The Captive

by Paul Lauritsen

  That will do, Zanove decided. But first, the village. How will I get west of it without getting spotted?

  Fly west, Garnuk instructed, Stay among the mountains for now. We will fly out over the sea a little ways, then come back in from the west and hit the village. It’s right on the coast, a little north of the mountains. An easy target with no real defenses.

  How large is it?

  Our largest target yet, so it should be easy to leave survivors. There will be boats to burn as well, Garnuk added.

  Boats?

  They float on the water and people use them to cross the sea.

  Are they fast?

  None are as fast as a dragon, but some are faster than riding a horse from place to place.

  Hmm. Will they burn? If they are in the water?

  They will burn, Garnuk assured him. If they don’t we can always smash them until they fill with water and sink beneath the waves.

  That will be nearly as satisfying, Zanove agreed, adjusting his course to the west. How long until we reach the coast?

  A while, so pace yourself.

  I am strong.

  I know, but this will be your longest flight yet, and you must have strength to fight and return to Dun Carryl.

  I always have strength to fight.

  Garnuk did not push the silver dragon further, but he did notice their speed decrease slightly over the next few minutes. The change was barely perceptible, but Garnuk could see it was making a difference. Zanove’s wings beat more evenly, working in perfect rhythm to maintain the new speed and course. The Ramshuk settled back to enjoy the flight, letting Zanove manage their course.

  It took them several hours to reach the coast, and even then the journey was far from over. Garnuk had Zanove fly out over the ocean for another hour, until the only thing they could see for leagues was endless stretches of undulating blue-gray water. Then, they turned around and began flying back towards land, angling to the north so they would arrive near the fishing village.

  The sun was low on the horizon when the village finally came into sight. Zanove alerted Garnuk the moment his keen eyes spotted the settlement, bathed in the gold-orange rays of the setting sun. The Ramshuk prepared himself for the battle quickly, resettling his helm and armor, tightening the straps holding him to the saddle. Then, he leaned forward over Zanove’s neck, peering at the coastline below.

  I am ready, he announced. You may attack.

  Zanove hovered for a moment, gathering his strength, then plunged down towards the village. The wind screamed through the eye slits of Garnuk’s helm and battered at his body, threatening to tear him from the saddle. He leaned lower over Zanove’s neck, trying to stay out of the path of the tempestuous force.

  The silver dragon roared defiantly as he crossed the coastline, spraying fire across a pair of buildings standing by the small harbor. They went up in flames immediately, and cries of panic began to rise from the village. Zanove ignored them, rolling over in midair and torching another cluster of buildings, creating a wall of burning structures between the sea and the rest of the village.

  Many of the villagers had left their homes now and were running about, some of them with their clothes aflame. A few tried to reach the boats, but were stopped by the burning debris of the buildings Zanove had already torched. The silver dragon began a second pass, fire and smoke billowing around him, choking the sky with thick black clouds. Garnuk crouched on the lee side of Zanove’s neck, the acrid fumes stinging his nose and lungs.

  Another building went up in flames, then a second, and a third. Zanove gleefully started fires wherever he went, dragging his tail through some of the houses and tumbling them to burning ruins. The screams continued to increase in pitch and volume. People were running inland now, trying to outrace the dragon on foot.

  Zanove started to pursue them, but Garnuk stopped him. Let them go. Just finish the rest of the village and the docks. There were more survivors than he had planned on, six to eight from what he had seen, but they would still suit his purposes.

  The silver dragon gave Garnuk a terse acknowledgment and swerved back over the village. Every building was aflame now, and many had collapsed. But the fires near the docks had started to die out, and a few villagers had reached their boats. As Garnuk watched, one of the small fishing vessels slipped away from the jetty and made for open water. He bared his teeth in a ferocious smile, then sent an image of the boat to the silver dragon.

  Finish the docks. Then we’ll deal with this one.

  Zanove swooped low over the shore, passing from north to south, and sent devouring flames rippling over every surface. The flames caught readily in many places, quickly feeding on the large number of tarred ropes and other highly flammable equipment in the vicinity. A few of the boats were burning now as well, sitting low in the water. The few survivors from the village were stranded, save for the small fishing boat that had managed to get away from the dock before Zanove attacked.

  The silver dragon swung towards this unimpressive vessel now, descending toward the waves, preparing to come in and spray the boat from stern to bow. There were four men clustered around the stern, shouting and gesticulating as Zanove drew nearer. Garnuk frowned, wondering why they weren’t rowing as well as sailing, then three of the men scattered, diving overboard in fluid movements while the fourth man stood tall, something long and slender held vertically in front of him. Garnuk squinted, trying to make out the shape.

  There was a slight pause, then a distant twang. Garnuk recognized the sound and immediately warned Zanove. But they were too close, and he had been too slow. The arrow punched straight through the membrane on Zanove’s right wing.

  The dragon roared in agony, steaming dragon blood dripping into the sea as he flew. Distracted as he was, he missed the boat on the first pass, and now the archer was taking aim again.

  Roll! Garnuk instructed him. Quickly. Then we need to destroy that puny boat.

  My wing, Zanove moaned.

  I told you arrows would hurt. Now move, unless you want him to hit you again.

  Zanove swiftly dodged left, then right, throwing off the archer’s aim. The second arrow flew past harmlessly, disappearing into the sea. Then, Zanove was in range of the boat again. He unleashed a blistering torrent of flames that consumed the boat and its single occupant in a heartbeat, leaving only a charred hulk sluggishly riding the waves.

  Well done, Garnuk remarked quietly.

  I hurt.

  I know. We will scan for survivors one more time, then retreat to the mountains to look at your wound. Can you manage that?

  I think so.

  Zanove flapped tiredly, gaining a little bit of altitude, then leveled out so they could study the ruins together. Garnuk searched for any signs of life, but found none save the dancing flames. When he was satisfied that no additional villagers had survived, he ordered Zanove back to the mountains.

  The silver dragon turned south and began to glide home, his breathing labored, blood still dripping from the edges of the torn wing membrane. Garnuk felt Zanove trembling underneath him, and laid a large, reassuring hand on the dragon’s neck.

  You did well, Zanove. But next time, we must be ready to deal with archers and arrows.

  Training, Zanove agreed. Training to dodge arrows sounds very good. They hurt.

  Yes, Garnuk agreed, feeling a pale shadow of the silver dragon’s pain across their link. Arrows hurt.

  They came within sight of the Fells as the sun finally dipped below the horizon. The sky darkened to black in minutes, and the temperature began to drop sharply. Garnuk shivered, wishing he had thought to throw a cloak over his armor.

  See if you can find a sheltered place to land, he instructed Zanove. The further out of the elements we can get, the better.

  How far are we from Dun Carryl?

  Garnuk looked around, identifying a few familiar peaks. Far, he replied. A few hours’ flight at least.

  I cannot do that tonight, Zanove said wearily, beginning to des
cend. We will rest, then continue tomorrow?

  Yes, and we’ll see about your wound.

  The silver dragon fell silent, gliding raggedly on the air as he searched the darkness for a suitable place to spend the night. Garnuk reviewed what he knew of the area, if there were any places from his days on the run that he could use now for Zanove. Unfortunately, the vast majority of those hiding spots had been designed to shelter a single weary vertag, not a Ramshuk and a wounded dragon.

  I have found a spot, Zanove announced finally, adjusting his course to the west. There is an overhang sheltering a wide ledge, like someone took a bite out of the mountain. It will be cold, but out of the wind and other elements.

  It will do, Garnuk decided, as long as you can keep us warm.

  I can.

  Zanove landed a minute later, his clawed feet punching holes in the snow. He cleared the ledge quickly with a few swipes of his tail, then Garnuk dismounted. The silver dragon lay down on the cleared ledge, his wounded wing stretched out to the side. Garnuk examined the wound critically, running a finger over the thin membrane.

  That hurts, Zanove growled.

  Sorry. The bleeding has stopped, which is good. It will probably take some time to heal though, the arrow made a reasonably large tear. How does it affect your flying?

  Badly, Zanove replied, laying his huge head on the ground. I am off balance and nearly unstable.

  Then we’ll go slowly tomorrow, Garnuk decided. The Ramshuk looked around the ledge, then sighed with frustration. They had destroyed the village, yes, but now they were stranded, a vertag and a dragon on a high mountain ledge in the dead of winter. No food, no water. Garnuk had not planned to be gone overnight. His stomach rumbled alarmingly at the thought, but Zanove did not notice.

  Resigning himself to several long, cold hours, Garnuk sat down and leaned against Zanove’s side, enjoying the dragon’s warmth. We should rest and recover our strength. We return home tomorrow. You did well, Zanove, arrow or no arrow.

  It hurts.

  You will heal in time. Learn from this, and see that it does not happen again.

  The silver dragon managed a sleepy acknowledgement, then the connection faded away, leaving Garnuk alone. The Ramshuk scowled, allowing his frustration to emerge for a moment now that Zanove was asleep, then pushed the issue aside. It was not Zanove’s fault the archer had gotten lucky, or that Garnuk had not prepared well for the mission. There was plenty of blame to go around on those issues. But the ease with which a simple villager had nearly brought down the silver dragon concerned Garnuk greatly.

  He would have to devise a suitable training exercise to combat this new issue, and quickly. They could ill afford injuries such as this when the war truly began. In a pitched battle, there would be many more arrows to avoid. And what about siege engines? A lucky shot from a catapult or trebuchet, maybe even a javelin fired from a ballista. All of those things could bring Zanove down with a little luck.

  For the first time, Garnuk was actually concerned about exposing Zanove to a full battle. He had not considered how badly injuries would affect the silver dragon, and now that he knew the pain and discomfort a single arrow could cause, he needed to revisit his plans. How could he mitigate this new risk, adjust so that Zanove would not be so vulnerable in the future?

  A few ideas came to him, but none that were worthy of serious consideration. Still, they kept Garnuk awake for several hours, pondering and ruminating over his options. It was after midnight when he finally drifted off to sleep, still lacking an answer to the problem of protecting the silver dragon.

  They rose early in the morning to continue the flight home, Zanove complaining that his wing was stiff and sore. But the silver dragon was confident he could still fly, so fly they did, slowly making their way south and west towards Dun Carryl.

  While they were flying, Garnuk continued mulling over this latest development, furiously searching for a solution. As they were gliding over the last group of peaks between them and Dun Carryl, it came to him in a brilliant, obvious flash of clarity. The Ramshuk presented his idea to Zanove immediately, and the silver dragon readily agreed.

  Anything to stop the arrows, Zanove growled. But it will take some getting used to.

  They landed on the edge of Dun Carryl and retreated to Zanove’s cave, the silver dragon still in some pain. Garnuk did not linger long though. He had new projects to oversee.

  Chapter 27:

  Dragon Training

  “All right, settle down!” Khollo shouted, trying to gain control of the situation. A bronze blur zipped past his head, chirping happily, then zoomed off to explore some other part of the dragon hold. The other young dragons, purple, blue, and crimson blurs, were in hot pursuit, bouncing off of walls and ceiling, chirping and squeaking constantly as they engaged in their aerial antics.

  Kanin, can you do something? Khollo pleaded.

  They don’t listen very well, Kanin replied, twisting this way and that as he tried to keep track of his younger counterparts. And they have a great deal of energy.

  Too much energy, Khollo groaned, ducking as Sven’s Uthano flew past again.

  “I thought we were here for training?” Sven asked, looking around at the scene of utter confusion.

  “We would be if we could control these dragons!” Khollo grunted, turning in a circle. “Have any of you tried to?”

  “They’re having fun,” L’tel replied, grinning. “And they don’t want to stop having fun.”

  “Well, try and convince them otherwise,” Khollo muttered. “This is getting out of hand.”

  “It is out of hand,” Aralye noted.

  “Thank you for that observation,” Khollo growled. One of the hatchlings clipped him on the shoulder. “Ow! Which one was that?” he demanded.

  “Blue?” Sven guessed. “I’m not sure though, it was moving pretty quickly.”

  Khollo swore angrily and dropped flat, Uthano leading the rampaging hatchlings through the place where he had been standing a moment before. “What is it going to take to get this lot to settle down and listen to us?”

  “How should we know?” Sven asked, shrugging. “You’re the expert on these things.”

  “I thought I was,” Khollo muttered. Kanin, you’re the master of dragons. Do something!

  Like what?

  Anything!

  Kanin hesitated, then let out a roar which shook the room and nearly deafened Khollo. The human Keepers clapped their hands to their ears, yelling in protest. The young dragons were stunned right out of the air by the roar, gliding to the ground swiftly and standing quietly, eying Kanin nervously. Their bodies still trembled with excitement and energy though, and their wings were only half furled.

  “That’s better,” Khollo murmured. “Now, see if you can calm them down more.”

  The other Keepers coaxed their dragons to them gently. When each dragon was close enough, the new Keepers began rubbing their backs and scratching their heads comfortingly. Soon, the air was filled not with chirping, out of control blurs, but the contented humming of young dragons.

  “Much better,” Khollo breathed, letting out a sigh of relief. He prodded at his ears, which were still ringing slightly from Kanin’s roar.

  Sorry, the emerald dragon said a little sheepishly. I did not think of what it would do to a human’s ears.

  That’s fine, Khollo replied, his hearing slowly returning to normal. You got the job done.

  He waited a few moments longer to be sure the hatchlings were under control, studying them closely. At just over three weeks of age, they had all more than doubled in size. Even Ayrmi, though she was still significantly smaller than the others. Sven’s Uthano, L’tel’s Thela, and Halena’s Amang were already tall enough that their shoulders came up to Khollo’s knees.

  Will they always grow so fast? He asked Kanin worriedly.

  Not always, Kanin promised. They are in their early developmental stages right now. Rapid growth is not unusual. Although, he added quietly, my own growt
h was somewhat stunted by my time in captivity. It is possible they will be close to my size in no time at all.

  A few months or a few weeks or . . . ?

  I do not know. We will see.

  Khollo blew out a sigh of frustration. Well, we should start writing these things down. I can’t believe the records were so short on useful information about the process of raising and training dragons.

  Well, the records you read.

  That’s true, Khollo admitted. I haven’t made it all the way through the library yet.

  It wasn’t for lack of trying though. For the last three weeks, Khollo had spent half of the days at the library, poring over old records left behind by the original Keepers, and half of the days at the hold, helping Kanin train the new Keepers on how to care for the hatchlings. On the days Khollo was at the hold, Kanin would go hunting and bring back fresh meat for the new dragons, who possessed ravenous appetites despite their relatively small size. If they kept eating like this, it wouldn’t be long before the hatchlings needed to go hunting for themselves. Kanin could only spend so much of his day flying food back and forth.

  “So,” Halena asked finally, rubbing Amang’s snout. “What’s the plan for today?”

  “Keep the dragons grounded?” L’tel suggested. Thela butted him with her head fiercely in reply.

  Khollo grinned. “Only for a little bit. I thought we’d take some time and talk about what you have observed with your new friends, how they’re doing so far.”

  “Why?” Sven asked. “We can all see how they’re doing. They’ve learned to fly and they have lots of energy.”

  “And they like to eat,” Aralye added, “Constantly.”

  “Yes,” Khollo agreed, “But how are you communicating with them? Do they listen to you? Do they talk back?”