Reecah's Flight

by Richard H. Stephens

“Ya? Well you’re nothing but a…” She searched for a term to express how vehemently she despised his attitude. Unable to think of a term that would cut as deeply as she felt, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “a cantankerous curmudgeon!”

  “Cantankerous curmudgeon?” Grimclaw thundered, his amber eyes narrowing to slits.

  Reecah swallowed, holding her sword before her as she slowly stepped backward. It probably wasn’t the best idea to argue with a mythical leviathan older than time remembered, and able to breathe fire.

  Grimclaw stepped after her, his footfalls shaking the ground.

  Reecah considered turning and running but she bumped against a peculiar, rough surface. Grimclaw’s spiked tail, thicker than she was tall, blocked her progress.

  Grimclaw’s head thrust toward her.

  She dropped her quarterstaff and held her sword in shaking hands, but he stopped out of reach.

  “You have your mother’s pluck, I’ll give you that. Marinah never suffered anyone she didn’t agree with. Perhaps there is hope for us after all.”

  Reecah’s sword tip wavered. “How do you know my mother?”

  Grimclaw blinked several times. “How old are you? You don’t appear old enough to be Marinah’s child.”

  Reecah lifted her chin in defiance. “Twenty-one.”

  His nod barely noticeable, Grimclaw said, “So you never really knew your mother, then, did you?”

  “How do you know that?”

  “She came to me not long after you were born, brimming with excitement. Boasting she had secured the Windwalker lineage. She insisted on championing our cause with the rulers of the land to put an end to the dragon hunt.”

  “My mother spoke with you?” Reecah asked with a squeak.

  “No one told you about Marinah and Davit? That explains a lot.”

  “They told me dragons killed them.”

  Grimclaw stiffened. Anger burned within his eyes. “That sounds like Lizzy talking!”

  Reecah wanted to lash out at his accusation, but her rebuttal caught in her throat. He was right. Grammy had always resented the dragons. Distant memories—convoluted conversations she had with Poppa—coalesced in the forefront of her mind. It was as if Poppa and Grammy had been on opposite ends of the dragon debate.

  Her recollections of the time when Poppa was alive were reduced to nothing more than a collage of happy emotions. Other than a few instances that remained rooted in the back of her mind, like the last day she had ever seen him, she couldn’t remember her Poppa clearly anymore.

  A tear dripped off her cheek. Looking up, she shook her head. “Nobody told me anything. I guess I was too young.”

  “Too young for the truth?” Grimclaw’s voice boomed. Flames crackled from his nostrils. He shook his massive head, his voice dropping to a compassionate whisper. “That is truly unfortunate. According to your mother, you were destined for great things. She and Davit were trying to lay the foundation for a new era when J’kaar intervened.”

  “The high king?”

  “J’kaar Dragonscourge is the bane of my kin. Because of his intervention two decades ago, your uncle and your parents were lost to us. The high king is responsible for their deaths.”

  Gaping, Reecah couldn’t believe what she heard. Why would the high king want to harm her family? Grimclaw’s hostile voice grated at her as she tried to come to terms with his revelation.

  “Do you see now why dragonkind cannot tolerate humans? We’re fighting for our very existence. Apparently J’kaar isn’t content with his lot in life.”

  Reecah stared hard at the angry dragon.

  “In the grand scheme of life, dragonkind sit atop the food chain. J’kaar, in all of his royal arrogance, aims to change that.” A deep bitterness crept into his voice. “By virtue of his attack this morning, he has declared war on us. Twenty-three dragons lost their lives today. Twice that number are injured and may not recover. The king’s men are crossing the valley floor to continue the fight. What do you have to say to that?”

  Reecah was speechless. What could she say? She hung her head. Too despondent to care anymore, she allowed her sword tip to fall to the ground.

  Her whole life had been a sham. Everyone had lied to her or bullied her into believing mankind’s storied association with the majestic creatures was one of antagonistic survival, not one of harmonious rapport.

  Torn between Grammy’s views and what she remembered of Poppa, she had wanted to become a member of the dragon hunt. If for no other reason than to avenge her parent’s death, and maybe someday, fit in with the rest of her people. If what Grimclaw said was true, the high king had killed her parents.

  She swallowed, unwilling to release the ingrained hatred and fear society had instilled in her. “How can I believe you? Of course you see things the way you do. You’re a dragon.”

  Trying to judge Grimclaw’s silence, she grew concerned she had upset him again.

  Raver cawed, breaking the ominous silence.

  Her thoughts drifted to the boulder in the forest and her abandoned gear. She could sure use a drink of water. And what of Scarletclaws? Had it tracked her to the temple? She craned her neck to peer beyond the tunnel gateway.

  Grimclaw’s voice made her jump.

  “You are in possession of something that should prove to you the folly of your high king.”

  She glared at him—his head lifting high, sniffing at something.

  Without looking at her, he said, “I thought it lost with your mother, but I’ve sensed its presence ever since you approached the Dragon Temple.”

  Reecah’s mouth dropped open hearing Grimclaw validate the ancestral tombs were indeed the Dragon Temple.

  “I’m the guardian of the ancestral tombs. The hallowed halls behind me can only be entered by a true Windwalker. The entrance guardian will crush anyone unworthy. You come seeking what many have died for, am I correct?”

  Reecah reeled, her gaze drawn to the dragon head entrance. How did Grimclaw know of her intention? She feared his reaction if he discovered she meant to steal what she sought. Grimelda’s raspy voice echoed in her mind, “Locate the Dragon’s Eye embedded in the Watcher and bring it back here.”

  The Watcher. Reecah gasped. Surely Grimelda hadn’t sent her to take out Grimclaw’s eye.

  “Am I correct?”

  She jumped. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

  “Show me the other eye!”

  “Other eye. What are you—?”

  Grimclaw struck so fast she didn’t know it until she lay flat on her back, staring at a chilling set of curved teeth—her sword discarded beside her. She fought to regain the breath knocked out of her as a result of him driving his closed mouth into her.

  “It’s in your clothing! I can sense it.”

  The pain eased as her lungs filled. Running her hands over her cloak in a panic, she grasped the leather-wrapped journal and pulled it free—the walnut-sized stone radiating a blinding white light. She almost flung the book away. The ruby stone had become a light blue crystal.

  Grimclaw withdrew, his voice filled with awe. “You are a Windwalker. By all that is good in the world, Dragon Home has been blessed.”

  Reecah got her elbows beneath her and watched in shock as the mammoth beast prostrated itself before her.

  “Reecah Windwalker. I pledge to you my life. May it be forfeited so you may live. Forgive my transgression for I truly believed your line had vanished from the world. From this day forth, you shall know the protection of the Draakclaw Clan. Through you, may we yet live on.”

  Dark Heir

  Jaxon’s blonde locks were visible ahead of the file of black-cloaked knights—the chinking of their black-plated armour echoing off the heights.

  Junior stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow. Chasing them for the better part of the afternoon, he had no idea how the knights maintained the grueling pace dressed as they were. Identical kite shields, strapped overtop baldrics bearing long-handled swords, e
xacerbated the weight they carried.

  Searching the skies, Junior feared they would be spotted by one of the many dragons patrolling the valley.

  He crouched behind a clump of pines on the edge of the drop-off. The greatest concentration of dragons was barely visible on the north rim, to the west. If his suspicions were correct, they guarded the main colony of Dragon Home. There were other dragon colonies throughout the realm, but according to his father, Dragon Home was only rivalled by the Draakvuur colony in the eastern wilds of the Great Kingdom.

  It didn’t make sense to Junior why Jaxon led the elite guard this deep into Dragonfang Pass. Surely, they knew they were well beyond their intended target. If High King J’kaar wished to make serious inroads on his campaign to rid the realm of dragons, Dragon Home was where they should concentrate their efforts.

  A cool breeze filtered through Junior’s thick hair providing him a welcome respite from the heat. He forced his gaze from the distant dragons to where he had last seen his brother’s group. They were gone!

  He expected them to sneak up behind him and scanned the immediate area. A troop of two dozen men couldn’t simply vanish. They either went to ground or had slipped into an unseen cave in the side of the mountain.

  Checking the steep hillside for movement, Junior stepped free of his concealment and light-footed through the trampled heather left in their wake. The path meandered along the brink of the escarpment to where Junior had last seen them, and disappeared.

  A clatter of metal on rock sounded from the direction of the drop-off. A path ran along the cliff face not far below the lip, sloping steeply out of sight back the way they had come. Jaxon had located a second way down the escarpment. One that wouldn’t leave them exposed to the dragons patrolling in the west.

  Taking a deep breath, Junior dropped to his rump and eased himself over the lip. His sword belt caught on the ground, threatening to pitch him outward. Dropping to the ledge in a crouch, he thanked the gods he hadn’t lost his balance entirely. It was a long way to the valley floor.

  Once on the trail, he caught sight of the line of knights over halfway down the steep incline. If he didn’t hurry, he feared he would lose them in the forest at the base of the drop-off.

  Although wide enough to descend comfortably, the loose scree coating the trail made it treacherous. At one point, Junior fell so hard he dislodged a large stone. It careened down the trail, skipped off a rock and careened over the edge—plummeting to the trees far below.

  He held his breath, expecting the elite guard to turn and see him. Being Jaxon’s brother didn’t mean anything, especially where his brother was concerned. Jaxon would rather see him fall off the ledge than help him. His father and uncle likely wouldn’t be put out either if he suffered that fate.

  The knights searched the area where the rock had fallen. Fortunately, they never cast their gaze up the slope.

  He lay on the path until the last man disappeared into the forest. Studying the expansive valley, he muttered, “What am I doing?” And started down the trail.

  There was no sense going back. Jonas would demand to know where he’d gone. If his father found out he was spying on his brother, Jonas might toss him off the cliff himself.

  He was greeted by warmer temperatures as he descended to the valley floor. He mused he must’ve lost weight by the time the trees provided him with a welcome reprieve from the afternoon sun.

  Although he couldn’t see Jaxon’s troop, the occasional voice or snap of a twig let him know he wasn’t far behind. Traversing the dark shadows of the thick woods, he didn’t envy spending the night alone down here. Despite his fear of being discovered by those he chased, he picked up his pace.

  Junior shivered as he donned the last of his clothing. The river had been refreshing, but dripping on the far bank in his wet shift left him riddled with gooseflesh. Overhead, the sky had darkened, threatening the valley with an oncoming storm.

  The cliff leading up to the north rim appeared in glimpses through breaks in the trees. He didn’t have to be a tracker to follow the knights’ path—their boots left ample impressions in the soft ground.

  Approaching the far side of the valley, he ignored the hunger gnawing at him. Unable to stop thinking about Reecah Draakvriend, he didn’t think the ache in his stomach was purely food deprivation. Thoughts of the hill witch angered him. Why was he so fixated on her? Why had he been for years? Ever since that day she came looking to join the dragon hunt.

  Thinking on it, that had been around the time his relationship with his father had begun to turn sour. It made no sense why Jonas resented Reecah. Sure, she had busted Jaxon in the nose a few times. In fact, he recalled being the recipient of her fists, himself. The pretty lass knew how to punch. Looking back now, he was ashamed of how he and the other kids had treated her. They had all deserved every bloody nose they received throughout the years.

  Reecah hadn’t been the only one to take exception to their rudeness, but for some reason, she had come to the attention of their father’s wrath. Junior assumed the hatred derived from his father’s previous dealings with Reecah’s family.

  He vaguely recalled Reecah’s parents, Marinah and Kruid, arguing profusely with Jonas on more than one occasion outside the village temple. Junior hadn’t been any older than five, but the confrontations stuck out as some of his earliest childhood memories. Other than a time years later when Viliyam Draakvriend threatened to disrupt the dragon hunt, Junior had never seen his father as upset. That disagreement had cost Viliyam his life.

  He swallowed, fearing Reecah’s reaction if she ever discovered the truth. The thought saddened him more than he believed it should have. Sighing, his lips turned up—a warm feeling pushing his melancholy away. The vision of Reecah at the water hole was ingrained in his mind. A most perfect vision he wouldn’t soon forget.

  Entranced in his thoughts of Reecah, Junior failed to see the two men standing behind the trees on opposite sides of the knights’ trail. Before he could raise his hands to defend himself, a gauntleted fist crushed his nose against his face.

  Incoherent voices filtered through Junior’s addled thoughts. Words slowly came together to make sense, strung together in disjointed sentences, but he couldn’t identify the speaker.

  “Leave the guardian to us. Once you get us to the temple, you’re free to do what you will. Do you seriously think she’s made it this far?”

  A familiar voice answered. “I find it hard to believe, but according to my brother, she befriended a dragonling and is searching for the same thing you are.”

  Pain struck Junior’s face, first on one cheek, and then the other—slapping his head violently back and forth. It took him a moment to realize why his upper-arms hurt so bad. Two of the elite guards held him upright—his legs dragging behind him.

  “Leave him,” a black-plated knight, his armour inlaid with golden piping, ordered. The man approached from the direction of a crackling fire, a smug-faced Jaxon at his side. Shrewd eyes on either side of an angular nose observed Junior from above a well-kept, black goatee.

  The painful grip released and Junior fell to his stomach. Blood dripped to the forest floor, running freely from his broken nose.

  “That’s your brother?” the newcomer asked.

  Jaxon hocked and spat, the spittle smacking the dirt near Junior’s head. “Ain’t no brother of mine. A waste of skin if you ask me, Prince J’kwaad.”

  The prince! Junior’s arms shook as he tried to lift himself off the ground to offer the prince his subservience.

  The dark heir to the throne lifted Junior’s head to one side with a sickening crack of his boot.

  Junior was unconscious before his body hit the ground.

  Dragon Temple

  Grimclaw’s amber eyes never blinked as the hill-sized dragon genuflected before the doorstep of the Dragon Temple.

  Reecah couldn’t stop her hands from shaking or her legs from trembling. A giddy wave of vertigo had her on the verge of swooning in the lengt
hening, twilight shadows.

  She wasn’t sure how long she stood rooted to the spot, staring in disbelief. Prostrated at her feet, Grimclaw remained silent, as if awaiting her command.

  The declaration of Dragon Home’s elder resounded in her mind as if she basked in an unbelievable dream. Her ragged emotions had run the gambit from the fear of being eaten by a beast many times her size, to having an ancient dragon swear allegiance to her. Her, of all people. A pitiful wretch despised by her people for the misfortune of her ancestry. She quaked at the revelation that she had earned the fealty of an entire dragon clan. Nothing in life had prepared her for this.

  Shadows lengthened into darkness as brooding clouds coalesced overhead. In a daze, Reecah took the time to gather her weapons and her senses. Daring to stroke the ancient wyrm’s snout, she smiled as Grimclaw closed his eyes in contented supplication. She moved around his great head, rubbing her knuckles raw on his rough skin.

  A high-pitched squeak of surprise escaped Reecah as Grimclaw jumped to his feet, fiercely sniffing at the air.

  His eyes narrowed. “Into the temple. Someone approaches from the valley.”

  Reecah blinked, scanning the darkened tunnel leading to the ivy wall.

  Grimclaw roared, “In the temple! Now!”

  Snapping out of her shock, she withdrew her sword.

  “What’re you waiting for? I have only just found you, Windwalker. I refuse to lose you like I did, Marinah.”

  She couldn’t imagine a safer place in all the world. Who in their right mind would be foolish enough to confront a magical beast as old as time?

  Despite her mounting fear that Grimclaw believed he wasn’t strong enough to protect her, she was consoled by his insistence on referring to her as a Windwalker. If her ancestors had been involved with the dragons in years gone by, she was okay with being considered a part of that history.

  Summoning what little courage she had left, she squared her shoulders, puffed her chest out and held her chin high. “We face them together.”