by Resa Nelson
“A god?” one of the Scaldings said. “What god would present himself as such a hideous beast?”
“Certainly not the All-Father,” another Scalding chimed in. “Or any of the goddesses.”
“Don’t discount the trickster god,” Karl said.
“Loki?” Sven said. “Not everyone agrees he’s a god. Some think he’s just a giant.” Sven shuddered. “Or maybe something else.”
“Whatever he is,” Karl said, “the stories say he has turned into a falcon and a mare at the very least. Why couldn’t he turn into a monster?” His tone became solemn as he talked through the possibility. “If any god would do this, Loki would be the first to jump at the chance. But why? What reason does the trickster god have to harm our family? We must think about this with care.”
“Whether monster or god,” Sven said, “it chose Benzel to speak on its behalf. And if Benzel thinks he can end this nightmare that has rained down upon our kin, then it’s time to listen to him.”
* * *
All of the surviving Scaldings and those who had newly arrived followed Benzel up the staircase that spiraled through the tower. Once they went outside to its flat roof, Benzel climbed on the retaining wall embedded with jagged stone teeth. He made sure to face the ocean with the shore of the Northlands positioned behind his back, just as the creature had advised.
Meeting Benzel’s request, after surveying the dead Scaldings on the tower floor below, Karl had picked out one of their swords and handed it to Benzel, sheath and all. Now with a proper sword hanging from his belt, Benzel felt prepared. He tried to ignore the stink of death it bore.
Karl peered over the edge of the wall. “That’s a long drop. Don’t see how anyone can survive it.”
Looking down, Benzel shared the same thought.
The creature promised I’ll be safe. It told me what to do.
But then a chill ran through Benzel, and he wondered if the creature had lied to him.
At the same time, Benzel reminded himself that the creature had spared his life after slaughtering a tower full of Scaldings.
What sense would it make to let me live only to let me die now?
Benzel decided to trust that thought. When he looked at the water below, Benzel focused on the joy he’d feel at the success of convincing the Scaldings to leave Tower Island. He swelled with pride, knowing that once the creature revealed the location of the berserkers that it would be easy to find and kill them all. “No need to worry,” he said. “I spent years in the Southlands training with dragonslayers. I learned how to swim.”
“I’m not worried about the swimming,” Karl said. “What concerns me is the landing. That’s a fall that can break your neck.”
“Not if you enter the water the right way.” A strong gust of wind forced Benzel to grab one of the stone teeth protruding from the wall in order to steady himself. “But the fall will take me far below water. I’m sure I can find the beast there. But if you don’t see me surface for a long time, don’t give up. I can hold my breath for a very long time.”
Karl scoffed. “The dragonslayers teach you that, too?”
“Benzel,” Sven said. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Benzel smiled but didn’t look back at Sven. “Yes.” Benzel surveyed the clear water, remembering what the creature had told him.
The area must be clear of rocks or anything else that can harm you. Choose the area with the darkest color of water, for it will be the deepest. Diving into water too shallow will kill you because you will slam into the ocean floor.
Benzel stepped from the edge of the tower and plummeted toward the ocean below.
Just as the creature had advised him to do, Benzel kept his body as tight and straight as the blade of a sword. He pointed his toes like the tip of a weapon.
The plummet surprised Benzel because it seemed to happen in an instant while he also felt time slow to a crawl. He felt the sting when the wind rushing past him slapped his face. The shrieks of birds filled his ears, and the touch of startled feathers grazed his head. The tangy scent of shellfish crammed into his nose.
Even though Benzel realized his body dropped like a heavy stone, the sensation made him feel like he was flying, not falling. He panted to ready his lungs to hold maximum breath and then filled them with air.
Benzel sliced into the sea with both force and ease. The water clouded his vision, but streams of sunlight pierced through and illuminated its depths. Hundreds of small silver fish surrounded him, now alarmed by his inexplicable presence. As if of one mind, the massive school of fish repelled and then darted away. Miniscule bubbles tickled his skin on their way to the ocean surface.
Remembering the creature’s advice to let momentum carry Benzel well below the water’s surface, he took heart at the sight of an animal of good size approaching. Unable to make out little more than its general shape, Benzel had a start when that shape reminded him of a dragon. He resisted the urge to panic and kick his way upward, unwilling to sacrifice what he believed to be his best chance of finding the berserkers he needed to kill.
The dragon-shaped animal took Benzel is its arms with a gentle touch.
Tapping into his training with the dragonslayers, Benzel blew out a small amount of air to relieve the sudden pressure he felt from his lungs in need of fresh air.
Inside the animal’s grasp, Benzel was swept toward an underground mountain, not too far away.
Benzel released several more bubbles of air, determined to fight the feeling of desperation for air he felt building inside.
In the next moment, the animal swept him into the mountain and a cavernous space filled with air.
The animal let him go, and Benzel collapsed on a polished stone floor where water lapped over his toes. Pale light danced across the stone floor. Narrow stone columns ascended from the shallow water like trees. Clear crystal walls and twisting walkways intertwined to form a catacomb and a multi-tiered canopy above Benzel’s head.
The air weighed thick and humid. A bitter, salty tang hung like fog. The pale light dappled and shimmered through the twisting passageways.
This is a cave.
A dry trickling sound caught Benzel’s attention. He looked all around until he noticed a high stone wall. Thin sheets of sand cascaded down a narrow groove eroded into the wall. Like a waterfall, the sand plunked into a small pool of seawater next to serpent-like tree trunks growing out of it. The strange trees had shed bark like dead skin. The bark floated in the pool, intertwined with fresh green and dry brown leaves.
Light and shadows wove together like a tapestry throughout the cave. The creature that Benzel knew stepped out of those shadows.
Benzel jumped to his feet and looked for the animal that brought him here. A large dragon slithered away. He reached for the Scalding sword, still sheathed by his side.
“No need for that,” the creature said, stepping closer.
Benzel’s hand stopped in mid-reach. “But it’s a dragon!”
“Not all dragons should be slayed.”
The dragon stopped slithering. Its shape shifted and changed until it took the form of a man. Brushing droplets of water from his naked skin, the mortal-looking dragon said, “Aiy yah!”
His appearance caught Benzel off-guard. Unlike pale Northlanders, the dragon-man had dark hair and skin appearing slightly browned by the sun instead of burned red by it. Instead of icy blue Northlander eyes, his eyes were a cool green.
“It’s dangerous to make yourself look like a dragon,” Benzel said. He let his hand fall away from his sheathed sword.
“It’s just as dangerous to threaten to kill a dragon god.”
“Taddeo,” the creature that had killed the Scaldings said. “Not now.”
“Dragon god?” Even more than standing in an underwater cave between two unearthly beings, the thought of a dragon god troubled Benzel deeply. “The Northlanders have no dragon gods.”
The dragon-man—which Benzel now assumed to be a dragon god, if such a thing e
xisted—hissed like a snake and then spoke. “The Northlander gods! The ones who keep to themselves. The ones who used to roam among the people living on their land but who now prefer the isolation of their own realm. What kind of gods are they?”
“Taddeo,” the murderous creature said. “We agreed. This is not the time.”
Taddeo ignored him. “Why do you Northlanders bother to honor your gods? What have they done to earn it?”
It was a question that had never occurred to Benzel, and he didn’t know how to answer it. He knew little of the Northlander gods and had never met anyone who actively worshipped them. But he didn’t want these creatures to know that, so he evaded the question. “What other gods do you expect Northlanders to honor?”
“A change,” Taddeo said, “might do you good.”
“Enough!” the creature said. “If we waste any more time, the Scaldings might give up and think you’re dead. Strike while there’s still time.” It stretched one massive arm forward.
Taddeo pushed the creature’s arm aside. “Cutting off an arm will not be enough to convince the Scaldings. They’re a suspicious lot. Making them believe Benzel is a man who can defeat monsters will take more.”
The creature lowered its arm. “How much more?”
Instead of answering, Taddeo asked the creature, “What outcome do you wish?”
The creature considered the question. “The Scaldings must leave Tower Island so we can reclaim it.”
Taddeo nodded. “And what’s to keep them from taking it away from us again?”
“Peace,” the creature said. “If this man can convince them that he alone saved them from destruction, then the Scaldings will believe they are doomed if they fail to leave Tower Island. They will give the island to him. Once the Scaldings do this, then peace will come to Tower Island. And it’s peace that will protect us and this man.”
“Agreed,” Taddeo said. “But if the arm of a monster isn’t convincing enough, the best proof of Benzel’s power is with a gesture the Scaldings can witness.” He paused. “Can you make such a gesture?”
“Of course,” the creature said.
“Then you will need all your strength and all your limbs,” Taddeo said. He turned to Benzel and said, “But it’s worth the effort to find out if a monster’s arm will help.”
Taddeo shifted into the body of a dragon and extended one arm.
Benzel gazed into his eyes, wanting to make sure they held no hesitance or doubt. Satisfied by looking into their depth, Benzel withdrew the Scalding sword and heaved a mighty blow at Taddeo’s shoulder to hack off his arm.
The arm fell to the damp floor with a thud.
Benzel put the Scalding sword back in its sheath and then struggled to pick up the dragon arm with his own.
By the time he looked up at Taddeo, he had grown a new arm to replace the old one.
Releasing a careworn sigh, Taddeo shifted back into his mortal shape.
Slick with blood, the dismembered arm presented a struggle. Benzel fought to keep hold of it. “If this doesn’t scare the Scaldings, what happens next?”
Taddeo offered a grim smile. “Follow our lead.” He gestured toward the creature. “Convince the Scaldings to go with you, and then put on the best fight of your life while they watch.”
CHAPTER 20
When Benzel broke through the surface of the sea with the dragon god’s dismembered arm in tow, he saw that his distance from the tower had increased. Fortunately, the beastly arm floated, so Benzel hung onto it with one hand and waved with the other at the Scaldings still crowded on top of the tower. He thought he heard a distant cheer and hoped they recognized him.
Benzel spent a good while trying to swim toward Tower Island, but the task proved to be too cumbersome. Although the dragon arm floated, the scales that covered it were slippery and made it difficult to grasp well enough to drag. Benzel lost his grip and sank below the sea’s gentle waves. He fought to resurface, swim, and grab onto the arm before the ocean swept it away.
The sight of a small Northlander ship sailing toward him from the island lifted Benzel’s spirits. He clung to the arm and rested until Sven and a few of his cousins pulled the ship close enough to haul both Benzel and the dismembered arm on board. By the time they returned to the island, all the dead Scaldings had been removed from the tower.
The bloodstains remained.
That afternoon, all the living Scaldings gathered to celebrate in the tower. They carried benches and tables inside, placing them in every empty space they could find. After a thorough inspection of the creature’s arm by all, Karl insisted on hanging it above the entrance to the tower. Then they feasted in celebration.
Benzel sat between Sven and Karl. “We should leave before nightfall.”
All the Scaldings within earshot laughed mightily.
“Nightfall.” Karl gave Benzel a friendly clap on the back. “You amuse me.”
“I’m serious,” Benzel said. “Now that I own Tower Island, I’m giving it back to the monsters that created it. It’s their property, and we’re trespassing.”
The Scaldings laughed again.
Benzel squirmed on the bench where he sat to face Karl. “I told you I could defeat the monster, and I did. I told you I’d need a sword and Tower Island, and I expect you to keep your word. That means Tower Island belongs to me now, and it’s time for the Scaldings to leave.”
“I never gave you my word,” Karl grinned. “You just assumed it.”
Benzel thought back to when he’d made his demand earlier today. “You gave me a Scalding sword.”
Karl shrugged. “No one said anything about turning Tower Island over to you or anyone else.”
Karl was right. Benzel couldn’t remember any of the Scaldings actually promising to give the island to Benzel. He’d made the wrong assumption in thinking that they would.
I knew something would go wrong.
But he’d also planned for it.
“Don’t worry, Benzel,” Sven said. “You killed the monster. All our troubles are gone.”
“No, they’re not.”
Sven smiled and turned his attention to a cousin telling a story about a tavern maid.
“You don’t understand.” Benzel stood and raised his voice. “There wasn’t just one monster. That monster belonged to a family. If we leave today, they will let us go in peace. If we don’t, they’ll kill us all.”
“Don’t worry so much,” Karl said. “Today you showed that these monsters can be killed.” He stood and matched Benzel’s loud voice. “And we’re an army of Scaldings. No monsters can take Tower Island away from us.”
The rest of the Scaldings cheered.
Sven spoke up. “The monsters should be afraid of us.” The disbelief of seeing the mangled bodies of his mother and father no longer saddened his face. Instead, it twisted with rage. “They killed our kinfolk. Ripped them apart. Left them for dead. Now is the time to seek revenge!”
“No!” Benzel shouted. “If you look for revenge, they’ll kill you all!”
But the Scaldings ignored Benzel and embraced a battle cry for revenge. They shouted about the ways they would destroy the creature’s family.
Fed up, Benzel made one last attempt.
I can’t convince the Scaldings to save themselves. Fine. Let them die.
But Snip will never forgive me if I let her husband die.
He placed a firm hand on Sven’s shoulder and squeezed. When Sven looked at him, Benzel said, “At least let me say farewell before I leave.”
Sven nodded but then turned back to shouting plans for revenge with his cousins.
Benzel squeezed so hard that Sven flinched. He looked at Benzel again.
The dragon god said this would happen. He knew the Scaldings wouldn’t be satisfied with the arm of a monster. He told me to follow the creature’s lead. I can’t do that by staying here. I have to go where it’s possible to see the creature appear.
“Now,” Benzel said. “I’m leaving now.”
Benzel nodded toward the door. “Come outside with me.”
Sven stood and followed Benzel out to the courtyard.
Benzel beckoned Sven to follow far enough away from the entrance so that no one could easily see them. Once Sven complied, Benzel withdrew his Scalding sword and held its point at Sven’s neck. “You’re coming with me.”
Sven eyed the blade.
If anyone had pulled such a move on Benzel, he would have grabbed the double-edged blade with his bare hands and twisted the sword out of its owner’s hands. It would have left his hands cut open, but he would also have the upper hand.
What kind of training has Sven had? How well does he know how to fight?
Sven’s gaze darted to the blade and Benzel’s hand on the short sword’s leather grip.
Convinced Sven would try to wrestle the sword away or withdraw his own, Benzel tightened his grip.
Sven watched him.
“Snip needs you. Don’t you want to live long enough to see your child born?”
Sven held up his hands in surrender and whispered, “Yes.”
His response surprised Benzel.
Maybe all Sven needed was someone to give him a way to return to Snip that didn’t make him look like a coward.
“We’ll take the small ship you used to bring me back from the ocean,” Benzel said. “And we’re leaving now.”
Surely, the creature is paying attention. Once we’re out in the open, he’ll appear.
And if he doesn’t, at least I can get Sven to safety.
Sven nodded. His eyes glistened wet with emotion, and that convinced Benzel to sheathe his own sword.
They hurried to the dock. But when they made their way toward the small ship, some of Sven’s cousins called out, close on their heels.
“Coward!”
“You’re no Scalding!”
“Sven runs with his tail between his legs!”
Benzel stood on the dock next to the small ship as the cousins approached. Benzel withdrew his sword, not sure what Sven would do under the pressure of his cousins’ accusing gaze. “I gave him no choice. I’m returning him to his pregnant wife.”