The Captive

by Paul Lauritsen

  Relam nodded slowly. “And the silver dragon?”

  “It is a victim of his machinations,” Tarq replied. “Whether or not it can be saved is up to you, and any Keepers among you.” He paused, then added one more thought. “When the beast hatched, Garnuk named it Zanove, which means ‘captive’ in your tongue. I do not know if the beast is truly a captive or if it willingly does Garnuk’s bidding though.”

  We shall see, Kanin murmured in Khollo’s mind. This is an interesting development. Is it possible we could free our brother rather than kill him?

  Khollo rounded on the emerald dragon angrily, finding Kanin’s gaze all the way across the courtyard. How can you possibly entertain the idea of not destroying the vertaga and all who fight with them?

  Because I am thinking with my head, not being dominated by my heart, Kanin snapped. You are not thinking, Khollo. The vertaga embody pure evil for you. Yet they are living beings as well. They have a place in this world, tribes and mates and cubs they are loyal to. They have suffered as well, apparently, even as we have.

  So we just forget the past?

  No, Kanin replied, but we must be willing to move beyond it. I have as much cause to hate vertaga as you, probably more. Remember, I was their first captive.

  Khollo turned away, hiding his face from Kanin. Not that it mattered. The dragon could read his thoughts even easier than he could read his expression.

  “Khollo?” Relam asked uncertainly. “I would appreciate some guidance here.”

  Khollo remained silent, frowning down at the stone walkway atop the wall.

  It requires courage to take the first step towards peace, Kanin urged him quietly.

  Aralye moved up beside Khollo, separating herself from the others clustered behind Janis and Relam. “Khollo,” she whispered. “It’s about trust, remember?”

  The young Keeper looked up and met the huntress’ eyes. “Is it?” he asked. “How can we possibly trust them, after all that has happened?”

  “How could I trust you that I would be a Keeper, that everything would work out?”

  “You didn’t for a while.”

  “But I went along anyways, on the chance something good would come of it. And now I have Ayrmi, and I’m part of an amazing team. But it started with trust.”

  Khollo grimaced. “You’re right of course.”

  Then take the leap, Kanin urged.

  Khollo took a deep breath and turned to face Relam. The young king was watching the Keeper uncertainly, looking for an answer.

  “Accept their offer,” Khollo said. “We need any help they can offer, and if they are ready to help end the fighting then we should be as well. We have all had more than enough of war.”

  Relam nodded slowly. “We accept your offer,” he called to the emissaries.

  Tarq and Koah dipped their horned heads in acknowledgement. “You have our thanks, king,” Tarq called.

  “The vertaga army should be here either today or tomorrow,” Relam told them.

  “We know,” Tarq replied, “And we can confirm they are on the way. One of our scouts sighted them. We will do what we can to dissuade as many of our kin as possible from battle.”

  “Thank you,” Relam said.

  “You have an army,” Tarq continued. “But are the Keepers here? They will be needed to defeat the silver dragon and Garnuk.”

  Khollo stepped forward. “The Keepers are here.”

  “All five of you?”

  Khollo scowled. “How would you know how many of us there are?”

  “We have scouts and informers everywhere, even among the race of men. I was Garnuk’s spymaster until recently.”

  “And he knows there are five dragons?”

  “No. He knows of one,” Tarq rumbled. “I did not find out there were five until one of the scouts who reports only to me sighted four at the human city of Narne. Apparently, my human informers in your capitol did not see fit to share that information.”

  “The Masks set them up,” Relam murmured. “They fed the vertaga enough information to prompt a war, but not enough that they could win it. They were hoping for a slaughter on both sides but no victor.”

  “What?” Janis asked. “Who?”

  “Nothing,” Relam replied, glancing at Khollo. “Another story, for another time. It doesn’t matter now.”

  “The Keepers will fight,” Khollo promised Tarq. “The silver dragon will be brought to heel, and your rogue leader.”

  “We will spare what vertaga we can,” Relam added, “But we can take no foolish chances on those who choose to attack.”

  Tarq nodded. “So be it. Good luck, humans. May we meet again in peace, after the battle.”

  “Until then,” Relam agreed. “Good luck to you, Tarq and Koah. May your efforts sway the minds of many of your people.”

  The two vertaga turned in unison and began picking their way back down the causeway. Relam watched them go for a few moments, then turned to Khollo.

  “That’s not what I expected,” he admitted. “But I’m glad we heard them out.”

  Khollo nodded reluctantly. “Maybe. We’ll see what happens next.”

  “We must prepare for battle,” Janis grunted. “Relam, you will help coordinate our defenses?”

  “Relying on your experience and knowledge of this base, yes,” Relam agreed. “Khollo, do your Keepers have a plan?”

  Khollo glanced at Aralye. “Only the beginnings of one,” he admitted. “We need to have a council of our own to hammer out a few of the details.”

  “Like how to defeat a fire-breathing war machine and a rage-crazed vertaga warrior?” Ondus asked. “I don’t envy you that task, lad. Even with five to one odds.”

  “Not only that,” Khollo said grimly. “We need a plan to win this battle, yes. But we also need a plan to free the Captive.”

  Chapter 46:

  Reunion

  Garnuk smiled fiercely from the inside of his helmet as he finally caught sight of the human fortress. From this height it was tiny, insignificant even. Just one more target that would soon be eliminated once and for all. Zanove banked and dove back towards the advancing vertaga army, which was running along below them. Arasnak headed the procession as Garnuk’s new second in command. He would control the army during the battle, while Garnuk and Zanove took to the skies to destroy their foes.

  Zanove glided alongside Arasnak’s varloug pran, the demonic wolf growling and snapping at the dragon. “Not much further,” the Ramshuk shouted. “Soon we will be riding into battle.”

  Arasnak nodded, checking the twin axes slung over his shoulders. “The others are ready. They thirst for blood, and they are well rested. This battle will be short.”

  “Agreed,” Garnuk growled. “Remember, we must withdraw quickly afterwards. Before more troops arrive and we are outnumbered.”

  “And if more arrive during the battle?”

  Garnuk hesitated. “It depends on how many more,” he said finally. “We will deal with that problem if it arises, but there is no sense in worrying about it now.”

  “Very well,” Arasnak agreed.

  Danur ran up from the side, saluting Garnuk. “Are we nearly there, general?”

  “Yes,” Garnuk confirmed. “Any updates?”

  “None yet. Still no sign of Tarq, and no additional word from our scouts.”

  “Very well. We proceed as planned.”

  Danur dropped back just as the West Bank came into sight on the horizon.

  “They can likely see us now,” Arasnak observed. “Shall we charge full out?”

  “Not yet,” Garnuk replied. “Save your energy for a little longer. When we do strike, we must be swift and terrible. If we advance now, we will lose our momentum and ferocity long before we reach the walls of the Sthan fortress.”

  Arasnak grunted and maintained his current pace, his wolf slathering and snarling ferally.

  They continued marching, the West Bank slowly growing closer. Zanove flew steadily alongside Arasnak, his clawed for
elegs nearly touching the ground.

  Horns sounded from the Sthan fortress, alerting the warriors within to the presence of the vertaga. Garnuk smiled grimly, knowing it was too late for them, knowing his army was vastly superior, knowing this would be a real blow, one that might shape the war. In a few moments he would give the order to charge.

  He frowned. A group of warriors had appeared in front of his marching army, almost as though they had stepped right out of the ground. Garnuk held up a hand curtly, signaling the army to stop. It did, with a crash of armor and the snarling of hundreds of varloug prans. Zanove landed heavily, peering at the figures in front of them.

  Where did they come from? He wondered. Who are they?

  The small force, perhaps a hundred warriors in all, advanced towards Garnuk and Arasnak. The butcher shifted impatiently on the back of his wolf, eager for battle.

  “What is this delay?” he snarled. “Who are these vertaga, and why are they here only now?”

  “Tarq,” Garnuk murmured, recognizing the ram in the lead. His old friend had returned, just in time. And, by the look of it, he had brought the Banuk. Now that the warriors were closer, Garnuk could clearly see they were Sentinels. There were no other warriors in the mountains who were so skilled at camouflage.

  A triumphant smile spread across the Ramshuk’s face. This was perfect. His forces had already been superior. Now, they would be unstoppable.

  “Welcome back, Tarq!” Garnuk called. “I see you have succeeded where I failed. Is that you, Koah?”

  “It is,” Koah confirmed.

  “Where are the rest?” Garnuk asked, looking around. “Is this the advance party? Will Carh be here as well?”

  “Chief Carh is not coming,” Koah replied stiffly.

  “Oh,” Garnuk said. “Well, is anyone else?”

  “We are all that will come,” Koah continued, speaking over Garnuk. “And we’re not here to help you. We’re here to stop you. To salvage our race as much as possible.”

  The smile froze on Garnuk’s face. “What?” he demanded, hardly believing his ears. “You came all this way to fight against your own kind?”

  “Not to fight you,” Koah corrected, “To stop you.”

  “And you brought them here with this purpose, Tarq?” Garnuk demanded. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

  “No, general,” Tarq replied, dipping his head regretfully. “But you have. I am sorry, but I have decided the Banuk are right. This war . . . it is not a wise move.”

  The Ramshuk scowled, a terrible rage building within him, a rage akin to what Zanove had channeled when he attacked the other dragon a few days ago. “You have betrayed me?” he snarled.

  Tarq shook his head. “You have betrayed yourself, general. Letting revenge consume you, letting hatred dominate you. You are no longer the warrior and leader I trusted in, the one I would have followed to the ends of the world. You have abandoned that course for something else. Something which will bring not a golden age for the vertaga, but complete and total ruin.”

  “And that’s why we’re here,” Koah added, raising his voice so that as many vertaga as possible would hear. “We have negotiated peace with the Sthan kingdom. A treaty. One which will ensure we always have the mountains to call home, that we will be safe from their armies for all time. Right now, this agreement includes only the Banuk and those who have stayed behind. But anyone in this army who chooses to stand down, right now, will also be spared.”

  “Peace?” Garnuk snapped. “You came all this way to reveal the presence of the Banuk, negotiate peace with our enemies, and stop me from changing the world?”

  “Yes,” Koah said, inclining his horned head. “The Banuk have decided to preserve more than just our own tribe, if we can. We are looking towards a new future.”

  They will not live to see it! Zanove growled, beating his wings a few times. Let me flame them and put an end to this, then let us attack the fortress of men and level it.

  Garnuk wanted that very much. More than anything, he wanted to sweep these foolish Banuk aside like the insignificant inconvenience they were. But to destroy them would alienate many among his own force.

  “You say you will not fight us,” Garnuk said finally. “And you will not fight with us?”

  “That is accurate,” Tarq replied. “Any who would join us, we will protect, and the Sthan will spare.”

  “Do with the weaklings what you will,” Garnuk snapped. “Besides, you’re assuming your new Sthan friends will survive this battle. Arasnak!”

  “Yes, general?”

  “Attack! Take no prisoners, level this base!”

  “With pleasure,” the butcher replied, his voice deadly resolute. The butcher reached behind his head with both arms and drew his two axes, holding them aloft and smiling beatifically. “It is time to ride again,” he whispered. “To battle . . . to bloodshed . . . to victory!”

  He roared the last two words for all to hear, brandishing the axes overhead. As he did, Zanove leapt into the sky, echoing the butcher’s roar. Garnuk lost sight of the army for a moment as the ground dropped away, then Zanove wheeled around, ascending in a tight spiral, and Garnuk saw his horde racing towards the West Bank. Arasnak was out in front, surrounded by other varloug pran riders, keeping a slow enough pace that those on foot could keep up. They made not for the causeway, but for the lower northern wall of the fortress, planning to swarm over the barrier and slaughter everyone inside.

  The Sentinels waited and watched, letting the army stream past them without resistance. A few joined them. Garnuk saw the standard of one chief stop in front of Tarq, along with most of that tribe’s warriors. A few scattered figures from other tribes stopped as well, forgoing their duty to their Ramshuk. Perhaps three hundred of these weaklings remained behind in all, a pitiful number compared to the vast army that was charging the West Bank. Garnuk grinned at the sight, reveling in the taste of victory.

  Zanove reached a sufficient altitude and arrowed towards the West Bank, rapidly overtaking the army. As he prepared to dive towards the north wall and clear it of warriors, a vibrant flash of movement caught Garnuk’s eyes.

  Rising from the center of the fortress was a dragon. A dragon with emerald scales, with a human rider on its back. The Keepers.

  Zanove roared with fury and changed course, charging straight at the two Keepers. Garnuk did not stop him, as eager for this clash as the Captive was. He leaned forward eagerly in the rudimentary saddle, drawing his massive two-handed sword. The green dragon flew to meet them, mouth spread wide to breathe fire.

  The Captive responded in kind, launching a torrent of flames at the Keepers, a swirling inferno of heat and light that blocked them from sight for a moment. Then, the flames died away, and Garnuk saw the emerald dragon diving below them, using the fire as cover to hide their movements. Zanove followed immediately, tucking his wings and rolling over in the air as he pursued the Keepers.

  They swooped low over the battlefield, drawing closer to their quarry. Now that he had a chance to properly study his adversaries, Garnuk noticed that the green dragon was wounded, flying a little awkwardly, almost stiffly. There were holes in the scales on its flanks and back that looked like deep puncture wounds, but he could not be certain.

  He is big, Zanove grunted, and fast. But not so quick as I had thought he would be.

  He appears to be wounded, Garnuk explained. But we still must be on our guard. They will not fall easily. Get me close enough to strike at the rider. He is the weaker link, even if the dragon is wounded.

  They will pay for abandoning me, Zanove growled. They will pay for being so arrogant to restrict the return of dragon kind. When they are dead, we will find more eggs and restore my kin to their former glory.

  And the whole world will have reason to fear us, Garnuk agreed. But for now, the battle.

  Yes, Zanove agreed. Hold on!

  The silver dragon accelerated, wings beating faster than Garnuk had ever experienced, even during the thrilling fli
ght over Ishkabur. The wind howled through the slits in his helm, nearly deafening him, but Zanove hurtled on, gaining on the Keepers all the time. The green dragon looked back, and shied to the side. Zanove took the opening and moved right alongside his quarry, kicking at him and lashing at him with his tail. The emerald dragon roared and buffeted Zanove with his own tail, then twisted its neck to breathe fire at Garnuk. Before the flames had kindled though, Zanove was rolling up and over the back of the green dragon, giving Garnuk a perfect opportunity to strike.

  The Ramshuk delivered three crushing blows in three seconds, using his oversized sword to swipe at the human boy. The Keeper ducked the first swing just before it could separate his head from his neck, then deflected the second with a strange double-bladed weapon. The third blow missed completely as Zanove’s momentum carried Garnuk too far away.

  The silver dragon continued the roll until he was underneath the green dragon, then began kicking and battering at his belly mercilessly. The green dragon roared in protest, swiping Zanove with his tail and delivering a thundering kick to his left shoulder with both front legs. The combination of the two blows knocked Zanove away and set him spinning uncontrollably for a moment before he righted himself. Garnuk nearly lost his grip on his sword as the sky and the ground traded places repeatedly, then they settled and he regained his composure.

  Don’t get in close! he snapped. You are faster, more mobile. Use that to your advantage. Don’t get in situations where his strength and experience will prevail!

  But you wanted to –

  Only in brief flashes, as we’re flying by, Garnuk explained. We cannot win fighting close all the time. Look for openings and take them when they are there. Otherwise, keep your distance and do your damage from afar. Got it?

  I have angered you, Zanove observed, his head drooping a little. I am sorry. I will not fail again.

  You didn’t fail, Garnuk assured him briefly. Now, let’s take another pass at them!

  The green dragon was headed back towards the Sthan fortress, where Garnuk’s army had gained part of the northern wall. Hundreds of rams had made the leap from the backs of the varloug prans onto the parapets and were fighting furiously with the Sthan defenders. Other vertaga were leaning ladders against the besieged section of wall, clambering up to join their comrades while riderless varloug prans milled at the base of the wall, searching for a way to join the fight. Several made great, leaping attempts to reach the top of the wall, but fell just short of the battlements.