The Captive

by Paul Lauritsen

  “Got it,” Hern promised.

  “Good,” Relam said. “Satisfied, Oreius?”

  “For now.”

  The old warrior shut the door and bolted it, muttering about the draft they had let in as he led the group towards the front room, where a large fire was burning in the fireplace. Wil went there immediately and began warming his hands. Relam and the others sank into the chairs ranged around the room, all except for Galen, who remained standing with a hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “So,” Oreius said quietly, “You tried to ambush a dragon.”

  “Yes,” Relam said, shaking his head. “Obviously, it didn’t go quite as planned.”

  “Hmph. Why did you try it?”

  Relam shrugged. “You’ve heard what happened to Ishkabur?”

  “No.”

  The young king blinked. “No?”

  “No,” Oreius repeated. “Narin and I have been focused on . . . ” He glanced at Sermas and Hern. “Other projects.”

  “Oh,” Relam said, surprised. “Well, I guess I’d better fill you in then. Ishkabur is gone.”

  “Gone?” Oreius demanded. “What do you mean, gone?”

  So Relam explained about the silver dragon and Delan’s report on the attacks in the South, describing everything he knew about events and all of the suspicions they had come up with around the Keepers and the dragons. The guards tuned Relam out for the most part, looking around the room and listening with half an ear. Wil was the most distracted, amusing himself by lighting small sticks on fire and watching the flame crawl along their surface. Oreius listened keenly though, taking in every detail as Relam walked him through the regents’ decision to lure the Keepers into a trap, the preparations leading up to the previous day’s confrontation, and what he and Khollo had discussed before the attack.

  “Well,” Oreius murmured when Relam had finished. “That is a lot to absorb. So the Keepers may or may not have betrayed us and there is a dragon burning the South?”

  “That about sums it up,” Relam agreed.

  “Interesting. And I thought this other business was enough trouble to be dealing with. I wonder – ”

  The old warrior was interrupted by a knock at the front door. Both of Oreius’ bushy eyebrows shot up as he glanced at Relam. “Were you expecting anyone?”

  “No,” Relam replied quietly, sliding his sword halfway out of its sheath. “And everyone we know uses the back door usually, right?”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Oreius agreed. “Galen, peek around the corner and see if you can tell who it is.”

  The guard leaned out of the front room slightly. “I can’t see much,” he complained, “But looks like one person. Shall I go see who it is?”

  “I’ll do it,” Oreius grunted. “Wait here, Relam.”

  Relam’s other guards got to their feet, weapons ready. Sermas and Hern watched warily, uncertain what their role was. Oreius went to the door and opened it swiftly, thrusting his grizzled head out.

  “What do you want, boy?”

  “Is Relam here?” Cevet’s voice replied anxiously.

  “Is this his house?”

  Relam stifled a laugh, jamming his hand up against his mouth. His guards were struggling to keep straight faces as well, and the tension seemed to drain right out of the room.

  “Erm, well, no, I guess it’s not,” Cevet admitted, apparently flummoxed. “But he wasn’t at the palace, so I thought he might be here. And Narin too.”

  “Relam’s here,” Oreius told him finally, letting the regent in, “But I’m starting to wonder if anyone other than Relam comes to my house looking for me.”

  “Narin does,” Relam assured the sword master.

  “No, Narin comes looking for good food, not for me,” Oreius snorted. Cevet followed the warrior into the living room, grinning at Relam.

  “Thought you’d be here. Getting advice on what to do now?”

  “Trying to,” Relam agreed. “Kind of hard when we keep getting interrupted though.”

  Cevet shrugged. “Sorry. Anyway, I had an idea I wanted to follow up on with you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well,” Cevet began, “Yesterday, Khollo seemed pretty blindsided by the emergence of another dragon.”

  “He could have been acting,” Relam pointed out.

  “Yes, but he could have been sincere too. And if he was, there’s another player out there with control over a dragon. And we need to find out who that is.”

  “And you have a plan for that?” Oreius asked.

  “Maybe. What other groups do we know of that are at large right now? Besides us and the Keepers?”

  “The Masks,” Wil replied immediately. “Mysterious and slippery buggers they are. All this uncertainty and threats that aren’t really threats. Strange group all around.”

  “Strange, but powerful,” Cevet countered. “I’m thinking we need to start looking into them more. Not their activity in Etares, but their movements beyond the walls of the city, find out if they could be responsible.”

  “And how do you propose to do that without ending up murdered in an alley somewhere?” Relam growled. “We’ve had this discussion before, Cevet!”

  “No, we had a different discussion before,” the young regent replied patiently. “Last time you forbade me from investigating them in the city and running the streets at night. This time I’m asking permission to interview Hadere – who knew my father better than anyone – and find out if my father had any significant contacts outside of Etares who might have something to do with this.”

  “Worth a shot,” Oreius grunted. “But still risky. Besides, wouldn’t Ryker have been more interested in contacts in the city? People who could help him continue to gain more power in the Assembly or more influence among the other noble houses?”

  “Influence comes in many forms,” Cevet replied. “Such as wealth, which can be accumulated through trade, which is not limited just to Etares by nature.”

  “And we know your father and D’Arnlo made some, ah, investments outside Etares before,” Relam agreed.

  “The bandit camp,” Oreius remembered.

  “Yes,” Cevet said. “So, how about it? Can I talk to Hadere, or is that too risky?”

  “Talk to him if you must,” Relam agreed wearily. “But don’t act on anything you learn or do anything foolish until I’ve had a chance to stop you, no matter what.”

  “You have my word,” Cevet promised. “Of course, it’s more than likely I won’t learn anything. Assuming I don’t, what’s our next move?”

  “That’s what we were working on when you got here,” Oreius replied drily. “Relam had just finished updating me on everything that had been happening up at the palace.”

  “Oh,” Cevet said, nodding. “Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to it then. Narin’s not here, is he Oreius?”

  “No, he spends the mornings at the Citadel usually,” Oreius replied. “Normally, these are the only hours of solitude I get anymore.” He glared around the packed sitting room with mock severity, setting off a round of low chuckles from the others.

  Cevet retreated towards the front door, wrapping his cloak tighter about him. “Well, if you do think of something, let me know.”

  Relam nodded. “And you let us know if Hadere tells you anything useful.”

  “Of course,” Cevet said, letting himself out. The door had scarcely closed behind him before Galen had bolted it shut again, securing the premises.

  “So,” Oreius growled thoughtfully, “A rogue dragon, and Keepers we might not be able to trust. Where to start?”

  “What do we do now?” Relam asked. “We tried ambushing the dragon, and four more showed up and part of the city got destroyed. Now we have no idea where they are, no way to lure them back to Etares, and they’re on their guard.”

  “What was it Khollo said to you?” Oreius asked. “As he was being rescued?”

  Relam frowned. “He stopped the dragon he was riding and yelled back at us. Some
thing about going south to investigate the silver dragon himself.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  Relam shrugged. “Maybe. If he really was innocent, that’s what I would expect him to do. But if he isn’t – ”

  “Then he would simply regroup somewhere and plan his next attack,” Oreius concluded. “Rather similar to what we’re doing when you think about it.”

  “Except we’re the victims, trying to protect ourselves,” Relam pointed out grimly.

  “Yes. What are your plans for dealing with the silver dragon? The one that razed Ishkabur?”

  ‘What do you mean?”

  “Well, have you mustered your armies, started the march south, developed anti-dragon strategies, anything like that?”

  “No,” Relam replied. “We pretty much focused on luring and trapping the Keepers. Cutting off the head of the snake as it were.”

  “And if that head was not attached to the snake?”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “Humor me.”

  “Then we’ve made no progress,” Relam replied, shrugging. “So you’re saying we need to go after the silver dragon directly?”

  “If I was looking for answers, that’s where I would start,” Oreius agreed. “With the beast that actually carried out the attacks and destroyed the villages and Ishkabur.”

  “Makes sense,” Relam muttered. “But it will be hard to track down. And we can’t leave the north abandoned, the dragon could easily bypass us in flight and attack anywhere in the world while we’re tromping around on foot or riding back and forth.”

  “Good,” the old warrior nodded approvingly. “So, what do you do?”

  “Muster what troops we have, leaving garrisons comprised mainly of archers,” Relam murmured, glancing at his guards. “Those seemed to be most effective against the dragon.”

  “It certainly didn’t like being peppered with arrows,” Galen agreed.

  “There’s another angle we haven’t considered,” Wil observed. “That green dragon – what’s his name?”

  “Kanin,” Relam replied absently, still thinking about how much of the army to send south.

  “Kanin. He may be too wounded to do much more than heal right now. I mean, our men put dozens of arrows into him and he had to be carried off by the other dragons, right?”

  “Even if Kanin is wounded, he is still dangerous. He’s a dragon,” Relam grunted. “And besides him, there are four other healthy dragons. All of you have injuries from what the purple one did in the audience hall.”

  “That was an impressive and cunning move,” Eric admitted. “It was there and gone in a flash, before any of us could react. One minute Khollo was in reach of our blades – ”

  “The next, poof! All the way up in the ceiling!” Wil rolled his eyes. “With a dragon, no less.”

  “It was frustrating to say the least,” Relam agreed. “After we had them cornered.”

  “Another minute and it would have been over,” Galen murmured. “And we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

  “Right,” Wil agreed. “We’d be dead, because those other four would have torched the whole city once they saw we had killed their friends.”

  “Now see, that’s the sort of thinking that’s not helpful,” Eric growled, shaking a finger at Wil.

  “What? I was only making a valid point.”

  “Valid it may be,” Oreius interrupted, “But you need to focus on the future rather than the past. So, what are you going to do about the silver dragon? I still haven’t heard anything definitive or even remotely tentative on that front.”

  The others fell silent, thinking. Relam raked a hand through his hair and sighed, knowing there was only one answer.

  “We go after it,” he said wearily. “We seek it out. We leave enough soldiers to protect our people, but any who can be spared march and ride with all speed.”

  “Where to?”

  “The West Bank,” Relam replied immediately. “It’s a suitable mustering point, close to the villages and Ishkabur, if it comes to that. I’ll devise a battle plan against the dragon when we’re on the way, there should be plenty of time.”

  Oreius nodded. “That sounds like the start of a plan. Will you take your regents with you?”

  “No,” Relam said, shaking his head. “They are of more use here, keeping the kingdom afloat, receiving messages from all over the world and sending the most useful ones to me. They might not like being left out of a fight,” he added.

  “They most certainly won’t,” Wil interjected.

  “But this is the best path ahead of us,” Relam finished, giving the guardsman a sharp look.

  “And what do the Masks do in the meantime?” Galen asked. “Take over the kingdom?”

  “Another good reason for the others to stay behind,” Eric observed. “They can deter the Masks from attacking or doing anything to brash. Besides, they’re after Relam and he’ll be far away in the South.”

  “Good,” Oreius grunted. “Now, there’s one thing I seem to be missing here, or maybe I’ve just forgotten, but most of your argument for destroying the Keepers hinged on them supposedly controlling the dragons and not being able to account for one.”

  “Right,” Relam agreed.

  “So,” Oreius continued, scratching at his beard. “Clearly their source of dragons is on their island somewhere, since that is where they were taken by ship.”

  “Yes.”

  “So where did the first dragon come from? Kanin?”

  “You didn’t know?” Hern asked, speaking up for the first time.

  “If I had known, boy, I wouldn’t have asked,” Oreius growled.

  “Do you know?” Relam asked, looking between the two younger warriors.

  “Of course!” Sermas said, “We were there! We helped Khollo free the dragon!”

  “Free it?” Oreius demanded. “Free it from who?”

  “The vertaga of course,” Hern replied. “They had it chained up and caged and were torturing it, trying to get the poor creature to fight for them against the Sthan.”

  “So the first dragon was hatched by the vertaga,” Oreius noted. “Is it possible they had another they were holding in reserve?”

  “Maybe,” Sermas said, shrugging, “We didn’t get a chance to search the fortress, but there could have been another.”

  Something clicked in Relam’s mind, and he groaned aloud. “What fools we have been!” he moaned. “The pieces are starting to fit now. Why they would attack Ishkabur and the Renlor, the impossible strength of the rider, his size. The tactics are typical of vertaga, and so is the rider’s strength and size.”

  “Then they’ve been behind this all along?” Oreius asked. “Not the Council of Masks?”

  “Looks that way,” Relam agreed. “It makes more sense than Khollo betraying us anyway.” He shook his head in disbelief. “They tricked us,” he murmured, stunned. “They tricked us into nearly murdering our own friends and allies.”

  “It was a devious and cunning plot, if indeed the vertaga are the plotters,” Oreius agreed. “But now, we have a clearer path ahead of us.”

  “Yes,” Relam agreed. “We march south, with what soldiers we have. The only problem is, we may be facing an army too.”

  “Wait a moment,” Wil said, cocking his head. “What did that message the Masks sent say? Something about a grander plan being in motion, that Relam would die in a way where nobody would suspect the Masks of treachery?”

  “Something of that ilk,” Galen agreed.

  “Well, strikes me that a war or a silver dragon would be the perfect way to do that.”

  Everyone in the room stiffened, considering Wil’s observation. At first, Relam’s insides seemed to shrivel, then a thought occurred to him that made him laugh out loud.

  “What?” Galen snapped. “Your majesty, I hardly think the risk of your death is amusing.”

  “It’s not,” Relam assured him, “And, yet, it is. Think for a moment, all of you. If th
is was the Masks’ grand plan, hatched months ago, then they were counting on one critical factor.”

  “What’s that?”

  “One dragon and rider,” Relam replied. “Whereas in reality . . . there are five.”

  Oreius chuckled as well. “Five dragons, plus your army, even depleted by leaving warriors behind . . . those are reasonably good odds, all things considered.”

  “Just one problem,” Sermas pointed out, “You may have alienated the Keepers when you attacked them.”

  Relam’s grin faded as Sermas’ words sank in. “You mean we may be looking at a three-way war?”

  “Maybe. And I don’t like our odds against either of the other two forces we could be facing.”

  “We have to make contact with the Keepers then,” Relam decided. “We have to make things right.”

  “Will they believe us?” Galen wondered. “Will we even be able to get close enough to talk to them without being burnt to a crisp by one of their beasts?”

  “That will depend on Khollo,” Relam said quietly. He glanced at Sermas and Hern. “What do you think? The two of you know him better than any of us.”

  “He is honorable,” Sermas said slowly, “But if Kanin is dead or severely wounded, you’ll be walking into a dangerous situation. He doesn’t take kindly to the people he cares about being attacked or hurt. He’s a little like you in that regard.”

  “So it’s risky?” Oreius asked, glancing at Hern for confirmation.

  “At best,” Hern agreed.

  “It’s a risk we have to take,” Relam murmured.

  Every eye in Oreius’ sitting room turned towards him.

  “We broke the pact between the Sthan and the Keepers,” Relam explained. “We have to be the ones to try and mend it. That’s the only way Khollo will return to us.”

  “And if he still doesn’t?” Galen asked grimly.

  Relam shrugged helplessly. “Well, it won’t be pretty. Five dragons against our armies . . . it would be a slaughter.”

  “But if we don’t try, we’re risking that sort of war anyway,” Oreius murmured. “Setting things right is your best option. Not a good one, mind, but your best one.”

  Relam nodded, then took a deep breath and stood. “Galen, we’re going back to the palace. Send every available soldier to the West Bank with all speed. Don’t bother mustering here or in Ardia and trying to march all together. This will be faster.”