shattered, burning debris hurtling through the air and landing as far as the outskirts of the village. Where the inn had been was a deceptively small pile of rubble, burning fiercely. Garnuk stood there for a few moments, stunned by what he had just witnessed, then he heard Zanove’s voice in his head as the dragon came around for another pass.

  Are you planning to help? Or are you planning to watch me kill them all by myself?

  Garnuk raised his sword and turned towards the fleeing villagers, scrambling amidst the ruins of their homes. The Ramshuk lumbered forward, oversized sword held in both hands, armor clanking and clattering. He scarcely felt the heat from the burning buildings, and was dimly aware of Zanove circling and roaring somewhere nearby, refreshing the flames wherever they faltered and mopping up anyone who tried to escape.

  Garnuk vaulted a charred and splintered support from one of the buildings and found himself in the center of the village, where a small group of men had banded together in a tight huddle. They all gripped simple weapons in their hands, spears and clubs for the most part, and were watching Zanove warily, waiting for an opening. They did not notice Garnuk at first, not until Zanove swooped behind the Ramshuk and drew their eyes to him.

  The villagers recoiled at the sight of him, over two meters tall, clad in shining armor, his silver sword casually held in one hand despite its immense size and weight. Then, one villager raised a shaking hand and ordered his fellows to attack.

  Nobody moved at first, then Zanove let out another roar and it seemed to shock them into movement.

  “It’s this or the dragon!” a man with a club shouted. “Let’s at least take one of them with us!”

  The villagers yelled incoherently and charged Garnuk. The Ramshuk let them come, grinning behind the impassive mask of the helm. He hefted the sword confidently in both hands, and ran to meet them.

  The first man never stood a chance, and fell to a powerful sweep of the blade that nearly cut him in half. Garnuk reversed the stroke an instant later, catching a second villager just above the hip. A third villager jabbed at him with a spear, ramming the head into Garnuk’s breastplate. The blow dented the metal, but hardly affected Garnuk. The Ramshuk merely turned towards the villager, ripped the spear away with a snarl, and rammed it back through its previous owner. The villager collapsed to the ground, curled around the shaft of the weapon.

  The rest of the villagers were on him then, a half-dozen desperate men with primitive weapons. Clubs pounded futilely against Garnuk, spears broke against his armor. His sword was too large and clumsy to block any of their blows at close range, so Garnuk took them all stoically. As the villagers attacked him, he slowly picked them off, running some through, beheading others with contemptuous ease, until a single man with a broken spear stood facing him, his comrades dead or dying on the charred, blood-soaked ground.

  “We trusted you!” the villager screamed, his voice breaking. “Why? Why have you betrayed us?”

  Garnuk did not answer, but he felt a surge of triumph at the words. This man would not survive the night, but he had proven Garnuk’s theory that the Sthan would turn on the Keepers, believing them to be the masters of all dragons. This was the beginning of something grand, something Garnuk could not wait to see unfold.

  The lone villager did not live to see it though. He died an instant
later on Garnuk’s blade, a full foot of the crimsoned metal protruding from his back. Garnuk withdrew the blade from the dead weight of the villager, then turned away, looking for Zanove. It did not take long to locate the silver dragon. He was in high spirits, soaring around the destroyed village, bellowing his triumph to the world. All around Garnuk were corpses and burning buildings, the fruits of a second successful mission with the silver dragon.

  I see no survivors, Zanove announced, circling one more time. They have all fallen to your sword or my flame.

  One of the nearby houses groaned alarmingly, causing Garnuk to spin quickly and raise his sword in defense. But the sound had merely been caused by the roof supports giving way. As he watched, the roof fell inward with a crash, then two of the four walls sagged outward and fell in a burst of sparks and flaming debris.

  Zanove hovered over the center of the village, then dropped to the ground beside Garnuk, surveying his handiwork. You fought well.

  They were not dangerous opponents, Garnuk said dismissively, wiping his sword on the shirt of one of the fallen.

  Then why is your armor beaten?

  Strategy, Garnuk replied briskly.

  You intended to get beaten?

  Yes, Garnuk explained, I knew the armor would hold, and that let me kill them off with impunity. While they were focused on attaining something that could not be, I slaughtered them.

  A distraction, Zanove mused. I can see how this might work. They underestimated you.

  They were desperate. Desperate people, human and vertag, take even the slimmest odds when they are out of options.

  Garnuk glanced at the sky, noting the position of several key stars. We should be gone from here. Dawn is less than two hours away, and we must be back among the mountains by then.

  Zanove lowered his body to the ground so Garnuk could mount, then waited while the Ramshuk secured his sword and got a firm grip on the saddle. When Garnuk was ready, the silver dragon stood and, with a convulsive heave, leapt skyward. Garnuk noticed Zanove was straining a little more than usual, but made no comment. The silver dragon had flown well, and exceeded his expectations. Who could blame the beast for being a little tired after two successive raids? He was only a young dragon after all, and not full grown.