Legends of the Lurker Box Set

by Richard H. Stephens

  “Scarletclaws is a gentle dragon, aren’t you red lady?”

  “As gentle as an erupting volcano.”

  If Reecah didn’t know better, she would have said that Silence laughed at Scarletclaws’ comment. She shot the purple dragon a stern look.

  Silence chewed on her lower lip and looked away.

  Honestly, Reecah thought, these dragons are getting harder to control with each passing day.

  Reecah offered Brynhild a hand up. “That’s better. Here, turn around.” She brushed the dirt and debris from Brynhild’s immaculate, light blue frock, cringing at the grass stains on Brynhild’s backside. She made sure the lady-in-waiting didn’t see her reaction.

  Holding Brynhild’s hand, she gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Scarletclaws will lower her chest to the ground. When she does, we’ll mount in front of her wing by stepping on her front leg—”

  Brynhild tried to pull away.

  Reecah squeezed tighter. “Come on. You promised to take care of me. It’ll be fine, trust me. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

  Brynhild eyes were wild.

  “Okay?” Reecah asked with conviction.

  Brynhild nodded and swallowed, her eyes riveted on Scarletclaws.

  Reecah turned to Scarletclaws. “Perhaps if you turn your head away until we are in position, it might help Brynhild’s nerves.”

  “Perhaps I should roast her and put us all out of her misery.”

  Reecah gave the dragon a dirty look.

  “Alright, alright. You don’t have to get testy.” Scarletclaws knelt and placed her chest on the ground. “If she pees herself in flight, I’m pitching her.” With a last, sour look, Scarletclaws flopped her head on the ground away from them.

  It was all Reecah could do not to fire an ill-tempered response at the dragon. Forcing a smile for Brynhild’s benefit, she half led, half dragged the terrified woman to Scarletclaws’ side.

  The usually quiet Silence stood up to watch—the movement not helping Reecah soothe Brynhild’s fear. “This I got to see.”

  “Honestly! You dragons are worse than children.” Fighting to keep the frustration from her voice, she stepped onto Scarletclaws’ leg.

  Brynhild refused to do likewise.

  “It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt them. Their scaly skin is so thick they can deflect arrows and worse.”

  Giving the servant a less than subtle yank, Reecah pulled her onto Scarletclaws’ leg.

  “Ahhhhh!” Brynhild looked at the red dragon skin beneath her feet.

  If Brynhild wasn’t so terrified, Reecah was sure she would have run.

  Reecah considered the height of Scarletclaws’ shoulder. She could see now why Aramyss struggled to get up there. Brynhild’s smock wasn’t going to make matters any easier. “Here. Put your foot in my hands and I’ll boost you up.”

  She didn’t think Brynhild was going to comply, but the servant lifted her small foot. As her weight settled, Reecah was surprised at how little the woman weighed.

  “Ready?” Reecah didn’t wait for a response. She was surprised she had gotten the woman this far. Bending at the knees, Reecah extended her legs and chucked Brynhild onto Scarletclaws with such force that she almost threw her over the dragon’s neck. Reecah gaped. That would not have been good.

  Brynhild struggled to hang on; her frock preventing her from throwing a leg over Scarletclaws’ spinal ridge.

  “Hang on.” Reecah clambered like a spider up Scarletclaws’ scales. Placing one foot on the front edge of the dragon’s wing, she assisted Brynhild into a sitting position. A quick step and a modified manoeuvre to get her own leg onto the far side of Scarletclaws’ neck, Reecah adjusted her backside on the scales.

  She looked over her shoulder. The poor woman looked to be on the verge of having a stroke. “Put your hands around my waist. That’s it. Now don’t worry. The take-off is the worst part. Once we’re in the ai—r!”

  Scarletclaws leaned back without warning and whipped her head to the front—springing off the ground in one fluid motion.

  Brynhild’s scream of absolute terror threatened to puncture Reecah’s eardrums.

  The ramparts fell away along with the lower spires. Several wingbeats later, the top of the Wizard’s Spike flashed by on their left and Ring Lake stretched out beneath them toward the Mid Savannah grassland far to the east.

  For a small woman, Brynhild’s grip was excruciating. If not for her thick sword belt cummerbund, Reecah was sure the woman’s hands would have pulled themselves right through her. The poor girl pushed her head into Reecah’s shoulder blade, her eyes shut tight.

  Gasping for breath, Reecah released Scarletclaws’ neck and tried to create a bit of a gap in Brynhild’s grip, but as soon as the servant realized what she was doing, her grip tightened even more.

  “I can’t breathe,” Reecah gasped, but she wasn’t sure Brynhild heard her over the rushing wind and the leathery snapping cadence of Scarletclaws’ wings.

  Mustering as much breath as she could, she shouted, “Bryn! You’re hurting me!”

  Reecah inhaled a wonderful lungful of air as Brynhild eased her hold. She was thankful that Brynhild hadn’t been hanging onto Scarletclaws’ neck or they would have already crashed.

  “How’re you doing, Scarlet?”

  “Other than deaf? Not bad. You’re right. You two weigh less than Aramyss alone.”

  “That’s good. Thank you for doing this.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. You owe me big time.”

  Scarletclaws’ flight steadied—her long, wing beats, nothing more than a gentle undulation beneath Reecah’s backside. She smiled. She certainly did owe Scarletclaws.

  Considering how terrified Brynhild had appeared on the ground, she couldn’t imagine what was going through her head now.

  An image of Tamra’s first flight reminded her that even the fierce warrior had balked at flying. As soon as they had landed, Tamra had promptly thrown up. Reecah winced. Scarletclaws wouldn’t take kindly to vomit on her scales.

  A lone cloud dropped below them. The castle was a small speck on the edge of the blue lake—the town of Carillon sprawled around Castle Svelte’s battlements.

  Reecah rued her decision. She should never have entertained the idea of taking Brynhild to where the eagles dare. Shivering in the mounting cold, she felt like a crumb. There was nothing to do about it but ask Scarletclaws to turn back.

  The pressure around her waist eased significantly. She held her breath, craning her neck, fearful that Brynhild had fallen off.

  Brynhild’s beaming smile met her worried stare.

  “Are you okay back there?”

  Though the fear hadn’t left her eyes, Brynhild nodded vigourously—her brown hair whipping around her face. She threw her arms over her head and held them high—the wind snapping the thin fabric of her frock.

  Reecah worried the woman had lost her mind and was about to jump to her death.

  Brynhild’s lips parted, emitting a glorious shriek. “Woohoo! Yes! This is amazing! Look at me world! I’m flying a dragon! Woo-hoooooo!”

  Time to Save the Magic

  Duke Ryonin steepled his fingers. Seated in his crimson armchair, he cast a furtive glance at Momme as he considered Reecah’s explanation about where she must go next. His less than genuine smile told Reecah he wasn’t pleased with her decision.

  “Just so I understand you correctly. The highest wizard in all the land instructed you to go straight to the Wilds to seek out the dragon queen?”

  Reecah was glad the meeting in the receiving hall was a private one. Only the duke’s closest advisors, her companions, and the expected compliment of men-at-arms were in attendance. “Yes, m’lord.”

  “And so far, you’ve visited Fishmonger Bay, where, I might add, you are a wanted felon—”

  “I wouldn’t say felon, m’lord.”

  The duke’s wearing patience came through in his flushed mien. “According to your own words, the head of the village, Jonas Waverunner
if I recall the name, wants to kill you on sight. Is that the right of it?”

  “Yes, m’lord.”

  Duke Ryonin sighed and sat back. “That speaks of a wanted person to me.”

  “But not a felon.”

  The duke leaned forward, his stare boring into her. “Did you not kill two of the king’s men outside the Dragon Temple?”

  “Well, yes, m’lord. But that was self defense. They were trying to kill the dragons.”

  “The dragons? The very creatures the king has openly declared war upon?”

  Reecah hung her head. “Yes, m’lord.”

  “That makes you a felon. Unwittingly or not, you are an enemy of the state, and a very powerful one at that. One who is not only an emerging arcane force—magic being another issue I assure you the king will be seeking to remedy in due course—but you have four dragons at your command.”

  “And a dwarf and elf ambassador.” Aramyss interrupted. He cleared his throat and lowered his gaze as the duke gave him a dark look.

  “While at Fishmonger Bay, in the full view of all its residents, you scavenged artifacts from a witch’s den. A building that was purposely put to the torch.”

  Reecah didn’t respond, not wanting to add further fuel to the duke’s tirade.

  “From there, you again ignored Devius’ order and flew your dragons here, to the very seat of my people. An action I can promise you will have been reported to Draakhall by many interested parties.”

  Reecah shuffled her feet. Unable to remain quiet, she lifted her chin to meet Duke Ryonin’s scrutiny. “I wouldn’t exactly call Devius’ instructions an order.”

  “Oh no?” The duke’s eyes narrowed. “The High Wizard of the Great Kingdom asked you to make all haste to visit Queen Askara. What exactly would you call it?”

  Reecah bristled. “I had a promise to keep. I honour my pledges. And now, whether I have your blessing or not, I intend to honour one I made to myself.”

  “I see. So, your personal interests take precedence over the extinction of dragonkind? Perhaps mobilizing my army isn’t the most prudent act after all.”

  Reecah’s jaw fell open. Ignoring the voice of reason telling her not to let the duke’s words get to her, she said louder than she meant to, “My personal interest is to save the dragons!”

  She held the duke’s stare but lowered her voice to a more appropriate level. “In order to make a difference, I feel it’s important for me to keep that promise. Without Devius to guide me, my Windwalker presence will be of little consequence where Prince J’kwaad is concerned. Do you forget the dark heir is personally responsible for slaying Grimclaw, the eldest dragon in the land? And what about the fiercest dragon, Demonic? He killed him too. How can I go against the prince without Devius to guide me?”

  The duke’s eyes flared. He held the arms of his chair in a white-knuckled death grip. “Remember your place! Were you not a Windwalker, I’d have you in chains. There’s a hierarchy to be observed if we’re to survive this coming storm. High King J’kaar will come for Castle Svelte. Don’t let me live to regret my decision.”

  The explosive atmosphere in the hall became deathly still. Reecah sensed Aramyss and Tamra preparing to leap to her defense. An armed struggle with Duke Ryonin’s guards was the last thing they needed. The duke was on their side.

  Duchess Momme patted the duke’s forearm. “It’s imperative we act together. Divided, the king will make quick work of those who oppose him.”

  Reecah let the duchess’ words settle in. The woman pointed out a simple truth. One that might have saved the Draakval Colony had Demonic not been such a hard-headed ruler. The last thing she wanted to be remembered for was the Windwalker who was responsible for the dragons’ demise.

  “What if…?” Reecah started to say but trailed off, trying to organize her thoughts. It wouldn’t do to say something she didn’t mean. As much as it bothered her, the duke was right. Devius had claimed that in order for her to make a difference, she must go straight to the dragon queen.

  “What if I take two dragons to the Draakvuur Colony and…?” She swallowed and looked over her shoulder at Tamra and Aramyss. “Tamra Stoneheart and Aramyss Chizel take two dragons north to find Devius.”

  The elf and dwarf gaped in unison.

  “Absolutely not!” Aramyss’ red face matched the hard glare Tamra shot at her—the elf’s muscled arms tense. “We’re sworn to protect the Windwalker.”

  Reecah felt the fight drain out of her. Too many people were demanding too many things. Everyone considered her the last chance the dragons had for survival and yet, no one was willing to place their trust in her decisions. Not that she could blame them. What had she really done besides flown a dragon and conjured pitiful fireballs?

  There was one thing that stood out. She consoled herself with the fact that she had summoned a dragon from across the land. Though not well-versed in the wizarding community, she’d never heard tell of anyone performing such an incredible feat. Healing, fireballs, iceballs, opening and closing hidden doors, and even scrying images were amongst the common tales spoken of wizards and witches, but summoning a dragon? Never.

  Even so, those around her questioned the sanity of her choices, and that fueled her anger. Her return to Fishmonger Bay had not only secured a valuable, magical talisman in the scrying bowl, it had netted her Grimelda’s staff. A powerful artifact if she wasn’t mistaken.

  Ignoring those in the receiving hall, she remembered asking Devius what was so important about possessing a staff and where she could find one. As Devius’ words came back to her, they finally started to make sense. ‘Who makes them? Why no one, child. They’re the result of an ancient spell being cast during a momentous event.’

  The old wizard had looked to the ceiling of his wizard’s sanctum as if to beseech its help in describing something so intrinsically basic that its explanation was beyond him. ‘Other factors have to be taken into consideration. Suffice it to say, a true staff of import is more than just a talisman. It’s an extension of someone’s spirit.’

  Grimelda! Her great-aunt was that spirit. Now all Reecah needed to do was find someone knowledgeable enough to train her in how to channel her dragon magic through the staff. Devius was the logical choice, but there was no way she was going to convince the duke.

  “Very well.”

  The duke’s voice broke through her thoughts. She blinked at him, forcing her mind to concentrate.

  “Aramyss Chizel and Tamra Stoneheart, I command you to take your dragons north to Arcanium and search out Devius Misenthorpe. If found, he’s to be flown back here at once. Do you understand?”

  Looking none too pleased, Aramyss straightened his shoulders. “Aye, m’lord.”

  Tamra merely stared at the duke; her stoic expression unreadable.

  The duke held Tamra’s stare before turning his attention on Reecah and Junior. “Reecah Windwalker. Junior Waverunner. You’re to fly without delay to the Draakvuur Colony to inform Queen Askara that Castle Svelte is leading the charge to waylay the king’s army before it can reach Draak Home.”

  Reecah’s frustration demanded release but she bit back her true feelings. “Yes, m’lord.”

  Junior took a knee. “Yes, m’lord.”

  Reecah waited for Junior to stand again and asked the duke, “Is that all, m’lord?”

  The duke held her dark glare for a few tense moments. “Make preparations to leave as quickly as possible. The lives of many depend on you.”

  Reecah bowed her head. “M’lord.”

  Her booted footfalls resounded across the great hall. She had almost made it to the top of the stairs before her temper got the better of her.

  Without thinking, she spun; the acid in her tone harsher than she meant. “If you’re such a dragon sympathizer, why have you waited so long to act? Both of the destroyed colonies were part of your duchy. You must’ve known a sizable army had landed in Thunderhead, and yet, you did nothing. The army returned to the northern part of Zephyr and laid
waste to a second colony. Where were you?”

  Tears threatened to roll down her cheeks but she was so angry she fought them off. The time for crying was over.

  The appalled look on those assembled didn’t bother her nearly as much as the pain her words had evoked on Duchess Momme’s face as the duchess rubbed Duke Ryonin’s forearm to console him. Reecah braced herself for a heated reaction but had to strain to hear the duke’s soft voice.

  “My biggest regret in life is that I cannot undo what I failed to do in the first place. I wasn’t brave enough to stand up to the king. I thought that by protecting my own hide and the lives of my people I was doing the right thing. I haven’t slept much since Tamra arrived at our gate. The atrocities committed by my fellow man will haunt me to my grave.”

  Reecah’s anger grew. Not at the duke’s admitted inaction, but at the tears that threatened to flow in the face of his raw sincerity. She held his pained stare for a couple of heavy breaths, but couldn’t take it any longer. Rushing past the guards stationed at the top of the steps, she fled down the tapestried hallway.

  The guards at the end of the corridor thankfully opened the doors without comment. Bursting into the cold, nighttime air, she walked to the edge of the raised walkway and stared at the moon. Lurker and Swoop had come back and lay together near Scarletclaws and Silence—all four dragons aware of her presence.

  A ruffling of feathers thumped into her shoulder. If she hadn’t been quick enough, the crazy raven would have fallen in a heap at her feet. She caught him and waited until he tucked his wings in before cradling him against her chest.

  Raver’s presence, especially how he crash-landed against her, usually made her laugh. Not this time. She fought hard to keep her emotions from consuming her. She had no time to be weak. She forced herself to be strong so that she could carry out what she believed must be done.

  A comforting hand dropped on her shoulder. She didn’t have to look to see who it belonged to. Even Junior’s presence did little to lift her spirits. Dark days were on the horizon and everyone looked to her to be their guiding light.

  She knew what she should do. What everyone expected her to do. Obey the duke’s command and fly east to meet with the dragon queen.