The Captive

by Paul Lauritsen

  As the sun was setting, Eralm approached Khollo. “A good day’s work, Keeper,” he said, looking up and down the beach. “We should be good on provisions by the time the tide is heading out tomorrow morning. Just need fresh water now.”

  Khollo nodded. “We’ll get it to you. Kanin’s got a few more supply runs to do tonight, but water will be the first priority in the morning. Anything else you need?”

  “No,” Eralm replied. “You’ve given us more than enough to make our way home on. Thank you.”

  “No problem,” Khollo replied easily. “You can stay longer if you want, you know.”

  Eralm shrugged. “The men want to get back to Narne, some of them have families. And the rest of them, well, a true sailor is never really happy on dry land.”

  “I understand,” Khollo assured him. “What time are you planning to leave?”

  “Midmorning, about four hours after dawn.”

  “We’ll come to see you off then,” Khollo promised. “And Kanin and I will take care of the water early tomorrow morning.”

  “Much obliged,” Eralm said. “Now, let’s see about getting the rest of your cargo moved.”

  It was almost midnight before Kanin and Khollo returned to the hold. The others were already asleep, having spent the afternoon crafting mattresses from the jungle foliage and some cloth that had come in one of the crates. Khollo retired to his own bed almost immediately, only pausing to make sure Kanin was still doing all right.

  I am tired, the dragon replied, but I do not hurt. It is a good tired. We worked well today, and Ethgalin is becoming a good home for our new Keepers.

  But no hatchlings, Khollo pointed out. Sorry, Kanin. I really thought we would get to that today.

  It is all right. The dragon shifted in his stone bed, his scales scraping the rock. It is probably better that we be the only ones on Ethgalin for the hatching anyway.

  Probably, Khollo agreed. Eralm and his men are leaving tomorrow morning, so we’ll have time to visit the hatchery for sure.

  Good, Kanin murmured drowsily. The rise of the Keepers will begin tomorrow.

  The dragon was soon asleep, but his words kept Khollo up for much longer. The rise of the Keepers. And they’re success depended entirely on Khollo and Kanin. With that thought troubling him, the young Keeper eventually drifted into a restless sleep.

  Chapter 23:

  Clash of Chiefs

  Garnuk scowled at the numbers Tarq had just brought him, a summary of all the warriors who had been mustered at Dun Carryl in preparation for the new war. “Too few,” he muttered, flipping through the pages. “Far too few.”

  “More will come,” Tarq said confidently, folding his arms across his chest. “Several clans are still migrating. The second page shows their projected numbers.”

  “I saw,” Garnuk grunted. “It’s not enough, Tarq, nowhere near enough. Zanove is powerful, more dangerous than I had imagined, but he cannot fight the war on his own. We need soldiers to combat the main Sthan armies while Zanove and I fight the Keepers.”

  “I thought they were going to rip each other apart?” Tarq said slowly. “That we would not have to fight both of them. This is still the plan, right general?”

  “It’s more realistic to expect them to weaken each other severely,” Garnuk replied, shrugging. “That would work for us as well, but it still means the army will have to fight the Sthan soldiers, while Zanove and I battle the Keepers.”

  “More warriors will answer the call,” Tarq promised. “We just need more time.”

  “Time? For the Sthan to regroup? For those Keepers to figure out their place in this world? For our enemies to solidify their grasp on all lands? Time,” Garnuk spat, “Is what we do not have, Tarq! Why do you think Zanove and I have started the raids already?”

  “You have let no survivors escape though,” Tarq pointed out. “Which means no word has reached the Sthan of these attacks yet.”

  Garnuk scowled. Sometimes, the captain was a little too observant. “They were practice runs,” he admitted. “I wasn’t sure if Zanove was ready yet. Now I know he is.”

  “We need to give our enemies time to weaken each other,” Tarq said quietly.

  “And we will,” Garnuk agreed. “But we have to be prepared for war, if the Sthan march on us. I cannot guarantee how they will react to dragon attacks, Tarq. It’s possible they’ll come straight to the mountains. But, I think it more likely they will blame the Keepers. That is the logical choice after all.”

  “Logic does not always matter.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “Anyway, we have warriors,” Tarq said, returning to the report he had prepared. “A great host, worthy of renown. One of the greatest our people have ever mustered. If they are equipped and trained properly, they will be unstoppable.”

  “Then see it done,” Garnuk growled. “And find more troops while you’re at it.”

  “I cannot conjure warriors from thin air,” Tarq protested. “I am no summoner or sorcerer. Such powers do not exist among our people now, if they ever did. I never believed those stories when the elders told them. They rang false for me.”

  “Me too,” Garnuk agreed. “That sort of power would defy the will of the spirits, and their own power over our people. It makes no sense.”

  “But training and equipping our forces does,” Tarq said. “You wish for me to handle this as well, Garnuk?”

  “Yes. There is no one else who I trust as much. Or who is capable enough for the task.”

  “It may take time away from Shadow Squadron.”

  “Then delegate as much as you can, on both issues. I need you, Tarq. I need you to do these things.”

  “Would you like to help with training or spying?”

  Garnuk looked up from the report sharply. “I thought I just said those were to be your jobs?”

  “Yes,” Tarq agreed, “But I thought you might like to take a more involved role. Since you and I are the only people you trust.”

  “I’m busy,” Garnuk replied curtly. “Zanove takes a good deal of my time, and the business of being Ramshuk takes the rest. There are chiefs to appease and threaten, clan rivalries to deal with . . . uniting all vertaga is no easy task, and the distance between clans makes it even harder to communicate with some of them.” He scowled and pounded his fist on the surface of the stone table in front of him. “And then there are the Banuk, who dare defy their Ramshuk and instead sit in their secret city and watch, waiting for us to fail.”

  Tarq sighed wearily. “I thought we had moved past this issue,” he growled.

  “We have not!” Garnuk snapped, “Not until they obey my commands as they ought to.”

  “They are trying to protect their way of life,” Tarq murmured. “They have seen much sorrow over the years, and know the past better than any of the rest of us. If they wish to remain apart, then I believe we should let them do so.”

  “What is wrong with you?” Garnuk demanded. “The Sthan took everything from us, destroyed Dun Carryl, and you don’t think every resource available to us should be used in this war?”

  “I do, but the Banuk are not available to us,” the warrior repeated stubbornly. “They have made this clear.”

  “But they should be. I am Ramshuk.”

  “They have not answered to previous Ramshuks.”

  Garnuk hesitated. Tarq’s point was certainly true, but why hadn’t the Banuk answered to a Ramshuk? He mulled the problem over for a minute, then the answer came to him in a flash of clarity.

  “They have never answered to a Ramshuk, because they are isolated, far away, hidden. The effort to find them regularly and either convince them to join or force them to fight would have been too great for our previous leaders.”

  “And for us,” Tarq agreed, “Even though we know roughly where they are.”

  Garnuk shook his head. “I wasn’t finished. I am not constrained as previous Ramshuks were. What took them weeks of marching would take me but a few hours.”

/>   Tarq’s expression hardened. “You would take a dragon to their doorstep and threaten them?”

  “I am considering it,” Garnuk replied. Then, he shook his head. “No, I am more than considering it, I am doing it. It’s time those Banuk remembered they are not the rulers of the mountains. They answer to the Ramshuk, chosen by all our race, and must obey his commands. They have been allowed to forget that for too long.”

  “Riding a dragon into their home will not win you friends among the Banuk,” Tarq warned.

  “But it will send a message,” Garnuk growled, “It will send a message that I will not tolerate them the way other Ramshuks have. They will serve me.”

  “You will alienate them for good,” Tarq warned. “Besides, they sheltered us and Shadow Squadron last year, though they owed us nothing. Do we not owe them a favor in return?”

  “Whose side are you on?” Garnuk demanded. “Who are you really loyal to, Tarq?”

  “You, obviously,” Tarq snapped. “Otherwise, I could have destroyed your legacy in a day, with the amount of trust you put in me and the amount of power you’ve given me!”

  “Then why take the side of the Banuk in this?”

  “Because it is the right side to take! They brought us into their home last year, gave us resources to spy on the world and change the course of the war. And in return? We brought them a civil war which ripped their society apart and left many of their friends and families broken. They have suffered enough.”

  “They will suffer more if they do not join us,” Garnuk replied, standing. “We will discuss your loyalty more when I return, Tarq. Your adamance on this issue is . . . disturbing.”

  “You always said you appreciated followers who would speak up and question you.”

  “And I do,” Garnuk agreed. “But I also appreciate when they respect my opinions and decisions. You have not.”

  “As a follower, I have disagreed respectfully,” Tarq explained. “As your friend, I have persisted. Because I think you are making a mistake, and it would be best for all of us if we took a different course.”

  “A mistake?” the Ramshuk growled. “You think I am making a mistake with the Banuk.”

  “Yes,” Tarq shot back, “A terrible mistake. What if you fly down there with your dragon and it causes them to turn against us? What if they decide to wipe us out rather than open the mountains to invasion by the Sthan once again?”

  “They could not, our numbers are superior.”

  “We both know numbers aren’t everything. The Banuk are cunning, and they have the finest warriors among our race. And their rams are not weary of heart and soul from a previous lost war.”

  “Except their civil war.”

  Tarq shrugged uncertainly. “There is that. But they seem to have reunited fairly well. The elders who were causing trouble were all destroyed by the Black Hawks.”

  “The Ancient one still lives, right?” Garnuk asked.

  “Yes, as far as I know. Intelligence about the Banuk has been impossible to obtain since Koah came here.”

  “I know,” Garnuk grunted. “You’ve lost what, three rams?”

  “Five now.”

  “Well, we won’t be losing any more,” Garnuk promised, standing. “I’m going to meet with Carh and Koah.”

  “That would not be wise.”

  Garnuk stopped at the door and looked back at Tarq. “As I said, we will discuss your loyalty further when I return, captain.”

  He left Tarq sitting there alone with the reports and strode quickly through Dun Carryl’s halls. He stopped only once, to retrieve his armor from his room. The armor he wore when riding Zanove was heavy and awkward sometimes, but it would protect him from any overzealous Banuk Sentinels, and that was what he needed right now.

  When he had managed to arrange all the pieces of his armor correctly, Garnuk picked up the helm and tucked it under one arm. The oversized sword he slung across his back, but he kept his regular sword at his hip as well. Thus armed, he went to Zanove’s chamber, close to the shattered western side of Dun Carryl.

  The silver dragon was waiting for him, standing close by the door expectantly. Another mission? he asked excitedly.

  Garnuk stopped, confused. How did you know I was coming, Zanove?

  I can sense you from further away now. Our bond is strengthening.

  I see. And can you sense my thoughts from further away as well?

  Usually, yes.

  Then you know where we are going?

  No. I have only been able to sense you since you stopped for your false scales.

  They are called armor, Zanove.

  Armor then. They look like false scales to me.

  Garnuk sighed. The dragon could be extraordinarily simple sometimes, and he didn’t have the patience to deal with that aspect of Zanove’s character right now. Not on top of Tarq’s stubborn insistence on leaving the Banuk alone.

  A thought occurred to Garnuk and he glanced at Zanove again. You said you can sense my thoughts from further away. Can you sense the thoughts of others as well?

  I have not tried.

  Then try sometime, Garnuk replied. Let me know what you find out. If you could read the thoughts of an opponent, for example, it would be a huge advantage.

  I would know their every move, Zanove agreed. They would become easy prey.

  Would they be able to hear you as well?

  I do not know.

  The Ramshuk frowned thoughtfully, then picked up Zanove’s saddle and started strapping it to the silver dragon’s back. We need to test this, but we will need to be careful how we do it. I will think more on this and let you know what I decide.

  That is good. But the saddle itches.

  You will have to deal with it.

  I know. But it does not mean I can’t complain about it every now and then. Where are we going, anyway?

  Garnuk cinched a strap around one of Zanove’s spines, then moved on to the next one. We are going to the Banuk tribe. They have been resisting my commands.

  We go to destroy them?

  No, Garnuk replied immediately, shaking his head. No, we go to persuade them or coerce them into following us. I would rather not kill them. But if they continue to resist, they may need to be made an example of. For the good of our people.

  But right now they are not enemies?

  Not yet.

  This is complicated, Zanove observed.

  It is, Garnuk agreed. They may try to attack us, Zanove. If they do, do not kill any, and avoid injuring them if possible. I will be doing the same.

  Do you know how hard it is to not kill? Zanove demanded. Your kind are fragile and easily breakable.

  Garnuk scowled. He had never heard vertaga described as fragile before, but he could understand why the silver dragon perceived them that way. If he had power like Zanove’s, he would likely see the rest of the world’s inhabitants as fragile as well.

  Not as easily broken as some, he said finally, his tone carefully neutral. But not as strong as you.

  I understand. Why does this tribe not cooperate? They are your kin aren’t they?

  They are, Garnuk agreed, securing the last strap on the saddle. But they are a little different because of their history. It is too complicated for me to explain right now. For now, we must go to them and see if they will agree to talk.

  Good. Flying is fun.

  Zanove waited patiently while Garnuk climbed into the saddle and settled himself. Then, the silver dragon walked out of the room and towards the gap in the side of the mountain. There was no hesitation at the edge of the cliff this time. Instead, Zanove took a leaping bound and shot into the air, wings flapping strongly. They climbed into the wintry sky rapidly, the temperature falling drastically and causing their breath to steam around them.

  Which way? Zanove asked as he glided.

  South and west, Garnuk replied. A little to your left.

  What is this south and west? I know south, and I know west, but they are different.

 
The Ramshuk sighed, then quickly explained that in addition to the four main directions, there were paths that could be taken between those directions. He thought Zanove understood, but could not be certain. At the very least, they were able to correct their course and proceed on the proper path to the Banuk.

  Garnuk donned his helm to free up his hands, then pulled a map from one of the pouches on the saddle. This was a map he had made himself, one which included what he thought was the precise location of the Banuk valley. As far as he knew, it was the only map of its kind. Even the one Tarq worked with did not show the hidden city on it.

  They flew for hours, gliding over and around mountains, passing valleys and cliffs. The world below was blanketed in snow, interrupted here and there by imposing gray stretches of rock and paler, translucent regions of frozen water. There were no signs of life Garnuk could see, no herds or other game. The mountains were always like this in the winter, their populations nearly dormant.

  As they flew, Garnuk kept track of landmarks, marveling at the speed Zanove was traveling at. The flight to the Basin and back had been impressive, but this was something else entirely. The mountains took days and sometimes weeks to navigate on foot, with all of the ups and downs and weaving between peaks. But on dragon back, the journey was reduced to a comfortable flight.

  It had only been five hours since they had left Dun Carryl when Garnuk sighted a strange disruption in the landscape ahead. The mountains looked correct, but the space between them seemed ever so slightly mismatched. It did not cast the proper shadows, and the snow seemed to have piled high where it should still have been falling.

  We are here, Garnuk announced, identifying the shape of Banta Kodu’s massive, domed ceiling. Now we just have to find the entrance.

  They live under that shell?

  Yes.

  Did they build it?

  A long time ago.

  You could fit many dragons in there, Zanove observed, but it does not look so big as our home.

  It is a different sort of city, Garnuk told the dragon. Even though they are under that shell, they live above ground mostly.