“Someone told me sea serpents live out there. Is that true?”
Chizel grunted. “Ye be talkin’ ‘bout krakens. Aye, true enough. We got one in the bay we can’t be rid of. So much for them darned gates.”
Reecah took her gaze from the sea and stared at the top of Chizel’s wavy, brown hair—the tangled mess touching his shoulders. “You mean the gates are built to keep the sea monsters out?”
Chizel looked up at her as if she were daft. “Ain’t to be keepin’ dragons out.”
His words left her feeling stupid. “Obviously. I assumed they were built to keep human invaders out.”
“Bah! Have to be crazier than a boneless skeleton to want anything to do with this place.” He spat over the low wall and started along the span. “Come on. Yer gonna catch yer death up here.” He looked back and winked. “There ain’t bein’ much to ye.”
Despite her uncertainty about Chizel’s true intentions, she smiled at his comment. She couldn’t decide whether he was a crude, nice person or a conniving swindler trying to lead her in the wrong direction. So far, he seemed decent enough, especially considering how they had first met, and yet, he had a way of throwing in the odd comment that left her on edge.
“The guard called you Master Chizel. What does, master, mean, exactly?”
“Exactly? I ain’t to be knowin’. Just a useless title that nobles like to bandy about, far as I’m concerned.” He held out an oversized hand. “Me name’s Aramyss Chizel. I’m in the employ of the Royal Family.”
Reecah accepted his meaty handshake, her eyes full of wonder. The implication of meeting Aramyss might be more fortuitous than she imagined. She never would have believed that bumping into a stranger in a foreign city and breaking his belongings would prove a positive experience. Yet, here she was, crossing into Sea Keep with someone who worked at the castle. A master, no less—whatever that meant.
“Speaking exactly like. Who exactly is GG? Ain’t to be yer real name, now is it, lass?” Aramyss winked.
Standing alone atop the Sea Gate Bridge, the powerfully built dwarf intimidated her into blurting out, “Reecah.”
Aramyss’ eyes narrowed. “That bein’ yer last name, then?”
Reecah swallowed, unable to break his intense stare. “My last name is Windwalker.”
Aramyss nodded as if that was something he already knew.
Wanting to change the subject, Reecah asked. “Do you think you can get me an audience with the king?”
The tension eased between them. “Bah!” Aramyss laughed. “I couldn’t get one meself. Less I displeased him, that is.”
“Why’s that?”
“Lowly blacksmiths don’t fraternize with the high-born. The only time I see His Grace is when he bangs up his armour. Even then, it’s usually one of his knights that pays me a visit.” Aramyss’ hand reached out to clasp hers as they walked.
Alarmed, she tried to pull free, but his grip held her tight.
He gave her a crooked-toothed smile. “Ain’t to be wantin’ a gust of wind to lift ye o’er the wall and feed ya to the harbour kraken.”
Reecah craned her neck. The sea crashed relentlessly against the gate. So that was the kraken the guard had been referring to. She was glad no one could see her cheeks redden.
She returned Aramyss’ grip—the wind off the ocean whipping the hems of her cloak all around. Getting over the initial shock, the dwarf’s meaty grasp was reassuring.
It took them a while to reach the far end of the walkway. Though she never once felt in danger of being blown off the bridge, she could imagine how dangerous it would have been had the winds been gusting.
“At least the descent will be easier on me legs.” Aramyss turned the lever of the tower door and pulled hard in the face of the wind. “Watch yer step. If ya miss one, it’ll be the last thing ye do.”
Reecah entered the poorly lit stairwell and contemplated the gaping abyss in the centre of the stone steps carved into the perimeter of the tower. The steps were wide enough for her boots but just barely. Placing a steadying hand against the roughly hewn stone of the curving wall, she thought absently that it wouldn’t have hurt to install an inside rail.
The wiry sailor from the Serpent’s Slip stepped out of the shadows and stared at the bulk of the River Gate Bridge dominating the skyline. The girl calling herself GG had followed a dwarf through the iron gates, but not before almost getting arrested by the River Gate guards.
There was definitely something peculiar about her. He would have to call in some favours from around Sea Hold, but perhaps a trip to Draakhall was in order. The Slip wouldn’t be pulling out for a couple of days, so he had time to make a few inquiries at the castle.
Bone Breaker
Draakhall loomed in the distance, its lofty spires shooting high above its crenelated walls—the massive fortress a dark stain against the night sky. The thin crescent moon shone faintly above a corner tower.
Aramyss waddled beside Reecah, pointing out different peculiarities of the capital city as they made their way along a street he referred to as King’s Stagger.
“So, where ye plannin’ on sleepin’ tonight, Miss Reecah?”
Walking through the foreign city late at night with all the leering faces watching her from the steps and windows of boisterous taverns lining the aptly named street, she almost wished Aramyss would take her hand again. “I don’t know. I’ve never been here before. Perhaps one of the taverns?”
As soon as she said it, she winced. Even if she had money, her brief stay at the Naughty Saucer had curbed any desire to frequent another such establishment. But this was the Great Kingdom’s capital. Surely the people here were better behaved than those in Thunderhead.
A squeal pierced the night, making her jump.
Stumbling off the bottom step of a building on the right side of the street, a man fell to his backside, holding his hands in the air to fend off an irate woman clad in a tight corset and knee-high riding boots. His attempt to protect himself came to naught as the toe of the woman’s boot caught him in the chin with an audible crack. The man fell limp to the cobblestone street amidst a round of laughter.
Aramyss watched the festivities—delight lifting his cheeks. Looking back at Reecah, he blushed. “Perhaps ye may wanna stay clear of the taverns at this hour. The King’s Wood would be a safer place ‘n that.”
Reecah grasped his callused hand.
The wild-eyed dwarf gave her a warm smile and patted the back of her hand. “Ye ain’t to be worryin’ long as I’m around.”
“Because you’re the king’s blacksmith?”
“Bah!” Aramyss growled. “Because I’ll drive me fist down the throat of anyone foolish enough to accost ye.”
“Chizel! There you are!” A man in the king’s livery of black, gold, and red hurried toward them from the direction of Draakhall. “The prince demands your attendance.”
“J’kye? What’s he need at this hour? Surely it can wait ‘til morn.”
The pasty-faced man looked stricken. He shook his head, wringing his hands together. “Nay, Master Chizel. It’s Prince J’kwaad, and I dare say, he’s in a nasty mood.”
The wizard prince! Reecah gaped at the skinny man. How had the prince made it back to the castle so fast? If he became aware of her presence, her quest to save the dragons would come to an abrupt end.
Aramyss took the news just as badly—panic creasing his face. “The dark heir? What’s he doing back so soon. I thought he was in Thunderhead attacking the Draakclaw Colony?”
The messenger fidgeted, clearly anxious to get back to the castle. “Well he’s back, and he’s madder than a wet cat.” With that said, the messenger strutted quickly past the men and women gathered in knots along the thoroughfare, never once turning his head to respond to their jeers.
Aramyss released Reecah’s hand. “Sorry, lass, I must be going. When J’kwaad beckons, a wise person makes haste. Good luck to ye.” He tapped her scabbard and started away, but paused to say over his
shoulder. “By the looks o’ ye, yer a born fighter. Yer best bet to see the king is to enlist with the royal guard. Take the road south of Draakhall to South Fort. It’s a good hike down the bay shore. Stop by its main gate when you get there. Tell the guards Aramyss Chizel sent you. I’ll dispatch a pigeon to let them know you’re on your way.” He winked and hurried after the messenger.
Reecah watched him go. With each step he took, her anxiety went up another notch. Scanning the street, the king’s messenger had not only robbed her of the solitary friendly face she had in Sea Keep, but had piqued the interest of those who didn’t appear to have her best interests at heart.
Ensuring her sword slid smoothly in its scabbard, she hustled after Aramyss and the messenger. If she could get away from King’s Stagger without incident, a place beneath a tree along the roadway south of Draakhall was as good a place as any to hole up for the night. She was a mountain girl. It would be just like living up by Dragonfang Pass. What harm could possibly come to her in the open wilderness?
Other than the cold, sleeping beneath the stars, off the well-travelled roadway south of Draakhall hadn’t been too bad, all things considered. The small campfire she had managed to throw together kept the worst of the chill at bay. She had skirted the bayside road, avoiding knots of patrolling guardsmen, before settling on a small stand of trees, their thick boughs providing ample protection from the wind.
She nibbled at a chunk of stale bread and a slab of cheese pilfered from Serpent’s Slip as she prepared for the next step in her journey. A tingle of excitement mixed with a pang of fear. If Aramyss kept his word, she might be given a chance to train with the king’s men. A logical way of gaining entrance to the high king’s castle. If nothing came of it, she would at least learn how to use her blades and quarterstaff properly. Though it wasted time, staying away from Draakhall wasn’t a bad idea. She wouldn’t be as vulnerable to detection from Prince J’kwaad. An occurrence she couldn’t allow until she stood in front of the high king. But, being found out by the dark heir was a chance she had to take. Her friend’s lives depended on it.
She lifted her chin high, pushing aside her underlying dread of ingratiating herself to the people bent on the dragons’ extinction—to the people born into service of the highest seat in the land.
Blowing on her hands to warm them, she left the copse of trees behind and continued down the roadway meandering the shore along King’s Bay.
It was late in the day by the time the walls of South Fort appeared in the distance. The sun sat on the western horizon, losing its grip on the land. Braving another chilly night beneath the stars, she was thankful the rain that had threatened for most of the day had held off.
Getting up before the sun, she strolled as casually as her hammering heart allowed toward the imposing stone walls—all the while envisioning Prince J’kwaad watching her approach from some hidden tower window. She chastised herself. What would the prince be doing down here, away from Draakhall?
A brisk breeze threw small waves against the shores of King’s Bay as she wended her way between leaning hovels and ramshackle buildings on the outskirts of the grey fort’s walls.
Leaving the town behind, a moat, wider than she could throw a stone, surrounded crenelated parapets; the yellow stone of the keep towering beyond the walls appeared daunting in the first rays of the new day—a cold and unwelcoming edifice that defied anyone to lay siege to its thick walls.
Large platforms capped many of the towers, bristling with ballistae. The same dragon slaying machines Reecah had heard about during the siege of Dragon Home. She swallowed her distaste for the brutal death slingers.
Trebuchets were built atop the remaining wall towers, but what they were designed for was a mystery. She wasn’t versed in siege warfare tactics, but she thought catapults were a weapon employed by those attacking a castle.
She shook her head. If Prince J’kwaad wasn’t stopped soon, there would be no need for the nasty fortifications. According to Lurker, the fall of Dragon Home left only two dragon colonies in the Great Kingdom. It wouldn’t be long before they, too, were gone.
She stepped off the path surrounding the moat to make way for a disciplined troop of soldiers bearing halberds and marching with tall shields strapped to their backs. She shivered. They reminded her of the dragon hunt back home. Though many eyes turned her way, the formation continued past without incident.
Rounding the front of South Fort, she approached twin guard huts at the end of a lowered drawbridge.
A pair of guards confronted her, swords in hand. “State your business.”
She hoped her dwarven friend had managed to get word to the fort. “Master Chizel is expecting me.”
The taller guard squinted. “Ah, yes. GG, I believe.” The man raised his eyebrows at his partner before returning his attention to her. “So, you’re the rat who’s to report to the Bone Breaker. Pity. I was hoping the dwarf had conscripted the Maiden of the Wood.”
Reecah didn’t know what to make of being referred to as a rat, but the name of the person she was to report to gave her pause. “The Bone Breaker?”
“You’ve never heard of him?”
Reecah shook her head.
A covert smile passed between the guards.
The taller man grinned. “Then you’re in for a real treat, Miss GG.” He gave her a mock bow. “I’m Sir Batkin. If you would be so kind as to follow me.”
Reecah followed the lanky guard across the drawbridge. They were met by several guards as they approached the raised barbican, but her escort set them at ease. “This is Miss GG. She has an appointment with the Anvil.”
The guards raised their eyebrows, but no one made a move to stop their progress into the tunnel leading through the base of the outer wall.
Reecah lagged behind, her interest captured by the wonder of entering an actual castle. The sheer size of the edifice had been intimidating from the far side of the moat, but walking beneath the stone bulwark was awe-inspiring. She craned her neck to take in the myriad of peculiar slits marring the length of the tunnel’s surface from knee height to above their heads—the gaps too small for windows. Realizing the guard had stopped to wait for her at the end of the passage, she picked up her pace.
The tunnel emptied into a spacious courtyard separating the outer wall from a higher, thinner wall surrounding the keep. A narrow moat lined the base of the inner rampart, its shoreline littered with cows, chickens, geese, pigs and all sorts animals—many drinking or bathing in its brackish waters. The heady smell of manure and damp earth filled the air.
Following the guard to the left, they skirted around a lengthy series of wooden stables lining the interior of the outer wall. Groomsmen and farriers went about their business, barely sparing Reecah or her escort a second glance.
“Who is this Anvil?” Reecah asked, her attention on the horses. There were more of the magnificent beasts corralled there than Fishmonger Bay had people.
“Don’t you worry, Miss GG, you’ll find out soon enough,” the guard said after several steps. He added through what appeared as a forced smile, “A word to the wise. Never turn your back.”
Reecah frowned. She wanted to know more but the guard stopped and pointed to a clearing between the end of the first bank of stables and the beginning of the next.
He turned his head one way and then another, as if looking for something. “Go on. He’ll be waiting for you.”
Reecah searched the large open space, not seeing anyone. “Are you not coming with me?”
“Hah. Hardly, Miss. I’ve done my debt.”
The guard turned and walked back the way they had come, leaving Reecah standing at the end of the stable, staring at an empty, dirt pitch.
“Ye just gonna stand there, lassie, or ye need me boot up yer arse?”
Reecah jumped sideways, searching for the source of the voice. She stumbled backward as a giant of a man rose from the eave of the stable and jumped to the ground, landing more gracefully than his bulk sugg
ested he could.
Reecah blinked at a bare-chested, bald-headed man. Though tough to see through a thick layer of black hair covering his bronzed skin, the man’s powerful body showed no sign of body fat.
He grinned from between a well-groomed goatee. “Me friends call me Anvis Chizel, the Bone Breaker. Ye will call me Anvil. Ya got that, rat?”
Reecah swallowed her discomfort. His voice sounded like slabs of rock grating together. Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded, doing her best to maintain eye contact with his intense, blue-eyed glare. His heavy brow, lined with thick eyebrows, did little to soften his appearance.
“I ain’t hearing ye!” Anvil roared.
“Yes sir,” Reecah squeaked.
Anvil slammed a huge fist against the thick corner post of the stable—the shelter rattling under the force. Startled workers jumped and stared.
“Sir? I ain’t no blatherin’ noble, you numbskull! Already ye’ve forgotten me first order!”
So afraid of what the crazed man might do, she shook her head, not knowing what to say to appease him.
“I said, yer to be calling me Anvil,” he growled, grating his clenched fist in his cupped hand. “I promise to be yer death if ye so much as forget anything else I tell ya, ye hear?”
Reecah dipped her head, her eyes widening as Anvil’s narrowed. Realizing he expected an answer, she blurted out. “Yes, Anvil!”
Towering over her, he held her gaze, as if daring her to break contact first.
How long they sized each other up, Reecah had no idea. She was vaguely aware of the stable hands watching them, but dared not avert her stare.
Anvil’s growl startled her, but his thick lips angled up in a crooked-tooth sneer. “If not for me brother, I’d not waste me time on a puny rat such as ye.” He turned toward the outer wall between the stables, to a thick tree stump and a bucket of water that sat in the early morning shadows.
Reecah’s attention was drawn to a colossal battle-axe lying on the ground beside the rusted metal bucket.
Legends of the Lurker Box Set Page 38
