The Captive

by Paul Lauritsen

  “Nor I,” another agreed.

  “Give me another week,” Hadere urged. “Maybe that will be long enough to make him bend the knee.”

  There was a pause, a prolonged silence. “You can have your week, but when that time is up we will have other candidates too,” another Mask growled. “The king is dead, slain in the South by the vertaga, as we hoped. Our opportunity is now, and we need to move quickly.”

  “I know,” Hadere promised. “And we will. If Cevet does not prove worthy, I see no issue with using another. I merely wanted to give him a chance, as a favor to his father.”

  “Ah, yes,” another Mask murmured. “Ryker Thius. He has kept quiet nicely, hasn’t he?”

  “Very nicely,” Hadere agreed. “My sources say he has revealed nothing about us, not even to his son.”

  “A pity his son could not be the same.”

  Hadere scowled. “Let’s move on. We have other business to get to this night.” He nodded to the guards. “Return him to his cell.”

  The two guards flanking Cevet hauled him to his feet, despite his struggles. The lordling refused to walk under his own power though, forcing the guards to lift him and drag him between them. He twisted his neck to glare daggers at Hadere, but the commander ignored him.

  The guards reached the outer door and shoved it open. But before they could pass through, there was a clash of metal on metal. The two guards dropped to the floor, their throats cut, and Cevet disappeared through the doors.

  “Intruders!” one of the Masks shouted. “Get them!”

  The guards along the perimeter of the room streamed towards the door, inadvertently cutting across the center of the room in their haste. As they did, a terrible screech filled the air, causing everyone to clap their hands to their ears and close their eyes. The screech persisted, then with an enormous CRACK! a section of the domed ceiling fell in, then another and another. The massive stones shattered on the floor of the chamber, sending deadly fragments whirling through the space. Hadere scrambled for cover with his fellows, glaring up at the opening, wondering what had caused the collapse at such an inopportune time. As he raised his gaze to the hole in the ceiling, he caught sight of five sets of glowing eyes.

  Dragons.

  As the last stones settled, the outer doors flew open again and warriors rushed into the room, all armed with massive, rectangular shields. Those in the lead were mostly guards, but in the second rank Hadere saw Cevet and another young man he didn’t recognize. Narin and Oreius were there as well, along with Tar Agath.

  “Stay where you are!” a familiar voice shouted. A moment later, Relam stepped to the forefront, clad from head to toe in heavy plate armor, a shield on his left arm. “All of you! Anyone moves and the dragons will cook you where you stand.” He looked around at the crouched forms and sneered contemptuously. “Or they’ll cook you where you cower. Drop your weapons, now!”

  “Relam?” Hadere asked in disbelief. “You’re supposed to be dead!”

  “Well, that’s what we told your spies,” Relam replied, grinning. “But, as you can see, I am alive and well. Now, get rid of your weapons, all of you.”

  Those guards who had not been crushed by the collapsing ceiling threw their weapons aside and backed away slowly, retreating to the edges of the room.

  “Lose the masks too,” Relam commanded, glaring around the room. “I want to see your faces.”

  Hadere pushed back his hood slowly and removed his mask, letting it fall to the table in front of him. Maybe he could bluff his way out of this. “You are awfully confident, Relam, for someone in the center of the enemy lair with no idea what he is up against. But, you still have a chance. Leave now and – ”

  “I know exactly what I’m up against,” Relam snapped, stepping forward. “I know everything now, Hadere. The tailor shop above this chamber you were using as a front is gone, that’s how the dragons got to your ceiling. They also helped us clear some of the tunnels with their fire. Your entire underground compound is being ransacked as we speak by teams of elite warriors, and the twenty-three smaller lairs scattered around the city have been cleared as well.”

  Hadere gaped in horror at the young king. “How?” he demanded.

  Relam smiled. “You see, I do know what I’m up against. Now, the rest of you, remove your masks, unless you want the dragons to burn you right here, right now.”

  The rest of the council, clearly shaken by Relam’s confident report, slowly removed their golden masks, letting them fall. Relam scanned the revealed faces, nodding to himself. Hadere, a pair of officers from the Citadel, a trio of lords he knew from the Assembly. And the last in line, Commander Eckle.

  “I wish I could say I was surprised,” Relam said quietly. “But you know I never trusted you, Eckle.”

  The commander of the palace guard stiffened, but said nothing.

  “It was clever to have Sermas and Hern follow me, keep track of my whereabouts and activities,” Relam added. “But, that gave you away in the end. Not that it matters now.” He did another count, then nodded in satisfaction. “And you’re all here. Excellent. This council is permanently adjourned.”

  “How?” Hadere asked again. Relam turned to him, smiling at the man’s stunned expression.

  “Oh, I learned a great deal in the South. In case you haven’t heard, there’s a new peace treaty in place with the vertaga. As a gesture of good will, they gave us a few names to track down, and then those names gave us more names and then those names were used with Narin’s research to ferret out more secrets – and then we came here.”

  “Enough gloating!” Eckle snapped furiously. “Do what you came to do. Finish this.”

  “No,” Relam countered. “Executing people, privately or publicly, has an annoying side effect of turning them into martyrs. I don’t want that. So instead, you will be imprisoned for the rest of your lives.”

  “That won’t last,” Hadere replied confidently. “Where would you put us? You have no idea which prisons are compromised.”

  “Well,” Khollo said, stepping forward. “There’s a new one that is opening soon. I doubt it’s been infiltrated yet.”

  “Yes,” Relam explained to Hadere, “The Keepers discovered some truly inhospitable rocks in the middle of the Southern Sea. Uncharted rocks, actually. Not very big or comfortable, but just large enough for a few cells and a nice guardhouse. There’s a team of men working on the construction now, and they should be finished by the time you arrive.”

  Hadere’s face fell, and Relam watched with immense satisfaction as he exchanged defeated looks with the other members of the council. Relam turned to Narin, jerking a thumb at the Masks and their surviving guards. “You can finish up here?”

  The master of the Citadel nodded confidently. “Of course, your majesty.”

  Relam nodded. “Then Cevet and I will go back to the palace with Galen and the rest of my guards. When you’ve finished with this lot, come join us.” He scanned the ruined underground chamber, its ceiling now exposed to the night sky, and felt all of the fears and worries that had been building up over the past few months melt away. “The war is over, the council destroyed. Tonight, we have a great deal to celebrate.”

  Epilogue

  A few days later, Khollo and Relam stood outside Etares’ west gate, surrounded by the other Keepers. A temporary camp had been set up for them, since there was no space large enough in the city. But soon, that camp would be abandoned in favor of other destinations.

  “I’m going to miss you, Khollo,” Relam said, shaking the young Keeper’s hand. “These last few weeks have been exciting. Dangerous, but exciting. We’ve accomplished much together.”

  Khollo grinned. “Well, once we got over trying to kill each other.”

  “That was a mistake,” Relam muttered. “I know you’ll never forget it, but – ”

  “It was forgiven and forgotten long ago,” Khollo cut him off. “We hold no grudge against you.”

  “That’s a relief,” Relam said.r />
  “Yes,” Khollo agreed. “You won’t have to miss us for long though, we’ll be back. Sven and L’tel are staying for a bit anyway, to escort your prisoners to Narne. And we’ll have a Keeper stationed there permanently, just in case.”

  “I’m glad of that,” Relam said. “It will make communication much easier.”

  “Yeah,” Khollo agreed. “Hopefully it will help prevent any future misunderstandings. Anyway, once Aralye, Halena, and I have cleared some additional holds and spruced things up, we’ll be back for more candidates. With your permission of course.”

  “You have it,” Relam replied instantly. “Although,” he added thoughtfully, “You might check with Tarq as well.”

  That suggestion brought Khollo up short. “Vertaga? As Keepers?”

  “Why not? It would strengthen relations, help bring them into this world, maybe help maintain the peace.”

  “Or destroy it,” Khollo muttered.

  It cannot be discounted out of hand, Kanin rumbled. I do not think the world is ready for it yet, but maybe someday it will be.

  Khollo relayed the dragon’s message and Relam nodded understandingly. “Maybe someday,” he agreed. “Think on it, Khollo. We know the vertaga aren’t all bad now.”

  “No, they’re not,” Khollo agreed. “But we’ll take things slowly, all the same. Too much change too fast could be disastrous, and I’ve had enough disasters for a little while.”

  “Me too,” Relam agreed. “Fair winds, Keepers!”

  Khollo raised a hand in acknowledgement and climbed onto Kanin’s back, smiling happily.

  Where to? Kanin asked, glancing back at his rider.

  To Ethgalin, Khollo replied. It’s time to go home.

  Kanin hummed contentedly and rose into the air, Ayrmi and Amang rising with him. They wheeled in the pale blue sky, then streaked south across the Furnier, rapidly vanishing into the distance. Relam watched them go, then turned back to the city with a sigh. A familiar figure was waiting for him there, leaning casually against the wall, his mane of gray hair waving in the light breeze.

  “How long have you been standing there?” Relam asked, cocking his head at Oreius.

  “Long enough,” the sword master grunted, standing straight. “Didn’t seem right to let you come out here without at least one person to watch your back.”

  “Thanks, Oreius.”

  “Anytime. I also wanted to talk to you,” he added.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes,” the old warrior said. “I’m proud of you, Relam. I know I’ve told you that before, but even then I couldn’t have imagined what you would accomplish or the hardships you would overcome.”

  “I had help,” the young king replied, shrugging. “Lots of help.”

  “True,” Oreius agreed. “But you also handled a lot of things yourself, made the big decisions, took charge when you needed to. Your resourcefulness and courage are truly amazing. Even if you are a little more reckless than I would like.”

  Relam grinned. “Me? Reckless?”

  “You,” Oreius agreed, “Reckless.” He smiled warmly, a real smile. “But I am proud all the same.”

  “Thank you,” Relam said quietly.

  “Anything you need, I’ll be there to help,” the old warrior promised. “Advice, counsel, or even just someone to sit and talk with. I’ll be around, and you know where to find me.”

  Relam nodded gratefully, sighing with contentment.

  “Anyway,” the old warrior grunted, suddenly hardening again. “Enough of that. You’re the king, you’ve got business to take care of! Lord Clemon has a draft of the vertaga treaty for your review, the regents are due to convene on the reestablishment of Ishkabur, there are certain trade officials who want to know how interactions with the vertaga will be regulated – ”

  “In short, back to work?” Relam guessed ruefully.

  “Yes,” Oreius agreed. “But, without all the death threats and other distractions. Think you can handle it?”

  Relam squared his shoulders, looking through the gate and towards the distant bridge that led to the palace. “I’m ready,” he said firmly. “Whatever comes.”

  “Yes, you are,” Oreius agreed. “Lead on, your majesty.”

  The End

  About the Author

  Paul Lauritsen has long been an avid reader and writer of fantasy literature. He began writing his first stories in junior high, developing and building his own worlds of adventure and heroism. The Captive is the fourth and final volume of his four-book “Heirs of Legacy” series. Paul currently lives in Wisconsin, where he continues to write and develop new stories.