Legends of the Lurker Box Set

by Richard H. Stephens

  It took a moment for Reecah’s words to register. A grin lifted Brynhild’s cheeks. The woman was cute when she let her guard down.

  Opening the door, Reecah motioned for Brynhild to go ahead. “First, we must find the one called Tamra Stoneheart.”

  Brynhild stiffened.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The elf woman scares me.”

  Reecah laughed and followed Brynhild down the hall. “She has that effect on people.”

  Brynhild stopped before the wooden doorway in the constricted section of the lower corridor running along Castle Svelte’s eastern wall. The look on her face bespoke that she would rather be anywhere else.

  Reecah’s arms were burdened with a burlap sack as she surveyed the plain door. “Is it locked?”

  “No, m’lady. No need to lock it. Begging your pardon, but no one in their right mind would consider going through it.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I’ve lost mine. Please, open it.”

  Reecah was sure Brynhild was on the verge of bolting down the corridor, but after a moment of staring at the unremarkable door handle, she pushed it down and the door swung inward with a squeal that reverberated down the hall and up the dark confines inside the tower.

  A cold gust of wind escaped the tower, ruffling their hair. Reecah understood why Brynhild feared the place. It seemed to breathe with a life of its own. Gazing at the terrified servant, there was no way she was going to convince Brynhild to accompany her through the door.

  “Wait here for me until I return.”

  “Yes, m’lady.” Relief softened Brynhild’s features. She reached for the iron sconce hanging from a hook. “Let me light this for you.”

  Dangling the sack from her right hand, a burst of light flared above Reecah’s left hand—eliciting a gasp from Brynhild. “No need.”

  The lady-in-waiting gaped at the small ball of fire spinning in the air over Reecah’s palm. Their eyes met briefly; terror written in Brynhild’s disbelieving gaze.

  “It’s okay. I’m a Windwalker, remember?”

  Brynhild nodded and stepped away from the doorway leaving Reecah to assay the climb facing her. Triangular stone steps similar to those she had climbed at the Sea Gate Bridge were embedded into the large, marble slabs that formed the interior wall of the circular tower—the light from her small fireball barely sufficient to illuminate the first several steps.

  Concentrating hard to keep her spell going, she started into the darkness above. As she traversed the long flight, she was surprised that the spinning flames in her palm didn’t affect her skin with anything more than an appreciable warmth.

  Her legs had little strength left in them by the time she reached the closed door at the top of the climb. The weight of the contents in the burlap sack hadn’t helped. She bent to put the sack down so she could knock, but the door swung inward without a sound.

  “Come in, child.”

  Reecah stared into the chamber wondering how Devius had gotten here without her knowledge, and yet, it wasn’t Devius’ voice that had spoken. Stepping into the room, she searched the cluttered tables and odd stands buried beneath books and scrolls. A lone doorway, right beside the one she stood in, led from the round chamber to someplace else. She couldn’t fathom what the door opened onto as its placement suggested it led outside.

  A man with long, dark-hair and matching, well-kept mustache and beard, looked up from a round, glass magnifier hovering over a brittle looking scroll—a feathered quill in his other hand. “Close the door.”

  If the man had noticed the fireball sputtering above her palm, he didn’t appear the least bit concerned. She willed the pitiful spell to dissipate and pushed the door until it clicked—locking out the cold air.

  “Took your time coming here.”

  Reecah swallowed at his curt words, not knowing whether he meant she was a slow climber or he had been expecting her for some time. An unwelcome presence tried to rise to the forefront of her thoughts and bite back but she held her temper in check. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were waiting for me.”

  “Carrying around something that exudes that much magic?” He grunted, pointing his chin at the sack in her hands. “You just figured…what? That I’d wait forever?”

  “You know what this is?”

  The man rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Are you applying to become one of the duke’s jesters?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Hmph. Could’ve fooled me.” He ignored her and went back to studying the scroll.

  Reecah sighed. Though she knew the answer, she had to ask. “Are you Thunor Carmichael?”

  The man didn’t dignify her with a response.

  She shook her head, her attempt at keeping her emotions under control failing. Grasping the handle to the tower steps, she mumbled under her breath. “I see I’m wasting my time here.”

  She went to exit the room but the door flew from her grasp and slammed shut, leaving her staggering in its wake.

  “You aren’t leaving that fast. You have something of mine.”

  Reecah spun on him, her eyes narrowing. “Something of yours?” She hoisted the sack into the air. “This is mine. It belonged to my great-aunt.”

  “Well, now it belongs to me.”

  A thumbnail-sized fireball formed in Reecah’s palm, the sudden presence startling her. She hadn’t consciously thought of conjuring one.

  “Please. You honestly believe I’d allow you to risk burning these priceless artifacts? Put that out before I turn it on you.”

  Reecah sensed Thunor wasn’t kidding. It took everything she had to quell her rage and disperse the fireball.

  “Leave the sack on the floor and see yourself out.” Thunor held her gaze for a few heartbeats as if daring her not to and then went back to work, dipping a quill into a filthy clay pot and scribing runes onto a blank page in an open tome.

  Reecah clenched and unclenched her free hand several times to calm herself. She threw back her shoulders, refusing to be cowed by the insolent wizard. Walking over to where Thunor ignored her, she looked over his shoulder at a rune covered scroll. She recognized its contents. “What’s that?”

  Thunor stopped writing mid-stroke to glare at her—his expression demanding to know why she was still in the chamber.

  “That scroll. That’s a summoning spell.”

  Thunor’s irked features transformed into a questioning look. “What do you know about it?”

  Reecah’s eyes had no trouble reading what Thunor viewed through his magnifier. “It looks very much like a spell I invoked recently.”

  “Pfft. Please.” Thunor’s temporary lapse of brashness wore off. “You’re what? Sixteen? What would you know of summoning spells?” He shook his head and reapplied his quill to the tome—scrolling letters skillfully appeared on the cream-coloured page.

  Reecah put the sack on the floor between her feet and stretched the cramped muscles in her hand. Tired of the wizard’s attitude, she spoke with an intended sense of superiority. “Twenty-one, thank you, and I’ll have you know, I summoned a dragon.”

  Thunor’s shoulders stiffened and his quill slipped, making a mess of the rune he was scribing. Carefully laying the long plume on the small, ink stained table, he turned on his low stool. “A dragon?”

  Reecah decided to leave him in suspense. Instead of answering, she lifted her chin and looked away as if bored.

  “Then it is true. The old dodderer was right.”

  The term Thunor used struck a chord. The image of Aramyss standing above her at the base of Devius’ tower flashed through her mind. The old wizard had taken an arrow before the dwarf and his brother Anvil had rescued them. Aramyss’ words sounded in her head, ‘Well I’ll be a horned owl. What’re ye doing hangin’ around an old dodderer like him?’

  “Devius?”

  Thunor nodded; his arrogance forgotten. “Aye. How do you know him?”

  “He trained me. Well, started to…” Her gaze fell on the sack. Be
nding to open it, she pulled the brass scrying bowl free—surprised to see how shiny it was. Tamra must’ve taken it upon herself to clean it. “I assume you know what this is.”

  Thunor held his hands out to relieve her of the bowl, wonder on his face. He turned it around, reading every rune-inscribed section. “Is this…Devius’ bowl?”

  Reecah shook her head and his eyes grew wider.

  “You found the mate.”

  “It was never lost. Like I said, my great-aunt had it.”

  “And who would that be?”

  Reecah raised the level of her own arrogance for no better reason than to get a reaction. “None other than Grimelda Windwalker.”

  Thunor blinked several times, his jaw dropping. “Then that makes you…?”

  “The last Windwalker.”

  Leaving Thunor speechless was more satisfying than Reecah cared to admit. Her gaze fell on Grimelda’s scrying bowl. “Just so you know, I’m not giving it to you. I’m hoping you can keep it safe while I’m away.”

  Thunor followed her gaze to the bowl. He wiped at a fingerprint. “And where are you going? With the duke?”

  Reecah pursed her lips, not sure she should divulge her intentions. “Let’s just say that carrying that thing around where I plan to travel wouldn’t be a great idea. I’d hate for it to fall into the wrong hands.”

  Thunor raised his eyebrows. “And yet, you barely know me.”

  “True, but I have a good feeling about the duke and duchess. If you’re their wizard, you can’t be that bad.” She held his gaze. “Despite your less than amicable manner.”

  Thunor flashed her a patient smile and fetched her a decrepit stool that wobbled when she sat on it.

  “Please, child. Sit down. We have much to discuss.”

  Descending the Wizard’s Spike was much faster than climbing it. A small orb of fire in hand, it wasn’t long before the closed door at the bottom came into view.

  Her discussion with Thunor had put her mind at ease about leaving Grimelda’s scrying bowl in the chamber high atop the Wizard’s Spike. It made sense to leave it with another wizard. Thunor wasn’t such a bad person once she got used to the way he conducted himself.

  According to Thunor, Devius hadn’t been heard from for weeks now. As bad as that seemed, he was adamant that no news was good news. Had J’kaar found Devius, the kingdom would be abuzz with reports of the high wizard’s head hanging from the ramparts of Draakhall.

  Dismissing her fireball, she pulled the door open—temporarily blinding herself in the bright light of the corridor. She was surprised to see Brynhild waiting for her.

  “You’re still here?”

  “Of course, m’lady. As instructed.”

  “Right. Sorry about that. I didn’t think I’d be that long.”

  “No worries, m’lady. It’s my duty to serve you.”

  Reecah’s stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten anything since morning. “What time is it? I’m hungry.”

  “It’s still a while before the evening feast, but the galley will provide for you whenever you please.”

  While speaking with Thunor, he had taken her through the second door and shown her the balcony the masons had installed to work on heightening the tower without disturbing his work. There hadn’t been a cloud in the sky. It would be a shame to waste such a beautiful day.

  Studying Brynhild, she didn’t believe anyone in a servant’s social class enjoyed castle life overly much—bound to a life of servitude. If Thunderhead had been any gauge, she imagined how some of the visiting nobility treated people in her position.

  “So, if I understand our arrangement, you must obey anything I say.”

  Surprise lit up Brynhild’s eyes. “Yes, m’lady.”

  Reecah grabbed her by the hand and pulled her down the corridor, away from the stairwell that led to the princess wing—skipping like a wee girl.

  Brynhild struggled to keep up. “Where are we going, m’lady?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Traversing flights of steps and navigating twists and turns, Reecah was impressed with how quickly she had climatized to the complicated route Brynhild had shown her to arrive at the receiving hall and the main doorway beyond.

  Bursting through the doors onto the marble walkway with no opposition from the attentive guards, two things struck her at once. The brilliant, late afternoon sunshine and the pungent aroma of dragons.

  Scarletclaws and Silence lay in the sunshine, a pile of large bones near their heads. Swoop and Lurker were nowhere to be seen.

  Reecah bounded down the steps, forcefully dragging Brynhild across the courtyard. Afraid her lady-in-waiting might either punch her or wet her undergarments, Reecah stopped a good distance away.

  Scarletclaws lifted her head, the simple movement causing Brynhild to gasp. She almost broke Reecah’s grip.

  “Now, now. You are supposed to obey me, remember?”

  Brynhild didn’t bother to answer. Her eyes were saucers full of terror.

  “It’s okay. They won’t hurt you. They’re sworn to protect me. As long as you never lift a finger against me, the dragons will be your friends.” She put a hand to her mouth as if keeping her words from the dragons. “Eating people gives them indigestion.”

  “Too much gristle.” Scarletclaws’ voice sounded in her head.

  “Ha ha. The red dragon says humans are gristly.”

  Brynhild pulled at Reecah’s grip. “You speak to them?”

  “Of course. They’re highly intelligent.”

  “Are they as intelligent as us?”

  “Oh please. Another remark like that and I might make an exception and have her for a snack.”

  Reecah didn’t dare repeat Scarletclaws’ words. “Oh, for sure. More intelligent, if you were to hear it from them.” Reecah looked around. “Where’s Lurker?”

  Scarletclaws yawned, her foul breath noticeable from where they stood. “He flew off with Swoop in the morning. They were all cuddly like if you get my meaning?”

  Reecah thought of Junior and felt her cheeks reddening. “Did Junior go with them?”

  “Why would they want him tagging along?”

  Brynhild looked from Reecah to Scarletclaws and back again, only privy to Reecah’s part of the conversation.

  Raver waddled out from behind Silence, a scrap of meat in his beak. He gulped it down and squawked, “Tagging along! Tagging along!”

  “Ah, my buddy. To me.”

  “You can speak to ravens too?”

  “Yes. Well sort of. Raver and I go way back, don’t we? Come on. To me.” She held up a forearm, begrudging the fact she hadn’t put her vambraces on, but it didn’t matter. Raver remained beside Silence and blinked at her.

  “Suit yourself, featherbrain,” Reecah said. She turned her attention back to Scarletclaws. “Can you summon Lurker for me?”

  “I can try.” Scarletclaws got to her feet, her intimidating size causing Brynhild to cower in Reecah’s one handed grasp.

  “It’s okay. Scarletclaws won’t hurt you.”

  Scarletclaws took a couple of heavy steps one way and then another.

  Reecah couldn’t hear her, but she knew the red dragon was reaching out to Lurker and Swoop.

  Scarletclaws returned her yellow eyes to Reecah and swayed her head from side to side. “Nope. They’re out of range.”

  Disappointment settled over Reecah. It wasn’t fair to keep the frightened Brynhild captive much longer. She considered Scarletclaws. The red dragon was probably the better choice anyway.

  “Can you do me a favour?”

  Scarletclaws’ eyes narrowed. “You want me to go search for them?”

  “Not really. Well sort of.”

  “Which is it?”

  “I was wondering…” Reecah scraped her toe in the dirt and tilted her head, offering Scarletclaws her most innocent smile—the one that Poppa always fell prey to. “If you would be so kind as to take a couple of girls for a trip around the lake?”

  Scarletcl
aws backed away, a low growl escaping her throat. “You know how well carrying two people went for me last time.”

  Reecah tried to avoid looking at Brynhild. She could tell by how hard it was to hold onto her that the woman had figured out what Reecah was up to. “Yes, but that was with two fully armoured men. One was a giant. Come on. It would be a thrill of a lifetime for her.”

  Brynhild shook her head vehemently, thrusting her backside out and digging her heels in the ground to break Reecah’s grasp.

  Reecah had to hold on with two hands.

  “Oh yes. I can see the excitement in her eyes. It’ll be a real thrill. She’ll choke me to death. No thanks.”

  “Oh, come on. She can hold onto me. Please. For me.”

  Reecah didn’t know if dragons sighed, but it certainly appeared as if Scarletclaws had done just that.

  “What are you going to do? Club her unconscious? There’s no way you’re getting her on my shoulders without a fight.”

  Scarletclaws had a point. She spun to face Brynhild, the servant’s sweaty skin threatening to slide through her grasp. Speaking with as much sternness as she could muster, Reecah said, “Brynhild. As my lady-in-waiting, I command you to do as I say. Stop struggling.”

  Brynhild shook her head and pulled harder. Her hands slipped through Reecah’s grasp and she fell to her backside, crab-walking backward.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Reecah noted that the guards stationed along the walkway, and those on the inner gatehouse, had left their posted positions and were watching the events unfold in the courtyard. If she didn’t act fast, the opportunity would be lost.

  “Bryn! If you don’t stop and listen immediately, I’ll report you to the duke.” As soon as she spoke the words, she hated herself, but Brynhild stopped backing away.

  “Whenever I fly, I need somebody with me to keep me safe. You know, in case something unforeseeable happens to me,” Reecah lied. “Do you understand?”

  Brynhild made like she was going to back away some more, but stopped. Staring into Reecah’s eyes, she dipped her chin in a slight nod.

  “Do you think you can protect me?”

  Brynhild swallowed, not answering, but she lowered herself to the ground.