Legends of the Lurker Box Set

by Richard H. Stephens

  Silence’s soft voice drifted into her thoughts, startling her.

  “Now it’s your turn.”

  Baiting a Witch

  J’kwaad woke from a restless sleep, sweating despite the chill in the room. Darkness beyond the dirty windowpane told him dawn was still a long way off. Surprisingly, he felt rested. Splashing water from a cracked porcelain washstand, he pulled his boots on and creaked across the old floorboards to the door. Ear against the faded wood, he couldn’t hear anything on the other side.

  Aside from a drunken patron passed out near the door, no one else remained in the bar except Calor. “Anything?”

  Calor shook his head, his bleary eyes testament that he struggled to remain awake.

  J’kwaad threw a large key on the table “Get some sleep.”

  Protesting stairs and creaking floorboards marked Calor’s passage to their room—the soft snore of the drunken patron, the only sound disturbing the silence that settled over the Wizard’s Staff.

  J’kwaad scanned the bar thinking a broom and a bucket of lye might be in order. He shook his head at how slovenly people could be and turned his mind to why he had come to Arcanium.

  After speaking with the witch, Nelly, he had kept a close eye on the barmaid, but her actions hadn’t provided him with any useful information regarding Devius. He was sure the old woman knew something, but short of forcing the information from her, it was obvious she wasn’t going to divulge it.

  He pulled his cloak tighter. A pile of wood stacked beside the hearth beckoned to him. Tossing a few pieces on the embers, he watched the wood blacken. Other than smoke, they never caught. He whispered, “Videtta.”

  A small flame licked at the wood and spread to the pieces around it. Holding his hands out to warm them, a sudden tingling in his left ring finger alerted him to another’s presence at the same time a gruff, female voice disturbed the quiet. “Fancy seeing a wizard up and about during the witching hour.”

  J’kwaad jumped, flames crackling along his fingers. He spun to face Nelly behind the bar. “Kraken’s whore, witch, I could’ve killed you.”

  Unimpressed, Nelly yawned. “You could’ve tried.”

  The veiled threat heightened his anger.

  “You’ll be wanting something to eat and drink, I assume?”

  He wondered if the woman ever slept, but her question soothed his displeasure at being startled. “An excellent idea. Why don’t you join me?”

  She held his gaze. “Sure. I got nothing better to do.”

  J’kwaad had thrown more wood on the fire by the time Nelly pushed past a black curtain behind the bar with two tankards of ale. Giving him a wink, she took a sip from both of them and placed them on the table. She disappeared again before returning with two steaming platters of vegetables and an unknown meat.

  He raised his eyebrows as she slid a platter in front of him and sat on the opposite side of the table, plopping her girth onto a protesting bench seat.

  “Better you didn’t know.” She took a healthy swallow of the warm ale. “Just eat and be happy.” Without waiting for him to respond, she dug into her meal like she hadn’t eaten in a week.

  J’kwaad stabbed a chunk of meat and sniffed at it. He stuffed it into his mouth. He’d smelled worse.

  Staring at the grey rat’s nest covering the top of Nelly’s head, J’kwaad washed down his fare. “So, have you gotten word to Devius?”

  Nelly stopped digging at her meal, but didn’t meet his gaze.

  “My father’s men will be here within the week. Magic guild or not, don’t think for a moment that he won’t tear Arcanium to the ground to find his traitorous wizard.”

  The witch grunted but resumed eating.

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret. One you might wish to share with your colleagues.”

  Nelly stopped chewing and lifted her head—her bloodshot eyes glaring into his.

  “Once the dragon threat has been quelled, the crown intends on utilizing its might to eradicate magic from the land.”

  Nelly’s hard look darkened.

  “Aye. He’ll be coming for wizards and sorceresses, witches and warlocks, diviners and necromancers.” The last name made him shudder.

  “Won’t that include you as well? And your apprentice?”

  J’kwaad pushed his empty plate aside and wiped his mouth with a small cloth he pulled from a hidden pocket. “Of a certainty. If he values his role as high king, he would be foolish not to. I believe he had planned on sparing Devius, but that idea has flown with his role in facilitating the Windwalker’s escape.”

  Nelly’s lack of reaction either meant she had no idea who he was talking about, or more likely, she knew full well what a Windwalker represented. He harboured no doubt that Devius had already told her.

  “Devius’ treachery against the crown has sealed his fate. Probably mine as well.”

  Nelly frowned.

  “Don’t kid yourself. My father has no love for me. I’m a tool in his war chest. Once the dragons are gone, he’ll have no use for my particular talents. If he’s as smart as I unfortunately know he is, he won’t think twice about dealing with me as well.” He considered his next words. Lying to a witch wasn’t a practical way of achieving one’s goals. They had an uncanny way of seeing through subterfuge. “That knowledge, in and of itself, should be proof enough that I have Devius’ longevity at heart.”

  Nelly nodded, ever so slightly. She held his stare for a while longer. Collecting the plates and her flagon, she bowed her head. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”

  J’kwaad watched her hobble away, slipping through the black curtain. As the cloth settled back into place, he looked admiringly at his rings and smiled. It wouldn’t be long now.

  The Second Time the World Stood Still

  Reecah considered Silence’s words as she approached the entrance to Castle Svelte. Crossing the raised walkway, the lady-in-waiting stepped out of the shadows to fall in behind her.

  Thankful she had someone to guide her back to her room, Reecah motioned for the chambermaid to walk with her. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

  The lady-in-waiting looked at her hands, her cheeks reddening.

  “It’s okay. Please, don’t be shy. I won’t bite.”

  “But…”

  Reecah lifted the girl’s chin to look into her pretty, brown eyes. “But what?”

  “You’re a Windwalker.”

  Reecah had to lean in to hear the girl’s response. She smiled, embarrassed. “So. That doesn’t make me a queen or a monster.”

  The girl’s face took on a look of horror. “Oh no. Never a monster. I’m sorry, m’lady. I never meant that.”

  Reecah lifted the girl’s chin; thinking all the while they were about the same age. “Please. Call me Reecah. I’m just a person like you and…and…” She searched for a common reference other than the duke or duchess. She indicated the men standing guard at the end of the walkway. “And those men. At the end of the day, we’re all just people making our way through the world.”

  As soon as Reecah released her chin, the girl dropped her eyes. “You’re a Windwalker. You fly dragons.”

  Reecah looked over the girl’s shoulder to where Lurker and Swoop cuddled against the far wall; their shapes almost lost in the shadows. “That doesn’t make me better than anyone else. If you want, I can ask the dragons to fly you around the castle, then you will be known as a dragon flyer too.”

  The girl raised her eyes to stare at her in terror. “Oh no. I couldn’t possibly do that.”

  “You could if you wanted to.”

  The girl shook her head.

  Realizing she wasn’t going to convince the servant, Reecah grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the castle. “Regardless, come on. It’s getting cold. Take me to my room.”

  Leaving the guards behind and passing by the tapestry in the entrance hallway, Reecah stopped. “Come on. What’s your name?”

  The girl stared at the
floor like she wasn’t going to answer, but her shy eyes lifted to meet Reecah’s. “Brynhild, m’lady.”

  “Brynhild. A lovely name. Where’s it from?”

  “North of the Great Kingdom. In the land of the ice and snow, m’lady.”

  Reecah almost snorted at being referred to as m’lady. If Brynhild only knew the half of Reecah’s life. “Please, Brynhild. I am Reecah. That’s it. I’m no lady, let me assure you. I’d rather be traipsing around the mountains all sweaty and filthy than…” She sniffed at her skin. “Than smelling like this.”

  Brynhild looked offended.

  “Don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing wrong with smelling pretty and all, but once you fly a dragon, smelling of leather and pine and mountain lakes is all you ever care about.” She bent her neck to look directly into Brynhild’s eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to fly one?”

  Brynhild’s eyes grew wide. Reecah thought she was about to change her mind, but the girl swallowed and shook her head, breaking eye contact.

  Reecah let it go and started toward the steps leading up to the receiving hall. “Well, if you ever decide you want to, all you have to do is ask.”

  Reecah followed Brynhild through the convoluted twists and turns and level changes comprising the route back to her room.

  “Are you sure you know where we’re going?”

  Brynhild didn’t catch onto Reecah’s jest. “Oh yes, m’lady. I-I mean, Reecah. This is the quickest way if we wish to avoid the public hallways. Most of the nobles would rather not be accosted by the common folk.”

  “I see.” Reecah nodded, not quite understanding the sentiment.

  They traversed a long, wide corridor, its opposite ends seemingly a league apart.

  “Where are we now? In relation to the rest of the castle?”

  Brynhild hazarded a look at her. “This passage runs along the base of the eastern wall. If there were windows, you would see Ring Lake, but the wall is very thick. There’s no access to the castle on this side.”

  Halfway up the long passageway, the eastern wall curved inward, constricting the passage to single file for several steps. A dark, wooden door set into the centre of the curve stood closed.

  Reecah grabbed Brynhild’s shoulder to stop her. “Where does that doorway lead to?”

  Brynhild refused to meet her gaze; appearing more nervous than usual. “The Wizard’s Spike, m’lady.”

  Duke Ryonin had mentioned the Wizard’s Spike. Reecah also remembered Jozwa pointing it out as they flew toward the castle. Everyone had referred to the Wizard’s Spike with an air of mysterious foreboding.

  “Can we go in there?”

  Brynhild gasped. “In there?” She shook her head, backing away. “No m’lady. At least I’m not allowed. Perhaps someone like you, but…but I wouldn’t. Not without the wizard’s permission.”

  Reecah nodded, letting it pass. She urged Brynhild beyond the constriction toward the steps at the far end of the corridor. She felt confident she knew how to get to her room from this point but was content with Brynhild’s company.

  Brynhild’s pace picked up since passing the tower entrance. Reecah looked back one last time as she mounted the wide stairwell at the far end of the corridor—she planned to pay a visit the resident wizard before she left the castle.

  Reaching the level containing her room, Reecah paused on the threshold as Brynhild motioned for her to enter. “Duke Ryonin called this the princess wing.”

  “Aye, m’lady.”

  Reecah bit back her distaste of the title. Brynhild was just doing her job. “Are my friends also housed on this level?”

  “I believe so. I can inquire if you like.”

  The hallways were so clean and quiet. It was as if no one else inhabited Castle Svelte. “No, it’s okay. I’m sure I’ll bump into them.”

  “Is there anything else, m’lady?”

  Reecah wanted to say yes. To have her stop fawning on her. “No. Thank you Brynhild. You’ve been very helpful. Please, go enjoy your night.”

  Brynhild curtsied. “Yes, m’lady. If you need me to turn down your bed, draw water or undress you, please pull the appropriate lever. I shan’t be far away.”

  Reecah felt her cheeks reddening. The thought of having someone undress her made her tremble. Bereft of something to say in response, she nodded and closed the door.

  Brynhild’s meek voice reached her through the oak door. “Someone will be by shortly to fetch you for dinner.”

  “Okay. Thank you.” She listened for the lady-in-waiting to leave, but the thick door muted any outside sound.

  Her room smelled of the scented water she had washed in earlier—the spacious chamber easily three times the size of her cabin back home; complete with a side room containing a private bath.

  A large, four post bed, draped with sheer fabric, dominated the far end of the marble floor—its polished surface covered with expansive, fur rugs of some beast she never knew existed. A bay window, wide enough to allow for plush cushions lining its sill, looked out over a massive lake. The far shore had just been visible earlier in the day.

  Spinning around in awe, just as she did when they had first brought her up here, she wondered what she had done to deserve such an extravagant sleeping chamber. Never in her wildest dreams had she envisioned a room so luxurious and decadent—even as a child dreaming that she was the queen of the world. She couldn’t imagine what the Duke and Duchess’ quarters must look like.

  Smokeless sconces flickered along the walls providing ample light to see by. She dragged her fingers along the marble wall to stare into a full-length mirror standing beside the cold bath water. A fit, long-legged woman in green breeks and a white tunic stared back at her, her cheeks slightly flushed in the heat of the open hearth at the side of the bed. She couldn’t help feeling like an intruder.

  A finely crafted armoire dominated the back wall of the bath chamber. Behind its exquisitely carved doors, she found an array of different coloured dresses that appeared to be her size. They hadn’t been there when she had first arrived.

  Thinking back to her brief stay at the Naughty Saucer, she closed the doors. It would take the effort of many people to hold her down if they wanted her to wear something like that again.

  She paused in front of the mirror to check how she looked from behind and from the side. Pushing aside a lock of hair that had fallen over her cheek, she wondered at the strange sensation of butterflies in her stomach.

  Reecah wasn’t one to put much stock into her appearance, but Silence’s words echoed in her mind. “Now it’s your turn.”

  She swallowed. The butterflies fluttered harder. The silly dragon didn’t know what she was talking about.

  Brynhild curtsied to her at the base of the steps leading into the stately dining hall—a glorious room closed off to the public, it held rows of tables positioned around a raised dais.

  “Thank you, Brynhild. Will you be joining us?” As soon as Reecah spoke the words, she felt embarrassed.

  “No m’lady. The servants dine elsewhere.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry. It’s too bad though. I would appreciate your company. You have been so kind.”

  “Yes, m’lady.” Brynhild curtsied again and scampered up the curving stairwell, out of sight.

  Reecah searched the sizable crowd gathered for the evening feast—her breath catching as she spotted Junior’s long locks at a table in front of the dais—a single table housing the Duke and Duchess and their son Jozwa dominated the platform.

  Tamra’s imposing form sat on Junior’s right. She could just make out the top of Aramyss’ head on the elven woman’s left—their backs to where she stood. Several others occupied the table with them—men and women in fine clothing.

  She lowered her eyes to the marble floor, regretting that she had arrived too late to sit with her friends.

  A dark-skinned man stepped away from the wall beside her, making her jump—she hadn’t seen him waiting. Stryk, Jozwa’s protector, held out his
elbow for her to grab hold of. “Reecah Windwalker. Please come with me.”

  Reecah wrapped her dainty fingers partway around Stryk’s frilly-sleeve, unable to miss feeling the corded muscles hidden beneath.

  Mouth-watering aromas assailed her as Stryk led her toward the head of the room. Spotting her, the raucous din fell off—every eye following her approach.

  He cheeks deepened in colour. It was all she could do not to let go of Stryk’s arm and bolt up the stairwell after Brynhild. The lady-in-waiting had the right of it.

  Duke Ryonin’s eyes fell on her as they made their way toward him. He tapped his wife’s shoulder and stood. Momme and Jozwa followed him to their feet. The dining hall thundered with the scrape of chairs as everyone present rose and turned her way.

  Goosebumps riddled her skin. She vaguely noted Stryk’s other hand holding her on his arm, not allowing her the opportunity to run and hide. Jozwa’s protector stopped at the bottom of the two steps at the base of the dais and ushered her forward.

  Not knowing what else to do, she approached the duke and mimicked Brynhild’s curtsy.

  Duke Ryonin’s clean shaven face lit up with a joyous grin. He spoke clearly, but kept his voice low. “You need bow to no one. It is time I announce you to the world, despite what the high king may think.” Raising his voice, he looked out over the hall and proclaimed, “Reecah Windwalker, you are the last of the dragon friends. The bridge between what once was revered in this world and the atrocity that has befallen the so-called Great Kingdom. It is us who are honour bound to show allegiance to what you represent.”

  The duke nodded to the congregation. As one, they slapped their right hand over their hearts and dropped to a knee, bowing their heads.

  Reecah’s legs threatened to give out. She searched the crowd. Men and women dressed as fine as the viscount of Draakhall offered her homage as if she were the high king.

  Her gaze fell on her friends. Aramyss and Tamra matched the actions of those around them. Beside Tamra, Junior knelt with his head bowed, but it was as if he sensed her attention. He raised his gaze to espy her through flowing locks. He smiled briefly before looking back at the floor.