The Captive

by Paul Lauritsen

  “Get up! He’s wounded, we can beat him together!”

  “Relam?”

  “Yes, now focus, Khollo, fight!”

  The young Keeper steadied himself against Relam, wincing, then raised the Sen-teel. In front of them, Garnuk was on his feet again, breathing heavily, all his weight on his right leg. “How interesting,” he murmured. “The Keeper and the king. Come to die.” He gave a low bitter laugh and raised his sword. “This was the only way my revenge could be even better.”

  “Only one will die here,” Relam replied, leveling his own sword at Garnuk. He and Khollo moved slowly out to Garnuk’s sides, encircling him, forcing him to turn to keep an eye on both of them. The Ramshuk managed with some difficulty, grunting as he dragged his left leg.

  After a few moments of circling, Relam charged in with a wild yell, sword slashing through the air. Garnuk parried quickly, whipping the huge silver blade around as though it weighed nothing. Then, just as quickly, he turned and deflected a blow from the Sen-teel. The force of the blow sent Khollo staggering, so he had no time to follow up with the second blade. Meanwhile, Relam continued his attack, fighting with skilled precision, his sword darting and weaving. Every few blows he managed a scratch in Garnuk’s shining armor, but that was all.

  Khollo rejoined the battle now, but he fought from beside Relam instead of opposite him. He whirled the Sen-teel around its central point, slashing with one blade, thrusting with the other, than spinning to hack with the first again. Garnuk struggled to keep up with the unique weapon, and Khollo landed a few solid blows. But the Ramshuk was a master warrior, and possessed incredible strength and durability. No matter how many times Relam and Khollo hit him, he fought on.

  Khollo!

  The young Keeper flinched at the mental shout. Kanin?

  Yes. You are all right?

  For now.

  Have you finished him yet?

  Khollo scowled, jabbing at Garnuk’s eyes then slashing at his chest. Not yet. Relam is here too.

  Then kill him quickly, we may not be able to restrain Zanove much longer. He is nearly frantic trying to get to his rider.

  We’ll hurry, Khollo promised. But we have to get back to the fortress after this too.

  Then who will watch Zanove?

  No idea, Khollo gasped, parrying a cut from the Ramshuk, We’ll figure it out later, one step at a time.

  The young Keeper parried another blow, then lunged with the Sen-teel clutching the handle in a two-handed overhand grip. He rammed the end of one blade into the armor on Garnuk’s right leg. The armor deflected his blade with a terrible screech, as usual, but Khollo kept the pressure on and the blade slid to the edge of the plate, then through the mail underneath and into the Ramshuk’s flesh.

  Garnuk roared and swatted Khollo with the back of his free hand, catching him across the face. Khollo stumbled backwards, tasting blood in his mouth, barely managing to stay on his feet. When he looked back though, the Ramshuk was desperately holding off Relam. The young king was in constant motion, his footwork impeccable, darting and weaving around the wounded vertag, forcing him to try and move on his injured legs. Garnuk did not seem a graceful and powerful warrior now, but a wounded beast whose strength was failing. Encouraged by this observation, Khollo ran back into battle, hacking at Garnuk’s right leg again.

  The vertag roared and struck back, nearly catching Khollo with the silver blade. Then Relam attacked again and drew the Ramshuk’s attention. The moment he did, Khollo thrust again, abandoning his own defenses and ramming the Sen-teel point first into the same plate. This time, the metal cracked, then split and the end of the Sen-teel lodged in bone.

  The Ramshuk gave an unearthly howl, nearly as terrible as the fury Zanove had unleashed earlier. But this was a howl of pain, of desperation, a noise that meant it was all coming to an end. Relam ran past Khollo and put his shoulder into the massive warrior, knocking him over, then kicking the sword from his grasp. Garnuk lay there in the snow, gasping for breath, his blood staining the white crystals. Relam and Khollo stood over him, surveying the downed warrior dispassionately.

  “Together,” Relam said quietly.

  “Yes,” Khollo agreed. “For the Keepers.”

  “For Ishkabur.”

  “For the South.”

  The two young warriors raised their blades as one, then plunged them into Garnuk’s body, the Sen-teel penetrating just above the top of Garnuk’s chest plate, Relam’s sword punching straight through the armor. Garnuk gasped and went rigid, eyes wide open in shock. Khollo twisted the Sen-teel for good measure, blood streaming from the wound, and watched as the light in Garnuk’s eyes dimmed, then went out.

  As he withdrew the Sen-teel and stepped back, a roar swept through his mind, driving him to his knees with the pain and fury it contained.

  No! Zanove roared. No! You killed him!

  You are free, Khollo said desperately. He will enslave you no more.

  I was no slave! He gave me purpose, a life!

  He made you a tool, Kanin snapped. Calm yourself, brother, and join us. Be truly free for the first time in your life.

  Khollo looked to the east, where he could see the dragons sprawled on top of Zanove, pinning him to the ground. Zanove, he said quietly. Don’t you understand? We’re not here to hurt you or kill you. We’re here to rescue you from this monster.

  I need no rescuing except from you!

  You don’t understand. Garnuk was evil, he started wars against people who had done nothing to him, destroyed innocents, razed cities and villages for fun!

  It was fun, Zanove growled. And I would do it all again. I made them pay for what I endured, and for the suffering of my master.

  He may not be saveable, Kanin said quietly. Khollo, we may have no choice in the matter.

  “Khollo,” Relam said urgently. “Come on, we need to get back to the West Bank, the battle is still going, and they’re losing badly, there are just too many vertaga!”

  “Working on it,” Khollo muttered, “We’ve got to figure out what to do about the captive. He’s not being as cooperative as I had hoped.”

  If you are so bent on freeing me, then kill me! Zanove demanded. This world has brought me nothing but pain and fear from the time I hatched. And now you have forced me to watch my master die while I was helpless to do anything.

  Garnuk was a monster, Kanin growled. Why can you not see that?

  He was my master!

  With a colossal heave, Zanove threw the other dragons off and charged toward Khollo and Relam, taking to the sky after a pair of leaping bounds. Kanin roared a warning and the others sprang into pursuit. Relam swore and readied his blade to fight, but Khollo knew it would do little against the approaching dragon. He raised his Sen-teel, knowing it would not fare much better.

  Zanove was nearly upon them, jaws spread wide, clawed feet outstretched. You are the monsters! he roared furiously. Now, pay for what you have done!

  Just before the dragon could pounce, he stopped in midair, his motion totally arrested, and roared in pain. Khollo looked beyond the snarling silver dragon and saw Kanin had bitten into Zanove’s tail and was holding him back.

  Run, Kanin shouted desperately. Quickly, I’m not sure how long I can hold him.

  Khollo and Relam started to retreat, but the young Keeper saw flames flickering in Zanove’s mouth and he knew they would never get away. Instead, he snatched up Sven’s shield from where it lay in the snow and crouched in front of Relam trying to shield them both. He gazed up at the silver dragon, waiting for the flames to come, gazing into those insanely whirling eyes.

  As the first flames burst from the Captive’s maw, Khollo heard a low hiss, then a squelching noise. Zanove roared in pain and reared back, flailing at the air, the flames dying out and dwindling away. He staggered, clawing at his face, and Khollo realized that one of the glowing orbs had been extinguished. In its place was the fletching of an arrow, sunk all the way to the very end of the feather.

  Khollo look
ed up and saw Aralye sitting astride Ayrmi, bow raised for another shot. The young Keeper was horrified at first, then he realized the huntress had likely just saved his life and Relam’s. The silver dragon reared back, his roar dwindling to a piteous cry, stumbling as all four feet hit the ground again.

  Kanin? he asked quietly. Is Zanove – ?

  He is dying now, Kanin replied in a hushed tone. The arrow penetrated to his brain. He does not have long to live.

  The young Keeper bowed his head sorrowfully. I’m sorry, Kanin. We failed to save him.

  We did what we could, Kanin said. There was too much anger and rage in Zanove to redeem him. He did not know freedom, and could not comprehend it. The lies of Garnuk were too entrenched for him to believe anything else. This is the best we can do for him now, release him from this world. Maybe he will find peace in the next one.

  Khollo nodded, a lump forming in his throat. As he watched, the silver dragon staggered, fell, then lay still, his body heaving. The massive chest rose and fell a few more times, then stopped.

  He is gone, Kanin said, landing beside Khollo. The other Keepers arrived seconds later, save Ayrmi who still hung above them all.

  “It is over,” a low voice growled from behind Khollo.

  He turned and saw a large group of vertaga approaching, led by Koah and Tarq. “You fought well,” Tarq said, inclining his head. “And the menace has been put down.”

  Khollo scowled at that. This was one kill he would not – could not – take pleasure in. “It was necessary,” he said quietly.

  Tarq nodded grimly. “Yes. It was. Now, let us see if the rest of my kin are ready for peace. With Garnuk’s death, they no longer have to fight.” He turned to Koah and another ram with a horn. “Sound the retreat.”

  The ram raised the horn to his lips and blew a short sequence of notes, echoing over the frozen plains, a blast that nearly deafened Khollo. In the distance, he saw warriors starting to pull back from the West Bank. Some, but not all.

  “Some may still wish to fight,” Koah warned. “You will need to deal with them.”

  Khollo nodded. “We will. Relam, take Kanin and the others and go.”

  “What about you?”

  “I have a ride,” Khollo replied, gesturing to Ayrmi, still hovering above them, “But I need to talk with Aralye first.”

  Relam nodded, understanding. “Very well. Let’s end this.” The young king stepped up to Kanin, bowed deeply, then climbed into the saddle. The dragons rose and flew off a moment later, headed for the West Bank. The vertaga, Koah and Tarq at their head, turned and jogged back towards the fortress to meet their retreating comrades and make sure the battle did not start up again.

  Khollo, meanwhile, lingered behind. He took a moment just to appreciate the end of the fighting, then looked up and signaled for Ayrmi to join him. The purple dragon hesitated for a moment, then landed. Aralye was slumped forward in the saddle, refusing to meet his eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I failed.”

  Khollo shrugged. “You saved my life.”

  “By killing the Captive. We were supposed to save him.”

  “We could not.”

  Aralye raised her head, tears streaming from her eyes. “I killed him. I wasn’t even trying to.”

  Khollo nodded. “I understand. It doesn’t feel good, but this . . . this was for the best. Zanove had too much anger in him. He could never have been happy in this world. You gave him what he asked for, the only thing that could truly free him from the cage Garnuk built for him. That cage had no other key to unlock it, and would have stayed with him his entire life. You did the right thing. And the fact that you feel this way about it is also right. We’re Keepers. Not bloodthirsty butchers. We protect those we can . . . we save those we can. But we can’t save everyone.”

  Aralye nodded jerkily, drying her eyes and taking a deep, shuddering, breath. “Thank you, Khollo. It still feels terrible.”

  “But it will get better,” Khollo promised. “Now, let’s get away from this place. There’s a battle to finish at the West Bank, if the others haven’t taken care of it already.”

  Chapter 49:

  There at the End

  By the time Ayrmi, Aralye, and Khollo returned to the West Bank, the battle was all but over. Several hundred vertaga and all of the lutags had ignored the retreat signal, led by a ram Tarq referred to only as ‘the butcher’. That small force was put down quickly by the Keepers and the remaining Sthan warriors, but the losses for Relam’s army were staggering. They had held out just long enough, but the bodies of the fallen covered the north wall and choked the snowy fields between the main fortress and the wall. Scores of cavalry had fallen as well, overtaken by the lutags. A trail of men and horses stretched from the causeway to the north wall, those unfortunates who had not been able to outrun the lutags.

  Hours after the last resistant vertag fell and the last lutag was slaughtered, a council convened in the high courtyard in the main part of the fortress. A historic council, for it included both vertaga and Sthan leaders for the first time in a peaceful gathering. Tarq and Koah were there to represent their people, while Janis and Relam spoke for the Sthan. Others were present as well, Relam’s personal guards, Ondus, and the rest of the Keepers hovering nearby, as well as a few Sentinels and a ram called Danur standing silently behind Koah and Tarq.

  “We are agreed,” Tarq intoned. “Let the spirits bear witness: the time has come for peace between our races.”

  “The Fells belong to you,” Relam promised. “And your descendants. You will not be hunted or attacked by our armies.”

  “But,” Tarq said, “We would appreciate if you rebuilt Ishkabur. Not as a stronghold, but as a center of trade. It will strengthen relations between our people.”

  “Of course,” Relam promised, “But it will take time.”

  “And the Keepers will be watching,” Khollo added, “To make sure both sides hold to their oaths.”

  Tarq frowned. “I thought you were with the Sthan?”

  “No,” Koah replied, shaking his head. “They are with no one. The Keepers exist to keep the peace as best they can.”

  Khollo turned to face the Banuk Sentinel, surprised. “How did you know that?”

  Koah smiled grimly. “The Banuk are the oldest of the vertaga tribes, Keeper. There are things we remember that no one else does. We have many records and stories about the original Keepers. If ever you want to learn more about your kind, let me know.”

  “Do you know what happened to them?” Khollo asked sharply.

  The Banuk Sentinel nodded slowly. “Yes. But, that is a long and complex story. For another time.”

  “Anyway,” Relam broke in, “We’ll have a proper treaty drawn up for us to sign. That will help make sure we all stay in check. Tarq, can you help us translate it to your language as well?”

  “Maybe not me personally, but there are rams who would be willing and able to assist.”

  “Excellent,” Relam murmured. “Thank you, Tarq and Koah, for having the courage to see a new future.”

  “A golden age for all of us,” Tarq said, chuckling quietly. “Garnuk always promised such a time as a result of his wars. He did bring it about, in a manner of speaking. Without this last battle and his death, this would not have happened.”

  “He is in the spirits’ care now,” Koah added, “They will judge him as they must, and decide his fate.”

  Relam nodded. “Well, if that’s all, I probably should be getting back to Etares. There are certain matters I need to attend to.”

  Khollo glanced at his friend, knowing exactly what the young king was referring to. “The Masks? You won’t be able to move against them without risking the lives of your friends.”

  “I know,” Relam muttered. “I’m working on figuring that out.”

  “Who are these Masks you refer to?” Tarq asked curiously.

  “Renegades,” Relam explained, “Lords and influential figures who have taken over the underwor
ld and are using it to usurp my kingdom.”

  “Criminals?” Tarq asked, eyes gleaming. “Do they perhaps have a council of sorts? Like the ones who have been passing me information on Sthan activities?”

  Relam stopped short, mouth hanging open slightly. “Tarq,” he said finally. “As a gesture of good faith, do you think you could tell us about your human contacts?”

  The vertag grinned. “To preserve the king who has given my race peace and a future? Gladly. We will assist in every way we can.”

  The young king chuckled. “Perfect. Now, we have a chance.” He turned to Khollo. “I was supposed to die in the South and provide them with an opportunity to take the throne. This,” he broke off, laughing, “This was something they never could have anticipated!”

  Khollo smiled as well. “We’ll help too, Relam, but we’ll have to move fast. From what I hear, these Masks are tricky, and they have vast resources.”

  “Not for long,” Tarq replied grimly. “Koah, take our people back to the mountains. The king, the Keepers, and I have some additional business to wrap up.”

  * * *

  Commander Hadere took his place in the semicircle of masked figures, staring through the slits of his own mask at the bound figure kneeling in the center of the room. Two guards, their faces concealed in the shadows of their hooded cloaks, stood just behind the prisoner. At least twenty more guards ringed the edges of the circular room. The guards served little purpose other than to intimidate outsiders. The lair of the council was far too secret for anyone to ever find.

  “I must say, I am disappointed,” the masked figure to Hadere’s left observed. “You led me to believe this one would be more pliable. More like his father.”

  Hadere shrugged. “Cevet will make a fine king, properly motivated. He would also draw less suspicion.”

  Cevet’s head snapped up at the sound of Hadere’s voice, but the gag tied around his head kept him from speaking.

  “And yet, we have had him for weeks and he still must be restrained to keep him from attacking us,” another Mask noted. “The boy is too dangerous. I cannot approve of this.”