Legends of the Lurker Box Set

by Richard H. Stephens

  “My mother was a Windwalker?”

  Devius put a hand up for quiet. Stepping into the tunnel he listened for a moment. “Come, we must go. I’ll explain it to you on the way up.”

  Climbing through the nooks and crannies took much longer and a great deal of extra effort. Reecah found herself having to wait for and assist Devius onto ledges and over rock formations—the act exhausting them to the point that they had to stop frequently.

  Resting against the sloped wall of a tiny bubble within the mountain, Reecah worried a piece of wizard’s bread between her teeth, waiting for her saliva to soften it up enough to chew. It didn’t matter how many pieces she had eaten over the last four days, there was no way she would ever get used to the bland taste that left her not wanting more. She had to admit, whatever Devius put into the bread, it kept her from feeling hungry and her strength didn’t seem affected by the lack of a proper meal.

  Water wasn’t found in abundance in the lower regions of the tunnel system, but they had come across a trickling here and a small rivulet there so their waterskins were never empty.

  Reecah took a healthy swig and replaced the stopper. “You never did tell me about my mother.”

  Devius blinked a couple of times. Sighing, he pulled the drawstring tight on his magic bag. “There isn’t much to tell, really. You asked if she was a Windwalker. In simple terms, yes. But she wasn’t a Windwalker in the sense that you think. Marinah possessed the dragon gift on a very small scale. She had the ability to heal people. That, in and of itself, is a rare dragon gift, but her ability ended there. She wasn’t blessed with everything a true Windwalker of old possessed. Does that make sense?”

  “Kind of.” Mulling over his explanation, she recalled the conversation she had with Grimclaw outside the Dragon Temple.

  “Grimclaw said that she had gone to him after I was born, claiming she had secured the Windwalker lineage. That means she could speak with the dragons.”

  “I never said she couldn’t. Marinah and your uncle Davit were both able to. That’s how we knew there were still Windwalkers in the world. Albeit, not in the true sense of the word.”

  “We?”

  Devius looked away, biting on his lips. He sighed, his face grave. “Aye. Those of us who were entrusted to secretly maintain the peace between dragons and man. We have obviously failed miserably.”

  “Who else is there besides you? I’ve never heard tell of anyone.”

  “Nor would you. We are a clandestine society. Hidden from people like the high king and others who wouldn’t hesitate to drive a dagger through our heart.”

  “Are any of the others still alive?”

  “Oh, aye.” He looked around as if searching for someone spying on them. “Ouderling Wys, the eldest of the elves, for one.”

  “Of course.” Reecah nodded. Tamra and Devius had both spoken of her.

  “You’ve met several others recently.”

  Her eyes widened. “Tamra, Aramyss and Anvil.”

  “Aye, and…?”

  She frowned for a moment until the answer dawned on her. “And the duke and duchess of Svelte.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Aye. Ryonin’s wizard as well.”

  “Thunor! Of course. I left Grimelda’s scrying bowl with him.”

  Devius’ jaw dropped. He grasped her forearm in a painful grip. “The scrying bowl?”

  She stared at his hand, but he didn’t let go. “Why? Shouldn’t I have?”

  He blinked several times, his eyes focusing on her as if he had just seen her for the first time. “No. I mean yes. Thunor’s a good man. Destined for greatness if I have the right of it. As long as J’kaar and the dark heir don’t intervene.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  His eyes glazed over again. “Huh?” He stood up and pulled her into the confines of the next tunnel. “Come, child. We must hurry. I need to rescue my scrying bowl before it’s too late.”

  Slaughter

  J’kwaad pulled back on the reins to keep his mount from wandering. Gazing across the wide threshold of land separating the Wilds from the forbidding swampland, he envisioned the look on the duke’s face when the traitor realized his attempt to save the beasts had been undertaken in vain.

  Two dozen men clad in black plate armour spread out around him awaiting his command. There was no safer place in all the land than in the company of these loyal guardsmen. With the exception of Calor, there was no one he trusted more.

  If he had his bearings right, the dragon duke would exit the swampland somewhere in this vicinity. He rued the fact that he hadn’t had time to find the ingredients to make the special water for the scrying bowl. The brass vessel would have been cumbersome to take on campaign, especially since he would never allow a commoner to take carriage of its transport, but it would have proved invaluable keeping an eye on the duke’s movements.

  Scanning the cloudy skies above the barren terrain behind them, he wasn’t overly concerned about locating the renegade army. The passage of fifteen hundred horsemen would be hard to miss. Surprising the duke’s army would prove to be a masterstroke, providing Askara’s dragons didn’t find him first.

  Though he had never met the white queen, he had heard many stories of her past exploits from the elders at court. Askara was no fool. She would have dragon patrols scouring the land around Draakvuur. Fortunately, Draak Home lay at least a hundred leagues from here. He doubted she would dispatch her forces this far, and yet…

  Halfway through the night, the personal aide appointed in Calor’s absence roused J’kwaad from an unusually restful sleep. One he direly needed after the previous weeks of getting no rest at all.

  J’kwaad jumped from his cot, fully clothed. “What is it, man?”

  “Fighting in the swamp.”

  J’kwaad scanned the dark interior. “What time is it?”

  “The middle of the night, my prince.”

  The prince’s breaths became laboured. His eyes narrowed. “Kraken’s whore!” He ran a hand over his messy hair. “Who’s the fool who gave the order to attack? We’ll lose them in the darkness!”

  “We don’t know, my prince. The skirmish is deep within the swamp. Scouts have been dispatched. It may not be the duke.”

  “Oh, it’s him. I can smell the traitorous offal from here.” He snatched his hauberk from its wooden stand. “Dress me.”

  Throwing open the tent flap, J’kwaad accepted the reins of his horse and mounted. His aide climbed onto his own horse held by another man and awaited J’kwaad’s lead alongside twenty-one knights brandishing axes, swords, and polearms.

  Cloud cover made for tricky going, especially once inside the marshland. Following the sound of battle, they plodded northwest through the unforgiving mire. If a horse were to toss a fully armoured man, there was a good chance they would lose him in the boggy loam.

  The whinny of a horse in distress sounded through the pall of mist enshrouding the swamp. Metal striking metal, accompanied by men shouting and screaming, cut through the murky fog.

  J’kwaad urged his horse recklessly across the treacherous terrain—his men following close behind, oblivious of the danger around them.

  Two scouts appeared from out of nowhere, covered in mud.

  The largest of the scouts reined up in front of J’kwaad. “My prince. Our cavalry unit has engaged the rear of Duke Ryonin’s host. The enemy has turned to face them but our efforts are hampered by the conditions.”

  “Very well. What of our footmen?”

  The scout shook his head. “No sign of them, my prince.”

  J’kwaad nodded but said nothing, his eyes watching his aide jockey his horse close. He needed to think of something quickly or their campaign would end right here in the muck. The fool leading the bulk of the cavalry had engaged the dragon duke too soon.

  “Your orders, my prince?”

  “We wait. Let the duke’s forces lose their sense of formation. They’ll be easier fodder in good time. Keep a perimeter to prevent anyone
from escaping this way. I don’t doubt there’ll be a few men who turn coward and flee. Cut them down. That includes our men.”

  “Aye, my prince.”

  “Dispatch two scouts to keep an eye on Ryonin’s flanks and another north to locate our army.”

  “Aye, my prince.”

  Come on Calor. You should have been here by now, J’kwaad fretted. He had all the faith in the world in his apprentice, but there had been a couple of instances recently when the man’s true mettle had shown through. Calor had some hard lessons to learn if he wished to remain part of the prince’s grand scheme.

  Waiting for Calor’s reinforcements left J’kwaad on edge. He couldn’t afford to lose too many men to the duke if he wished to remain strong enough to march on the Draakvuur Colony. Flames limned his fingers. He changed his mind. He couldn’t sit back and wait.

  “Form up. Two diamonds. I’ll follow in between.”

  Well-drilled, his elite knights quickly assembled into lethal, diamond phalanxes; eight men forming the perimeter while two polearm bearers took up position inside.

  “Slowly now. Let my light guide you.” His reins in one hand, brilliant flames materialized above his other. Nodding for the men to close ranks on the duke’s army, he willed the light of his fire to cut through the gloom.

  As soon as the orangey glow fell over the enemy horsemen, they turned to face Prince J’kwaad’s elite kill squad. The synonymous black armour was enough to cow even the bravest of foes, but the sphere of fire roiling above the fingertips of the man with the well-trimmed goatee filled their eyes with terror.

  Before the first shout of warning escaped their lips, a fireball exploded in their midst. Three horses dropped in a conflagration of flailing hooves, burying their riders beneath them.

  A battle cry rang out from the ranks of the dragon duke’s men as they heeled their mounts into action.

  A second fireball split the oncoming riders, barely slowing their advance. Though they broke on the points of the diamond phalanxes, the sheer number of opposing forces threatened to overrun J’kwaad’s small contingent.

  An iceball shattered the head of a black stallion bearing down on J’kwaad, its helpless rider thrown into the soft ground where he struggled to pull himself free of the mud. He turned his head in time to eat a small fireball—the wizard’s fire burning into his mouth, nostrils and eyes. Two riders took his place.

  Not one to balk in the face of danger, J’kwaad prepared to wheel his mount around to avoid being cut down by the overwhelming press but his attention was caught by a battle cry he recognized approaching from the south.

  Calor’s voice rose above the chaos, commanding a horde of footmen into the fray.

  J’kwaad frowned. There weren’t nearly as many ground troops as he had left behind, but there was nothing to be done about that now.

  “South flank!” He directed his elite troops to fight their way to Calor’s side.

  The tide of battle swayed back and forth, but it was obvious that the duke’s mounted units were starting to overrun Calor’s position, regardless of the deadly fire J’kwaad threw into their ranks.

  Another battle cry made the battlefield pause and take notice. Slogging into the poor light basking the muddy ground littered with the corpses of horse and man, the main bulk of Calor’s footmen smashed into the northern ranks of Ryonin’s army; Sir Batkin leading the charge.

  Pinned in from all directions, the duke’s disciplined troops fell apart, exposing them to a full-scale slaughter.

  “Calor, to me!” the prince roared. There was no sense losing his most valuable asset now that the duke’s forces were being routed.

  Calor fought his way to J’kwaad’s position, blood splattering his face and his horse bleeding from its hind quarter. “My prince.”

  “Let the men have their way with the enemy. You’ve done enough.”

  Out of breath, Calor nodded.

  “That was quite the tactical manoeuvre. I’m impressed. Splitting the army into two was an intelligent ploy. Well done.”

  Trying to calm his antsy mount, Calor watched the battle, his bloodied sword still in hand. “I’d love to take credit, my prince, but it was Sir Batkin’s idea.”

  J’kwaad raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Aye, my prince. After arguing with the recently disposed foot commander,” he gave J’kwaad a sly grin, “Sir Batkin suggested I take those well enough to continue the fast pace ahead to ensure we reached you in time. Apparently, I pushed them too hard and we passed the rendezvous point.”

  J’kwaad nodded, thoroughly impressed. “Indeed.”

  “As it turns out, Sir Batkin was able to maintain a pace not much less than our own.”

  The South Fort captain stood out amongst his peers on the battlefield—piercing the chest of a mounted knight and then hamstringing a horse out from underneath another.

  A great smile lifted J’kwaad’s mustache. He could see Anvis Chizel’s influence in that one.

  Draakhorn

  Six days, by Devius’ reckoning, had passed since Reecah had seen daylight. Six grueling days of hauling herself and the wizard through the catacombs of Dragon’s Tooth. It had taken them much longer to ascend the core of the mountain than Devius had predicted. They had taken so many turns that she feared they had gotten dreadfully lost, but a natural light filtering softly around the bend up ahead proved Devius knew where he was going.

  Extinguishing the apple-sized fireball she had be using on and off to augment the soft glow from her staff, she felt proud of herself. Devius had spent many dreary hours, during their trip to the mountain’s heart and back, teaching her to conjure stronger spells while concentrating on her surroundings. It had been frustrating at first for both of them, but after the incident with the cave creature, she found it easier to summon the fireball with little more than a thought, leaving her mind room to tend to whatever she was doing at the time. She imagined the staff played an important role in her progress. She had even experimented with iceballs, but ended up freezing her fingers more often than not.

  Despite her extreme fatigue, her pace picked up. Junior and the dragons lay just beyond that bend.

  “I’m surprised you haven’t worn a groove in the floor.” Nelly stood on the threshold of the cave looking out over the land.

  Junior stopped beside her. Perched high atop the world, not a cloud in the sky, he was amazed at how far he could see.

  The blue-white ribbon of the Dragon Rush snaked its way toward King’s Bay, its southern banks marking the northern reaches of the King’s Wood. He imagined the spire just visible at the beginning of the bay was that of Devius’ sanctum.

  Farther away, the Sea Gate Bridge hemmed in the turquoise waters of the bay; joining the northern sprawl of Sea Hold to the multiple spires of Sea Keep. Beyond the distant capital, the Unknown Sea’s darker waters stretched to the western horizon, blending in with the sky. South of the immense woodland tract, snow-capped peaks marked the beginning of the Altirius Mountains.

  Junior’s forced smile belied the worry in his eyes. “Incredible, isn’t it?”

  Nelly nodded. “Aye. Takes my breath away, and yet, I can’t get enough of it. I’ve never seen anything so wondrous. It’s like we can see the entire world from here.”

  Junior raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment. He wished he could see the entire world. He kept thinking that Reecah and Devius should have been back by now. Devius had said four to five days. What was taking them so long?

  A brisk wind gusted across the cave mouth. He shivered. If not for Nelly’s assurances that she would know if something bad had happened to Devius, he would have ventured into the mountain in search of them long ago. The sage old witch pointed out on more than one occasion over the last few days that, if he went to find them, he would become hopelessly lost within the labyrinth of passageways and die, and that wouldn’t help anyone.

  He swallowed, fighting the tears that were readily available whenever he thought of losing Reeca
h.

  Raver squawked from where he had made a makeshift nest out of Reecah’s old tunic and hooded robe. Though he and the irksome bird didn’t get along, Raver’s devotion to Reecah was commendable. Even Nelly had noticed how much the raven missed Reecah.

  Junior turned to continue the circuitous route around the small fire fueled by wood the dragons had foraged from the lower slopes. If the fire went out during the night, Nelly lit it again in the morning with a couple of words.

  Raver’s sudden call startled him. “Reecah! Reecah!”

  He took two steps and stopped, spinning to stare at the bird. “Reecah?”

  His gaze immediately fell on the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

  Covered in grime from head to foot, a wide grin lifted Reecah’s dirt smeared cheeks. “We’re back.”

  Barely able to see, Junior scrambled around the fire and wrapped her in a huge embrace, lifting her off the ground and spinning in a circle. He buried his face against the side of her head and squeezed her tight, not caring how badly she smelled. “You’re alive.”

  “Of course, I am, silly. I told you we’d be okay.” She returned his hug, wrapping her legs around his waist to bear her weight.

  He nestled his cheek into her filthy hair, not trusting himself to speak through the lump constricting his throat.

  She put a hand on each side of his face and made him look at her. “Aww, you silly man. You missed me.”

  “Missed me! Missed me!” Raver fluttered across the cave and crashed between her arms, flapping his wings furiously to keep from falling to the ground.

  Junior turned his face sideways, closing his eyes to avoid the worst of Raver’s excitement. He couldn’t fault the bird. Raver shared his love of Reecah.

  Looking at her over the bulk of Raver’s body, he nodded, his tears flowing harder. “I’m not the only one.”

  She spit out a laugh and wiped his wet cheeks with her thumbs. Squeezing Raver between them, she planted a deep kiss on Junior’s mouth.