Legends of the Lurker Box Set

by Richard H. Stephens

  Waiting was the hardest part. The sun had dipped below the western rim of Folly Canyon from her vantage point on the canyon floor.

  There were so many dragons soaring around Draakvuur Valley that she didn’t notice the approach of her friends until a swirl of dust kicked up around her.

  Her face lit up. “Hey!”

  Before Junior’s feet hit the ground, Reecah wrapped her arms around him.

  Returning her hug, he stepped away and wrestled her bulky sword belt from a sack over his back. “I see you’ve changed back into your old clothes. You’ll probably prefer this to that baldric.”

  He helped her shrug free of everything strapped across her back and fitted the wide leather abdomen protector around her stomach.

  Cinching the buckles, she nodded at her gear. “Take my bow. I have magic now.”

  “I’m not much of an archer.”

  “The queen said you guys are going to wait for me over there.” She turned to look at the solitary tower. “Wouldn’t hurt to launch a few arrows into the king’s ranks when they break free of the canyon. I don’t suspect they’ll be easy to miss.”

  Tamra leapt free of Silence, her axes in hand and an indignant look on her face. “Please. You don’t expect us to watch from safety as you face the entire king’s army.”

  Reecah smiled and wrapped the reluctant elf in a big hug. Tamra kept her arms at her sides, putting up with Reecah’s affection. If Reecah had been anyone else, she was sure she would have received an axe in the spine for her efforts. Hugging the muscular woman felt very much like embracing a stone pillar.

  Releasing Tamra, Reecah turned to greet her stubby friend. She bent over double to hug Aramyss. He returned her embrace, his strength threatening to dislocate her shoulders. She gave him a kiss on the forehead and stood back, beaming at all three. “Thank you. It means a lot to me to know you have my back.”

  Tamra frowned. “Your back? I’ll not wait until it gets to that point.”

  Reecah’s grin fell as she looked past her human friends and into the colourful eyes of the four dragons who had come to mean more to her than life itself. “Thank you, each and every one of you. If it takes my last dying breath, I intend to keep dragonkind safe.”

  “I don’t like when you talk like that,” Lurker said.

  She fought the tears that were always willing to fall whenever she considered how much the green dragon had changed her life.

  He lowered his head so that she could wrap her arms around his face. “I bet you liked riding the queen better than me.”

  Reecah’s jaw dropped. Putting on her best mean face, she admonished, “Don’t you ever say something like that again. You are my first love. You fill a part of my soul that no one else can ever replace.”

  “First love! First love!” Raver dropped from the sky like a falling stone. Righting himself at the last moment, he landed perfectly on top of Reecah’s staff.

  “Yes, you too, featherbrain. You’ve never let me down. Without you by my side, I would never have recovered from the tragedy of Grimelda’s inferno.”

  The dragons and Tamra noticed it much sooner than the others. The distant rumble of marching feet and horses’ hooves reverberated up the canyon.

  Tamra and Aramyss motioned for the dragons to move to the sides.

  Aramyss placed a callused hand on Reecah’s forearm. “Fear not, lass. We aim to spring a trap on yer dark prince. Bring them in as close as ye dare afore ye let them have it. We’ll drop on ‘em from both sides. They’ll never know what hit ‘em.”

  Reecah didn’t know what to say. Tell him that a dwarf, an elf, a young man in chain mail, and four young dragons were going to tip the scales of battle against thousands of hardened fighters led by a wizard who had taken down two of the lands’ most ferocious dragons?

  In her heart she didn’t wish to die this day, but common sense told her that her demise and that of the Draakvuur Colony was inevitable. She patted Aramyss’ hand, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice. “I look forward to seeing the fear on their faces when they lay eyes on that battle-axe. They’ll turn and run screaming all the way back to Sea Keep.”

  “Bah, lass. Yer nothin’ but a flatterer. Ye just keep yer pretty hide from harm until we come fer ya.”

  Junior kissed her on the lips and gathered up her discarded gear. Following Lurker and Swoop, they hid amongst the tumbled rock lining the eastern canyon wall while Aramyss and the others settled behind a jut of wall on the west.

  The chinking of armour and the clanking of metal boots grew louder in the distance. The front ranks of the king’s army materialized around a far bend, six files wide.

  Reecah fought to keep her breathing from becoming too erratic.

  A dragon shrieked high overhead; his call answered by a thunderous chorus of dragons preparing to vacate Draak Home and join in the fray.

  The whole scene seemed surreal to Reecah. Behind her, a couple of scouts flew over Draakvuur Valley, preparing to defend their home. In front of her, marching down Folly Canyon and approaching the passage’s narrowest point about a hundred steps in front of her, came High King J’kaar’s army. And there she stood. The last Windwalker. Prepared to fight to the death to save dragonkind from extinction.

  Four squads of dragons appeared from behind the tallest tower; twenty flew northeast out of the valley and twenty flew southwest beyond the towers and out of sight. Assuming they were taking up positions to come at the army from behind, she turned to face the distant line advancing steadily closer.

  Something inside her made her pull her sword free. A tribute to her fallen weapon’s master whose brutal lessons had taught her more than the proper use of a sword or bow. He had shown her how to depend on the deep-rooted mettle she never knew she had. Thinking of Anvil, she threw back her shoulders. It was time to show the world that she was worthy of the Windwalker name.

  Feeling the dragon magic flow through her veins, a fireball flickered to life above her palm, crackling with energy.

  Lightburn soared across the valley toward her. “Steady Windwalker. Let them reach the narrows. Wait for my signal.”

  The king’s men must have seen her standing alone with Draak Home behind her. A great shout echoed off the canyon walls. An ominous drumbeat resounded up the canyon, the percussion imitating the march of a thousand giants.

  Conscious of her legs trembling, Reecah swallowed. She had killed more than once—outside of the Dragon Temple and again at the base of Devius’ tower. She had stared down evil men like Jonas Waverunner and experienced no hesitation when fighting accomplished fighters like Anvis Chizel. She had even stood face to face with Prince J’kwaad and survived. If not for the prince’s man intercepting her, she was confident she would have killed the dark heir in the old ruins of Headwater Castle. Despite everything she had endured, nothing had prepared her to stand against a charging army of hardened warriors.

  The head of the army squeezed through the narrows.

  She could see their faces and their weapons—ferocious scowls on warriors brandishing an arsenal of swords, axes, maces, and polearms. The edges of tower shields were visible above their shoulders.

  Her fireball crackled. She could feel its desire to be released as if it were a sentient thing. Or was that her brain imploring her to attack before it was too late?

  Holding her position, she searched for Lightburn and found him circling high overhead. To her right, Swoop and Lurker were visible. She prayed the oncoming knights couldn’t see them.

  More than a dozen ranks had filtered through the narrows and still Lightburn hadn’t signalled the attack.

  The promised violence in the war cries of the advancing army washed over her like a tidal wave. If she didn’t act soon, she would be swept up in their charge.

  A golden meteor fell from the sky, aiming for the narrows. Behind her, Draak Home erupted with the shrieks of scores of dragons. As much as she wanted to see the spectacle, she couldn’t take her eyes from the wave of death washing down
the canyon. If the king’s men were bothered by the horde of dragons, their pace didn’t reflect it.

  “Now Reecah!”

  Lightburn’s voice startled her. Blinking twice, she pulled herself out of the mesmerizing stupor gripping her. Cocking her arm, she threw her hand forward, willing the fireball into action.

  The flaming orb of death smashed into the first ranks of king’s men—its dragon fire eating through leather and flesh. Falling to the ground in flames, those afflicted by Reecah’s fireball were overrun by the press of bodies charging up from behind. In a matter of heartbeats, any damage she had inflicted was no longer visible.

  Lightburn pulled out of his dive at the last moment, spewing a swath of flames onto the backs of the soldiers who had passed through the confinement. His attack had a more significant affect on the charge but still the army stormed through the gap, large shields held over their heads.

  Overhead, the din of leathery wings snapped at the wind, accompanied by skull-splitting shrieks that resonated off the canyon walls. The sky dimmed beneath the thick layer of dragon flight but their fiery attack banished the shadows along the canyon floor.

  Reecah conjured a second fireball and waited, knowing full well what to expect as the dragons attacked.

  A great shout stopped the men in their tracks. As a disciplined unit, they dropped to a knee and held their shields over their head, angling the metal barriers to meet the dragon fire. Overlapping shield edges provided maximum protection against the fiery maelstrom.

  Reecah prepared to discharge her fireball at the lead ranks exposed beneath the raised shields but one of the men barking orders gave her pause.

  Sir Batkin stood defiant in the face of death, rallying the men in his care to defend against the aerial threat.

  “Reecah. Now,” Lurker encouraged.

  She cocked her arm, but Sir Batkin locked eyes with her—surprise written on his expression as he dropped beneath the left edge of the shield wall in preparation for the dragon attack.

  Reecah changed the direction of her throw, releasing her fireball into the right side of the formation. The resulting casualties were less severe than had she discharged it into the middle.

  As the head-on dragon assault moved toward the gap, the front ranks lowered their shields and charged up the canyon with Sir Batkin leading.

  Reecah willed a third fireball to life and noticed a wave of exhaustion flow over her. Conjuring dragon fire was proving more taxing than she thought.

  Sir Batkin ran at her, his shield draped over his back on a tactical harness, and his sword held ready to swing. His long legs quickly outdistanced the men behind him.

  “Sir Batkin, stop! It’s me! Reecah!” She cocked her arm but something about the familiar face stayed her throw. Other than the day she had brought Junior to join Anvil’s training group, Sir Batkin had been nothing but kind to her.

  “Reecah, now!” Lurker jumped into the air and started toward the lone knight.

  The attention of the countless troops coming up behind Sir Batkin was drawn to the green dragon’s presence. They stopped as one and dropped to their knees. Hidden amongst the units were large knights bearing strange backpacks.

  Reecah gaped in horror. Strapped to their backs were mobile ballistae and an array of bolts thicker than her arms.

  The ballistae bearers dropped to their knees, allowing the men directly behind them access to the deadly looking contraptions.

  “Lurker, no!” she cried out as one of the ballistae teams lined him up.

  The bearer and his crewman were pummeled by Reecah’s fireball—dropping them screaming to the ground beneath a blanket of flames.

  Lightburn banked over Draakvuur Valley and came in low over Reecah’s head, discharging a deadly line of fire beyond Sir Batkin.

  Before Reecah could warn the queen’s guardian of the danger, three bolts thrummed into his exposed underside.

  A horrendous scream escaped the dying dragon’s throat, cutting off his flames as he fell into the midst of the king’s men; crushing several knights before his colossal body ground to a halt.

  A great cheer went up as axes and swords carved Lightburn into a bloody pulp.

  Paralyzed by fear, Reecah stared dumbly at Sir Batkin’s approach.

  The South Fort captain didn’t hesitate. Lifting his sword high, he stepped in for the kill.

  Reecah closed her eyes, but the bite of a sword never came. A soft thump stifled the battle cry escaping Sir Batkin’s startled expression.

  The South Fort captain’s face twisted in pain. His lanky abdomen arched sideways. Dropping his sword, he fell to the ground with an arrow buried in his side at chest height. He reached up, as if begging for help. Exhaling his last breath, Sir Batkin fell dead at her feet.

  Reecah screamed at the senselessness of it all.

  The lead ranks converging on her dropped to the ground and flipped their shields toward her just in time for her fireball to explode harmlessly against them.

  “Reecah! Run!” Junior stood off to the side with her bow in his hand.

  His desperate plea was lost on her as the raging battle overwhelmed senses—the noise, the screams, the never-ending chaos.

  A black-bearded man took charge of Sir Batkin’s men as the army surged into the valley, overrunning her position.

  Tamra and Aramyss charged out from behind the fold in the canyon wall and engaged the troops moving to surround Reecah.

  Silence raked men with her claws. As they fought back, Scarletclaws swooped in behind her, dousing them in flames before they could raise their shields.

  A ballista bolt exploded against the canyon wall above Silence; barely missing her.

  Searching the writhing mob of king’s men, Reecah lost count of how many mobile ballista units she could see in her limited line of vision. She had to get her dragon friends away from here.

  The canyon beyond the narrows erupted in fire so intense that Reecah believed the entire gorge burned, but as the attacking dragons rose above the canyon’s lip, there were considerably less of them than had gone in. Their formations were being systematically taken apart by the dragon slayers.

  The solitary tower on the north rim shone in the late day sun, calling for her to retreat into its temporary safety, but as close as it appeared, it might as well have been back in Fishmonger Bay. There was no way she or her friends were outrunning the outer flanks of king’s men collapsing around them.

  She caught a last glimpse of Lightburn’s carcass as the endless throng of fighting men pressed into the valley. She couldn’t escape the thought of how great the fall can be, especially for those who deemed themselves invulnerable.

  The sight of mounted riders in black livery coming through the gap filled her with a terrible fright. Leading the cavalry’s charge was a man dressed entirely in black armour piped with gold—his well-trimmed, black goatee a symbol of the death that had been stalking her for some time now.

  Lurker dropped to the ground beside her and faced the oncoming soldiers, threatening to douse them in sputtering fire.

  Swoop appeared out of nowhere to pummel a ballista crew that had lined up Lurker.

  Reecah hurled a fireball at a ballista crew following Silence’s flight. The lethal death slinger exploded in flames, taking out everyone around it. But as strong as she had become, her Windwalker skills were not going to be enough.

  Conjuring another fireball, she ducked to avoid a crudely swung axe and stepped aside to let Tamra dispatch the large knight responsible.

  Junior stood separated from the rest. He had retreated up the sloping path leading to the tower, but he hadn’t abandoned her. There were too many troops between them. He fired arrow after arrow into the throng, downing more soldiers than naught, but he only had so many arrows.

  Reecah feared that once his arrows were spent, he would foolishly try to fight his way to her.

  Searching for a way through the closing flanks, the last of her spirits fell.

  Charging around th
e end of the canyon, chasing after two wyverns, a host of riders moved in to cut off any chance of escape.

  The Great Summoning

  “The duke! The duke!” Raver called out from somewhere close by.

  Stunned by the implication, Reecah stared at the riders hammering into the troops closing off her escape route.

  Vermillion surcoats, draped over dented, filthy plate armour, snapped behind the dragon duke’s men. Duke Ryonin had come, leading the charge just as he had promised. It was tough to determine who was who beneath their battered helms.

  Seeing the confusion the duke’s men inflicted upon the king’s forces, Reecah dared hope that she and the dragons might yet live to see tomorrow, but her elation was short lived. Unless there were others who had fallen behind, she estimated the duke’s forces counted no more than two score. Their appearance on the battlefield temporarily changed how the battle was being waged, but as soon as they entered the fray, they started to fall. It wouldn’t be long until they were overrun by the sheer number of king’s men.

  A way opened up for her to reach Junior. “Tamra! Aramyss! To the tower! Dragons, away!”

  Even with the additional support of the duke, if not for Tamra’s berserk fighting style and Aramyss’ dogged determination to see them through, they never would have reached Junior.

  Running up the winding path to save their lives, Reecah stopped every so often to pelt their pursuit with a fireball, but the king’s men weren’t overly bothered. They simply knelt as a well-drilled unit and absorbed her fiery blasts with their shields.

  The rising path entered what appeared to be the ruins of an ancient temple. Dashing through the temple’s remains, they ran across the high bridge connecting the north rim to the lone tower. Reecah paused to look out over the valley and was appalled.

  The last of the duke’s troops had disengaged from the front lines and were galloping across the valley floor toward Draak Home. If Duke Ryonin and his son, Jozwa, had survived, there was no way to tell.

  Plagued by continual dragon attacks, a writhing mass of king’s men systematically marched toward the dragon complex—stopping to brace for dragon fire and then moving on. Start and stop. Start and stop. Swelling into the valley, the king’s men moved inexorably toward Draak Home and Queen Askara.