The Captive

by Paul Lauritsen

  Heirs of Legacy, Book 4:

  The Captive

  Paul Lauritsen

  Heirs of Legacy, Book 4: The Captive

  Copyright © 2021 Paul Lauritsen

  All rights reserved

  Cover art by Jacquelyn Novelli

  Maps by Glen Lauritsen

  Other Books by Paul Lauritsen

  The Heirs of Legacy Series:

  Book 1: The Prince

  Book 2: The Keeper

  Book 3: The Ramshuk

  Book 4: The Captive

  For my early readers:

  Thank you for your enthusiastic support and encouragement.

  Acknowledgements

  Well, here we are. The fourth and final book of the Heirs of Legacy series, The Captive. It’s been quite the journey, from The Prince, to The Keeper, to The Ramshuk. From my very first published work to a complete series, each of the four books a unique and different challenge.

  This milestone didn’t come along overnight, and I didn’t reach this point alone. There were many people involved throughout, and the support of each and every one was critical to the success of this series. First, an enormous thank you to my parents, who were my editors and encouragers. Without them, none of these stories would have been published. They may never have been written either. Long before The Prince was even a shadow of an idea, they lovingly and patiently helped my brother Glen and I develop a deep-seated appreciation for reading and writing. Without them, I would not be the author I am today.

  Glen also contributed the maps for all four books, in addition to acting as a sounding board for ideas throughout the series. Jackie Novelli also returned for the last book of the Heirs of Legacy series, with another stunning cover. Without Jackie and Glen’s artistic talents, these books just wouldn’t be the same, so thank you both as well.

  This brings us to a very special group of people – my early readers. A couple years ago, you dove into the world of The Prince, then stayed for the adventures through the rest of the series. Your enthusiasm for the first three books was a major motivator to finish The Captive and complete the series, and I have loved hearing your thoughts on the characters as they develop. For those of you who have grown attached to this world and these characters, don’t worry – we won’t be leaving the world of the Sthan Kingdom for good. Someday, we’ll return, but after a harrowing series of adventures these heroes have earned a long rest. There’s always another story to tell.

  Speaking of other stories to tell, the fact this series is now complete does not mean I will stop writing. Even as I put the finishing touches on The Captive, the next stories to come were taking shape. It may be a slightly longer break before another book is published, but I am planning to launch the Nightwolf series in late 2022 or early 2023. I won’t give away too many of the details, but I will say I am excited to explore this new world with you, a world of subterfuge, ancient magic, and rebellion.

  But, for now, I will leave you to enjoy the finale of the Heirs of Legacy series, The Captive. I hope you love reading this book as much as I loved writing it. Thank you again to everyone who has been a part of this journey. One series ends, but another will begin in time. Until then, happy reading!

  The Captive

  Prologue:

  Zanove

  For the eighty-seventh day in a row, Garnuk entered the small, circular chamber and took a seat at the small, stone table. He heard the doors close behind him, heard the guards beyond shuffling and stamping as they returned to their positions, heard the rough clack as they grounded their heavy pikes for the time being. What lay beyond this chamber was of little concern to Garnuk at the moment though. The only thing that mattered to him right now was here, sitting in the center of the stone table, illuminated by the light of four lanterns.

  Garnuk scratched at his curling black horns with one clawed hand, then leaned forward over the table. “Here I am, dragon,” he murmured quietly. “Back again.”

  The gleaming silver egg made no response.

  The muscular vertag sighed with frustration, growling to himself. So it was to be another long day of nothing then. More wasted time while his enemies strengthened their hold on the world. And Garnuk, as former Ramshuk over all vertaga, had many enemies. Namely, the men of the Sthan Kingdom. But also the Keepers. The accursed Order of dragons and riders, so long extinct, that had risen up once more and destroyed his home, torn away his mate and cub, and scattered his people.

  For days after the battle, Garnuk had stumbled amongst the wreckage of Dun Carryl. The ancient stronghold of the vertaga, once hidden within the mountain itself, had been cracked wide open by the tremendous avalanche the Keepers had caused. Roughly a quarter of the city was lost, and even more of it had been rendered uninhabitable until repairs could be undertaken.

  Following the collapse of the mountain, the vertaga had toiled to clear the mass of boulders and rubble that had replaced the western portion of Dun Carryl. Garnuk, meanwhile, had retreated deeper into the mountain to be alone with his grief. It tore at his consciousness, fraying his mind at the edges, besieging his every thought relentlessly until every fiber of his being throbbed with the deepest pain imaginable. And chasing the pain, flashing through him in hot waves of unquenchable, raw emotion, were rage and hatred for all things. The Keeper called Khollo and his dragon. The soldiers of the Sthan Kingdom. Even for some among his own race. So strong and wild were these emotions that at one point Garnuk had been driven quite mad.

  Then, as he wandered from one dark and disused chamber to the next, he had found it. The silver egg. A dragon egg.

  It had been in a secret storeroom near the roots of the mountain, where the heat from deep within the earth warmed it constantly. The storeroom had been filled to bursting with all manner of treasure, perhaps the private horde of a long dead Ramshuk, but Garnuk had had eyes only for the glistening silver orb, nestled in a small niche in the back wall of the hidden room.

  Only then, after so many days of wallowing in grief and helpless rage, Garnuk had seen for the first time a path to revenge.

  There was only one other dragon in the world at the moment, the emerald beast called Kanin that did the bidding of the human boy Khollo. They had been the only reason Garnuk had lost the war, he was certain of it. If Garnuk could raise a dragon of his own, perhaps he could restore his people to their former glory.

  And reduce the Sthan Kingdom to smoldering ash and rubble.

  With this glorious purpose anchored in his fevered mind, Garnuk had brought the egg back to this small, circular chamber, hoping it might hatch. Ever since, he had sat here, talking to it, threatening it, demanding that the dragon within break the shell and join him. And for eighty-six days, there had been no response.

  “What is it going to take, dragon?” Garnuk said now, keeping his voice low lest the guards outside overhear him. “I know you can hear me in there. Why not crack your shell and explore this world? Test your wings out and fly amongst the mountains?”

  The egg remained motionless, but Garnuk thought he saw it shiver ever so slightly, the light from the lanterns rippling on the iridescent surface.

  “Do you fear me, dragon? Is that why you hesitate?” Garnuk whispered to the egg. “You have no reason to. I would never harm such a magnificent creature as you.”

  Even to his own ears, the words sounded false. Garnuk knew perfectly well that if necessary, he would beat this dragon into submission, brutalizing it until it tamely obeyed his every command. The beast was a tool, nothing more. The only tool that could accomplish the ultimate destruction Garnuk so desired.

  But if the egg did not hatch, there would be no revenge. There were not enough vertaga left now to be more than a nuisance to the kingdom of men. Without the dragon, there was no path to victory.
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  The vertag leader slumped in his chair, brooding. He had tried everything to make the egg hatch, using every bit of his keen intelligence to trick the dragon into cracking its shell and becoming his slave.

  Perhaps a different approach was needed, Garnuk thought to himself. Right now, the dragon knew only one enemy, Garnuk. The vertag who came every day to torment it with new threats, lies, and demands. What if he gave it a greater enemy, and presented himself as a potential ally against this other force?

  The best lies, Garnuk knew, had their roots in a tiny bit of truth. Eagerly, the vertag began sifting through his knowledge of the world, seeking the kernel of truth he could build into a feared and hated enemy for this unhatched dragon. And then, in a beautiful moment of clarity and cunning, it came to him. A simple and yet believable lie which would surely draw this resistant dragon out of its shell and into Garnuk’s iron grasp.

  He leaned forward now, dropping his voice to a whisper, choosing every word precisely and carefully.

  “I understand you dragon,” he began. “More than you know. You no doubt wonder how you came to be in my possession, how fate could have placed you in such a situation. Well, know this dragon: it was the Keepers who did this to you. The High Keeper, Khollo, and Kanin, Master of Dragons. They abandoned you.”

  The egg seemed to shiver again, as though Garnuk’s words were resonating through the shell. He pressed on eagerly, speaking faster now.

  “You know it is true. How else would you have ended up all alone, so far from your kin? They left you, deemed you unworthy of their prestigious Order, left you to rot, to die. Forever contained in your shell.”

  “You wonder why they would do this, how the new leaders of an Order which was meant to keep peace could be so cruel. I will tell you how, dragon. They have seen the destruction your kin are capable of. They fear that power, the human boy especially. And they do not want anyone else to have it. To accomplish this end, they are prepared to exterminate the last of your kind, so that no dragons will soar the endless skies of this world ever again.”

  The egg wobbled frenziedly in response, shaking on its axis.

  “This is a cruel world, dragon, but it can be made better,” Garnuk continued. “Your kind can be saved. I do not wish the extinction of dragons. I would rather save your kind. But I have not the strength on my own. Only together do we have a chance of stopping the Keepers from ending your noble line.”

  The egg ceased wobbling.

  Garnuk clenched his jaw angrily and sat back, fuming. What had he said to dissuade the dragon? Why could this self-important hatchling not see things his way? He had been so sure it would hatch this time, so confident he was making progress. And now, hope was extinguished once more. Garnuk could feel the darkness inside growing as it had in the days before he found the egg, consuming him. Grief. Hopelessness. Rage. Twisting and redefining every part of him, dragging him down into an abyss of endless suffering. Then, as the roar of the darkness pulsed through him, a single, sharp crack reached his ears.

  The darkness subsided, as quickly as it had arrived, and Garnuk glanced up at the egg, hardly daring to breathe. There, near the top, was a hairline crack in the once unbroken plane of shimmering silver. Even as he looked, the crack spread, branching out and running up and down the shell on all sides, until it seemed the egg must simply fall apart.

  And the cracking stopped.

  Garnuk frowned, puzzled, and leaned forward, wondering what was wrong. Did the dragon need help getting out? This was a possibility Garnuk had not yet considered. Hesitantly, he reached out towards the egg with one clawed hand –

  And jerked back as the egg exploded in a whirlwind of sharp, dangerous fragments, spinning out across the room and scraping against the stone walls. Garnuk bellowed in surprise and fell backwards, his chair tipping over and crashing to the ground as he did. His head hit the stone floor and his vison blurred, swam, then solidified again.

  Blinking slowly, Garnuk looked up at the table, dazed. Then, he remembered what had happened and lurched to his feet, looking to the center of the stone table, hardly daring to hope after so many failures.

  The small stone table was littered with tiny shell fragments, scattered every which way but all spreading from a central point. The place where the egg had stood. And in the very center of the table, licking off the membrane that encased it, was the dragon. Silver, gleaming and beautiful.

  It was small, less than a half meter from nose to tail. But it would grow, Garnuk knew. He knelt in front of the table, putting his head on a level with the dragon’s, smiling darkly to himself. Almost as soon as he did, the dragon’s wedge-shaped head swung around and found him, its ice blue eyes piercing him right to its core. Something brushed against his mind tentatively. A foreign presence, tinged with fear and anger. Garnuk shrank from the contact initially, then steeled himself and embraced it, drawing the dragon in.

  The little beast hesitated, then took a tentative step forward, crooning to itself in a curious way. Another step, then a third. It was close enough to touch. Garnuk held out a rough hand and the dragon came closer. Ever so slowly the vertag reached out, and touched the scintillating silver dragon.

  It did not flinch or try to escape. It trusted him. Believed in him. Garnuk let out a pent-up breath and stroked the dragon’s back, eliciting another satisfied croon from the beast.

  “Welcome,” Garnuk said in his native tongue. “Welcome, little friend. You need a name, don’t you, dragon?”

  The beast cocked its head curiously, looking up at Garnuk as the vertag struggled to find a suitable name. Finally, he settled on one he believed would make binding the dragon to his will easier.

  “You shall be called Zanove,” Garnuk told the dragon. The little beast blinked once, then went back to crooning, rubbing against Garnuk’s hand insistently, its scales scratching at his rough skin. Garnuk smiled again, this time with immense satisfaction. Now all he had to do was tame the beast. Soon, every fiber of its being would reflect the name he had given it. For in the language of men, Zanove translated to captive.

  Chapter 1:

  Rise of the Keepers

  Khollo sat back in his chair and scrubbed at his face with his hands, closing his eyes. Behind his eyelids, ancient runes danced and swam, a wealth of knowledge and information. More than Khollo could possibly keep track of.

  It was at this point he would normally halt his studies for the day and return to the dragon hold. After all, what was the point in continuing to read when he would not remember any of it? But the young Keeper wanted desperately to keep going, to learn, to understand, so that he might live up to the legacy which had come to him.

  No, he decided firmly, opening his eyes and glaring accusingly at the massive tome in front of him. The rest could wait. Tomorrow was another day. Carefully, Khollo closed the ancient book and returned it to its place in the great underground library of the Keepers. As he did, he became aware for the first time in hours of the soothing sound of rushing water from outside. Khollo smiled, thinking of the dancing, silver waterfalls which cascaded down the sides of the library, then stretched and turned towards the stairs.

  Yes, tomorrow he would resume his studies. Every day he would learn a little more, until he was ready, whenever that time came. If it came. Khollo had been reading for the best part of six months, spending the vast majority of his time in the library. Once or twice a week he would go hunting with Kanin, a welcome break from the grueling task Khollo had set himself.

  As he climbed the steps, Khollo casually reached out to touch the green dragon’s mind, then frowned as he was forced to reach farther than usual. Kanin?

  I am here, the dragon replied immediately.

  Khollo reached the top of the stairs, emerging into the courtyard above the library. The area was clear of tangled jungle growth now, thanks to Kanin, but the dragon was nowhere to be found. No, you’re not, Khollo said drily. Where are you?

  The hatchery, Kanin replied.

  The young Ke
eper frowned. The hatchery? What was Kanin doing there? Last Khollo had heard, the dragon was working to clear the jungle from the roads that connected the principal buildings of the ancient stronghold.

  I finished clearing the roads, Kanin interrupted. Do you need me to fetch you?

  No, Khollo decided. I’ll meet you back at the dragon hold.

  I would prefer if you met me here.

  Khollo stopped in his tracks, cocking his head. At the hatchery?

  Yes.

  Has something happened?

  No.

  Then why – ?

  Just come. Please, Kanin added as an afterthought.

  Khollo smiled wryly. “It’s a foolish man who disobeys a dragon,” he said to the empty courtyard.

  I still heard that.

  You were meant to, Khollo assured him. I’m headed your way now.

  Khollo descended the steep hill the library rested under, using the steps Kanin had unearthed not long after they had returned to Ethgalin. The path was wide and smooth, well-constructed and in surprisingly good shape, even though the stones themselves were a dirty gray in color. Khollo reached the valley floor, where the path turned to a road, and made for the central plaza.

  The road was clear, but everything around it was shrouded in jungle, despite the weeks Kanin had spent flaming the verdant growth to cinders and freeing the stronghold from its grasp. It showed how long the place had been abandoned, before they had been brought together and drawn to it. Khollo smiled as he remembered those adventurous days, the dangerous times of the second vertaga war.

  But now the adventure was gone, and this nagged at Khollo, tugged and pulled at his being until he was frayed at the edges and only his iron discipline kept him on the course he had set. He should be off doing battle somewhere, riding Kanin into war, destroying legions and laying low the forces of evil. Trouble was, the forces of evil seemed to have dried up. At least, temporarily.