Page 33 of Captive
The council stayed silent, recognizing a rare personal admission from their warchief.
"I have carried that failure. Used it to push myself to study their ways. Now we have a prisoner who might give us the knowledge we need. To save at least one child from that fate."
"And what does this prisoner become if he does share such information?" Moonsinger asked. "If he betrays his father's defenses? You have performed the ancient binding ritual on him, a ritual our ancestors approached with great caution."
"He becomes a bridge," Boarstaff said finally. "Between their world and ours. Between what they have made themselves and what they could have been. Between endless hatred and... something else."
The council's silence was not agreement or rejection, just thoughtful consideration. Each member weighed different aspects: strategic advantage, moral implications, risks to everything they believed about vampire nature.
"And if you are wrong?" The question came from Skywatcher, the elder whose family had suffered most from vampire raids. "If the bridge collapses with our warriors halfway across?"
"Then I carry that responsibility," Boarstaff replied. "Like I carry every decision that puts our people at risk."
By midday, they reached a compromise. Boarstaff would question the prisoner about the hunting patterns currently threatening their borders. If Sebastian provided information they could verify, the council would consider further action.
"Be careful, Warchief," Moonsinger cautioned. "The ancient texts warn of their power."
A strange clarity settled over Boarstaff as the meeting ended. Thepools' magic had worked after all, washing away distractions until only truth remained. He had chosen to believe in Sebastian's transformation, in possibilities beyond eternal hatred. Now he would test that belief against vampire cunning and centuries of well-earned suspicion.
But first, he had warriors to prepare. Defenses to arrange. A people to protect no matter what transformation might reveal about vampire nature. Leadership before fascination, duty before discovery.
By nightfall, preparations were complete. Defensive positions had been strengthened against hunting parties probing their borders. Only then did Boarstaff descend to the sealed chamber, to the prisoner whose transformation had sparked possibilities neither of them had imagined when captor first met captive with something other than hatred.
Chapter Fifteen
Boarstaff stood outside the sacred chamber, steadying his breath before facing Sebastian again. The vampire looked more human with each passing day as brass components shed from his body, littering the floor around him. But the questioning ahead required focus Boarstaff wasn't sure he possessed after the council's heated debate.
"Warchief." Murkub approached from the spiral stairs. "Final preparations for questioning are complete. Thornmaker positioned warriors at all defense points in case questioning the vampire triggers more aggressive behavior."
"Good." Boarstaff nodded, grateful for his people's efficiency even when many disagreed with his decisions. "Begin rotating guards to eastern markers. I want fresh eyes watching those hunting parties."
Boarstaff was about to go in when the war drums pulsed from the eastern watchtower, three sharp beats followed by two long, then silence. Not the usual alert pattern.
"Eastern Ridge," Murkub whispered, his body tensing. "They've found our scouts."
Before the words fully registered, more drums answered from different directions, confirmation signals Boarstaff hoped never to hear. His people's careful false trails had failed. The vampire hunting parties had found true tracks.
"How?" Boarstaff growled, already moving toward the stairs. "Our scouts laid fresh trails northward. The blood trackers should have followed,"
"Unless they knew better." Murkub kept pace despite his age. "Unless they anticipated such deception."
The unspoken accusation hung between them, Sebastian. Information leaked somehow despite his isolation. Despite beingbound in the sacred chamber.
The Heart Tree's upper chambers buzzed with activity as they emerged from the lower levels. Runners darted between posts, carrying orders and updates. Thornmaker stood at the central table, already mapping defensive adjustments.
"Four scouts encountered at the eastern ridge," he reported without preamble. "Ambushed by hunting parties."
"Casualties?" Boarstaff asked, scanning the map for the location.
"Several injured are being brought back now. Silverflank took the worst of it, but the healer with the patrol says everyone should recover with proper treatment."
Boarstaff's heart clenched. Silverflank, one of their most experienced trackers. A warrior who had fought beside him in countless border skirmishes. A friend.
"I'll meet them at the healing house," he decided. "Redirect warriors from the northern watch to reinforce eastern defenses. And seal the evacuation tunnels, if they've found our scouts, they might know other paths."
As Boarstaff moved through the village toward the healing house, warriors rushed past in full battle gear. Families secured homes against possible attack. The unspoken fear in everyone's eyes reflected his own concern, the vampires were pushing deeper than ever before. Hunting with purpose beyond simple tracking.
The commotion at the eastern entrance signaled the wounded scouts' arrival. Four warriors carried a makeshift stretcher, Silverflank's massive form upon it alarmingly still. Blood darkened the rawhide bindings around his torso.
