Legends of the Lurker Box Set

by Richard H. Stephens

  “Follow me,” Anvil muttered. “If ya survive the morning, ye’ll prove me wrong.”

  Flying Terror

  Pain was the least of Junior’s worries as he crunched across the commons of Fishmonger Bay. The Father Cloth’s wife had implored him not to leave—not even to get up, but Junior knew his father. If he didn’t demonstrate that he was stronger than a mere arrow to the back, Jonas might disown him for good.

  He feared it was too late already, but where else could a young man with no real skills go to earn a living? All he knew had been taught to him by his father. Fishing, sword play, and the dragon hunt. Perhaps he could travel to Thunderhead and look for a job there. The port city teemed with fishermen. But where would he stay?

  The unknowns scared him more than the harsh treatment he would receive from his father if he remained.

  Gazing at Peril’s Peak, its summit lost to low-lying clouds, he didn’t relish the trek up the mountain. Walking across the gravelly common area between the village temple and the family warehouse had nearly done him in. When his mother had told him his father had taken the newest members of the hunt to the training cabin, Junior had felt a great weight lift from him. He wouldn’t have to speak to Jonas today.

  Given his present shape, he considered waiting until morning to begin the arduous trek up the mountain, but if Jonas found out he’d delayed joining the training sessions, it would be easier to bear the pain than the abuse. His mother had inferred the same. How she put up with the man, Junior couldn’t imagine. Not that she was much better. She just couldn’t inflict the same level of punishment his father was capable of.

  Outfitted in his chainmail hauberk, the trek was going to prove that much more arduous. The weight of the knee-length armour pulled painfully on his injured shoulder.

  He checked that his longsword with its simple black hilt sat properly in its sheath. Lugging his bow and quiver across his back wasn’t an option so he clasped them in one hand and held his old rucksack in the other. It promised to be a long climb.

  Examining himself draped with black leather belts and supports, he was reminded of the dark heir’s troops. If his purple-grey surcoat were any darker, he might even pass for one of the elite guards. He laughed. As if. He couldn’t even pass as a worthy member of the Fishmonger Bay dragon hunt.

  Shuffling by the temple, his gaze wandered to the pile of charred rubble against the cliff face forming the backdrop of Fishmonger Bay. The old witch’s hut. Nothing remained of the curious lavender shop but the stained-glass door lying amongst a pile of weathered debris and a couple of broken dragon statues fronting the remains.

  Junior remembered the day Grimelda’s Clutch had burned to the ground on the orders of his father. Though he never had contact with the old hag—his father had strictly forbidden it from an early age—a curious sense of sorrow filled him for the way the villagers had treated the woman. He couldn’t recall a time the witch had done anything untoward, and yet, she was shunned by everyone. Everyone, except Reecah.

  He gritted his teeth. Reecah was lost to him. Had always been if he really thought about it. He was such a fool. It was time to put his life back together if he wished to follow in his father’s footsteps.

  He shuddered at the thought, but it was time he took ownership of his life. Lifting his chin, he exhaled a determined breath. Wincing at the pain in his shoulder, he crunched on to join the south trail leading out of the village.

  Night fell fast in the mountain canyon. Junior had planned to be well clear of the defile before darkness settled across Peril’s Peak, but coupled with his debilitating injury, he had started his trek too late in the day.

  Evening shadows stretched across the narrow canyon’s rock scattered floor when he stopped and built a meagre fire to keep the autumn chill at bay.

  Shivering beneath a thin blanket, he nibbled at a chunk of stale bread, dipping it into a thin broth he boiled from the bones of a turkey his mother had sent along.

  The crescent moon drifted between patchy clouds, shortening and lengthening the shadows creeping out of the deeper crevices. A coyote howled in the distance; its call carried on a stiff breeze.

  He fingered the hilt of his sword, praying he wouldn’t be forced to swing it tonight. Just the thought of wielding the blade made his shoulder ache.

  An owl hooted behind him. He searched the darkened walls but couldn’t locate the nocturnal bird until it abruptly took flight, scaring him half to death.

  He chuckled and shook his head. Who was he fooling? He wasn’t cut out for this. He had never enjoyed the excursions with his father into the mountains. Bringing his gaze back to the fire, he jerked backward in terror.

  A purple dragon dropped from the sky, landing on its hind legs. Flapping its wings twice to settle onto its forelegs, the campfire’s flames reflected in its amethyst eyes.

  Junior scrambled to pull his sword free but jumped again.

  A brown dragon landed behind him.

  Spinning sideways, his chest felt tight as a green dragon landed beside the purple one. Heart hammering in his chest, Junior’s breath caught in his throat.

  A black raven landed beside the fire. “That’s him! That’s him!”

  The raven! He examined the darkness around the dragons but the hill witch was nowhere to be seen. “Reecah?”

  He squinted, hoping to see her on one of the dragon’s backs. She wasn’t.

  Trembling more than the night air called for, he shouted in alarm as a rough, female voice sounded inside his head. “Are you the one they call Junior?”

  His eyes grew wide. Clamping trembling hands over his temples, he jerked his head in every direction, searching for the source of the voice.

  A diminutive female voice resonated in his mind, “He’s the one she spoke with the day my brother died.”

  A male voice joined the dialogue. “He’s bigger than Reecah. I don’t think I’m up to it.”

  Junior’s jaw dropped. Though he had no way of proving it, he was certain the dragons were projecting their voices inside his head. Quickly looking from one dragon to another, he tried to discern which one was speaking.

  “Scarletclaws vouched for him. Said he tried to warn Reecah of the danger at the Dragon Temple. If what Raver says is true, Reecah will need all the help she can get.”

  Junior thought that had been the green dragon talking.

  “Help! Help!” the raven shrieked.

  Junior’s nerves jumped further. He didn’t think his heart could take much more.

  “If we’re wrong, we might be delivering someone to kill her,” the male voice said.

  “If we don’t do anything, the prince will kill her,” the original female voice responded.

  He pulled his sword from its sheath. “Reecah’s in danger?”

  As soon as the words left his mouth, the dragons closed in on him. He lowered the sword’s tip to the ground, not wishing to provoke them.

  The green dragon leaned its fearsome face close, appearing at least a head taller than the last time he had seen it a fortnight ago. “Do you love her?”

  That was an odd question. He assumed the dragon meant Reecah. He didn’t really know her, and yet, he had to admit, there was something special between them—at least he thought so.

  Staring the green dragon in the mouth robbed him of his voice. Afraid if he didn’t answer, the dragon would tear his throat out, he nodded—slowly at first and then more emphatically.

  “Good.” The green dragon sat back. “Because if anything happens to her, I will eat you.”

  The thought shocked him to the core. How did one respond to a claim like that? “I hear your voices in my head but your lips aren’t moving. How’s that possible?”

  “Because of your friendship with Reecah Windwalker, we have allowed you into our circle of trust,” the huskier female voice said, as if that explained everything. “For the moment, at least.”

  “Reecah Windwalker? You mean Reecah Draakvriend. The girl who owns that bird.” Juni
or pointed at Raver, afraid to take his eyes from the dragon.

  “So, you do know her.” The brown dragon leaned in. “My name is Swoop. My purple friend is Silence. You’ve already met Lurker. We’re here to take you to Reecah. According to Raver, she’s in grave danger.”

  “Grave danger! Grave danger!”

  “Ow!” Junior jerked his leg away to stop Raver from pecking at his ankle. Keeping an eye on the bird, he concentrated on the dragon called Swoop.

  “Why? What’s happened? Where is she?”

  Lurker’s voice entered his head; the switching of voices, unsettling. “She’s on her way to the high king. She’s become aware that Prince J’kwaad fought at the Dragon Temple. We fear he’s going to kill her. According to Raver, she possesses something he seeks.”

  The implication of Swoop’s words sank in. “What exactly do you mean by, taking me to her?”

  “We’re trying to work that out,” Swoop chimed in.

  “I’m telling you. He’s too heavy. Look at him. He must weigh twice as much as Reecah.”

  Junior turned to Lurker. “Weigh twice as much as Reecah? What do you…?” Comprehension dawned on him. He held his palms out. “Oh no.”

  Swoop nodded. “Speed is essential. Reecah doesn’t have much time.”

  Junior backed away. “If you think I’m climbing on one of your backs, you’re crazy.”

  Lurker advanced on him. “If you think we’re going to let Reecah die, it is you who has lost your mind. We’re prepared to drag you across the treetops dangling from our claws, if necessary.”

  “But…but…” Just the thought of touching a dragon instilled him with dread. There was no way he could fly one.

  Silence’s amethyst eyes bore into him. “Do you care for Reecah?”

  “Of course,” Junior blurted—the first time he had openly admitted it.

  He stopped backing up and puffed out his chest. Raising his chin in defiance, he couldn’t believe the words escaping his lips, “I would die for her.”

  Silence nodded once. “Then so shall you fly.”

  Junior finished packing his rucksack and secured his bow and quiver as best he could over his healthy shoulder. Filled with a newfound conviction, he mentally prepared himself to abandon the only life he knew to join a trio of dragons on a journey to the high king’s castle. He wished he could see his father’s face as his unworthy son mounted a dragon and took to the skies.

  He almost stumbled; his knees wobbling as the reality sunk in. His movements slowed on purpose, drawing out the time it took to kick dirt and stones onto the campfire.

  Swoop’s voice startled him. “I think you got it.”

  Junior stopped scraping the ground with his boots—the canyon floor bathed in faint moonlight. The fire had gone out a while ago. It was cold without his hauberk, but Lurker insisted that if he were to fly on his back, he must remove the heavy chainmail. The armour lay at Swoop’s feet. She promised to carry it.

  He swallowed. If he ran really fast, he might be able to…He shook his head to quell his mounting fear. He wasn’t doing this for himself. This was for Reecah.

  Warmth flooded him. He imagined the surprise on her face when he dropped out of the sky to save her. If he survived the trip, it would be worth every heart-stopping moment.

  “Okay. I’m ready.”

  Lurker touched his chest to the ground and swivelled his head Junior’s way. “I’ve only done this twice before. Get on and hug my neck. Let me look after the balance otherwise you’ll upset us.”

  Junior nodded, unable to speak. The vision of upsetting a dragon in flight left him cold. He couldn’t believe he was about to fly one. He exhaled a heavy sigh, remembering he was a Waverunner. Waverunners didn’t show others their weaknesses. “Let’s do this.”

  It took him a couple of tries to sort out his feet as he mounted Lurker’s neck. The texture of dragon scales beneath his fingers unnerved him. Settling his weight, he could have sworn he heard the dragon groan.

  Lurker leaned back. “Hold on tight but don’t choke me like Reecah did her first time.”

  Startled, Junior did what he was asked not to do.

  “I need to breathe if I’m going to fly,” Lurker gasped.

  Junior relaxed his grip, nearly slipping from Lurker’s shoulder. “Sorry. This is going to take some getting used to.”

  “For you and me both. Don’t be too long about it, though. I can’t help you if you fall through the clouds.”

  Glancing at the clouds wafting past the snow-capped pinnacle of Peril’s Peak wasn’t one of Junior’s best ideas. His shaking hands tried to find a comfortable position around Lurker’s long neck.

  “Are you ready?”

  “No,” Junior squeaked.

  Lurker leaned back. “Me neither.” Unfurling his leathery wings, he crouched and sprung into the air.

  Junior screamed. The dark ground fell away. He pushed his head against Lurker’s neck and held on tight.

  “If you choke me to death, your own demise will soon follow.”

  Junior lifted his head to stare at the back of Lurker’s neck. Loosening his hold, he felt his body slip to one side. He reasserted his iron grip.

  “Only one of us can control the balance. If you counteract me, this will be a short flight.”

  “Sorry.” Junior did his best to allow his body to flow with Lurker’s undulations, but he struggled to release his stranglehold. Daring to look around, he was stunned. Soft moonlight refracted off the jagged summit of Peril’s Peak. To the north of the snowcap, the orange glow of a campfire marked the dragon hunt camp.

  Thinking he had control, he unsheathed his sword—pointing its tip at the moon and shouting in euphoria. He promptly lost his balance.

  Lurker dipped to one side, almost pitching him from his back, but quickly corrected his flight and caught Junior’s sideways momentum.

  Junior wrapped his sword arm around Lurker’s neck and squeezed hard—eyes wide with terror.

  “Do that again and I’ll throw you myself.”

  Junior nodded into Lurker’s neck, his eyes shut tight. After several steady wing beats, he opened them again to gape at the dark terrain whisking by.

  “How’re you doing?” Swoop asked.

  Junior was about to answer but Lurker spoke. The question wasn’t intended for him. Speaking with dragons was going to take some getting used to.

  “Better than I thought. He’s heavier than Reecah but I’m learning to move with him. It’s tiring compensating for his balance. I should let you try. See if you can do it without dropping him.”

  Junior frowned at the back of Lurker’s head. Did they know he could hear them?

  “I’d like that. It’ll make diving at the ground a new challenge.”

  Junior snapped his head around, trying to locate the brown dragon, following the chinking of his chainmail as it flapped in the wind. The last thing he wanted was to become part of a dragon experiment.

  “I don’t think I’d like that,” Junior said as he caught sight of Swoop in the moonlight; his armour dangling from one of her back feet.

  He couldn’t see where Silence had gotten to. Given her purple colour, she blended in with the night sky.

  Lurker swung his head sideways, the motion throwing off the newly realized smoothness of their flight. “You may have no choice if we want to reach the capital. I’m tiring already.”

  Junior’s grasp on Lurker’s neck increased, his attention on the mountain crags far below. Moonlight glinted off the ocean. Dozens of small lights dotted the coast, grouped together in one spot.

  Catching his breath, Junior managed to croak, “Is that the village?”

  Lurker’s head dipped. “Aye. We’ll be glad to be rid of that place.”

  Though he commiserated with those sentiments, Junior felt a pang of regret at abandoning his family. They would worry about him.

  He suddenly laughed. Who was he kidding? They would be glad to be rid of him.

  “What’s so funn
y?”

  “Huh? Oh, nothing.” He must have laughed out loud. Or perhaps the dragons read his mind. He smiled. He didn’t care. Flying a dragon through the clouds, it was as if he were the king of the world.

  Everything appeared different from the air—almost flat. He wasn’t sure, but he believed a darker rock formation cutting into the ocean was the great promontory known as the Summoning Stone. Lifting his face from Lurker’s neck, he enjoyed the cold wind blowing through his hair.

  Ahead, a white monolith rose skyward. Dragonfang! The natural rock formation marked the beginning of Dragonfang Pass.

  Bittersweet memories assailed him—mostly bitter. But a few recollections put a smile on his face. Seeing Reecah at the waterfall was unforgettable, but the memory of the day he held her in his arms in her little hut on the hill sent goosebumps all over his body. He couldn’t recall a time he’d ever felt so at peace.

  “Lurker, do you know where Reecah’s hut is?”

  “Aye.”

  “Take me there.”

  Beaten

  Anvil grabbed the bucket and drank from it, water slopping off his chin and running through the matted hair covering his chest.

  Just the sight of the water on his exposed flesh made Reecah shiver. The early morning air was so cold, rain would have turned to snow. Eyeing the beast of a man, she estimated he stood a head taller than Joram Waverunner—the vile uncle of Junior and Jaxon.

  Anvil dropped the bucket to the ground; water sloshing over its sides. Wiping his goatee with the back of his hand, he pointed his chin at her. “Ach, lassie, why ya still wearin’ all yer truck? Ye ain’t to be fightin’ carrying a satchel over yer shoulder are ya?”

  Reecah looked at the blotchy, rust-stained ground around the stump, not sure what Anvil expected. If he didn’t come out and tell her, how was she to know? She shrugged her rucksack free and put it against the wall near the bucket.

  “Don’t ye be eyeing me water, either. If ya ain’t got the sense to bring yer own, I’m not to be offerin’ sympathy.”

  Reecah thought about her waterskin. She hadn’t filled it since leaving the Serpent’s Slip, but it had some water left in it. Surely, she could find a well around the castle as the day went on.