by Resa Nelson
Did they all decide to follow my grandparents? Has everyone left?
Or do I see only the ghosts I want to see?
Frustrated, Skallagrim walked back to the place where he’d first encountered the ghosts of Benzel’s parents, hoping they might reappear.
He remained alone. Skallagrim noticed the path the ghosts had taken, presumably to the realm where they now belonged. No light struck that path except for the normal sunlight of the mortal world.
It looks like a regular path. It has to lead somewhere.
Skallagrim thought about the day the Scaldings had attacked Heatherbloom. Benzel was the only survivor, the only one to escape.
How did he do it?
Skallagrim doubted Benzel could have hidden successfully inside his house. But the copse of trees near the base of the mountain looked like a place where a boy could disappear.
And then what?
The gentle rush of the river running alongside Heatherbloom caught Skallagrim’s attention.
The Scaldings would have sailed up the river. The grandfathers and great-uncles always talk about how the swiftness of their ships made it easy for them to surprise unsuspecting villagers. Benzel would have seen them leave on that river. He would have stayed away from it.
Skallagrim could see only one answer. He took the path up the steep mountainside, believing that Benzel must have hidden until he saw the Scaldings sail away on the river. The mountainside path would have kept Benzel safe from the Scaldings, even if they came back to Heatherbloom.
The path led Skallagrim on a winding journey around the mountainside. Hours later, he reached another ruined village. He soon recognized it as the village where he’d first met Kitel and Harald at the beginning of winter. It’s where Skallagrim first encountered fellow Northlanders after he left Tower Island.
This is Bubblebrook.
Skallagrim poked around the rubble. He found broken wooden shards from what must have been a bowl. He found a few long nails, probably forged by the blacksmith of Bubblebrook. He found half of a wooden comb.
This is where Benzel found Snip.
Skallagrim sat on the ground and tried to imagine what had happened the day the Scaldings attacked Heatherbloom and Bubblebrook. He thought about how young Benzel had been and the courage it must have taken for the boy to make his way to a village where he’d be safe. Awash with emotion, Skallagrim wondered how Benzel had found Snip and then carried her to safety. It couldn’t have been easy for a young boy to transport an infant.
He thought about how Benzel would feel about the baby girl he’d rescued. Even though Skallagrim couldn’t remember ever seeing Benzel and Snip together, when they spoke of each other, the bond between them seemed powerful.
That’s why Benzel asked Snip to raise me as her son. He trusted her.
Just like I trust Bruni and Seph to take care of my children.
A soft breeze caressed Skallagrim’s cheek. It reminded him of his wife’s tender touch.
Skallagrim sat up in attention, as if someone had called his name.
But the empty village ruins remained silent.
“Lumara?” Skallagrim said. He stood and looked around, hoping to see the ghost of his wife.
Has the Night’s Bane worn off already? Should I take more?
Trembling with hope, Skallagrim dipped into the pouch containing the herb. He took a larger pinch this time and ate it.
The air shimmered, which made Skallagrim believe the herb had taken effect. Unlike Heatherbloom, the village of Bubblebrook didn’t change. No ghosts appeared. No houses or animals materialized.
Skallagrim walked through the rubble, careful not to twist an ankle on its uneven surface. “Lumara! Are you here?”
Skallagrim found no one and nothing to help him. Still, he believed he’d felt the touch of his dead wife’s hand. The caress had felt too familiar to be a coincidence. Skallagrim remembered the clarity of fingertips brushing his skin.
It had to be Lumara. She’s trying to tell me something. What if there’s a reason why I can’t see her here? What if that’s what she’s trying to tell me?
Believing that Bubblebrook held nothing of value for him, Skallagrim followed the path that continued east. By the end of the day, he entered Hidden Glen, the village where Benzel and Snip had been raised by Benzel’s relatives.
The villagers greeted Skallagrim with warmth. Previously, he’d given vague answers to their questions about Benzel, his death, and Skallagrim’s life as a dragonslayer. For the most part, he’d succeeded in evading their questions, and the villagers of Hidden Glen had backed off in respect to a dragonslayer.
Now they asked again, and Skallagrim felt more willing to give details.
Although Skallagrim began by giving simple and short answers, the villagers of Hidden Glen became heated when they heard the details of Benzel’s death, saying that their own dragonslayer wouldn’t talk about it. When Skallagrim described the way the Scaldings had murdered Benzel, the villagers became enraged. Some argued that they never should have allowed Snip to leave Hidden Glen, much less marry a Scalding.
Encouraged, Skallagrim announced his plan to hunt and kill Frandulane to avenge Benzel’s murder.
The villagers of Hidden Glen embraced his plan and encouraged Skallagrim to end the life of a Scalding that had hurt them so deeply.
Skallagrim saw how the entire village had adopted Benzel as one of their own. They’d taken him in when the Scaldings had destroyed his family, and Skallagrim appreciated the pain they felt for not being able to protect Benzel from the final Scalding blow that killed him.
A family invited him to stay overnight in their home. As he drifted to sleep, Skallagrim imagined a future where he might bring his children to Hidden Glen and try his hand at farming or possibly learning Benzel’s family’s craft of thatching roofs.
But once Skallagrim fell asleep, his night became fitful and filled with nightmares of Tower Island and the Scaldings pouring boiling water from high atop their tower down upon everyone he’d ever known and loved.
CHAPTER 27
A few days later, Skallagrim arrived in the port city of Gott. Walking from Hidden Glen gave him time to stew over his next steps. He chewed on Night’s Bane every day while he walked, convinced he’d encounter a ghost who could help him find Lumara or Benzel. After all, the alchemists told Skallagrim that he had to return to Heatherbloom to find the ghost of his wife. There had to be a reason they sent him back to the Northlands.
Unless the alchemists lied to me.
Skallagrim couldn’t figure out why Fee and Glee would do such a thing. It made no sense.
Once again, he entertained the thought that the alchemists were protecting Frandulane, even though they denied it when Skallagrim accused them.
But they said he’d find Lumara in Heatherbloom, and she hadn’t been there.
The alchemists lied to me. They must be in league with Frandulane.
By the time Skallagrim walked into Gott, he’d forgotten the depth of emotions he’d felt when he met the ghosts of his grandparents. His hatred of Frandulane excluded all other feelings.
Striding through the crowded streets that were filled with excitement because the dragonslayers had come and begun their routes, a new thought crossed Skallagrim’s mind.
What if ghosts are confined to the place where they died? My grandparents were in Heatherbloom. What if the ghosts of Lumara and Benzel are here in Gott? What if they’re at the docks where they were killed?
Skallagrim pushed his way through the city crowds and made his way to the harbor. He then searched for signs of the ghosts he sought along the boardwalk.
“Where are you?” Skallagrim muttered. He dug out the pouch containing Night’s Bane only to find it empty.
It shouldn’t have been empty. There should be plenty left.
Unless he’d failed to keep track of how much he’d been ingesting each day.
Dread seized him. Skallagrim realized he’d been counting on seeing his
wife and father again.
He’d been assuming he could talk to them.
Tell them he wished he could have saved them.
Make things as right as possible.
Despite his longing to find Frandulane, Skallagrim decided a small delay would make no difference.
This could be my only chance to see Lumara again. What if Benzel’s spirit finds out his parents have left the mortal realm? The alchemists said spirits have ways of knowing. If I look for Lumara now, I still have a chance to see her. If I wait until after I find Frandulane, it could be too late. If I wait, she might be gone with Benzel to the spirit world by the time I come back.
Desperate, Skallagrim combed through all the merchants’ booths set up along the boardwalk until he found a young male alchemist peddling remedies for aches and pains. Impatient, Skallagrim could barely contain himself while waiting his turn. Although it took mere minutes, the passing time felt like hours. Finally, the customers ahead of him moved along.
“Give me Night’s Bane,” Skallagrim said to the young alchemist. Skallagrim handed over his empty pouch. “Fill it.”
The young alchemist sniffed at the pouch and then hesitated. “You’re acclimated to it? You know this stuff can kill you if you haven’t been eating it all your life.”
Skallagrim remembered that’s what Fee and Glee had told him. He no longer cared. “Yes,” Skallagrim lied. “I’m acclimated. How much?”
After the alchemist filled the pouch, he pointed at the silver rings on Skallagrim’s fingers. “Two of those will do.”
Relieved, Skallagrim stepped toward the center of the boardwalk. He stuffed a large pinch of Night’s Bane in his mouth and chewed. When he swallowed, the herb burned.
Moments later, his stomach clenched.
Skallagrim ignored it.
He scanned his surroundings, expecting ghosts to pop into view but saw none. “Where are you?”
Skallagrim noticed a Midlander climbing down from a newly docked ship who paused and stared. Normally, Skallagrim wouldn’t have looked at the man twice, but something about him seemed familiar.
The Midlander man looked away and hurried toward the city center.
Skallagrim watched him, unable to shake the feeling that he’d met him somewhere before.
His gait. I know that gait. But who is it that walks that way?
The Midlander man glanced back and then hastened his pace.
Something about the way the Midlander cast a glance over his shoulder convinced Skallagrim that this was a man who could pose trouble to a city like Gott.
Skallagrim’s stomach seized again, but he shook it off. He took one more look around the boardwalk to make sure no ghosts had appeared and then followed the Midlander man on that hunch. Skallagrim drew upon the stealth he’d learned as a dragonslayer to hide in the ever-shifting crowd between him and the Midlander.
When the Midlander approached the door of the Red Bird tavern where the dragonslayers had taken away Skallagrim’s sword, the stranger paused and looked behind him once more.
Skallagrim ducked behind a cluster of giggling Northlander girls before he could be spotted.
The Midlander slipped inside the tavern and Skallagrim followed. By the time Skallagrim stepped inside, he saw the Midlander bartering with the tavern keeper.
More important, Skallagrim heard the Midlander’s voice.
I know that voice. Where do I know this man from?
“It’s not enough,” the tavern keeper said. “You’ll have to include your dagger for payment.”
Skallagrim drew upon the dragonslayer instinct he’d developed since his boyhood training.
He closed his eyes to block out the confusion of a Midlander face he didn’t recognize. Skallagrim turned all his attention to listening to the sound and inflection of the man’s voice.
“My dagger!” the Midlander protested. “But it’s the only weapon I’ve got left!”
Skallagrim’s eyes flew open in astonishment. “Frandulane!”
The Midlander spun around to face him with wide brown eyes.
Skallagrim recognized them not by the color but by the expression inside them. “Hello, brother,” Skallagrim said. He whipped the dagger from beneath his belt.
“None of that!” the tavern keeper cried out. “Get out!”
Skallagrim kept his gaze on Frandulane and said, “You’re speaking to a dragonslayer. This is no business of yours.”
The tavern keeper backed away and disappeared into a back room.
Frandulane maintained his Midlander appearance. He placed a hand on the hilt of his own dagger, tucked beneath his belt. “There’s no need for that. There’s no need for you to be here.”
“You murdered my wife,” Skallagrim growled.
Frandulane appeared genuinely surprised. “I’ve never killed a woman.” He smirked. “And as you can see from the color of my eyes, I’ve never murdered anyone.”
“I know better. I know the true color of your eyes.”
“And I know yours.”
A young serving maid entered the room and stopped short, staring at both men with wide eyes. When she saw the dagger in Skallagrim’s hand, she cried, “Please don’t hurt me!”
The terror on her face startled Skallagrim. “Run!” he said to her. “Get out of here!”
The maid cried and ran out the front door.
Her fear made Skallagrim aware of the feel of the dagger in his hand and the fact that Frandulane hadn’t drawn his weapon.
The words from everyone who had told Skallagrim to give up his desire to kill Frandulane came rushing back. More than ever, those words made sense to him.
What am I doing? I should be with my children. They’re all that matters.
“Run. Get out of here.” Frandulane spoke in a mocking voice. “You’re not a Scalding. You’ve never been one. Your eyes will never turn lavender because you don’t have the nerve to hurt me.” Frandulane leaned against the bar with confidence.
Memories of all the times Frandulane had bullied Skallagrim filled his head.
Before he realized what he was doing, Skallagrim rushed forward and drove his dagger between Frandulane’s ribs and deep into his heart.
Caught off-guard, Frandulane had no time to react.
Grunting in surprise, Frandulane trembled and then sank to his knees. His mid-size Midlander body stretched to the tall height of a typical Northlander. His brown hair shifted back to its true blond nature. With a wheezing breath, he gazed up with lavender eyes.
Rapture raced through Skallagrim’s veins, feeling joy at the sight of his conquered brother. He leaned down and pulled his dagger free.
Blood rushed from Frandulane’s open wound, and he collapsed onto the floor.
Nausea tickled the back of Skallagrim’s throat, and he snapped back to his senses. He stared at Frandulane’s dying body in horror. “What have I done?”
Skallagrim felt the stickiness of his brother’s blood on his hand. He looked at the dagger he’d pulled free. Revulsed by the sight of it, Skallagrim dropped it, and the weapon clattered on the floor. “What have I done?”
The wind blew the tavern door wide open.
A familiar caress touched the back of Skallagrim’s head. When he turned to face the gust of wind, he saw the ghostly image of Lumara.
“Let go of your curse,” Lumara said. “Let go of all that ails you.”
Overwhelmed at the sight of his wife, Skallagrim reached out to embrace her, but all he could grasp was empty air.
“We can’t be together again unless you let go,” Lumara said, now standing at his side.
Skallagrim’s stomach seized again, and he winced in pain. “I don’t understand. Let go of what?”
Lumara pointed at Frandulane as he released his final breath. While Frandulane’s body remained on the floor, his ghost stood and stared at Skallagrim.
“You both wear your hatred like a cloak,” Lumara said.
Skallagrim said, “He killed you.”
&
nbsp; Frandulane’s ghost raised his arms to cover his head as if blocking punches.
“You use your brother like a convenient target for your anger,” Lumara said. “But that anger is an illusion. An excuse. A waste of time and a waste of life, both of which are precious and fleeting. Anger is a cloak that hides pain. Pain is what matters.”
“That makes no sense,” Skallagrim insisted. “I killed Frandulane to do right by you.”
“Pain is part of life,” Lumara said. “Everyone loses someone they love. But hurting someone else will never make that pain go away. Lashing out in anger solves nothing.”
Benzel’s ghost materialized behind Lumara. “I unknowingly created our dragonslayer curse because I hated the Scaldings,” Benzel said to Skallagrim. “I let my hate for them take over my life. I let Madam Po quell my anger, but there were consequences. I let the fear that came after being quelled become more important than raising my son.” Benzel’s voice strained. “And because of that, I wasn’t there to teach you how to quell your own anger before it gets out of hand.”
Skallagrim thought of his own son, Drageen, and his newborn and yet unnamed daughter.
Astrid. The alchemist Bee said she’ll be named Astrid.
A vine-like pain wrapped around Skallagrim’s chest and squeezed hard. He struggled to breathe. “But Frandulane had to pay for what he did,” Skallagrim wheezed.
Lumara placed her ghostly hand on Skallagrim’s trembling arm. “That is why there are trials by combat—to let the gods judge. Making Frandulane pay is not your duty. It’s something that must be left to the gods.”
Although Skallagrim wanted to protest, he couldn’t think of anything to say.
I let my hatred of Frandulane drive everything I did after Lumara died. I could have gone about my business as a dragonslayer and left my brother alone. Or I could have quit and given my attention to raising my children.
I didn’t have to find Frandulane and kill him.
I did it because I wanted to punish him.
I did it because I thought it would make me feel better.
A shimmering light replaced the back wall of the tavern. Ghosts of Scaldings that Skallagrim remembered from childhood appeared and held out their hands.