Legends of the Lurker Box Set

by Richard H. Stephens

  Lurker’s head appeared over Junior’s far shoulder. “I suggest we get you humans off the mountain before you freeze to death.”

  Tamra and Aramyss shot Lurker a contemptuous scowl. Neither elf, nor dwarf, appreciated being lumped in with mankind.

  Aramyss waddled around Tamra, his unlit pipe in hand, and stopped beside Reecah, staring at her from his three-and-a-half-foot frame clad in chainmail and plate. “Have ye decided yer course? Remember the high wizard’s words.”

  Reecah sighed. She knew in her heart what she wanted to do, but Devius had been adamant. She was to journey to the Wilds and seek out the dragon queen. His deep voice permeated her thoughts, warning her not to do otherwise. ‘Now that you’ve exposed your true identity, nowhere else is safe. You must make haste, and do not stray. It’s vital you go straight there. Do you hear me?’

  The old conjurer had scared her more than anything else she had experienced in her life when he performed the unbinding ritual. She thought her life had come to an end. Surviving the ceremony had awakened a new consciousness, providing her with an entirely fresh perspective. Not only on the plight of the dragons, but on life in general. If Devius claimed she must report to the Draakvuur Colony, she would be foolish not to.

  She smiled at her new friend. “Do you know where the queen’s colony is? The world’s a big place. I’m afraid we might wander forever and never find it.”

  Raver appeared from the steep drop in front of them and stumbled to a stop in the snow at their feet. “Find it! Find it!”

  Giving the maimed raven a shake of his head, Aramyss shrugged, his thick lips pursed amongst the unruly growth of his long, brown beard.

  They hadn’t been speaking loudly, despite the whistling wind, but Tamra’s keen ears must have picked up on their conversation. She turned her half-shaved head in their direction and indicated with a subtle shake that she didn’t either.

  Appreciating the captivating beauty of Lurker’s emerald eyes, Reecah asked, “I don’t suppose any of you happen to know where the queen’s colony lies?”

  Lurker hung his head. “Unfortunately, we don’t.”

  “Right. You said as much on the flight here.” Reecah stared at the brink of the majestic cataract, marvelling at Swoop’s ability to adjust her flight so quickly. The brown dragon skimmed the lake at tremendous speed, approaching the point where the water fell from sight. She disappeared below the brink just as abruptly.

  Junior tensed. He had seen it too.

  Though Reecah had no problem deciding what she thought was best for herself, she struggled to make a decision that would affect the rest of her party. Being a Windwalker apparently came with heady responsibility. One she didn’t care to acknowledge.

  Following Devius’ instructions made the most sense—the only sense—and yet, she wrestled with a demon she had felt the need to exorcize since the day Grimelda’s Clutch had burned to the ground.

  Grimelda’s memory warmed her cheeks and left her feeling empty at the same time. She had feared the witch and everything she represented for most of her life, but in the end, her last living relative had opened her mind to a new reality. One she wished she had been privy to while growing up.

  The old crone’s words came back to her, as if she and Grimelda were still standing beside the counter along the back wall in her aunt’s bizarre shop, ‘Locate the earth’s schism to claim your heritage. Remove the Dragon’s Eye from the Watcher and bring it back here… Promise Grimelda that no matter what happens tonight, you will return with the Dragon’s Eye.’

  ‘…no matter what happens tonight…’

  She smiled, despite her misgivings. Looking at Aramyss, she shook her head. She had a promise to keep with a dead witch.

  Transfiguration

  Peril’s Peak instilled in Reecah a sense of relief that their flight was almost over, but it also filled her with the dread of what she was about to discover. They had slept near the base of Splendoor Falls the night before and had set out at first light. Approaching the western coast of the duchy of Zephyr, the sun sat low in the western sky; its winter brilliance setting the steely waves of the Niad Ocean afire.

  She knew now what she should have done months ago, but digging through the ashes of Grimelda’s Clutch to make her way into the witch’s sacrificial chamber left her heart racing with the fear of what she would discover.

  After listening to Aramyss and Tamra’s strong objections of returning to the killing zone south of Dragonfang Pass, Reecah went against their wishes. Before Devius had unlocked her gift and freed her dragon magic, she would never have considered such an outlandish course of action, but great-aunt Grimelda had been adamant that she return the Dragon’s Eye to her. As crazy as it seemed, especially the closer they got to Fishmonger Bay; her gut told her it was the right thing to do.

  “Where should we put you down?” Lurker asked.

  Reecah wondered the same thing as Peril’s Peak passed beneath them.

  Jonas Waverunner’s dragon hunt camp came into view on their right. Several men appeared outside the cabin, scurrying around like insects and pointing at them.

  Reecah smiled and searched out Junior. He sat comfortably astride Swoop a little higher up, his attention riveted on the plateau below the tiered waterfall. He flashed her a smile and leaned in to hug Swoop’s neck.

  Swoop altered her wings’ pitch, and suddenly, dragon and rider fell from the sky like an arrow shot.

  Reecah cringed and looked away, not wanting to witness their demise.

  Junior shouted something incoherent.

  At the last moment, Swoop altered her wings, just missing the ground near the cabin and skimming the plateau. People scattered to get out of her path, screaming and throwing themselves at the ground. Passing beyond the lip of the drop-off, Swoop shot high into the sky.

  Junior’s exuberant cry wasn’t one of panic, but a triumphant declaration to those assembled below that he had risen above them.

  “Honestly, Lurker. How did we ever get paired up with those two?”

  “We?”

  “Come on. I know you like her. Haven’t you told her yet?”

  Lurker’s silence gave her his answer.

  “Seriously? If there’s one thing I’ve learned since our time together, it’s that life is too precious to hide our feelings from those we care about.”

  “What if she doesn’t like me?”

  His shyness touched her. He reminded her of herself. “Haven’t you noticed the way she looks at you. She always makes sure she’s near you when we land. If you want me to ask—”

  “No!”

  His vehemence shocked her. She let it go and spotted Swoop and Junior settling in beside Tamra on Silence. Craning her neck, she located Scarletclaws and Aramyss—the largest dragon by far, flying the shortest member of their company. It was tough to tell from where she sat, but if she wasn’t mistaken, the frightened dwarf hadn’t opened his eyes the entire time it had taken them to cross The Spine from where they had taken off in the foothills at the end of the pass leading to the shipbuilding village of Storm’s End.

  Imagining the stricken faces of the dragon hunt, Reecah grinned from ear-to-ear, and put her mind to Lurker’s question. She shrugged. Why not? “Put down in the centre of town.”

  “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “The people we have to worry about are up in the mountains. For what, I’m not sure now that the dragons are all…” She trailed off. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Lurker stretched his neck from side to side and slowed their forward progress. “Did everyone hear Reecah? Follow me. Tamra and Aramyss, be ready to defend her.”

  The fact that Lurker had omitted Junior wasn’t lost on Reecah.

  “Defend her! Defend her!” Raver dropped out of the sky, much like Swoop, and landed on top of the temple spire, surprisingly graceful.

  Screams went up around the gravel covered village commons between the line of buildings against the cliff face and the Waverunne
r warehouse abutting the shoreline, as Scarletclaws and Silence drifted over the village and crunched into the ground.

  Tamra and Aramyss hit the ground with axes in hand before Lurker and Swoop landed between them.

  Junior dismounted. “You want me to come with you?”

  Reecah shook her head. “I need to do this by myself.”

  He nodded and stood with the others; his gaze drawn to the warehouse.

  Doors slammed and locks clicked. Window coverings dropped, but Reecah could tell by the way the shades moved that people were sneaking peeks at the strange sight unfolding within their sleepy village.

  Scanning the commons for trouble, her gaze fell on the desolate remains of Grimelda’s Clutch. Thankfully, the superstitious villagers had left the site virtually untouched. The only ones who might have disturbed the sanctity of the witch’s domain were likely the village children who would have done so under the threat of certain punishment if they were found out.

  Reecah had always thought it ironic that the witch’s shop had stood beside the village temple—as if the buildings defied the audacity of each other’s existence.

  Vegetation had begun to reclaim the blackened ruins—vines and small shrubbery grew through the skeletal remains of fallen rafters and toppled shelving.

  It took Reecah a while to steady her breathing. Half buried beside a broken dragon statue at the head of a wide, flagstone step, Reecah walked carefully around the soot covered, stained-glass door and picked her way to where she imagined the counter had stood. There was no sign of its existence.

  Raver caught her attention, flying to a spot at the base of the cliff and disappearing through a small hole barely visible in the destruction. The entrance to the cellar.

  She stepped through what she believed was the back room, scanning the debris with hopes of finding the unique scrying bowl Devius claimed should have survived the fire. Her cursory glance found no sign of the revered vessel.

  “Why did she want me to come back here?”

  Lurker shuffled to stand in front of the dragon statue where the porch had stood. “Are you asking me?”

  Startled, Reecah blinked a couple of times, realizing she had spoken out loud. “No. Sorry. I was wondering why my aunt wanted me to bring her the Dragon’s Eye if she knew she wasn’t going to be here.”

  “I thought you said she died here?”

  “She did.” Reecah’s eyes grew wide. “At least that’s what I thought. I wonder…”

  She stared at the spot where Raver had disappeared, the hole blocked by burnt timbers and rock from the ceiling of the storage room that had stood behind the shop at the base of the cliff. “Can you help me clear a space? There’s an underground chamber here.”

  Lurker walked around the side of the debris and latched onto the end of a long beam with his jaws.

  “Raver, watch out below!” Reecah called out and jumped back to avoid being hit.

  Lurker nudged several chunks of granite to one side, exposing the top step.

  “That should be good. Thank you.” Looking down the stairwell at the gaping hole, she searched the debris for something to use as a torch. She admonished herself. “Silly. You’re a witch.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Nothing. Talking to myself again.” Not confident she could hold a flame in her hand for long without burning her skin, she withdrew her journal and willed the gemstone to life. It shone brightly in the lengthening shadows; covering the black backdrop with bright red lines.

  She proceeded carefully down steps carved into the bedrock as they curved into the ground. Kicking aside pieces of debris, the underground chamber opened up; its walls revealed in the crimson light of her Dragon’s Eye.

  It had been years since she had been here, but aside from the countless cobwebs spanning between dusty objects, it looked exactly as she remembered.

  Raver perched on a piece of dark wood in the centre of a black marble slab, his beady black eyes following her. A shorter, knobby length of wood lay beside the one Raver sat on.

  Her attention was drawn to the shelving near her feet. Covered with black ash—the remnants of the burning building that had tumbled down the stairwell—sat an octagonal brass bowl.

  Incredulous, she bent down and pulled it free of the debris. “The scrying bowl!” She blew off the top layer of filth but it would require a thorough cleaning to bring back its luster.

  She placed it on the bottom step and walked around the perimeter of the room. The idea that her aunt had escaped the conflagration flitted at the back of her mind. She concentrated on chanting the spell Devius had taught her to reveal and open hidden doors.

  Every time she came to a spot along the wall that might conceivably contain a hidden entrance, she intoned, “Patefacio.”

  Nothing happened.

  Either she wasn’t enunciating it correctly or her theory as to how Grimelda had eluded the fire wasn’t what truly happened.

  As much as she wanted to believe that her great aunt had survived the fire by hiding out in her chamber, or slipping into a hidden tunnel, there was no evidence to support either scenario. Everything in the chamber appeared the same as it had been when she left her aunt to die at the hands of Jonas and the crazed villagers.

  The blood fount beside the sacrificial altar stood empty—the blood it contained, long since evaporated and its residual matter consumed by whatever had inhabited the underground chamber since.

  Grimelda’s portable table still held its assortment of knives, their silvery surfaces tarnished and covered in dust.

  Reecah smiled at Raver, saddened by the fact that whatever her aunt had intended when she had first sent Reecah in search of the Dragon Temple had died with her.

  Raver bobbed his head, more than usual.

  She frowned. “What is it? Do you know something?”

  His head moved faster.

  “What am I missing?” She focused on the length of gnarled wood Raver perched on. Though riddled with twists and knots, the dark wood resembled a finely wrought staff.

  The shorter stick was very much like…

  “No!” Reecah grabbed the knobby stick. “Do you know what this is?”

  Raver bobbed his head twice.

  “It’s Grimelda’s walking stick.”

  Raver bobbed again.

  “This is where she…?” Her eyes threatened to pop from her head. She could almost feel her aunt grab her wrists and proclaim, ‘Shh, shh, shh. It’s time you left. You mustn’t witness the transfiguration spell.’

  She set Grimelda’s walking stick aside and lifted the length of dark wood on the sacrificial altar. Turning it in her hands she stared at it in awe, daring to run a finger along its length. “Grimelda?”

  As absurd as it sounded, she knew that Grimelda had performed the transfiguration ritual using poor Raver’s toes and hairs from both of their heads, mixing in something’s, or someone’s, blood to transform herself into…

  The wood grain beneath her fingers sparked sensations through her entire being—strange and scary, and yet, soothing and familiar. Grimelda had transfigured her dying self into a staff!

  “The witch! The witch!” Raver cried out and hopped to the rim of the blood fount.

  Reverently lifting the staff from the altar, its surface surprisingly devoid of the dust and grime prevalent everywhere else in the room, she whispered, “Grimelda?”

  The silence in the chamber was deafening. She shook her head, abashed that she had expected a piece of wood to answer.

  Devius’ words permeated her thoughts. ‘A staff is a wizard’s best friend, next to their mind of course. A proper staff, enhanced by the right talisman,’ she could see his gaze drifting to the dark Eye in her pocket as if he were there, in Grimelda’s chamber, ‘would make you a force to be reckoned with.’

  Carefully balancing the narrow end of the staff on the ground, she stared at its twisted top. The wood separated, wrapping around twice before converging into a point—its height nearly as tall
as Reecah. A pronounced gap marked the uppermost twist—the space wide enough to accommodate a…

  She swallowed as she reached into her hooded cloak and withdrew the Dragon’s Eye Grimelda had asked her to find. As soon as her fingers brushed the gem’s surface, she felt the pull between the staff’s head and the crimson stone.

  An unfamiliar warmth seeped from the very essence of her core. Not quite believing what was happening, she instinctively knew it was right—it was exactly what great-aunt Grimelda had foreseen. The Dragon’s Eye had found its rightful resting place. Holding the gemstone between thumb and forefinger, she held it up to the staff head.

  The gemstone burst into brilliance as it fused itself into the staff. Reecah closed her eyes and turned her head away. The chamber flickered in an eerie blood-red glow. When she looked back, the Dragon’s Eye sat dormant, its edges held in place by the essence of what had once been the village witch.

  Persecution of Magic

  J’kwaad looked away from his pacing father, afraid he might say something he would regret. Now wasn’t the time to assert his dominance. Let the king rant about the failure at Headwater Castle. The sooner the short-sighted fool got it out of his system, the sooner the dark heir could get back to the business at hand. Locating the Windwalker.

  A throbbing pain reminded him of the arrow he had taken from J’kaar’s weapon master, Anvis Chizel, when the giant dwarf had leapt at him from the back of a dragon. Luckily for Anvis, he died before J’kwaad had a chance to affect retribution for the man’s role in facilitating Reecah Windwalker’s escape. J’kwaad’s only recompense came with the knowledge that Anvis’ brother had survived. If the dwarf wasn’t smart enough to distance himself from the meddlesome witch, his day would come. When it did, the royal blacksmith would atone for his brother’s crimes against the crown.

  “And Devius! That rots me more than you deliberately keeping the Windwalker’s identity from me. What were you thinking? Had you been up front while we still had her in South Fort, we could have rested our army over the winter months and attacked the dragon queen with fresh troops.”