“Reecah.”
“Of course. Reecah.” He puffed on his pipe. “Anyway, me brother and I’ve been awaitin’ this day. We may be in the employ of the king, but we’re Devius’ men.”
He puffed again, noting her expression. “Aye. Believe it or not, the mangy spellcaster has foreseen this day. Least, that’s what he told me and me brother.” He gazed at her, raising his thick eyebrows as if expecting a reaction.
“I know all about your relationship with Anvil. He told me.”
“He did, did he? What else did he say, if I may be so bold as to be asking?”
“Not much, really. He spoke briefly of your parents. Of your father’s transgressions.”
Aramyss’ face darkened. He spat with force against the wall.
Reecah feared she had said too much.
“Don’t speak of that man,” Aramyss grumbled. Knocking the bowl of his pipe against the wall, he pulled another pinch from a separate pouch and stuffed the pipe.
“How did Devius know I was coming?”
Aramyss shrugged as he set the pipe bowl alight, puffing rhythmically until he was satisfied. “All I know is that when I found out the prince suspected who you are, I rushed here as soon as I could convince the king to let me attend Headwater to gather supplies.” He winked.
“I find all of this upsetting.” Reecah threw her hands up, pacing the short tunnel. “Everyone knows about me but me!”
Aramyss stared after her but said nothing. He peeked around the outer edge of the tunnel.
“Do you know what I found out this morning?”
Aramyss shook his head.
“The dark heir is coming for me.”
The pipe slipped from Aramyss’ lips. He barely caught it in time. “Aye. I suspect he will. I’m the one who originally informed Devius of your arrival in Sea Hold. That’s why you were summoned here. Unfortunately, the prince took notice of your arrival as well.”
“How did he know?”
Aramyss stared at her. “Look at my face. Ain’t much to be seeing, but J’kwaad’s hired dog did a number on it. Made me answer questions I weren’t easily divulgin’.”
Reecah lifted his bearded chin to study his bruises. Recently inflicted hurts were evident beneath his thick facial growth.
“He did this to you? To find out about me? Why? How did he know I was here?”
“Don’t rightly know. From what I pieced together, someone from the ship that brought you to King’s Bay informed him.”
Reecah’s mind spun. Who would have told Prince J’kwaad? Cahira? Certainly not. Cookie. Maybe. Perhaps Captain Dreyger K’tric. Of the three, the captain made the most sense. His last name was spelled with an apostrophe.
She traced an ugly looking weal hidden beneath his beard.
He flinched.
“Oh, Aramyss. I’m so sorry. Everywhere I go, I bring pain to those around me.”
Aramyss’ nod, though well deserved, shocked her by his directness.
“It appears yer blonde friend has been captured.”
“My blonde friend?” She didn’t know who he was talking about. She didn’t have any friends other than Raver and the dragons. Flavian came to mind, but he wasn’t blonde. There was also Tamra, but she doubted Aramyss knew about her. Who had she come into contact with recently? Cahira’s hair was red.
“Catenya?”
Drawing on his pipe, Aramyss choked on the smoke as sparks flew from the bowl. “That highbrow slag? Not likely.” He studied the pipe’s contents. “I’m talkin’ about the new man in Anvil’s group. The one with long hair and fancy chainmail.”
Reecah grasped Aramyss by his wide shoulders. “Junior? That’s impossible. He went back to South Fort weeks ago.”
“I ain’t sure who Junior is, but I knows who they got locked up in the hole. I see’d him meself. Wears a long, black surcoat. Dark purply, actually, and fancy as ya like. Gots himself flowing locks akin the finest maiden. Apparently has a date with dark ol’ Mighty Britches himself.”
Reecah bent low, her nose touching his. “J’kwaad?”
Aramyss’ barely perceptible nod rubbed his tough forehead against hers.
“We need to get him out of there! The prince will kill him. Junior was at Dragon Home. He tried to save me.”
Aramyss wrapped her wrists in his callused hands and gently pulled her off him, his serious stare never losing contact. “Simmer yerself, lass. I arrived with those who are to escort him to Sea Keep. They have business in Headwater first. We’re not to leave until day after next. I’ll spring him afore then.”
Reecah ripped her hands from his grasp and ran to the edge of the tunnel to gaze upon Headwater Castle. “You don’t understand. The prince knows I’m here.”
Aramyss joined her on the threshold beneath the rusted portcullis that had been stuck in the open position for years. “Bah. Mighty Britches is a long way from here. Battling dragons in the south. We’ll have you long gone afore J’kwaad can sink his fangs into ye. If the campaign goes well...” He trailed off, apparently struck by the panic in her eyes and her shaking head. “What do ye know that ye ain’t tellin’ me?”
“I saw him in a vision this morning. Riding hard along King’s Wood Road.”
Aramyss’ eyebrows knit together, his large Adam’s apple convulsing.
“He’ll be here before nightfall.”
No Mercy
Leaving Devius behind was one of the hardest things Reecah, Aramyss, or Anvil had ever done. Anvil had expertly removed the arrow without inflicting more damage, but Devius had lost a lot of blood. If infection set in, he would be dead in short order.
Reecah couldn’t imagine how hard the climb must have been, but Anvil carried Devius up to the octagonal chamber where the wizard assured them he would be fine. Reecah had her doubts, but the imminent arrival of the dark heir had forced their hand.
Fleabag could only protect him so long before the king’s men slew her to get at the wizard. Devius had been adamant they heed his order—charging the dwarf brothers with escorting Reecah to the Draakvuur Colony in the eastern Wilds. A task that must be seen to at any cost. The wizard had emphasized their lives were of little consequence should she come to harm before they presented her to the queen.
Before they left him, Reecah placed her hands on Devius’ injured shoulder. The sensation in her earrings no longer surfaced now that her dragon magic had been released. She no longer required Grimelda’s gift.
The old man’s order echoed through Reecah’s mind as she kept her back against a section of stone wall marking the older part of Headwater Castle on the opposite side of the river.
Aramyss and Anvil checked each other’s armour and equipment. Satisfied they were ready to go, Aramyss checked hers. “Okay, lass. Yer to stay here until we get back with Junior.”
Reecah nodded, not happy they were excluding her from their foray into the castle but she understood. There would be those inside who were aware of her attendance with the high wizard. If they saw her wandering around without advance warning from the men guarding the wizard’s tower, they would be compromised.
“What if somebody finds me here?”
Anvil said matter-of-factly, “Kill them.”
Aramyss glared at his brother. Offering her a calming smile, he said, “Ye have little to fear. This section is no longer considered safe for human habitation. The only ones wandering the old fortress are the spirits of the dead.”
Reecah gaped. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
Aramyss and Anvil, the dwarf and giant dwarf, slipped past a break in the wall and were gone.
Reecah listened for their passing but only the gentle lapping of the bay on the rocks below, and the random squawk of water fowl, disturbed the hillside.
A bird chirruped from a tree growing inside the old wall, filling her with thoughts of Raver. How she missed the mischievous imp.
Her attention was drawn to the mountain spire housing Devius’ fortress at its peak. She hoped she hadn�
��t left him to die. Once the dark heir discovered the bodies around the base of the Wizard’s Sanctum, Devius’ life would be in jeopardy.
She pulled her quarterstaff, bow, and quiver from her shoulders and laid them on the ground so she could sit against the wall and wait.
Aramyss and Anvil were putting their lives in peril to rescue Junior, a man she had doubted time and time again. The eldest Waverunner boy had apparently changed his mind and followed her to Headwater. Now he lay in a cell awaiting the dark heir. A visit that would mark Junior’s death.
Gazing across the expanse of King’s Bay, she felt insignificant. Dangerous forces were in play all around her. High Wizard Devius Misenthorpe and the Maiden of the Wood were better suited to deal with the threat than her. Just because people she had never met labelled her as a Windwalker didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things. She had recently learned to perform carnival tricks, nothing more.
The image of Prince J’kwaad in the scrying bowl wouldn’t leave her. It was like the dark heir had looked into her soul.
A corner of her diary dug into her ribs. Pulling it free, she flipped through the first few pages and smiled ruefully. Her first conversations with Lurker’s mother and Lurker himself were written there.
How she missed him and the others. She should never have left them after they had found her in the King’s Wood. She should have insisted they take her to the Draakval Colony to offer the doomed dragons assistance.
It was too late now. If J’kwaad were on his way back, that could only mean that their foray had been successful. Another dragon settlement lay in ruin. She bit her lips, trying to steel herself. How many dragons had died this time?
A breeze blew up the grassy slope from the bay, snatching the pages from beneath her thumb. Gripping the book, she glanced down at the last page and absently read the ancient runes.
She concentrated harder, not believing what stared back at her. The lines, though no different than when Grimclaw had etched them, made sense. She understood every word. Leafing back to where Grimclaw’s words began, she read in earnest.
He had left her the means to a spell. A very powerful spell, if she appreciated the runes’ context. Without ever having performed anything remotely this complex, she instinctively knew she could cast Grimclaw’s summoning spell. But, what could she summon? A fireball like Devius? The ice-balls J’kwaad liked to employ?
As clear as the words were, she didn’t understand their usage. From observing Devius and J’kwaad, their spellcasting had never struck her as remotely complicated as this spell. She needed to return to Devius. He would know.
She stood up, her limbs trembling from the revelation, and froze.
Birds called from over the lapping water. Tall grass on the hillside swayed in the sporadic breeze as buzzing insects flitted about the weeds. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but the hairs on the nape of her neck told her differently.
She walked to the break in the wall and peered into the grassy ruins. Nothing moved aside from the rustling vegetation that had overgrown the interior. Not taking the time to consider the foolishness of her actions, she decided to investigate what her senses were telling her. Something, or someone, was close by.
Her sword slid from its scabbard without a sound. Stepping quietly through the gap in the wall, she searched the shadows within what appeared to have been a great hall in years gone by. Though weeds choked the ancient stone and wooden benches, she imagined the high king’s ancestors might have ruled the realm from this very spot.
With as much stealth as she could employ, she stepped deeper into the gloom; her keen eyes searching everywhere at once.
A screech echoed across the bay, sending shivers up her spine. Forgetting her desire to remain quiet, she returned to the break in the wall.
Peering across the water, the distant form of a dragon rounded the eastern battlements of the Wizard’s Sanctum. The sight of the brown dragon left her breathless.
“Swoop?” she uttered as an evil laugh whipped her attention back to the shadows—her dagger appearing in her left hand.
If she had the breath, she would have screamed. Stepping through an open doorway at the back of the ruined chamber, a man in black armour inlaid with golden piping regarded her with a smirk—his well-trimmed black goatee lifting slightly on one side.
“Well met, GG.” He chuckled, but there was no mirth in his voice. “Or should I say, Reecah, the nettle in my side from the Dragon Temple? Reecah Draakvriend, the miscreant who almost slew the baron of Thunderhead with her own hands.” He nodded, his wicked grin growing wide. “A shame you never finished the job.”
Reecah tried to speak, to say anything, but her throat and mouth had gone dry.
Prince J’kwaad stepped from the shadows, his black cloak billowing behind him. “Or perhaps, I should call you, Reecah Windwalker.”
The emphasis he placed on her last name told her he knew exactly who she was. She backstepped through the gap, stumbling on a rock half-buried in the ground. Catching her balance, she searched the grounds.
“Looking for that pair of traitorous dwarfs? You needn’t fear their return. The Watch will soon be placing them with the Waverunner boy. I daresay, Father will be quite unhinged by their treachery.”
Reecah forced herself to swallow. “They had nothing to do with it. I don’t really know them.”
“Sure, you don’t. I suspected Aramyss was up to something when he suggested you train with his brother. Odd that someone fresh off a trading scow—a stowaway I might add, would be recommended by a member of the royal smithery to train with the king’s weapon master. A man who just happens to be his brother.”
“All I want is an audience with the king. I want him to reconsider the dragon hunt.”
“Hah! You haven’t met my father. He’ll have your head off in the grievance hall. You’d have a better chance converting Baron Carroch to a life of celibacy.”
Reecah frowned, taking a moment to grasp his reference to the baron of Thunderhead. Not knowing what else to do, she turned to sprint down the outside of the old wall but stopped. A squad of men in king’s livery rounded a collapsed wall tower, cutting off her escape.
She poised to run down the hill and stopped again. Four skiffs scraped into the shoals bearing king’s men. They were pinning her in.
She thought about sprinting past the gap, but J’kwaad appeared on the slope.
“It takes this many guardsmen to capture a skinny girl like me?” Her gaze darted to her bow and arrows at J’kwaad’s feet. Even if she hadn’t left them on the ground, they would have been of little use against so many.
J’kwaad started toward her. “There’s nothing ordinary about a Windwalker. We haven’t seen your likes in what, twenty…, twenty-one years? Ever since my father ordered the death of your parents. And your meddling uncle.”
Reecah had fought hard over recent years to curb her short temper. It had gotten her into trouble more times than she cared to remember. J’kwaad’s biting remark brought Grimclaw’s words home. ‘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.’
She charged J’kwaad.
The prince crossed his arms, watching her come.
Her dagger leading the charge, she trailed her sword behind her to deliver the prince a fatal blow. Screaming in rage, she swung her sword with all her strength.
The wildly swung sword struck a hastily raised tower shield held by one of two knights who emerged from the gap on either side of the prince.
Her shoulder screamed at the jarring impact—the strike vibrating up her arm. Her hand went numb. She had put everything into the killing blow, not expecting to meet resistance. Two more knights emerged from behind the wall and stripped her of her blades; pinning her arms behind her.
She growled and spat, struggling to break free of their grasp, but their iron grip held her fast. She kicked out at
Prince J’kwaad and missed; one of the knights yanked hard on her hair and threw her off balance. The man’s foul breath reeked as he held his black-bearded face next to hers from behind. “Try that again and I’ll slit your throat.”
She hadn’t seen it come, but a dagger’s keen edge rested against her windpipe.
The prince cast her a smug look. “Now that that’s out of our system, I shall leave you in capable hands. I look forward to our next meeting high atop Draakhorn.” He ran his tongue along the inside of his upper lip. “I welcome the challenge of extracting the dragon magic from your soul without killing you. When I’m done, perhaps we’ll see how well you fly. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with a pair of dwarfs.”
The prince spun, his black cape swirling in his wake, and disappeared beyond the gap.
“Coward!” Reecah called after him. “Fight me with your bare hands. Just you and me. Get back here!”
Not caring about her safety, she stomped on the dagger bearing knight’s toe. He howled and released his grip.
She shrugged free of the second knight’s grasp but before she could do anything further, another knight drove his shoulder into her ribs, taking her to the ground and forcing the wind from her lungs.
The knight kept his weight on her, making it impossible to breathe. Excruciating pain wracked her core. Gasping and pointing at her throat, she tried to throw the man but he refused to let her up.
The guard whose toe she had stamped, kicked her in the ribs. “Ain’t so tough now, are you? Can’t see what the prince finds so dangerous about you. You’re nothing but a tart.”
She thought for sure he would hoof her again, but he limped out of her line of sight.
“Let her up, you imbecile,” a gruff voice snarled. “Kill her and we all face his wrath.”
The man on top of her didn’t comply at first but as his weight lifted, an agonizing breath slipped into her lungs. She sucked in great, heavy breaths.
Legends of the Lurker Box Set Page 60
