The Captive

by Paul Lauritsen

  Instead of in tunnels and caves?

  Yes.

  They are very different from you and other vertaga then. Is this why they do not listen?

  That’s part of it, Garnuk agreed. Do you see where the shell meets the ground?

  Barely.

  Aim a little of the left of where we are and set down close to the wall but not right by it. With any luck, we will get to meet the Sentinels very soon. Be on your guard, but no –

  Hurting or killing.

  Unless I say so, Garnuk added. If things go badly, we may have to fight our way out to escape.

  Say the word and I will fight and flame, Zanove promised. And they will not dare resist us again.

  No, Garnuk agreed. They will not.

  The silver dragon glided towards the ground, coming to a stop a hundred feet or so from the camouflaged wall which hid the Banuk city. He landed with a thump in the snow, and they waited, motionless, for the Banuk to notice.

  A response was not long in coming. A group of warriors materialized from the surrounding forest, appearing straight out of the trees. Zanove growled uneasily and spread his wings slightly, preparing to fly if needed.

  Relax, Garnuk told him. Everything will be fine.

  What are they? Sorcerers?

  No. They are just masters at concealing themselves until they want to be seen.

  Zanove growled again, louder this time. A warning to the ring of Sentinels that was closing in. Garnuk reached up and removed his helm, looking around at them all slowly.

  “I would speak with your chief,” he called to the warriors. “Or to Koah, the leader of the Sentinels.”

  The warriors hesitated, looking at each other uncertainly. Now that they were in the open, Garnuk could count them and he saw there were a mere eight Sentinels surrounding them. Eight would not survive against Zanove and Garnuk’s skill. The warriors must have reached the same conclusion before stepping out of the forest rather than attempting to kill Garnuk and Zanove on sight. They were buying time by closing in slowly. But buying time for what?

  Do I flame them? Zanove asked urgently. They do not seem very friendly. Or obedient.

  Give them time, Garnuk replied. They are not decision makers, merely fighters. They need to wait for whoever is in charge to decide what to do with us.

  Then where is the one in charge? Maybe we can encourage him to make up his mind.

  Before Garnuk could reply, the wall in front of them split and the front gate of Banta Kodu swung open slowly. Sentinels flooded out of the gap, dozens of them, all prepared for battle and arrayed in the camouflaged armor that made them so successful at protecting the secret location of Banta Kodu. In their midst, Garnuk recognized two familiar faces. Koah, and the Banuk chief himself, Carh.

  “You!” Carh shouted, pointing at Garnuk. “I told you never to return to this place!”

  Garnuk inclined his horned head slightly. “Chief Carh,” he said, emphasizing the title ever so slightly. “Is this how you greet an old friend? And your Ramshuk?”

  “The Banuk do not answer to the Ramshuk,” Carh snapped. “Not anymore. We are through seeing the vertaga needlessly slaughtered in wars which do not need to be fought. We are staying out of whatever foolish conflict you have contrived. I believe Koah made this abundantly clear to you already.”

  “He did outline your position,” Garnuk agreed. “Sadly, that position is horribly flawed. You do answer to the Ramshuk. All vertaga do. It is written that you must, according to all of the clan gatherings since the beginning of time itself.”

  “Rules change.”

  “They can, but they have not. You are out of line, Carh.”

  “So you come to threaten us with your silver beast? Did you think we would not be prepared for this?”

  “I knew you would be,” Garnuk said, shrugging. “After all, I showed this dragon to Koah when last he visited.” He looked around the ring of Sentinels, noting there were now over a hundred warriors staring solemnly back at him, spears at the ready. “Your Sentinels certainly have grown in number,” he remarked conversationally. “With the Banuk, there would be no stopping the vertaga.”

  “I have told you already, we have had enough!” Carh roared. “Why will you not listen?”

  “Because the fact you have had enough is irrelevant,” Garnuk snapped. “You owe me your loyalty, if not as Ramshuk than as the vertag who saved our race last year by ensuring the Sthan fought us to a stalemate and not to extinction. I rescued the people of Dun Carryl as the mountain was coming down. I overthrew Norkuvad, and ended his foolish war.”

  “And now you are restarting it.”

  “No,” Garnuk said, “I am starting a different one. The Sthan and their newfound Keeper allies will fight each other to a reduced state long before the vertaga march again.”

  “Let me know when that happens,” Carh replied. “So we may watch you fail as you did before.”

  “What is wrong with you?” Garnuk growled. “You would rather see our entire race fall then join the fight yourself?”

  “I would rather that you Ramshuks learn that a war with the Sthan is not a winning strategy,” Carh replied.

  “You trusted me last year to stop Norkuvad and save our kin, Carh. I’m trying to do so again.”

  “You don’t save people by sending them to war!”

  Garnuk started to reply, but Carh made an angry gesture. “We are done here. The Banuk will not help, Garnuk. Because you were once our friend, we will let you go this time. But if you dare to return again, we will not be so forgiving. You will receive the same treatment as the other visitors who have tried to find our halls.”

  Time to fight? Zanove asked eagerly.

  No, Garnuk replied, scowling. If we attack now, we lose them forever. Maybe if I give them a few weeks I can send Tarq or another emissary. By then, the Keepers and the Sthan ought to be at each other’s throats.

  Zanove growled. Fine. We do not fight the cowards. Does this mean we go home now?

  Yes, Garnuk said reluctantly.

  The silver dragon spread his wings, and the Sentinels backed away as one, giving the dragon space. Carh watched impassively from where he stood, as did Koah. The leader of the Sentinels had a stern scowl fixed on his rough features, and he wouldn’t look at Garnuk. The Ramshuk gave Zanove a quiet command and the silver dragon lifted off the ground.

  “Just remember,” Garnuk called, “I know where the Banuk reside. And I can get anywhere in the world faster than anyone else. If you continue to resist the rule of the Ramshuk, there will be consequences. I will expect your warriors to join us when we march from the mountains. If you do not come, they will not march again.”

  “Brave words, Garnuk,” Carh shouted up at him. “But the Banuk are not so easily cowed as that. You know our armies are strong. It’s why you need us. And do not make the mistake of thinking a dragon will tip the scales in your favor. We would have no trouble at all dealing with you and your silver beast.”

  Chapter 24:

  The Hatching

  Just as Eralm had planned, the Southern Star was ready to set sail the following morning. The meat had been butchered and prepared for the long journey, bread of various qualities and types had been baked, and the fresh water barrels were full to the brim. As promised, Khollo and the other Keepers came to see their friends off.

  The sailors bid them farewell quickly and boarded the ship to make last minute preparations, leaving Jorgen and Eralm on the beach with the Keepers. The rugged captain stepped forward and shook Khollo’s hand, grinning broadly.

  “Well, good luck to you, Keepers,” he said, including the others with a friendly glance. “And thank you. It’s been many years since we’ve had such a voyage.”

  “But we’ll have as many as we want now,” Jorgen added. “Official Couriers to the Keepers! Sounds like a proper title doesn’t it?”

  “Don’t lose that paper,” Khollo warned Eralm. “Otherwise you’ll have to sail all the way back here to get another on
e.”

  “It’s safe,” Eralm promised. “When we get to Narne, I’ll go straight to Piralt and get the details arranged.”

  “Perfect,” Khollo replied, grinning. “We’ll keep an eye out for your return.”

  “When do we return?” Jorgen asked. “Do we get to Narne and turn around? Do we wait for the king to have something important?”

  “We may need more supplies in a month or two,” Khollo said, shrugging. “We’ll see. For now let’s say . . . six weeks, unless something else comes up.”

  “Six weeks,” Eralm agreed, nodding. “We’ll set sail then. I assume Piralt knows what you need?”

  “I left a list with him. If he lost it, just bring more of what you brought this time and that should cover most of it.”

  “We’ll do that,” Eralm promised. He and Jorgen then turned to the other Keepers and bid them farewell. The youths swapped parting jokes and barbs with the two mariners, then Eralm and Jorgen retreated to the Southern Star and climbed aboard. The gangplank was hoisted behind them. As the board clattered on the deck, the tide lifted the Southern Star from the beach and it began to drift out to sea. Oars sprouted from either side of the vessel, and Khollo heard Jorgen’s voice across the waves, calling the timing of the strokes.

  When the ship was little more than a dark speck on the horizon, Khollo turned away from the sea and squared his shoulders. He’d been both dreading and anticipating this moment for weeks, and now it was finally here. He went to Kanin’s side and mounted quickly, automatically securing himself to the saddle.

  “What now?” Sven asked, looking up at him.

  “We go back to the stronghold,” Khollo replied. “It’s time for the next phase of your training. Halena, Aralye, ride with me. You two are lighter so it will be easier for Kanin to carry the three of us.”

  The girls shrugged and climbed up behind him, Sven and L’tel waiting on the shore uncertainly. “I’ll send Kanin back for you,” Khollo promised. “Don’t worry.”

  “Anything we should do in the meantime?” L’tel asked, looking around.

  “Maybe harvest some more of the grains,” Khollo suggested. “We can never have too much bread.”

  We already do, Kanin interjected. Khollo prodded the dragon sharply with his knee.

  “We can do that,” L’tel said, hiking away across the beach. “C’mon Sven. Let’s see what we can make of those shorter varieties. They have a rougher texture so I think they might be more of a barley than a wheat but everything is different here . . . ”

  The plainsman’s voice trailed off as he wandered away, Sven hesitating. “You’re sure nobody wants to trade?” he asked the others hopefully.

  Halena laughed. “Get going, Sven. It won’t be so bad. L’tel will be perfectly happy talking to the plants.”

  “Yeah,” Sven muttered, “But the plants don’t have to listen to him like I do.” The northman hiked up the beach after L’tel, keeping enough distance to be nearly out of earshot. Khollo shook his head as he watched them go, grinning.

  “Let’s make this a quick flight. Wouldn’t want those two to have time to start a fight over the importance of grain identification or texture or something.”

  “We’ve already given them enough time for that,” Aralye replied as Kanin lifted off.

  They flew south, over the river and the forests, through the mountains and into the jungle-shrouded stronghold. Instead of turning towards the holds though, Kanin flew straight to the hole that led down into the hatchery, landing beside the low stone wall that protected unwary wanderers from falling in.

  “We’re not going back to the hold?” Halena asked as Khollo dismounted.

  “No,” the young Keeper replied. “We’ve got something else to take care of first.”

  The girls dismounted and Kanin leapt into the air again, turning and flying back the way they had come. Aralye stepped up to the wall, leaning out over the dark space.

  “What is this?” she asked, frowning.

  “A very large hole in the ground,” Khollo replied evasively.

  The huntress whirled around and glared at him. “I can see that. What I meant is, why are we here and what makes this particular hole in the ground so important?”

  “I know that’s what you meant,” Khollo replied, “But we should wait for the others before I tell you.”

  Aralye turned away and peered downwards again, searching for a clue. Khollo let her, since he knew from prior experience there was no outward hint of the hatchery’s purpose. Halena moved tentatively to stand beside Aralye, and peered downwards as well.

  “It’s clear of jungle,” she observed. “So you and Kanin have spent some time here.”

  “Some,” Khollo said, shrugging. “There’ wasn’t much of a covering on it to begin with, since there’s not much space for vegetation to find a foothold. The great hall on the other hand, now that took some serious work. Kanin had to burn through several layers of vines before we even found the door!”

  “The great hall is that way,” Aralye mused, pointing to the north. “In fact, we’re at the end of the north-south road. East is the dragon hold, west the library, north the great hall. So what is so important about this spot, at the southern end?”

  “You’ll see,” Khollo replied tersely, wishing Kanin would hurry up. He knew Aralye well enough to realize the girl would keep after him until she got an answer or teased enough information from him to make a reasonable guess.

  Halena simply accepted his response and sat down on the rough paving stones, back against the low wall. “Then I guess we wait,” she said, shrugging. “Only having one dragon to fly everyone all over the island has its disadvantages I suppose.”

  Khollo grunted, trying to keep his mouth shut to prevent any further clues from spilling out. After that, the small group waited in relative silence, broken occasionally by a question from one of the girls and a single-syllable response from Khollo.

  Finally, after what felt like an interminably long span to Khollo, Kanin returned with Sven and L’tel on his back. A bushel of grain was clutched in Kanin’s claws, which he set down carefully to one side before landing. The moment he had landed, Sven and L’tel dismounted and ran to the edge of the hole.

  “Well,” Sven laughed, “That’s a hole lot of nothing.”

  “How deep is it?” L’tel wondered.

  Aralye shrugged and tossed a pebble over the side. There was a pause of several seconds, then they heard it clatter on the stone floor far below. Sven’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “Well, at least it has a bottom.” He stood upright and looked back at Khollo. “Why are we here again? Admiring this nice, big, perfectly circular hole in the ground?”

  “To begin the next phase of your training,” Khollo repeated. “That hole behind you is perhaps the greatest secret on this island. Down there is the hatchery.”

  The four young candidates stared at him, trying to grasp what he was saying. “So . . .” Aralye said, swallowing, “There are dragons down there somewhere?”

  “Dragon eggs,” Khollo corrected. “The hatchlings have waited since the fall of the Keepers for the opportunity to crack their shells and join this world. They have waited for you.”

  “That was a thousand years ago though!” Halena cried. “How did they survive so long?”

  “Did they survive?” Sven added. “Only wondering,” he said as Halena shot him a furious glare.

  “They survived,” Khollo promised. “I do not understand it, but Kanin says it is perfectly normal for a dragon to stay in the egg for years upon years. This is certainly an extreme situation, but the hatchlings should be unharmed by the wait.”

  “So, we’re here to hatch dragon eggs?” L’tel rumbled.

  “Yes,” Khollo confirmed. “Today, each of you will meet the dragon you will be bonded with.”

  “That’s . . . terrifying,” Halena managed.

  “It’s not that bad,” Khollo replied, doing his best to quell his own uneasiness. “Any question
s before we go down there?”

  The young Keeper thought there would certainly be questions, but there were none. He shrugged uncertainly and gestured to Kanin. “Right. We’ll all fly down at first, then I’ll take you one at a time to the room where the eggs are stored. I think it’s best to do it that way rather than having four baby dragons hatching at once. Does that make sense to you?”

  “Yeah,” Sven muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I think one at a time is enough stress and potential chaos.”

  Khollo nodded and climbed onto Kanin’s back. “Right. Everyone get on,” he called.

  “All five of us?” Aralye asked skeptically.

  “It’s only a short distance. Kanin can manage.”

  Easily, Kanin agreed. The bigger problem will be fitting you all on the saddle.

  The others climbed onto Kanin’s back, grabbing the saddle wherever they could find purchase, and the emerald dragon flapped his wings slowly, rising off the ground a few feet and moving forward until he was hovering over the center of the hole. Then, they began to descend slowly, Kanin totally in control throughout the short flight. When they hit the stone floor, the Keepers let out a collective sigh of relief and dismounted. Khollo led them towards the hatchery, and stopped them about twenty feet from the entrance.

  “Who’s first?” he asked, looking around.

  “I’ll go,” Sven said, inclining his head slightly, his face set in hard lines. “I’m ready.”

  Khollo nodded, then checked to see if the others had any objections. There were none, so he turned and led the northerner into the hatchery, Kanin following closely. The other three stayed behind, waiting in a nervous half circle.

  Inside the smaller, perfectly circular room, Khollo took a deep breath and reached out with his mind. The very air hummed with energy, and he could sense the restless thoughts of each and every hatchling. Sven hovered just behind him anxiously, but Kanin shouldered past them and moved slowly around the room, igniting the torches with careful puffs of flame.

  As the light strengthened, the eggs were revealed, glittering, oblong, their colors and sizes hugely varied, each set in its own carefully crafted niche. One of them would hatch for Sven. But which one?