Legends of the Lurker Box Set

by Richard H. Stephens

  “The fire of the earth.”

  “Which is what? Lava?”

  He nodded grimly.

  Resignation crept through her. Perhaps the trip wouldn’t be a total waste of time. Devius could help her hone her fireball skill so that she might one day be able to conjure one and still be able to concentrate on everything else going on around her. Still, a small part of her resisted.

  “And what about food and water? I don’t suppose we’ll find much in the way of either down there.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised what you find in the depths of the mountain. There are things down there that I pray don’t find us. Water won’t be an issue, I can assure you of that.”

  Reecah nodded at Nelly. “What about her? Will she be up for it?”

  “Nelly?” Devius chuckled. “No. There’ll be a few tight squeezes along the way. Ones that I can barely get through. We’ll leave her here with Junior.”

  Reecah looked at Junior sprawled across her, his arms wrapped around her like a comforting pillow. He wouldn’t like the idea of her venturing deep into the mountain without him. The lack of enthusiasm in Devius’ voice while describing their intended journey didn’t fill her with much anticipation.

  “If we’re successful in locating the heart of the Dragon’s Tooth, will you teach me how to use my staff?”

  “Oh, no, child. With the fall of Grimclaw, there’s only one creature left in the world who might be able to shed light on your staff’s secret.”

  Reecah searched his face as the answer dawned on her. “Queen Askara.”

  “Aye, my child. But be warned. By taking the time to unlock the runes, you may have already doomed dragonkind.”

  Raver squawked, causing Nelly and Junior to flinch. He jumped into the air and landed on the length of dark wood between her hands.

  Devius studied the bird. “Raver’s sacrifice will come to naught if you don’t reach the queen before the dark heir.”

  Coming Together of the Races

  Aramyss adjusted his position on Scarletclaws’ back for the umpteenth time since setting out from the edge of the swampland in the early morning. They had parted ways with Reecah and Junior the previous day, flying due east into the afternoon before the seemingly endless swampland gave way to drier, more desolate terrain.

  Following the distinct divide that separated the desert-like conditions of the Wilds from the lush green and blue backdrop of the swamplands, he and Tamra were fairly certain they knew how to find the Draakvuur Colony. It lay somewhere northwest of where the Undying Wall mountain range faded into Sarsen Rest.

  The sun beat down on them all day, leaving them thankful for the cool air their altitude afforded—especially clad in furs and armour. The last signs of winter had long since left this area—giving way to scorching spring days and chilly nights in the barren wilderness.

  They hadn’t spotted any form of intelligent life, man or beast, but they sensed they weren’t alone. Aramyss was well aware that out of necessity, the Wilds’ inhabitants were masters at disguising their whereabouts.

  Being a dwarf, flying dragons wasn’t a natural pastime to undertake. Short appendages made securing oneself to the beast’s wide shoulders a precarious occupation.

  He grumbled to himself at the unfairness of it all. Possessing the shortest arms and legs of the group, why did they insist he fly Scarletclaws? It was as if they had done so for their own amusement. He practically had to sit sideways to maintain a secure hold on Scarletclaws’ neck.

  Beside them flew Tamra on Silence—the elf sitting comfortably without the use of her hands. Blonde hair fluttering behind her half-shaved head, she regarded him with that damned glare of hers.

  An unusual touch of humour accompanied her melodious voice, belying her usual, murderous look. “Having troubles, dwarf?”

  Returning her stare with as much contempt as he could scrunch into his face, Aramyss adjusted his girth. Their easy flight and the lack of any perceptible wind aside from that created by their passage made speaking from the back of a dragon easy today. “Nope. No trouble. Ye?”

  She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Then perhaps a rash you picked up in the swamp?”

  Aramyss narrowed his thick eyebrows. The elf was speaking in riddles. Again. Why couldn’t the blessed woman say what was on her mind? He grunted. Perhaps it was for the best that she didn’t. “What’re ya on about?”

  “Nothing. Just concerned.”

  Aramyss snorted. Imagine that? Tamra Stoneheart worried about someone else’s welfare. Not likely. The pointed eared woman was up to something. She never spoke unless she had something important to say. “Don’t ye be worrying yer pretty head about me welfare.” He winced, not knowing where the word ‘pretty’ had come from. He half-expected to eat one of her axes.

  Tamra’s jaw dropped. Just briefly, but enough to let him know he had caught her off guard—a feat he was sure few people were able to pull off.

  It didn’t take her long to recover. “Who said I’m worried about you? I’m concerned you’re going to wear the scales off Scarletclaws’ back.”

  Scarletclaws craned her neck to look at Tamra. “So, it’s not just me. I was thinking Mr. Fidget-puss was exercising back there.”

  “Ha! You dames all stick together.”

  “Careful, dwarf. There’s three of us,” Silence uncharacteristically joined the conversation.

  “Bah! Women.”

  The day passed uneventfully, flying along the winding lengths of canyons and circling low mountains in search of the Draakvuur Colony. As the sun sank into the distant swampland, Tamra asked, “I thought Sarsen Rest was beyond the Wilds?”

  “Aye, ‘tis. Lies at the end of the Undying Wall.”

  “How can you not know where the Draakvuur Colony is?”

  “Ain’t to be hanging around the beasties. They don’t exactly care for humankind, if’n ya haven’t noticed.”

  “That’s for sure,” Scarletclaws chimed in.

  “What about you two?” Tamra patted Silence. “I thought you would know where to go. Isn’t it instinctive for dragons to know where home is?”

  “Our home is destroyed.”

  An uncomfortable silence settled over them as the light receded from the land.

  They were airborne long before the sun breasted the eastern horizon. Reflecting on Tamra’s comment last night about instinct, Scarletclaws assured them she was fairly certain she sensed the closeness of the queen’s colony.

  Silence and Tamra maintained a higher altitude while Scarletclaws skimmed the rugged ridges—air currents suddenly lifting and lowering her flight.

  Aramyss wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to remain on the red dragon’s shoulders. His butt ached something fierce from sitting astride Scarletclaws’ backbone for days on end. Trying to keep from falling to his death had frazzled his nerves, but it was their impending destination that really left him on edge. No sane dwarf would agree to descend into the middle of a nest of man-eating, fire-breathing dragons.

  Thinking about how composed Tamra had been as they had readied themselves to set out in the morning, it was like the silly woman hadn’t a worry in the world. His dander rose. The fact that the original Windwalkers had come from South March probably had a lot to do with her demeanour, but it still irked him that she put forth a much braver face than a stone cutting dwarf.

  Silence dropped in beside them, startling both he and Scarletclaws—his dragon almost unseating him.

  “Follow us. Draakvuur is this way.” Tamra pointed southeast to a point beyond a distant ridge.

  Winging high above the land, Aramyss’ hands slid forgotten from their hold upon two of Scarletclaws’ scales. Rising up from a valley floor, colossal square towers shot into the clouds, the tallest tower higher than the surrounding mountains. Across the valley, a lesser tower, attached to the bottom of the facing cliff by an arched walkway, appeared carved from the stone itself.

  Aramyss’ time in Sarsen Rest as a wee lad came back t
o him. He recalled more than once sitting around a campfire listening to his elders go on about the dragon home they had carved out of a mountain. He had put down their long tales to too much drink, but as they approached what could only be Draakvuur, the awe-inspiring truth of their words filled him with immense pride.

  An updraft caused Aramyss to flail his arms in the air until he regained his balance. If not for Scarletclaws sensing his struggle and compensating for his shifting weight, he would have fallen to his death.

  “Easy, Stretch,” Tamra called over to him as she and Silence glided past.

  Aramyss scowled, wanting nothing more than to shake a fist at her, but he dared not relinquish his death grip on Scarletclaws’ scales.

  “If you pull off one of my scales, I’ll pitch you.”

  He stared at his dragon’s neck in disbelief. “Don’t ye start.”

  His attention was diverted by the sight of several dragons appearing from behind the tallest tower, flying in a vee formation toward them. Their presence brooked further discussion of Tamra’s new nickname for him.

  Led by a gargantuan golden beast, the Draakvuur dragons dodged and darted past Scarletclaws and Silence, causing them to back-flap and veer abruptly to avoid being hit.

  “Arrg! Yer gonna toss me!” Aramyss’ legs slipped to one side of Scarletclaws’ spine. If not for his incredible strength, he would have lost his one-handed grip on the scale he dangled from.

  “Scarlet! Land before you lose him!” Tamra shouted above the din of the multiple dragon wings and their terrifying shrieks.

  Aramyss caught a brief glimpse of Silence swooping in front of Scarletclaws to ward off an impending collision with one of the Draakvuur flyers.

  Scarletclaws altered the tack of her wings and dropped toward the ground at an alarming rate.

  Aramyss struggled to grasp the scale with his second hand but Scarletclaws’ abrupt back-flapping jarred him, causing the scale to slide through his fingers.

  A sudden jolt dislodged him entirely. A less than manly shout escaped him as he hit the ground hard—tumbling head over heels on the windswept dirt where the narrow canyon they had descended into opened upon the wide valley containing the Draakvuur colony.

  He thought for sure he was about to die but as he came to a rest facing the arched walkway and the solitary tower, he looked back to see that Scarletclaws’ landing had been the impetus for him to lose his grip.

  Silence landed on the far side of his dragon—Tamra leaping from her back before her wings settled.

  Dropping to a knee beside him, Tamra stared into his eyes, concern on her face. “Are you okay?”

  He winced at the pain in his shoulders and hips. “Och, lass, don’t be daft. Take more ‘n a wee tumble to bother a Sarsen Rest dwarf.”

  A brief smile flashed across Tamra’s face. It happened so quickly, that Aramyss wasn’t sure she had smiled at all. He stared into her light blue eyes, taken by the rough beauty of her face. Swallowing the discomfort her closeness instilled in him, he rolled onto his side, the simple act difficult in his armour, and prepared to stand.

  Tamra straightened, offering him a hand.

  “Bah!” Ignoring her offer of assistance, he shakily got his short legs beneath him. His different coloured eyes surveyed the scene unfolding on the ground around them. “Ye best be saving yer strength, I’m thinking.”

  The ground shook with each successive landing of the Draakvuur dragons, but nothing prepared Aramyss for the tremor accompanying the golden dragon dropping into their midst.

  He stumbled backward, arms outstretched, trying to shield Tamra from the golden dragon’s bulk.

  To his surprise, Tamra lifted him off the ground and stepped back several more steps, eluding the dragon’s thick tail.

  Aramyss flailed his arms, embarrassed by the manhandling. “Put me down, ya crazy elf.”

  Tamra complied, opening her hands and letting him drop roughly to the ground.

  He staggered to catch his balance—the pain in his hip hindering his recovery. Casting Tamra an ungrateful glare, he turned his attention on the golden beast. He pulled his battle-axe over his shoulder—its weight providing him with the added courage needed in the face of such company. “Come no closer, beastie, or ye’ll feel the bite of me axe.”

  Aramyss had to look at the ground to assure himself the earth wasn’t being torn apart around him as the golden dragon’s voice thundered in his head.

  “Brave words for a stunted human. If not for the presence of your elven friend, you would already be dead.” Bright red eyes bored into Aramyss as the golden dragon craned its neck to see him

  Aramyss frowned, glancing at Tamra.

  The elf raised her eyebrows, her deadly axes in hand.

  “The dwarf is under my protection. Threaten him at your peril.” Scarletclaws skittered around the golden dragon three times her size.

  Tremors shook the dirt beneath their feet; the golden dragon following Scarletclaws progress as she placed herself between the big dragon and Aramyss.

  “Spoken like an arrogant, red dragon. Unfortunately, your noble sentiment is lost on me. Who are you to place the vermin’s life above one of your own kind?”

  “The name is Scarletclaws. One of the last survivors of Draakclaw. This man’s life is worth more to me than the lot of you ignorant dragons.”

  Flames licked along the golden dragon’s black lips. Two of his accompanying dragons positioned themselves on either side of Scarletclaws, ready to attack.

  Silence tried to get alongside Scarletclaws but three Draakvuur dragons cut her off and held her at bay. She stamped back and forth, staring angrily between them.

  “You obviously don’t realize who you’re talking to? I am Lightburn. Guardian of Queen Askara.”

  “Your name means nothing to me, but I know who I’m defending. A man whose brother sacrificed himself so that I could live. A man who would willingly lay down his life here and now before allowing any of you ungrateful dragons to threaten me or Silence; my dragon friend you so rudely prevent from taking part in this discussion.”

  Aramyss hobbled around Scarletclaws with Tamra on his heels. He puffed out his chest. “Ye got the right of it, me faithful dragon. Nor are we to be forgettin’ me companion, Tamra Stoneheart. Ye’ll be tempting fate should ya think of harming the elf.”

  Lightburn’s eyes flicked between Scarletclaws, Aramyss and Tamra. He snorted black smoke. “Never thought I’d see the day a dwarf flew a dragon, let alone share a life oath with an elf.”

  “Then today’s yer lucky day.” Aramyss’ heavy brow lifted. “Make a move on me friends an’ I’ll be splittin’ yer skull.”

  The sound of numerous earthquakes shaking the land and echoing off the canyon was nothing more than Lightburn’s laughter.

  A commotion behind Lightburn cut his mirth short.

  Silence roared, her wings fluttering furiously as she tried to escape the containment of three, full-grown dragons—two blues and a green.

  “Enough!” Lightburn roared, his voice shaking loose sediment along the canyon walls. “Leave her be.”

  The dragons fighting with Silence disengaged—not making a move to stop her from joining Scarletclaws.

  “Strange and dangerous times settle over the land. First the wyverns and now humankind have come seeking Draakvuur. We haven’t heard from humankind in centuries. Recent events have given proof to the sentiment that we’re better off without them. If not for the presence of one from South March’s clan, I might take a dimmer view on your insubordination, dwarf. As it is, I will let Queen Askara decide your fate.”

  Aramyss released a pent-up breath, still clutching his battle-axe. Tamra stepped beside him to confront the intimidating Lightburn—axe heads held by her thighs. To the uninitiated, they might think her at ease, but Aramyss knew better. Weapons held low was her battle stance.

  Tamra held Lightburn’s intense stare without blinking. “I’m Ouderling Wys’ emissary. Entrusted to keep an eye on High King J
’kaar.”

  Lightburn snorted. “Tough to do from here, no?”

  She tilted her head. “Not as tough as you think.”

  Lightburn’s eyes narrowed in question.

  Tamra held his stare. “You’ll be seeing him sooner than you like. The longer you keep us detained out here in the open, the longer you risk the life of Queen Askara.”

  It was harder staying on Scarletclaws’ back since tumbling hard on the desert valley floor, but Aramyss sucked up the pain and discomfort. It was a short flight into the Draak Home complex. Craning his neck, impossibly trying to see all the dragon faces as they descended to the large courtyard between the monolithic towers, didn’t help.

  The blue and green dragons who had prevented Silence from moving earlier escorted them to the ground and kept an eye on them.

  Lightburn had flown ahead to advise Queen Askara. Aramyss hadn’t seen the guardian as they descended, but he held no reservations that if the queen was around, the fierce dragon was also.

  Tamra dismounted and offered to assist him down, but his dwarven pride wouldn’t allow it. As soon as his feet touched the ground, a stabbing pain shot through his hip and down the back of his thigh. If not for her steadying hand, he would have fallen flat on his face.

  He reeled in her hands, shocked by how badly he had hurt himself. He ripped his arm from Tamra’s grasp and mumbled incoherently.

  Unphased by his ungratefulness, Tamra checked that her axes were secured in their harnesses as she strolled around the granite-floored common area, steering clear of the three dragons warding them.

  A droning buzz filled the air—the voice of hundreds of dragons on the air; none of them defined enough make sense in Aramyss’ head. Despairing that he hadn’t time for the disabling pain in his back, he inspected the lower levels of the complex.

  Hewn by ancient hands, doorways tall and wide enough to accommodate the biggest of dragons riddled the stone façade. Long corridors beyond led into the heart of the towers. Many of the doorways were occupied by curious dragons of all colours and sizes; their eyes tracking Tamra’s progress around the courtyard. On closer inspection, a lot of the dragons appeared injured or ailing from some unseen hurt. It was as if they…