Page 44 of Captive
The other young warriors stilled, waiting for his answer. No point denying what the entire settlement whispered about. "He is bound by magics older than the Heart Tree itself."
"So, the elders are wrong about their kind?" Kothir spoke up, he had his father's build but none of his natural grace... yet. "About them only understanding force?"
"We test what we think we know," Boarstaff kept his voice steady, though his mind turned to brass coming alive at his touch. To the feel of Sebastian's skin, hot with transformation, the way his eyes had changed as the mechanical components fell away. "Focus on yourdefenses now, Kothir. Your left side stays open, a mistake you can't afford in battle."
But Renna wasn't finished. "My mother says all vampires are the same. That they only want to hurt us."
Boarstaff paused, recognizing the moment for what it was. These children would grow up fighting the same battles he had, facing the same enemies. What they believed about their opponents mattered.
"Your mother isn't wrong about most vampires," he said carefully, setting down his own practice spear. "They've given us every reason to fear them. But sometimes..." He thought of Sebastian's restraint during their recent feedings, the way he'd learned to control his hunger through his own will rather than artificial constraints. "Sometimes understanding your enemy means recognizing when they might be changing."
"But how can you tell?" Kothir asked, his young face serious. "How do you know if they're really different or just pretending?"
"You watch their choices," Boarstaff replied. "Not their words, but what they do when they think no one's looking. Whether they choose to help or harm when either would serve them equally well."
The children exchanged glances, clearly thinking hard about this new idea.
"Does that mean some vampires might not be evil?" Renna asked quietly.
"It means," Boarstaff said, "that people can change. Even our enemies. And if we're not willing to see that change when it happens, we might miss opportunities to end this war in ways other than more death."
The children fell quiet, considering his words with the seriousness only the young could bring to new ideas. After a moment, Boarstaff picked up his practice spear again.
"Now then," he said, returning to the familiar rhythm of instruction, "let's see those defensive stances again."
He moved through the training ring, offering corrections, sharing hard-earned knowledge. These young ones would face vampire scouts soon enough; he owed them every advantage his experience could provide. Some, like Renna, had natural talent. Others, like Kothir, would survive on careful training and disciplined forms. All deservedthe chance to grow into their strength naturally, not carved into something else's vision of perfection.
Thoughts of Sebastian followed him through the morning. The vampire's transformation continued to challenge everything he'd believed about their kind, and Boarstaff found himself wondering what other assumptions might prove wrong. He'd spent hours monitoring those changes, watching as the Heart Tree's magic worked deeper than anyone had expected.
Twice he caught himself pausing, his thoughts returning to the crystal chamber below. To unfinished conversations and possibilities neither of them were ready to face.
The morning council gathered as the sun climbed higher. Thornmaker arrived with fresh bandages visible on his forearm, reminders of the recent skirmish at the eastern ridge.
"Silverflank's wounds are healing," he reported grimly. "The others will recover, but they'll be unfit for patrol for at least a week."
"The attack was coordinated," Moonsinger added. "Not just random scouts, but a deliberate ambush. More organized than their usual approach."
For the first time in Boarstaff's time as warchief, the dwarven contingent arrived early. Ambassador Steelfist's intricate beard-braids caught the light, each pattern representing treaties and alliances forged in mountain halls.
"The passes through Mount Irondeep grow more dangerous." She spread detailed maps across the council table. These showed the complex tunnel networks connecting dwarven strongholds to orc territories. "Their scouts probe farther each season. Even our deepest ways aren't safe anymore."
"The desert traders report similar pressures," Moonsinger added. "The vampires push outward in all directions."
"Then we coordinate," Boarstaff studied the maps where red marks showed villages evacuated, blue marks settlements under immediate threat. "Your caravans mask our hunters' movements. Our border patrols guard your supply lines."
"Bold promises," Thornmaker cut in. "When the dwarves haven't committed warriors to the northern defense in three seasons. While we bleed holding those borders, they dig deeper into their mountains."
"Because we face our own battles," Steelfist's voice could have frozen steam. "Or do you think the vampires only attack from one direction?"
"Enough." Boarstaff's command silenced them both. "Ambassador, what support do you need for the eastern passes?"
The negotiations stretched through morning, detailed discussions of patrol schedules, supply lines, shared intelligence. The dwarves offered new weapons forged with mountain magic. The orcs promised forest medicines their allies couldn't cultivate underground. Every agreement required careful balance between peoples whose trust had been earned through generations of mutual survival.
Rockbreaker interrupted with news from the northern settlements, three villages requesting evacuation. "Two hundred and seventeen people. Mostly elderly and children."
Boarstaff traced the hidden paths on the map, ancient routes through deep forest that even vampire scouts couldn't penetrate. "The caves near Thunder Falls could shelter them. We'll need to coordinate with the border settlements, ensure the secret ways remain clear."
As midday approached, his thoughts strayed again to the sealed chambers beneath the Heart Tree. To Sebastian's transformation, to what he might be becoming as the ancient magic worked deeper. To conversations left unfinished as the council withdrew, leaving promises of change hanging in crystal-lit air.
