Page 58 of Captive
On the life of a child who still held a wooden doll, waiting in the improvement chambers for a fate she didn't deserve.
The waiting had begun.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Pre-dawn darkness cloaked the village as Boarstaff finished securing his weapons. Around him, warriors prepared in disciplined silence, checking blade edges, tightening armor straps, applying forest magic to mask their scents. Their faces showed determination mixed with unease. This mission went beyond their usual border defense, deep into vampire territory to extract a child from the improvement chambers.
Thornmaker approached, his scarred face grim in the faint starlight. "Final preparations are complete. The warriors know their positions."
"Good." Boarstaff nodded, testing his spear's balance. "The timing must be perfect. We reach the citadel's eastern entrance during the midday guard rotation, exactly as Sebastian described."
"You realize we're risking everything on his word," Thornmaker said, though it wasn't quite a question.
"I know the risk." Boarstaff met his old friend's gaze. "But I've seen his transformation. What he's becoming."
"What he's becoming is still a mystery," came Oakspear's voice as he emerged from the shadows. He wore full battle gear, his namesake spear slung across his back. "And I'm coming with you."
Boarstaff's breath caught. "You weren't assigned to this mission."
"No, I wasn't." Oakspear stepped closer. "I volunteered." His gaze held Boarstaff's with unmistakable intensity. "Someone needs to watch your back when you're making decisions based on personal investment."
The accusation hung between them, years of shared history giving weight to words that might have seemed presumptuous from anyone else.
"You think this is a mistake," Boarstaff said quietly.
"I think trusting a vampire noble is a mistake," Oakspear corrected. "But I trust you." He reached out, adjusted the leather strap across Boarstaff's chest that had worked loose during preparation, the same strap that always came undone before battle. "Even when you're making choices that scare me."
The familiar ritual sent warmth through Boarstaff's chest. Three summers of understanding, of comfort after battles, of nights that had meant more than either had said aloud. Now wasn't the time for that conversation, but the weight of it pressed between them anyway.
Before Boarstaff could respond, Thornmaker returned. "We move in ten minutes."
Boarstaff turned to address the gathered warriors. "Remember, this isn't just about weakening the vampires. We're saving a child from their transformation chambers."
The warriors nodded, touching protective talismans, whispering prayers. All understood the danger awaiting them.
Oakspear moved close enough that only Boarstaff could hear. "When we get back, we finish this conversation. All of it." His voice carried both threat and plea. "What we shared these past three summers doesn't just disappear."
Boarstaff nodded once, accepting the inevitable confrontation. If they both survived.
"Final positions," Thornmaker announced.
The distant horns sounded their departure. The twelve warriors split into smaller groups, melting into the forest like shadows returning to darkness. They moved swiftly through familiar territory in the growing light of dawn, using paths known only to their people.
The sun climbed steadily as they traveled. By the time they reached the border of vampire lands hours later, morning was well established. The forest changed as they crossed into enemy territory, trees grew more sparsely, bearing strange marks where mechanical scouts had passed. Natural magic thinned, replaced by something colder.
"Outer defensive ring ahead," Boarstaff whispered. "From here, silence."
They slowed, moving with greater caution. Oakspear took point, his tracking skills unmatched. At a narrow stream crossing, he held uphis hand, halt signal. He knelt, examining faint impressions in the mud. When Boarstaff crouched beside him, Oakspear pointed at barely visible tracks. Mechanical scout, recent passage.
Oakspear's expression hardened. The scout's path indicated a patrol Sebastian hadn't mentioned. But instead of voicing doubt, he simply pointed toward denser forest, offering an alternative route.
As they navigated the detour, Boarstaff found himself grateful for Oakspear's thoroughness, even with intelligence he didn't fully trust.
The forest continued changing as morning shifted toward midday. Strange metallic growths appeared on trees, monitoring devices. The warriors carefully avoided them, using paths Sebastian had described where blind spots existed.
Just as Sebastian had promised, a gap appeared in the defensive line. Boarstaff signaled forward, counting heartbeats as they slipped through.
Deep into vampire territory, with the sun approaching its zenith above the canopy, Oakspear raised his fist, immediate halt. Through the trees ahead, vampire scouts patrolled in formation, their path crossing directly with the rescue party's planned route.
