The Captive

by Paul Lauritsen

  Khollo nodded curtly. “Tell your story.”

  The Keepers remained silent and motionless while Relam spoke, weaving a tale of a secret underground criminal element, one that seemed to be meddling in all the worst events occurring in the world, one that was responsible for an uprising Khollo had not even heard of, one Relam had quashed just in time to ride to the aid of the South the previous year. From there, the young king spoke of desperate plots, betrayals, captured and missing allies, and finally, the emergence of the rogue dragon. He also mentioned the possibility of a second vertaga army, and the suspicion that the Council of Masks had been urging the vertaga into another war, using them to create an opportunity for a natural yet tragic end to the line of Sthan kings.

  When Relam had finished, wrapping up with his orders to muster the army at the West Bank, Khollo sat in silence for several long moments. Aralye sat still in front of him, her back stiff, her face turned away so that he could not read her expression. Ayrmi had settled somewhat, furling her wings and adopting a less aggressive stance, but Khollo sensed the purple dragon was still ready for a fight.

  “So,” Khollo said, “You want us to help you destroy the vertaga and this rogue dragon?”

  “If you are willing. I cannot force you to help,” Relam admitted, “And after what happened in Etares, I couldn’t blame you if you decided to return to your island and leave us to our fate.”

  “But I would blame myself,” Khollo replied. With a sigh, he slid down from Ayrmi’s back and crossed the intervening space. “I swore an oath when I took on the legacy of the Keepers, Relam. I have to fight. I have to help. I understand what you did, and why you did it, but it is in the past now.” He held out his hand to the young king. “The future is what we make of it.”

  Relam hesitated for the barest fraction of a moment, then gripped Khollo’s hand firmly. “Thank you,” he said, “For giving us another chance.”

  “You had the courage to seek us out, and risk everything,” Khollo replied, shrugging. “I respected that enough to hear you out, and now I’m glad I did.”

  “Me too,” Relam replied, grinning. “Now, how about we talk about how we’re all going to survive this war?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Khollo agreed. “But first, there’s a couple Keepers you need to meet.” He turned and led Relam back to where Aralye and Ayrmi were waiting, Aralye half out of the saddle. When she saw Khollo approaching, she slid down to the ground, landing gracefully on the frozen and slick earth.

  “This is Aralye,” Khollo said, gesturing to the huntress. “And this is Ayrmi,” he added, resting a hand on the purple dragon’s shoulder.

  Relam inclined his head respectfully. “Greetings, Keepers. It is an honor.”

  Aralye nodded a curt acknowledgement, and Ayrmi snorted gently in reply, warm air washing over the small group. “So,” Khollo said, “Moving on. What’s your plan for dealing with the rogue dragon? And maybe a vertaga army?”

  “We’re mustering at the West Bank for now,” Relam replied. “It’s the last significant target in the area, so they may strike there next. The problem is, we don’t know much about where the vertaga are or where the dragon is.”

  “The Keepers are already working on that,” Khollo said, grinning. “I sent the other three south to scope out the mountains and look for the dragon. They don’t know about the army yet though. They’re due to check in again in three days.”

  “So you’ll be waiting here for them?”

  Khollo nodded. “And as soon as they arrive, we’ll head to the West Bank and establish our new base camp there.”

  “Perfect,” Relam murmured, “Now we just have to hope we aren’t attacked until our forces come together.”

  “That would help,” Khollo agreed. “I should warn you, Kanin is weak. He barely survived your ambush. He will not be able to defeat the rogue dragon alone.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Relam said, frowning. “How does that affect our strategy?”

  “For now it doesn’t. But when it comes time to fight, he will need support. Which means the Keepers may not be able to aid you against the vertaga army immediately.”

  “I see,” Relam muttered. “So we’ll have to hold out until you can help us?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll do our best,” the young king replied, grimacing. “Just defeat that silver beast as fast as you can. By the time you get to the West Bank, I’ll have more of a plan drawn up, but I think that will do for now.”

  “You don’t have more to discuss?” Khollo asked, surprised.

  Relam shook his head. “No. This meeting was more to reestablish communications than do any serious planning. I really am sorry about what happened.”

  “I know,” Khollo assured him. “But, you did it for the right reasons, so all is forgiven. Just try not to let it happen again.”

  Relam smiled and turned back towards his ship. “I’ll do my best. Good to see you again, Khollo. Aralye, Ayrmi, a pleasure to meet you.”

  “And you,” Aralye replied, a little stiffly.

  “Fair winds, Relam,” Khollo called. “Look for us in four days.”

  “We’ll be waiting and ready,” Relam promised. “Until next time, Keepers.”

  The young king climbed back aboard his ship, a team of sailors jumping down to shove off from the shore. The ship was soon underway and racing to catch up with the rest of the fleet, sails hoisted and oars beating rhythmically.

  “That was unexpected,” Khollo remarked. “I’m glad we stayed and talked instead of just running away.”

  “We’ll see,” Aralye replied neutrally.

  Khollo laughed. “You don’t trust him, do you?”

  “You may not have noticed,” the huntress replied, “But it takes a while before I start trusting people. One short meeting with someone who nearly killed us a few days ago won’t sway me easily.”

  “I know,” Khollo agreed. “But, give him a chance. Relam is a good king, and a good friend, usually.”

  Except when he is trying to kill you, Ayrmi remarked.

  “That was a special case,” Khollo explained, rolling his eyes. “Come on. Let’s get back to Kanin and tell him the good news.”

  “Good news? There’s a war brewing!”

  Khollo shrugged. “That’s true. And it means danger is approaching, and possibly loss and suffering. But we have Relam back on our side, and we know who our enemies are now. And,” he added, laughing again, “We are no longer fugitives and outlaws. I’ll take that over the uncertainty of the last few days any time.”

  “You almost seem to be excited about fighting,” Aralye noted.

  Khollo’s smile faded immediately. “No, Aralye. I am never excited about fighting. The fighting will be necessary, but that is not what I look forward to or what I am happy about. I’m glad to have one of my friends back, and I’m glad we now know how to fulfill our oaths as Keepers in the current conflict. That is all. If a day ever comes when we are eager for battle, then on that day the Keepers will have lost their way.”

  Chapter 43:

  Stars in the Night

  Garnuk awoke from a deep sleep, suddenly and completely. A tension permeated every fiber of his being, a wrongness, yet he could not identify the source. He sat up, throwing aside the furs he had been sleeping under and checked that his weapons were close at hand. This done, he listened for any noises in the night but found none. He then turned his thoughts inward, and that was when he realized the tension was coming from another source.

  Zanove? He asked, reaching out to the silver dragon.

  Something approaches, the Captive warned. Something foreign, and dangerous.

  I’m coming, Garnuk said quickly. The Ramshuk crawled out of his low tent and ran to where Zanove lay, the saddle piled beside him in a tangled heap where Garnuk had dumped it earlier.

  What is it you sense?

  Something in the sky . . . getting closer.

  Is it the Keepers?

  Perhaps. I would
not know because I have not sensed them before. Zanove shuffled his wings, peering up into the night. I see them! he announced suddenly. A shadow, blotting out the stars as it passes. They are here!

  Before Garnuk could stop him, the silver dragon was airborne, wings beating as he climbed into the night, arrowing after the shadow he had seen. Garnuk shouted after the dragon with his mind, but Zanove’s fury was too great to be restrained. All the Ramshuk could do was watch and fume as the Captive attacked, spoiling the element of surprise.

  Watch with me, Zanove said, funneling images across their link so that Garnuk could witness the battle.

  No, you get back here!

  If I do not drive them off, they will see the camp. And you are not wearing your armor, so if you were here with me they would know I was in league with the vertaga.

  Garnuk’s frustration vanished in an instant as he realized the dragon was right. They have probably seen the camp already, he pointed out.

  Maybe. Maybe not. At least this way they will only have a short glimpse.

  Very well. Attack. Destroy them if you can, but if you cannot then settle for driving them off. Take no unnecessary risks.

  Understood.

  The images Zanove sent came more rapidly, a confused tangle of sights, paired with occasional flashes of sound or sensations. Garnuk heard a roar with his own ears, then saw flame blossoming in front of his eyes and heard the crackle of the fire as though he were sitting on Zanove’s head. He saw a flash of dark scales gleaming in the night, glittering like a thousand diamonds as a serpentine body flashed past Zanove’s face. The silver dragon wheeled, the night sky spinning alarmingly, and pursued his quarry, roaring again. His opponent’s tail whipped past the Captive’s face and Zanove bit at it, narrowly missing. The rider of the other dragon looked back, his teeth and eyes gleaming in a face that had been deliberately darkened so it would not stand out.

  The dragon that Zanove was pursuing folded one wing, rolling into a steep dive to evade the silver dragon, then twisting and climbing back into the air, rocketing towards the Captive’s belly. Zanove shied to the side, protecting his vulnerable underside, but the other dragon kicked him in the shoulder as it passed, then whipped its tail into the exact same place, a spike punching through Zanove’s scales.

  Garnuk bellowed with shared pain, his own shoulder throbbing, as Zanove let out another violent burst of flame that ripped across his opponent’s flank, nearly catching the rider. The other dragon let loose a blast of flame as well, temporarily blinding Zanove with the combined light. When the flames died away a moment later, Zanove was alone, with no enemy in sight.

  Is he gone? Garnuk asked uncertainly.

  I . . . I see no sign of them, Zanove replied shakily.

  Then perhaps you drove them off. Return to camp so I can see to your wound.

  Zanove obeyed wordlessly, slowly pulling away from Garnuk’s mind, reducing the flow of sensory input so the Ramshuk could act on his own once more. When he was released, Garnuk stumbled a half step, blinking in confusion. It took a moment for him to remember he was on the ground, that he had been on the ground for the entire duration of the fight, and that he was a vertag and not a dragon. By the time he had sorted out his identity, Zanove had landed beside him, crimson blood streaming down his left foreleg.

  It hurts, Zanove said, twisting his head to look at the wound. But it does not hamper my flying.

  That is good, Garnuk grunted, because they will be back. He examined the deep puncture, making sure no splinters from the other dragon’s spine remained embedded in Zanove’s flesh, then applied pressure to stop the bleeding. You will heal, I think. There does not appear to be serious damage.

  That is good. Next time, you will fly with me?

  Next time we will hopefully have more warning. And if I fly with you, we will win. I’ll be able to help you watch for their tricks, and I will give that other rider something to think about with my sword and axe.

  I nearly flamed him, Zanove observed. Another few feet and he would have been finished.

  Strange, Garnuk murmured, I would have thought the Keeper and his beast would be more resilient than that.

  Maybe I caught them by surprise.

  Perhaps. But doubt continued to gnaw at Garnuk’s mind as he staunched the flow of blood. He reviewed the images he could recall from the brief battle, focusing on the dragon in particular. Was it his imagination, or had Zanove actually been larger than his opponent?

  Keep pressing, Zanove reminded him. The blood is flowing again.

  Garnuk swore and pushed harder, ignoring the blood seeping over his clawed hands. We should move the camp tomorrow, he decided, maybe move further into the mountains, where we will be better hidden.

  Why not let them return? One dragon against you, me, and your army would not stand a chance.

  But if they escape, which is still possible, they would know of our army, Garnuk pointed out. We cannot take that chance. Better for the Sthan to do our dirty work for us.

  You are likely right, Zanove agreed.

  I am right, Garnuk grunted. There, the flow seems to have slowed for now. Try not to move around too much, and I think it will heal just fine.

  No flying?

  No.

  Zanove let out a heavy breath that reeked of smoke and flame. I need food. You are sure I cannot hunt?

  I will send a hunting party out for you. But you are staying right here and resting and healing for the time being.

  As you wish.

  Garnuk sighed and sat down beside Zanove. Dawn was not far away now, and after the excitement of the battle, he knew he would never get back to sleep. So instead, he waited for the rest of the camp to wake up so he could order them to move out.

  When the dawn finally came, Garnuk stood, stretched, and went to the command pavilion, knowing that would be where Danur and the others would look for him first. Sure enough, only a few minutes after the sun was properly up, the captain burst into the command pavilion.

  “We need to move the camp,” Garnuk announced. “Zanove fought the Keepers last night, and they might know our location.”

  Danur swore. “The Keepers? Here? Last we heard from Tarq’s human contacts the Sthan were preparing an ambush for the Keepers far to the north.”

  “Clearly they evaded that attempt,” Garnuk snarled. “Have you heard any more from these contacts of Tarq’s?”

  “They have gone silent.” Danur shook his head in disgust. “And these events are only the start of the bad news! Nobody has given you this morning’s reports have they?”

  “That is your job last time I checked,” Garnuk growled. “You said more bad news?”

  “Yes,” Danur confirmed. “Some of our scouts have sent word that a Sthan army is gathering at the West Bank fortress, with the apparent intent to march on the mountains.”

  “What?” Garnuk demanded. “Why?”

  “It seems they have decided eliminating the beast that destroyed their city is a higher priority than eliminating all the Keepers,” Danur replied. “Or perhaps they hope to capture the silver dragon and wrest answers from him as to whether the rest of the Keepers were involved or not.”

  “I should have foreseen this,” Garnuk muttered, scratching at his horns. “How big is the Sthan army?”

  “That is the good news, if there is any,” Danur allowed. “Right now, it is barely half the size of our army. And they are disorganized, with an unclear leadership structure. They don’t appear to have marshalled all together before marching. More trickle in from every direction every day, slowly building.”

  A spark of an idea started to take shape in Garnuk’s mind. “They are disorganized? And we have them outnumbered?”

  “Yes.”

  “And there is no dragon there?”

  “Not yet.”

  Garnuk nodded slowly. “Then we have a new plan. We will wipe out the West Bank, and in doing so finish off the last Sthan stronghold in the South. We will crush the small army they were fooli
sh enough to send to us, and leave no survivors to tell what happened. Zanove will scorch the ground for miles around to destroy every trace of our presence and we will retreat to the mountains to await the Sthan’s next move. If they persist in moving south, what forces they have will be depleted. But perhaps such an attack will convince them to look to other places to solve the issue of the rogue dragon.”

  “I thought the plan was for the Keepers and the Sthan to tear each other apart?” Danur said slowly.

  “When we were outnumbered and outmanned, yes,” Garnuk agreed. “But this opportunity affords us more flexibility in our strategy. Does that make sense?”

  “It does,” the captain agreed, nodding thoughtfully. “So, we march immediately?”

  Garnuk glanced back at Zanove. The silver dragon was flexing his shoulder experimentally, testing the effect of the wound on his movements. I am ready, Zanove said when he became aware of Garnuk’s scrutiny. By the time we reach the fortress of men, I will be strong enough to fly and fight again, and you will be there to help me.

  The Ramshuk nodded gravely. “Relay orders to the chiefs, and to Arasnak. Have them prepare their warriors to march on the West Bank. We leave at midday.”

  Danur nodded, and turned to go. He paused at the edge of the pavilion and glanced back. “There is still no sign or word of Tarq,” he reported quietly.

  Garnuk scowled. “Leave a ram here then, to direct him and any other stragglers onward to the West Bank. We will make do without Tarq for now. But, if he ever catches up to us, he had better have a good reason for being gone so long.”

  Danur nodded soberly. “With any luck, he will bring the Banuk, or more warriors from the resistant tribes.”

  “Yes,” Garnuk agreed. “With any luck.” He stood there for a moment, ruminating on the matter of his missing second-in-command, then shook himself. “Prepare our forces to march. We must move quickly to seize this opportunity before it is gone.”

  * * *