The Captive

by Paul Lauritsen

  “You’ll remember I expressed concerns about dragons being at large last year,” Relam said quietly. “You promised you could keep them under control, Khollo.”

  “I . . . I know,” Khollo muttered. “But this . . . I never imagined . . . ”

  “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Sebast observed. “None of us ever imagined something like this could happen. We were too confident in something we did not understand, and in the morals of beasts we could not control or resist.”

  “The dragons must be destroyed,” Delan agreed, nodding decisively. “The Keeper experiment is over.”

  “What?” Khollo asked, startled.

  This is bad, Kanin exclaimed. Should I come rescue you now?

  Khollo focused his gaze on Relam, willing the young king to stand up for the Keepers, hoping he would see reason, hoping he would understand. But Relam simply shook his head, his eyes hard and bright, his jaw clenched so hard that a muscle was ticking in his cheek. He released a deep breath and spoke quietly.

  “I’m sorry, Khollo. But the safety of my people must come first. As your friend, I want to believe you. But as a king, I am bound by my responsibility to my people.”

  “This is wrong,” Khollo growled. “And you know it, Relam.”

  “People have died, Khollo,” Relam replied simply. “People are dying. And I have to put a stop to it. And it starts with eliminating the source of the problem. The dragons.”

  “No.”

  “If you resist us, you will be destroyed too,” Delan warned. “Think carefully about your actions.”

  “There’s no thinking to be done on my end!” Khollo snapped. “It’s you lot of braindead buffoons who need to be thinking, instead of mindlessly acquiescing to fear without looking for the truth of the matter!”

  Well, Kanin observed drily. They will not take kindly to that.

  “This council is decided,” Relam announced, standing. “Surrender the dragons.”

  “Never.”

  Relam sighed, lowering his gaze. “Then I suppose we’ll have to do this the hard way.”

  A horn rang through the palace, emanating from a point just outside the audience hall. All around Khollo, palace guards came to attention, raising their weapons and blocking the exits. The regents stood and clustered around Relam, drawing swords.

  Archers! Kanin warned. Khollo, there are far too many –

  Get out of here, I’ll find my own way.

  I may not be able to, Kanin replied grimly. They have me surrounded. One move and I’m dead.

  Khollo groaned quietly and closed his eyes. They had been fools. The High Keeper and the Master of Dragons had been fools. They had walked right into a trap, and now they would pay. Kanin was probably dead regardless of what Khollo did, but if he was going to fall this way, he was going to make it an end to remember.

  Some spark of defiance must have shown in his eyes or bearing, because Relam stiffened on the other side of the table, grasping his own sword.

  “Khollo,” he murmured. “Don’t do it. I know what you’re thinking. It’s not worth it.”

  Khollo scowled in reply, debating his options, eying the palace guards around the perimeter of the room, the circle of regents protecting Relam. Could he get to the king and threaten him, force them to release Kanin without killing him?

  Whatever we do, Kanin warned, we will need to act suddenly. Otherwise I will have more arrows than scales.

  “Please, Khollo,” Relam murmured. “Just let the dragons go.”

  The young Keeper lifted his chin defiantly. “You are determined in your course, are you?”

  Relam nodded gravely. “I am. As I told you, the safety of my people comes first.”

  “I respect that,” Khollo admitted. “But the dragons have done nothing wrong.”

  “Enough talk,” Delan snapped. “Do you surrender or not, High Keeper?”

  Khollo shook his head sadly. “You really don’t know me very well if you thought I would surrender.” He stared Relam down from across the table. “If you’re after the dragons’ blood, you’re going to have to go through me to get it.”

  Chapter 38:

  The Battle of Etares

  Now, Kanin!

  In a fluid motion, Khollo drew the two halves of the Sen-teel and connected them, spinning the weapon in a whirlwind of steel and adopting a ready stance. Before the regents could react, he vaulted onto the table, ran across the polished surface, and swung at Relam, knocking the crown from his head. The clash of the metal crown on the stone floor jarred the regents and the guards into action. In seconds, dozens of bodies were racing towards Khollo, and he was hard pressed to defend himself.

  The young Keeper heard a colossal roar from outside, a noise which shook the very palace. Underlying the roar was a lower rumbling, accompanied by a splintering, crashing noise Khollo did not recognize. He reached out to Kanin to see if the dragon was okay, and was relieved when the dragon replied immediately.

  I am wounded, but not in danger. I was able to collapse some of the buildings the archers were in. He sent Khollo an image of a pile of rubble blocking several major streets, several struggling forms scattered through the scene. More soldiers are coming though, I have no room to take off unless I flame them.

  I’d rather not hurt them, Khollo grunted, blocking a cut from one of Relam’s guards. But we may have to.

  They’re certainly trying to hurt us, Kanin agreed, bellowing a challenge to the soldiers. They have spearmen with big shields, like L’tel’s! They have prepared well for this attack.

  Great, Khollo muttered, ducking a sword and slashing a man across the thigh, disabling him for a moment. There’s no way I’m getting to you Kanin. But if you get away, maybe they’ll let me go.

  Did you not hear? I am not getting away either. The dragon flashed Khollo another image, this one showing a sea of well-equipped spearmen filling the square.

  Then flame them and go!

  Many will die.

  I don’t care!

  It is against our code.

  Well, the code won’t matter if we both die here. Go, Kanin. Find the others, help them make a plan to come back for me if you must.

  They will keep you as bait.

  Probably.

  It would be another trap.

  I’m confident you would think of something. Khollo dropped flat, avoiding another devastating blow, then rolled across the floor a few meters, slashing at shins and ankles, trying to buy himself some space and time. As he sprang to his feet, another roar sounded, this one with a decidedly pained note.

  Kanin!

  Archers, the dragon grunted. They have pierced my wings.

  Fly, go!

  A sword smashed into Khollo’s armored chest, lifting him off the ground and hurling him across the room. He heard Kanin’s roars as more arrows pierced the dragon’s hide, and his eyes welled with tears for his friend, sympathy pains burning in his arms and torso, where the arrows were tearing Kanin apart.

  Kanin . . .

  Guards rushed around him, grabbing his arms and legs, subduing him. Khollo struggled feebly, but the fall had dazed him slightly and his efforts were uncoordinated. Across the room, Relam stood stoically, surrounded by his regents. There was a scratch on the young king’s face, and the blood welling from the wound was mingled with tears pouring from the corners of his eyes. The sight frustrated Khollo, for it confirmed for him that Relam knew this was wrong. But he had done it anyway. Out of fear, and lack of understanding.

  And now, the end was near. Khollo winced as three more arrows found their mark in Kanin, the emerald dragon’s roars growing feebler, the spearmen closing in, jabbing at him carefully, waiting until he was weak enough to succumb to a final surge. Khollo’s own strength was failing too, spots flashing in front of his eyes. Guards were shouting at him, ordering him to stay down and stop resisting. But Khollo could not. His friend was surrounded and dying, hampered by his honor, and his refusal to harm those who should have numbered among th
eir friends, not attacked them as enemies.

  Then, out of the chaos and darkness, a new voice came to Khollo. Bright and clear, a desperate beacon of hope in the gloom.

  Khollo! Hold on!

  Khollo blinked, puzzled, then he heard a symphony of roars from outside. The guards’ heads snapped around, confused, and Khollo felt a stirring of fragile hope within him.

  Ayrmi?

  Yes.

  Where did you come from?

  No time. We’ve got to rescue you and Kanin.

  Then do it, Khollo said. But avoid hurting the Sthan if at all possible.

  We will try.

  Khollo grinned and determination surged through him. He ripped one arm free from a distracted guard’s grasp and snatched up his Sen-teel. In a split second, he was on his feet, laying about him with the flat of the blade, dealing out bruises and other minor injuries to all those around him. The Sthan forces were in chaos, the guards in the palace trying to figure out what had gone wrong outside.

  From flashes of images Kanin and Ayrmi sent, Khollo witnessed the battle outside. Kanin, once surrounded, was now a feebly stirring green form in an empty plaza. Collapsed buildings lay all around him, and soldiers were strewn about in strange positions, scattered as though tossed by a battering ram. The angle of the images changed, and for a moment Khollo was confused. Then he realized Kanin was airborne, assisted by the bronze Thela and the crimson Uthano, flanked by the sapphire Amang for protection. But where was –

  A sharp report exploded above his head, and Khollo looked up just in time to see fire streak through the clerestory above. Then, a purple dragon crashed through several of the columns that framed the high windows, scattering rubble everywhere as it plummeted into the audience hall. Khollo drove the guards back with a final, frenzied effort, then reached up and grabbed the hand Aralye extended to him, pulling himself aboard the swooping dragon. Before the debris from the explosive entrance had settled, they were back at the gap Ayrmi had created seconds earlier, the purple dragon landing briefly, preparing to gather herself and leap outside once more.

  Wait, Khollo said, twisting around in the saddle behind Aralye.

  What for?

  Trust me.

  The young Keeper looked for Relam and found him, huddled under the table. “Relam!” he shouted, raising the Sen-teel. “I understand why you attacked us. You have lost faith in the Keepers. Before you have time to repeat this attempt, we will have restored that faith. The silver dragon will be brought to justice. I swear it.”

  “Now can we go?” Aralye asked anxiously.

  “Yes,” Khollo agreed as two palace guards raised bows. “Fly, Ayrmi! Get us out of here!”

  With pleasure.

  The purple dragon streaked away from the palace and south over the Furnier sea, rapidly reeling in the awkward group of dragons flying ahead of them. Amang and Halena were supporting Kanin as well now, struggling to keep him in the air.

  “We can’t go far like this,” Aralye warned. “We’ll have to set down soon, or all the dragons might get hurt.”

  “How much farther?”

  “A few minutes?”

  Khollo hesitated, then gestured towards the eastern shore. “We can land there, once Etares is out of sight. The area is largely uninhabited.”

  “They’ll send warriors after us.”

  “Maybe.”

  “We might not be able to escape in time.”

  Khollo bit his lip uncertainly. “We’ll deal with that problem when it comes,” he said finally.

  The five dragons bumbled through the air in a clumsy parody of flying, the four young ones doing their best to support their wounded comrade. Khollo tried to reach out to Kanin several times, but the emerald dragon was nearly unconscious from pain and would not respond. From his seat on Ayrmi’s back, Khollo counted at least ten arrows, and those were just the ones he could see.

  We must land, Ayrmi said finally, angling towards the shore, panting from the exertion.

  “Hold on!” Aralye called, glancing back at Khollo. “I didn’t have time to rig flying straps for you too.”

  Khollo wrapped his free arm around her waist and hung on as Ayrmi dove towards the ground far below. He slipped and slid a little without the usual support of the flying straps, but managed to hang on until they landed. The moment they were on the ground, he dismounted and ran to where the other dragons had landed with Kanin. The other Keepers had dismounted as well and were examining the dragon’s many wounds, Halena already issuing orders.

  “Sven, start boiling water. L’tel, set a blade in the edge of the fire and heat it until it glows orange. Once you’ve done that, come back and help me get some of these arrows out.”

  Khollo knelt by Kanin’s head, resting a hand on the dragon’s snout. Kanin? Can you hear me?

  The dragon gave a low rumble but did not wake or reply to Khollo’s words. Khollo reached out again, closing his eyes.

  Stay with us, Kanin. We need you. You can get through this, I promise, just stay with us. Don’t go.

  Kanin stirred fitfully, but still made no reply. Khollo opened his eyes and frowned worriedly, glancing over at Halena.

  “We need to work quickly. I think he’s in danger.”

  “He’s lost a lot of blood,” the girl agreed, examining the holes in Kanin’s wings where arrows had punctured them. “Did the library have anything on healing specific to dragons?”

  Khollo nodded. “Quite a bit, actually. There were some poultices that were good for wing membrane regrowth, but I don’t know if the ingredients we need are native to this area.”

  “Well, you may as well have a look around,” Halena suggested. “Otherwise I’ll just have to clean all of these and leave them exposed. Can’t really bind a dragon’s injuries.”

  “We can apply pressure until the bleeding stops.”

  Halena nodded. “True, but we only have ten hands between us. And Kanin has many more injuries than that.”

  “Do what you can,” Khollo replied. “I’ll look around and see what plants I can find.”

  “Need help?” Aralye asked.

  “Sure,” Khollo thought for a moment, then rattled off a list of ingredients, describing each to the huntress briefly. Some she had different names for, but they eventually worked through the list. As soon as Khollo had named the final ingredient, they began searching about the camp for what they needed.

  Willow bark was easiest to find, close to the sea as they were, and there were some small flowering plants, moon tangle, dew drop, and tallibel, that were easy enough to locate among the glades of the forest. Fire moss Aralye discovered on the northern side of a cluster of old oaks, and other bits and pieces came to them over time. Within a half hour, they had what they needed for the membrane poultice and also for a wound-staunching packing Khollo had read about in the library of the Keepers. They returned to the small camp and the prone figure of the emerald dragon, laden with their prizes.

  “Did you find everything?” Halena asked anxiously, helping L’tel remove an arrow from one of Kanin’s shoulders.

  “I think so,” Khollo grunted. “Now, we need some water.”

  “I’ve got some boiling,” Sven said, pointing to the small fire.

  “Do you have another pot?”

  “Would a bowl work?”

  “We’ll make it work,” Khollo decided.

  Sven dug around in his pack and produced a wooden bowl, thrusting it out to Khollo. “Here.”

  The young Keeper took the offered bowl and began piling ingredients in it, the stems of one plant, a tuft of the fire moss, some shavings of willow bark. Aralye crouched beside him, passing him ingredients whenever he asked for them.

  “Water,” he said briefly, pointing to the pot.

  Sven started to lift the pot and bring it to Khollo, then thought better of grabbing the hot metal sides. Instead, he dipped a mug into the bubbling, steaming surface inside and brought it to Khollo, sloshing a little over the side in his haste. Khollo poured
half of the water into the bowl, then snatched up a small rock and began mashing the plants material together.

  “You may not want to use this bowl again,” he warned Sven. “I’m not sure what effect this would have on a human if you ingested it.”

  “Could be a fun experiment,” Sven muttered. “But, I can always carve another bowl.”

  “I’m feeling a bit useless here though,” Aralye added. “Is there anything I can be doing?”

  “Start on the wound packing,” Khollo replied immediately. “Sort out the ingredients you need, and find another bowl if we have it.”

  “And if the owner doesn’t want it back,” Sven added, grinning.

  “I’ll use mine,” Aralye decided, running to where Ayrmi stood and digging in the saddlebags strapped to the dragon’s sides. In moments she was back, adding ingredients as Khollo tersely relayed instructions and then mashing them into a poultice in her bowl. They worked in relative silence despite their frenzied pace, occasionally offering brief commentary. On the other side of the fire, Halena and L’tel were still removing arrowheads from Kanin’s body, discarded and broken shafts littering the ground around the wounded dragon.

  “This one’s ready,” Aralye said finally, prodding the lumpy substance inside the bowl. She took a cautious sniff and recoiled. “Yuck! Even smells like medicine.”

  “Then it will help,” Sven said. “Everyone knows medicine should stink, and I can smell that concoction from here.” He gave Khollo a long-suffering expression. “Guess it means these bowls we loaned you are definitely goners.”

  “You can get another,” Khollo replied grimly. “We’re trying to save a life here, Sven.”

  “I know, I know!” the northerner said quickly. “I was just trying to lighten the mood a little.”

  “Hey, axe boy,” Halena called. “Come over here and do something useful. We’re having trouble with this arrowhead.”

  “Axe boy?” Sven muttered, trudging towards Kanin.

  “Sorry,” Halena replied with a wicked grin. “Just lightening the mood, Sven.”

  “Hilarious,” the northerner muttered. “Really witty.”