She wanted to shrug her bow free and join the men, but Lurker had forbidden it. The notion of the dragon ordering her to remain at his side both infuriated her and reassured her of his love.
The thunder of hundreds of hooves shook the ground beneath their feet long before they saw the faces of scores of silver-plated knights charging at them, five horses wide.
Despite their bravado, Aramyss and Junior backstepped to stand in front of the dragons.
The cavalry attempted to surround them but Scarletclaws and Silence moved to the side, unfolding their great wings. The horses balked and reared, forcing their riders to rein them in or risk being dismounted.
Tamra rode behind an average-sized man clad in brilliant silver armour, his long, golden locks flowing about a vermillion surcoat draped over his shoulders. Tamra’s unreadable expression focused on Aramyss and Junior, giving them a subtle shake of her head to warn them not to do anything rash. She leapt from the horse’s back before it came to a stop, landing gracefully between it and the rearing horse beside her.
Tamra’s axes strapped across her back reassured Reecah that the initial meeting had gone well.
Wary of the spooked horse beside her, Tamra offered the man she had ridden with a hand down. Together they approached Aramyss and Junior—the man’s face alight with wonder as he laid eyes on the dragons.
“So, it is true.”
Tamra’s eyes darkened. “You doubted me?”
The man held up his palms. “No! No. Not at all. It’s…it’s just incredible. I’ve read many historical accounts about them, but to actually see them with my own eyes is just…” He shook his head. “Incredible.”
“Ye ought to try flying one, mister…?” Aramyss squinted.
“Jozwa Svelte.”
“Yer the duke?”
“His son, actually.”
Aramyss squinted further, his corded muscles tensing. “And where be the duke, if ye don’t mind me asking?”
“Frantically preparing the bailey to receive your friends.”
Aramyss tilted his head the other way.
“You can imagine the pandemonium four dragons descending on the city will incite. I dare say we’ll be dealing with an epidemic of strokes and soiled britches.”
Aramyss nodded, mulling over his words.
Junior laughed and lowered his sword.
Tamra ignored them and went straight to Silence, mounting her shoulders as if she had been doing it her entire life. “You think you can carry two?”
Silence blinked her amethyst eyes.
“I want to demonstrate to the duke’s son that dragons are trustworthy.”
“I’ll try.”
“Allow me,” Lurker interrupted. “I’m bigger and the most experienced flyer. If we’re to convince the duke of joining our cause, it should be through the Windwalker.”
Reecah frowned at Lurker. “I have a name.”
Lurker didn’t acknowledge her remark.
“Very well.” Tamra held out a hand. “Jozwa, if you’re still willing, the green dragon will carry you.”
Lurker swung his head from Reecah to Tamra. “My name is Lurker.”
Reecah smiled. “See!”
Lurker hung his head.
Laughing, Reecah nodded to Jozwa, not sure what was expected in the company of the duke’s son. “My dragon’s name is Lurker.”
Lurker looked up. “Your dragon?”
Reecah ignored him. “Come closer. He won’t bite.”
“Too gristly,” Lurker grumbled.
“Too gristly! Too gristly!”
The amiable look on Jozwa’s face dropped as he regarded Raver. The young man hesitated, his eyes drifting to Lurker. Looking over his shoulders at the dumbstruck faces of his men, he swallowed and forced a smile. “Are you able to communicate with them?”
Used to doing so, the question seemed like an odd one. “Yes. All of us can. Perhaps someday you will too.”
“Not unless he’s elven or commands dragon magic,” Lurker said.
“What about Aramyss?”
“Aye. I always forget about giants.”
Reecah grinned. “I’m sure that fact gets overlooked quite often when it comes to our portly friend.”
“I can hears ya, lass. Just cause yer a Windwalker, ain’t meaning I can’t put ya over me knee and tan yer arse.”
Reecah chuckled and turned her attention on Jozwa. His puzzled expression had followed their conversation from one speaker to the next—all except when Lurker spoke.
Tamra indicated the shying horses. “If you want to fly, we should do it soon. Your people are about to lose control of their mounts.”
Jozwa addressed his escort. “Back to the city. I’ll meet you there.”
A large, dark-skinned man with a no-nonsense sneer walked his horse ahead a few steps. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
“It’s hard to be sure of anything in life, Stryk.” Jozwa stared at Lurker, his answer belying his obvious reservations. “There is a strong possibility that I will never be afforded this opportunity again. Be it good or ill, to say I flew the skies on the back of a dragon is a story that will not soon be forgotten. Go now. Prepare the city for our arrival.”
Stryk’s penetrating stare lingered on Jozwa. His large, brown eyes flicked to Tamra, but his face was unreadable. He wheeled his mount around, and without looking back, spurred through the parting ranks to gallop across the plains—followed closely by the rest of the patrol.
Jozwa watched them leave. Before he greeted Reecah, his eyes flicked warily between the dragons. Staring into her eyes, he bowed low. “You must be the wondrous Reecah Windwalker. May your time in Zephyr be one of peace. Our world has suffered greatly with the demise of your line. Please know that you and your dragons are welcome in Zephyr as long as a Svelte duke draws breath.”
Reecah didn’t know how to respond. “I am no more, or less, than you, or any of your people. Thank you for agreeing to meet with us during these dark days.”
Her cheeks reddened. She wasn’t used to addressing someone of rank. She imagined how corny her words sounded. Not getting to realize her dream of speaking to the high king was probably a good thing. He would have laughed her out of the castle.
Jozwa bowed again, grasping her hand and lifting it to his lips. “The honour is all mine. The dragons’ beauty is only surpassed by your own.”
If her cheeks hadn’t flushed before, they were on fire now. From the corner of her eye, Junior slammed his sword home and mounted Swoop, not bothering to look her way.
She bent awkwardly at the knee; taking a deep breath to stop her fluttering heart. “Allow me to formally introduce you to Lurker, son of Grimclaw, the Ancient.”
Jozwa straightened, his keen, blue eyes meeting Lurker’s gaze. He bowed lower than he had for Reecah. “Lurker, son of Grimclaw, please accept my heartfelt apologies on behalf of the kingdom. If I’m not mistaken, we have recently been deprived of the Ancient’s hallowed presence.”
Reecah gave him a grim smile and Lurker nodded.
“I’ll have you know that Grimclaw’s loss was felt not only by dragonkind. There are still those of us who value the days of yore. Please do not hate mankind for the atrocity perpetrated by the few.”
Reecah listened to Lurker’s response and answered for him. “He says he appreciates your words and hopes that there are likeminded people in the world.”
Jozwa looked at her, his face full of awe. “That’s so amazing you can speak to them. What an incredible world this would be if those in power could see beyond their greedy ways and spend their energy preserving the simple things in life that mean the most.”
Tamra sighed. “Are you two going to spend all day stating the obvious, or can we get going?”
Reecah glanced at Tamra waiting impatiently on Silence. “She’s right. And sorry, no one introduced you. Tamra’s dragon is known as Silence.”
Jozwa inclined his head. “Well met, Silence.”
“Aramyss there with
the axe, rides our red dragon friend, Scarletclaws, and Junior,” she indicated him with a nod, “rides the brown dragon who we affectionately call Swoop.”
“Well met.” Jozwa nodded to the men and their mounts. He turned back to her and whispered, “Those are the dragons’ real names?”
Reecah laughed. “Hardly. I named them. I can’t pronounce their dragon names.”
“I’ve heard they were hard to pronounce. Isn’t it true that most dragons are given human names?”
Reecah didn’t know how to answer that, but Scarletclaws informed her, “According to what I heard from the elders, the colonies used to give their young, equivalent human names in the time of the Windwalkers. Grimclaw had put a stop to that at Dragon Home but I can’t speak for the other colonies.”
She repeated it out loud for Jozwa’s sake.
“Interesting.”
Patting Lurker’s foreleg, Reecah smiled. “Anyway, watch me climb aboard, then do likewise.”
Lurker dropped to his chest.
Scrambling over his front leg, she pulled herself into place and looked down at Jozwa. “Okay. Your turn. Don’t worry, you can’t hurt him.”
Watching how tentatively Jozwa touched Lurker’s scaly hide, unsure whether to step on his leg, she was glad she learned to mount Lurker when he was smaller. For someone not used to clambering onto a living creature approaching the size of a small cabin, Jozwa did okay, but he needed Reecah’s hand to steady him long enough to get his leg over Lurker’s spinal ridge.
“See? That wasn’t so hard.”
Jozwa didn’t answer; his face agog as he looked around.
“Ye think this is bad,” Aramyss called over from where his short legs protruded from Scarletclaws’ neck. “Wait ‘til he ducks low and jumps into the air. I hope ya gots a strong constit—Oi!” Scarletclaws sprung into the air, her wingbeats buffeting them with air.
Reecah looked over her shoulder. “Bah. Don’t listen to him. Dwarfs don’t like flying.”
She no sooner spoke than Lurker rose up on his forelegs and dropped his hindquarters to the ground.
Reecah leaned into Lurker’s neck, her right hand clutching her staff. “Hang on!”
Jozwa barely got his arms wrapped around her waist before Lurker launched himself into the air—his leap more pronounced than usual.
Wings beating furiously; their altitude slowly increased.
“How’s it feel? Are we too heavy?”
Jozwa screamed into her ear, “What?”
She ignored him. Her question was meant for Lurker.
“I’m surprised I’m actually doing it. I don’t know how long I can keep it up, but I should make the castle.”
“Okay, good. Remember, we need to wait until Jozwa’s troops make it back to assure the duke’s men. The last thing we need is them to shoot his son out of the sky.”
“I’ll do my best. What do you suggest? Land again and wait?”
Tamra answered for Reecah as she and Silence dropped to match their altitude. “Fly wide of the city. There’s a big lake on its eastern shore. Let’s give the people a demonstration they won’t soon forget,”
“Hey!” Junior cried out. Swoop climbed much higher than the rest.
Reecah grinned, knowing what the brown dragon was up to. She hoped Junior didn’t choke her unconscious.
Jozwa’s grip around her waist left her gasping for air. She couldn’t fully fill her lungs and imagined this was what the dragons experienced when their riders choked them. The difference being, she didn’t have to flap to remain aloft.
Jozwa’s blonde locks itched the side of her face as the wind whipped them around to mingle with her own.
Reecah reached down to loosen Jozwa’s grip—his eyes wide with fear. “Are you doing okay? You survived the worst part! Look below us!”
Jozwa swallowed, unwilling to do as instructed, but he gradually loosened his grip and turned his head to the side.
Reecah pointed at the scores of ant-sized horsemen converging on a gaping gateway that breached a newly built outer wall surrounding a large area between it and a taller, thicker wall. The dark water of a wide moat surrounded the castle.
Beyond a massive rectangular keep, the sky blue waters of an enormous lake crashed into the castle’s eastern ramparts. The crenelated walls along the back of the keep were bisected by a soaring spire—its lofty heights much higher than the rest of the towers rising from the castle’s multi-layered rooftop.
Reecah held her cheek against Jozwa’s to be heard. “That’s quite a castle! It puts Draakhall to shame!”
Jozwa kept his head tucked into her shoulder. “Aye, for now! I hear the king is planning a new palace at Headwater! I think he’s jealous, but don’t tell anyone I said that!”
Reecah flicked their hair from her face, her attention drawn by a brown missile diving for the lake near the castle. Even from where they flew, Junior’s scream could be heard across the waters.
Swoop levelled her flight at the last possible moment and skimmed the choppy surface eastward; a plume of water in their wake.
Jozwa stretched his head past Reecah’s shoulder to watch. “That’s incredible!”
“Haha! Junior might beg to differ!”
They followed the perimeter of the lake in silent observation, all except Swoop who climbed and dove erratically. How Junior hung on, Reecah had no idea. She cringed each and every time Swoop plummeted from the sky.
A main roadway skirted the eastern shoreline, stretching north-to-south as far as the eye could see. Tracking around the southern shoreline, their flight slowed as the castle walls rose in the distance.
Reecah patted Jozwa’s arm to get his attention. “Lurker says he needs to land soon!”
Jozwa nodded into her shoulder. “Have them come in by the tallest tower! We call it the Wizard’s Spike! There’s a great courtyard fronting the main entrance! It should be large enough to accommodate the dragons!”
Dropping lower in the sky, four dragons banked around the seven-hundred-foot Wizard’s Spike—Swoop and Silence on one side and Scarletclaws and Lurker on the other. The great courtyard of the inner bailey stretched from a grand, pillared entranceway to the thick surrounding wall in the shape of a capital ‘D’. Six symmetrical wall towers separated sections of the massive bulwark. A colossal gate, flanked by thinner towers of its own, breeched its centre.
Hundreds of disciplined troops resplendent in plate and chain, and draped in vermillion, formed rank upon rank—their numbers filling the expansive greenspace—leaving room in front of the palatial entranceway for the dragons to land.
Lurker assumed the lead, dropping over the edge of the keep and landing with a flourish of wings.
A collective gasp rolled across the bailey.
Silence settled beside Lurker, equally graceful, but Swoop and Scarletclaws landed hard, dropping out of the sky like boulders.
“Ya blasted dragon!” Aramyss half slid, half fell, from Scarletclaws, and stumbled on the ground in a clatter of armour and weapons. “Yer crazier than a boneless skeleton! Ya ain’t got to imitate the nutty brown dragon, ya twit!”
Junior, Tamra and Reecah dismounted with more decorum and faced the broad, marble steps that ascended from the manicured lawn to a wide walkway disappearing beyond a set of massive, iron-strapped, wooden doors. Junior worked feverishly to straighten his dishevelled hair, a weary look on his ashen face.
Several well-armed knights stood across the base of the steps —the man Jozwa referred to as Stryk amongst them. On the top step, a man and woman with greying, blonde hair, observed the scene.
Reecah cleared her throat to catch Aramyss’ attention.
The dwarf was on the verge of launching into another tirade but trailed off as he noticed his peers standing straight. He quickly pulled off his flat-topped helm and held it in the crook of his arm. Bowing his head, a mass of unkempt hair flopped about in dishevelled clumps.
Facing the duke and duchess of Zephyr, the second most powerful duchy
of the Great Kingdom, Reecah leaned on her staff, finding it hard to keep the smile from her face.
Dragon Duke
Spreading his arms wide, the thin man atop the steps fronting Castle Svelte, spoke to everyone in the courtyard with a deceptively booming voice. His gaze lingered on the dragons. “Welcome, dragon friends. May Castle Svelte forever serve as a bastion to all who dwell within our borders. Harbour no fear as long as a Svelte holds sway in Zephyr.”
The man’s warm eyes focused on Reecah and her human friends. “You have honoured our son with the gift of dragon flight. Come forward and accept our humble hospitality.”
Reecah felt every eye in the courtyard on her. She leaned into Jozwa. “What about my dragons?”
“They’ll be fine.” Jozwa grabbed her hand and pulled her up the wide steps, nodding to Stryk on their way past. Stopping in front of his father, he dropped to a knee—his hand still clasping Reecah’s. She had no choice but to do likewise.
The Duke of Zephyr, Ryonin Svelte, placed a hand on Jozwa’s shoulder. “Arise, my son. Introduce us to your guest.”
“Stay down,” Jozwa whispered, releasing Reecah. He embraced his parents. Stepping to the side, he said loudly, “I present to the people of Zephyr, Reecah Windwalker.”
Her last name echoed off the ramparts.
“Arise, Reecah Windwalker,” the duke commanded with a flourish of ring adorned hands. “The house of Svelte is honoured by your presence.”
Reecah stood straight, allowing first the duke, and then the duchess, to kiss her free hand. Her cheeks flamed hot. She had no right to be treated like royalty. She pulled her hand away, not knowing how to respond.
The duke saved her the trouble. “Please, walk with us. Would you like a tour of the castle?”
She nodded demurely, falling into stride between the duke and duchess. Jozwa trailed behind, his boots clipping a rhythmic cadence.
Legends of the Lurker Box Set Page 65
