The Dragon Seed Box Set

by Resa Nelson

  As each chicken fluttered to the ground, it joined Miss Bitsy at pecking at the boy.

  Frandulane kicked out at them. “Leave me alone!”

  Skallagrim’s heart welled with gratitude toward the animals. He stood and found his voice. “This is our house! You don’t belong here. Get out!”

  As if in response to Skallagrim’s command, the chickens raised their voices and pecked harder at Frandulane.

  Miss Bitsy launched into the air and pecked at his face.

  Frandulane screamed and tumbled to the ground.

  The other chickens climbed on top of the boy, pecking him everywhere.

  “Get out!” Skallagrim shouted.

  With a whimper, Frandulane scrambled toward the door on his hands and knees. He threw himself outside.

  The chickens crowded in front of the door and screeched.

  Miss Bitsy paced so close to Skallagrim that she stepped on his feet.

  Skallagrim scooped her in his arms again and held her close. “You’re the bravest girl I know, Miss Bitsy.” He felt her heart pounding against his hand. “Are you alright?”

  Miss Bitsy let out one final squawk of disapproval at the empty doorway.

  Shaken, Skallagrim sat down again, still holding onto his favorite chicken while the others kept guard at the door.

  “I promise you,” Skallagrim said. “I will learn to become as brave as you, Miss Bitsy. I will become a dragonslayer, and I will never let Frandulane or anyone else scare me again.”

  CHAPTER 3

  The next morning, Father took Skallagrim onto one of the small Scalding ships and sailed to the Northlander shore. Suited for a half dozen people at most, the simple but well-made ship had three planks that served as seats and a little spare space at the front and back for cargo. Long oars were stored under the planks for days with no wind. Today was no such day, and the large red sail billowed. Even with a strong wind from the west, it took the entire day to sail along the southern coast of the Northlands.

  “When you’re a proper dragonslayer,” Father said at the beginning of the journey along the southern coast, “you’ll have to travel these waters between the Northlands and the Midlands. Most often, you’ll sail from Gott, and any ship you board will know how to navigate between those countries. But if you ever have to sail alone or without experienced seamen, understand that the passage is dangerous and could cost your life if you don’t know the tricks of finding your way through it.”

  Startled, Skallagrim stared at the sea before them in fear. “Are we going to die?”

  Father shook his head. “Not today. But to stay alive, you must understand that this sea is rocky and dangerous. We’ll be fine for a while because we can skim close to the shore.” He pointed toward the ocean. “Farther out, it’s like a mountain range of jagged rocks that’s barely below the surface. If you don’t know it’s there, those rocks can rip your ship apart. It gets trickier once we get to the point where the southern shore rounds up to the eastern shore. At that place, there’s only one safe route. I’ll show you how it’s marked by a series of rocky islets and how to sail through them.”

  Father picked up several loose pebbles from the small ship’s deck. He arranged them next to Skallagrim on the seat. “Here is how the islets lie in the water,” Father said. “And here is a verse that will tell you how to recognize the one safe passage you must use to navigate through them.”

  Dragon-shaped reefs guard the West.

  Round rocks atop a grassy knoll mark the seaway.

  Algae-covered reefs will flank your ship.

  Gold-flecked rocks guide you to the left.

  Eastern reefs warn of narrow passage.

  Edges like shards are safe to sail alongside.

  Northern-pointing reef shows the last direction to follow.

  Skallagrim repeated the verse over and over until he had it memorized. Looking up, he saw a sight that startled him. “Look!” Skallagrim shouted. “There are the dragon-shaped reefs that guard the West! And over there—I see the round rocks that mark the seaway.”

  “Good. Now, you tell me which way to go, and I’ll follow your direction.”

  Skallagrim looked at his father in horror. “Me?”

  “You know the verse. All you have to do is follow it.”

  Skallagrim knew his father well enough to determine when the man spoke in jest and when he meant his words. Still, he hesitated.

  “If you’re going to become a dragonslayer,” Father said, “you must find your courage. If you fail to act when action is needed, then you put your life and the lives of others at stake.” Father winked. “You can do this, Skallagrim. I know you can.”

  Father’s words gave him hope.

  Skallagrim repeated the verse out loud. “Head toward the round rocks. That’s where the safe passage begins.” He studied every wave, every reef, and every islet they approached. Once Father asked Skallagrim if he wanted to reconsider a decision, and the boy understood he’d made a miscalculation that he quickly corrected.

  But soon after the ship followed the direction pointed out by the northern reef, Father said, “We’ve made it. The sailing is easy now. Well done, son.”

  Skallagrim swelled with pride. At the same time, the journey had rattled him enough to realize they’d survived true peril. If Father hadn’t corrected the mistake Skallagrim had made, the reefs would have destroyed the ship and they’d be swimming for their lives right now.

  “There.” Father pointed north at the eastern shore. “Do you see where the shore juts out?”

  Skallagrim nodded.

  Father beamed at him. “That’s the port city of Gott. We’ll land there by supper time and find someone who can take you to the Midlands and then on to the Southlands for your training.”

  For a moment, the reality of leaving everything he’d ever known made Skallagrim afraid. Father’s words made him realize that only Father would return to Tower Island. That meant Skallagrim would be truly alone for the first time in his life.

  Skallagrim took in the sight of the sea surrounding them and the gentle rocking of the Northlander ship as it glided through the ocean waves. All he’d ever known was Tower Island. Soon, everything would change.

  As much as the thought terrified him, at the same time Skallagrim felt exhilarated at not knowing what the rest of his life would bring.

  * * *

  Every apprehension Skallagrim entertained melted away as soon as their small ship docked in the harbor of Gott. In addition to large Northlander ships that looked like dragons at rest, peculiar ships with high sides and many sails bobbed in the water alongside them. After Father secured their ship and they climbed onto the boardwalk, Skallagrim looked around in wide-eyed wonder at what appeared to be an endless wooden walkway lined with merchants selling all kinds of goods—and all kinds of people buying them.

  Father squeezed Skallagrim’s shoulder and chuckled. “We’re not on Tower Island anymore.”

  Skallagrim drank in everything he saw as if his soul were parched. Instead of a massive stone-paved courtyard surrounded by houses, several wide dirt roads crisscrossed the port city of Gott. Instead of the stone houses on Tower Island, wooden homes jammed close together lined the dirt streets. Instead of a tiny population of Scaldings, who all dressed in traditional Northlander garb of brightly colored dresses or long shirts and knee-length pants, Gott swarmed with people of different heights and hair color and skin tones. Some men wore long pants of drab colors, while women walking next to them wore simpler dresses. Other men wore animal skins over their clothing. Some women wore dresses so airy and smooth that Skallagrim imagined they must be the kinds of things that fairies would wear if fairies were real.

  Before taking more than a few steps, Skallagrim hooted with joy. “Auntie Thurid! Uncle Claude!” He ran toward the crates displaying daggers and swords and into the welcoming arms of the alchemist standing next to them.

  Skallagrim inhaled deeply. Today Auntie Thurid smelled like fields of wildflowe
rs. A different scent surrounded her every time they’d met on Tower Island, and Skallagrim guessed that was because her skin and clothes absorbed whatever potions she concocted that day. He knew Auntie Thurid and Uncle Claude weren’t blood kin, but the fondness between them and his family felt stronger than anything Skallagrim had ever seen among the Scaldings.

  Auntie Thurid squeezed and then let him go. “You ready to become a dragonslayer?”

  Overwhelmed with happiness at the thought, all Skallagrim could do was nod and grin.

  Wrapping up his last customer, Uncle Claude accepted a large silver bracelet in payment and slid it onto his upper arm. “We set sail at dawn tomorrow. Of course, Skallagrim is welcome to stay on board with us. You, too, unless you plan to head back to Tower Island tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Skallagrim turned to his father in confusion.

  “I accept that offer,” Father said with a smile. “Is the food good at any of the taverns in town?”

  Skallagrim interrupted. “Aren’t we leaving with them tomorrow?”

  “You are,” Father said. “I’ll be going back to Tower Island.”

  Skallagrim realized he’d assumed his father would travel with him all the way to where the dragonslayers trained. He felt comfort in knowing he’d be safe with Auntie Thurid and Uncle Claude, but he hadn’t anticipated parting with his father so soon. Distressed, he wrung his hands.

  “I’ll be saying goodbye in the morning,” Father said. “But we’ll see each other again.” He knelt, even though that meant he had to look up at Skallagrim. “Chances like these don’t come along often. If you prefer, you can come back home with me, but you’ll be looking at a dull future on Tower Island. I’m sure Frandulane would be willing to take your place.”

  The thought of Frandulane becoming a dragonslayer made Skallagrim’s skin crawl. His brother didn’t have the heart of a dragonslayer—Mother and Father had said so.

  Still kneeling, Father said, “Everything in life has a price. This is the price of beginning an exciting new life. You must be willing to let go of what’s comfortable and familiar. You must be willing to take a chance on something new.”

  Skallagrim considered his father’s words. On one hand, Tower Island was comfortable and familiar because Skallagrim had known nothing else. He looked around once more at all the people who looked nothing like his Scalding clan.

  On the other hand, Frandulane and other Scaldings made life miserable for Skallagrim by ridiculing and haranguing him for looking nothing like a true Scalding.

  Skallagrim cared deeply about his parents. But he felt little for any other Scalding on Tower Island. Father promised to see him again. Surely, Skallagrim could visit Tower Island whenever he wished.

  What do I have to lose?

  “Tell me,” Father said. “Are you willing to take a chance?”

  Skallagrim smiled. “I am.”

  CHAPTER 4

  After bidding farewell to his father the next morning, Skallagrim paid rapt attention to Auntie Thurid while she taught him how to help sail their Midlander ship. When they came to the dangerous islets, Skallagrim repeated the verse in his head that he’d learned from Father. Although the Midlander ship had less finesse, Uncle Claude steered it successfully through the same path Skallagrim had learned.

  Once they’d made it through to the open sea, Skallagrim looked back. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Why can’t ships just sail to either side of the islets?”

  Uncle Claude secured the last of his sails. “Look around. What do you see on either side?”

  Skallagrim studied the seascape. As far as he could see on either side of the islets, ocean waves crashed and foamed. “Big waves.”

  “They’re caused by what lies beneath,” Uncle Claude said. He pointed beyond the islets. “Steep and jagged crags surround the entire coastline of the Northlands. It’s as if a gigantic monster opened its jaws to let the Northlands rest on its tongue—and its teeth hide just below the water’s surface to snag anything that dares to approach.”

  Skallagrim imagined such a monster lurking beneath the depths. “Except for the islets?”

  Uncle Claude nodded. “It’s the one place where ships can pass through, assuming their captains know how to do it.”

  “But Father sailed along the southern coast.”

  “In what kind of ship?”

  “A small one. Father says most Northlanders use it for trading in villages easier reached by sea.”

  “That’s right. A small ship like that can skim along close to the shore. If it needed deeper water like the larger Northlander ships, that would put it far enough out to sea to be in danger of getting crunched in the monster’s jaw.”

  Skallagrim looked back at the islets through which they’d passed. “If it wasn’t for that one place of safe passage, then the Northlands would be cut off from the entire world.”

  Auntie Thurid joined them and slid her arm around her husband’s waist. Her pale Northlander features contrasted with his darker Midlander looks. “Thank the gods we didn’t get cut off from each other.”

  Uncle Claude smiled and kissed her.

  By the end of the day, the ship docked in the largest port city of the Midlands. From there, they traveled by horse and cart through the Midlands. Although Skallagrim had seen some of the Northland terrain from his father’s ship, he’d never seen anything like the Midlands before. He stared in wonder at its vast fields and pastures, stretching all the way to the horizon and filled with hundreds of workers or grazing cattle and sheep.

  When they followed a path into the forest, Skallagrim gawked at the hundreds of trees towering high above.

  “This is the Forest of Aguille,” Uncle Claude said. “One of the most precious places in all the Midlands.”

  The sudden dip in temperature astonished him, even when Uncle Claude compared entering the forest to walking into shade. Small animals that Skallagrim had never seen before skittered up tree trunks and jumped from branch to branch.

  “Squirrels,” Auntie Thurid explained. “And chipmunks. You’ll also see mice and voles on the forest floor. And a few tiny lizards thrown in for good measure.”

  The entire forest seemed alive in a way that Skallagrim had never seen anyplace on Tower Island. In addition to the animals, colorful birds sang bright songs and flitted about. Every breath of wind made thousands of leaves rustle, and they sounded like a rushing waterfall. He’d never imagined such a place could exist in the world.

  Uncle Claude reined the horse to stop the cart at the edge of a clearing within the heart of the forest. A circle of grass as large as a village spread before them like a patch of harvested land surrounded by towering stalks of grain. In the center, ancient trees with trunks as thick as houses clustered together and towered above the forest. Hundreds of branches spread high in the air like a spoked wheel to protect the clearing from rain and snow. The branches lapped over the top of the forest surrounding the clearing.

  Gold and silver chains hung from the mighty branches. Thin streams of sunlight pierced through the canopy, making the chains sparkle.

  Dozens of wattle-and-daub houses, tucked into the forest, surrounded the grass clearing and ancient trees. Skallagrim didn’t notice the houses at first because they blended in so well with the woods around them. With a start, he realized dozens of people stood among those houses and stared at the cart. Unlike brightly colored Northlander clothes, these people were dressed in shades of muted brown.

  “Where are we?” Skallagrim whispered.

  An older man rushed forward, and Uncle Claude jumped from the cart with a grin to embrace him.

  “The Temple of Limru,” Auntie Thurid with a hush. “These Midlanders are the Keepers of Limru. They worship the tree spirits and protect the temple that honors them.”

  Skallagrim whispered. “Why is there silver in the trees?”

  “Gold, too,” Auntie Thurid said. “That’s the yellow metal you see. It’s even more valuable than silver.”

&n
bsp; Skallagrim craned his neck to get a better look at the gold.

  Auntie Thurid continued. “Those are gifts from Midlanders who came to pay respect to the gods. The silver and gold stay in the trees at all times. No thief ever steals any of the treasures left by worshippers.”

  Skallagrim found that hard to believe. “Why not?”

  “Even thieves ask the gods for help and protection.”

  Skallagrim watched as more people greeted Uncle Claude. “Why do they know him? Is Uncle Claude a Keeper?”

  “No. But he’s a Midlander.”

  Skallagrim screwed up his face in a quizzical look.

  “Midlanders aren’t like us Northlanders,” Auntie Thurid said. “They feel close to the tree spirits gods and loved by them. That’s why it’s important to every Midlander to journey to the Temple of Limru at least once—on any day and year they choose—to bring a gift to the gods. That means, sooner or later, the Keepers of Limru meet every Midlander in the nation.”

  That idea left Skallagrim dumbfounded. He knew every Scalding who lived on Tower Island, but he couldn’t imagine knowing everyone in an entire country.

  When Uncle Claude brought a small group of Midlanders toward the cart, Auntie Thurid climbed down to greet them and gestured for Skallagrim to do likewise.

  “Welcome,” said the older man who had first hailed Uncle Claude. He spoke the Northlander language with a thick accent. He smiled with excitement when he looked at Skallagrim. “This is the one!”

  Auntie Thurid spoke with a firm but friendly voice. “Yes, this is our nephew, Skallagrim. He’s from Tower Island, and he’s been accepted to train as a dragonslayer.”

  “Scaldings,” said a petite Midlander woman who’d tucked her hand around Uncle Claude’s bent elbow. She sounded disappointed. “They raised him.”

  Auntie Thurid spoke before anyone else could. “So far. But he’ll spend the rest of his youth among dragonslayers. They’ll help him.”

  Skallagrim frowned in confusion at her words.

  Help me? Why do I need help?

  He wondered if Uncle Claude had told these Midlanders about the way the Scaldings made Skallagrim feel like he didn’t belong on Tower Island because he looked like he had no Northlander blood. With a start, Skallagrim realized that if he stood among these Midlanders, he’d blend in with them. Like Skallagrim, they all had dark hair, and their skin didn’t look as pale as the skin of a Northlander.