by Resa Nelson
"Do you see it, Pigeon? Can you see the dragon?"
Astrid looked. All she saw was ocean and sky and cliffs.
DiStephan spun her to face the outcrop, standing behind her, holding her steady. "They say it was a dragon. Came here to hibernate, and then laid its eggs come spring. But a dragonslayer slipped inside its nest at night. Chained its leg while it was sleeping. Chained it right into the ground. When the dragon woke up and saw what happened, it tried to jump into the ocean to escape, but the chain was deep enough in the ground to hold it. Scared the dragon so much, it turned right into stone."
He traced the shape of the outcrop in the air with his finger. "Here's its snout...the bridge of its nose...the crest of its eyes...its ears, its neck."
Astrid followed his finger. She could see it! The outcrop looked like a huge snake with bowed legs and a fat belly scraping the ground, stuck in mid-step.
DiStephan continued. "And there's where its haunches are trapped in the rock. That's where it's chained."
"I don't believe you," Astrid said quietly. "Dragons fly. Dragons are brave. Nothing could make them scared enough to turn into stone."
DiStephan turned to face her. "Pigeon speaks at last."
Astrid felt the blanket twist, still nailed to the sand by his sword. She clung to the edges, keeping it tightly wrapped around her.
"Dragons don't fly because they've got no wings," DiStephan said. "The littlest ones climb up into trees so they don't get eaten by their own kind. I've seen fledglings jump from trees. Jumping isn't the same as flying. People exaggerate what they see, that's all."
DiStephan looked into her eyes, the only part of Astrid not covered in blanket. "Maybe the story about Dragon's Head is true. Maybe it isn't. But this is what I know for sure: dragons leave their scent, everywhere they go. They leave a trail that other dragons follow. Dragon's Head—" DiStephan pointed at the outcrop. "That's where they come. Dragons like it there."
A sudden cry overhead made Astrid shudder. She looked up.
It was only a seabird zooming toward its rock nest.
"So don't go running off by yourself.” DiStephan let go of her. "Don't be stupid."
DiStephan reached for his sword, gripping the hilt firmly.
As he twisted the blade loose from the sand below, Astrid felt the blanket tug. "No!"
She protested too late.
And it all happened so fast.
When DiStephan pulled the sword free of the sand and the ocean, he accidentally pulled the blanket from Astrid's grasp.
She cried out, trying to hold on, but its edges slipped from her fingertips.
Startled, not expecting her blanket to come with his sword, DiStephan managed to catch it in his arms.
When he turned to face Astrid, he nearly dropped the blanket and his sword in the water. Astrid watched his face pale as DiStephan stared at her in shock.
The silence between them seemed to last forever.
It always happened this way, anytime someone saw her.
The disbelief in his eyes, because it would take awhile for him to understand what he saw. The horror in his eyes that came from understanding. And fear, there always had to be fear.
Astrid knew she was a monster.
She'd learned not to mind the disbelief or the horror. Nobody could ever really understand, not unless they'd been through what had made her this way. She didn't mind being the only one. She didn't mind being alone.
But every time it made anyone feel afraid, Astrid wanted to cry. Just because she was a monster, it didn't mean she wanted to hurt anyone.
She didn't want anyone to be hurt by anything, ever. She wanted everybody and every living thing to feel safe. To be safe.
"Pigeon..." DiStephan said, his voice soft with horror.
Astrid saw he wasn't afraid. He stared at her openly, and she didn't mind so much because he showed no fear.
Maybe he wasn't afraid because he was a dragonslayer. She'd heard dragonslayers were fearless, but she'd never imagined anyone could have this kind of courage.
He took a small step toward her, examining her face, and every square inch of skin that wasn't covered by her clothes. He looked curious now, trying to puzzle it out.
"You're covered in scars," DiStephan said. "Are there scars everywhere? Under your clothes?"
Astrid nodded.
DiStephan leaned forward for a closer look. "Those look like dragon bites. It looks like a dragon chewed you up and spit you out."
He knows. Because he's a dragonslayer, he knows.
DiStephan gazed steadily into her eyes. "How can you still be alive?"
Astrid reached for her blanket and took it from him. "I don't know," she said. Astrid covered herself again with the blanket, half-soaked and heavy with saltwater.
DiStephan peered at her, trying to glimpse her skin beneath the blanket.
Astrid spoke sharply, feeling strangely free because he'd seen her and hadn't run away screaming like she'd expected. "Don't be rude."
DiStephan recoiled as if she'd slapped him. At first his eyes narrowed as if he might cry, but then his face hardened into hurt. "Don't forget who you're speaking to! I came out here to save your skin. This is the thanks I get?” He turned his back on her and splashed his way back to dry sand.
Astrid followed him until DiStephan turned expectantly, facing her. He took a cocky stance, folding his arms across his chest while he studied her.
She hated his arrogance. Astrid stopped cold, now ankle-deep in the tide. Instead of following DiStephan onto dry sand, she stood her ground.
DiStephan shouted over the roar of the tide crashing on the beach to make himself heard. "Your father will be glad I protected you. When I tell him, I'll bet he gives me a reward."
The half-soaked blanket felt heavier as Astrid held it high above the incoming waves. It began to smell like a dead goat. "I have no father."
DiStephan looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Then who's the man you're with?"
"A merchant."
Astrid looked down. She sensed the undertow getting stronger. If she didn't watch herself, it could pull her out to sea.
Besides, it gave her an excuse not to look at DiStephan. She didn't want to see his thoughts reflected on his face.
"And you're the merchandise?” DiStephan's tone was inquisitive, not critical. "You and that other girl? And he wants to sell you in Guell?"
Keeping her gaze on the water, Astrid nodded.
"He's going to kill me if no one buys me today," Astrid said.
DiStephan started at her bluntness. "Why, when he can sell you?"
"He thinks no one will have me, and he'd rather cut my throat than buy food for me. I heard him tell your father."
"Courage, Pigeon," DiStephan said. "I know someone who will have you. Come along and I'll make sure no one has reason to cut your throat."
Astrid looked up when the air sang.
It was DiStephan's sword, singing as he pulled it from the scabbard. It sliced through the air when he expertly tossed it high, watched it flip and spin, catching the sunlight on its polished blade. DiStephan caught it one-handed, only to toss it higher, all the time walking down the beach.
Astrid sloshed through the tide to keep up with him. She watched in surprise while DiStephan handled his sword with precision, the blade spinning and twisting so fast that it blurred when Astrid tried to follow its path.
It was the same sword DiStephan had handled clumsily yesterday afternoon, when they first met.
As if reading her mind, DiStephan laughed. He tossed the sword higher in the air and turned to face Astrid. "A dragonslayer never trusts strangers.” DiStephan tucked his left hand behind his back, neatly catching the sword when it slipped down his spine from high above.
Ah. So he'd been pretending to be clumsy because that would lull the child seller into a false sense of security.
Astrid watched DiStephan smile with confidence as she realized what she'd just seen. If his calculations had been off by
so much as a hair, he'd be unconscious. Or dead. "How did you know we were coming?"
DiStephan whisked the sword out to his side, extending his arms, gesturing to the entire ocean. "You were as loud as cattle. We heard you thrashing about on the road long before you arrived. You could've been brigands, for all we knew."
"Brigands?"
"Bandits. Thieves. Whatever you want to call them. Thanks to Dragon's Head Point, they're too scared to come to Guell, but there's plenty of them on the roads these days. Good thing you weren't brigands. Good thing your man's smart enough not to cross a dragonslayer."
They walked back into camp and found Mauri, the child seller, and DiStephan's father eating by the fire.
The child seller frowned when he saw Astrid. "Girl! What have you gone and done to yourself!"
Astrid remained still, steps away from him.
The child seller's voice softened when he walked toward her. "How'd you get so drenched? Fall into the ocean?” He examined the blanket but made no attempt to take it from her. "How can I find you work if you catch cold like a drowned rat?"
DiStephan picked up a blanket from where he'd slept the night before. "She can have this one. It's dry.” He draped it over Astrid and her sea-soaked blanket. DiStephan whispered to her, "Let go."
His words scared her at first. She clung to the child seller's blanket. It was the only thing anyone had ever given to her that meant something. Even if it did smell like a dead goat.
But then she felt it slip from her fingers. They found DiStephan's blanket instead. It felt soft and smelled like new-mown hay.
DiStephan became as serious as the child seller, removing an intricate silver brooch from where it held his shirt together.
The silver brooch was as big as the palm of Astrid's hand and made up of several strands of silver woven together, forming two snakes encircling a dragon, long and serpentine.
It was the most beautiful piece of jewelry she'd ever seen.
DiStephan used it to pin the edges of his blanket together at her throat. "There," he said. "Now the wind can't blow your blanket into the ocean anymore."
He was protecting her! He wasn't going to tell the child seller she'd run away.
The child seller sighed in exasperation. "What were you doing by the ocean, Girl?"
Before Astrid could answer, DiStephan turned to the child seller. "Everyone in Guell knows us. If anyone gives you trouble, show them her brooch and tell them I gave it to her. And remember this: the richest men in Guell are the thatcher and the blacksmith."
"Of course," the child seller said. "Just like every other town."
DiStephan spoke off-handedly as he joined the others by the fire. "The blacksmith made that for me. My brooch. Hers, now."
"A blacksmith?" the child seller said. "Have you no jeweler?"
DiStephan's voice quieted. "It's a special brooch. Special circumstances.” His manner shifted back to cheerful. "Of course, we've got a jeweler! He makes the finest amber beads you're ever likely to see!"
DiStephan's father added, "If no one else will have her, go to Blacksmith Temple. His wife died in childbirth, and a dragon killed his daughter last year. She was this girl's size. She was the fire in Temple's heart. He gave the brooch to my son for killing the dragon that killed her."
Within the hour, the child seller, Mauri, and Astrid had packed and were ready to continue to Guell.
The child seller rode ahead, holding the leading rein to the cart. Astrid turned to look back.
The dragonslayers—DiStephan and his father—stood in the middle of the road, watching them leave.
Astrid saw DiStephan shake his head in response to something his father said, but the cart was too noisy and already too far away for Astrid to hear their conversation.
His father stepped away from the road and vanished into the woods.
DiStephan stood still, watching the cart.
Now that Astrid had come out into the world, she could see it was a big, dangerous place.
Dragons were bad enough, but Astrid believed people were far more dangerous than dragons, and now she had to worry about brigands and bandits and thieves in addition to all the other people in the world.
But that didn't seem quite right, somehow. Astrid had been cautious of Mauri because she was a big girl, but then Mauri held Astrid's hand. Even though Mauri was the one who claimed to be scared, Astrid realized she'd felt a lot better holding onto Mauri's hand through the blanket.
She watched DiStephan, standing in the middle of the road, growing farther away with every moment. He was a boy who dangled from trees and tossed his sword in the air and had the courage to face dragons. He was someone who didn't run away in terror when he saw what Astrid really was.
When DiStephan looked at her, she didn't feel like a monster.
She felt like a girl.
CHAPTER 3
Astrid stared intently at her feet as she followed the child seller through the dirt streets of Guell. She held DiStephan's blanket close around her body and especially around her face. She'd already glanced up once to see the townspeople staring at her.
She didn't want to see that again.
Even though Astrid had seen little of Guell (other than her close inspection of its dirt streets), it seemed to be a small but bustling village.
She'd seen no trenches or other barricades protecting Guell. Instead, the farmland began where the forest ended.
The late morning air was rich with the smell of freshly baked bread. When they walked through town, Astrid heard the chirps of birds and the thump of a weaver's loom. The sound of ringing metal echoed in the distance. When people came in from the fields to eat lunch, they laughed and gossiped and bickered.
It was overwhelming and unlike anything Astrid had ever experienced before. One moment she felt exhilarated. The next moment she felt terrified.
"You there!” A man with a deep voice shouted.
Astrid hoped he didn't mean her.
The child seller stopped, too, turning to look at the crowd.
Astrid stepped closer to the child seller, holding onto his tunic, grateful when he didn't push her away.
"You," said a large, round man, wielding a knife. It dripped with blood.
Astrid felt the child seller tense at the sight of the knife. She clung tighter to him.
The rotund man stopped short, his eyes widening in surprise. He relaxed, and a knot of small children caught up with him, running around him in circles while they giggled. He held his knife up for inspection. "I'm butchering," he said.
Astrid and the child seller breathed easier.
The butcher's smallest daughter approached Astrid with caution.
Astrid stood her ground, keeping the blanket so close that only her eyes showed.
The butcher's smallest daughter looked at her with wide eyes. "What are you?"
"Natalia!” The butcher sounded like a harsh disciplinarian. "Come back here!"
The little girl obeyed and ran back to the butcher's side. She kept her curious gaze on Astrid.
The butcher gestured toward Astrid. "Boy or girl?"
"Girl," the child seller answered.
The butcher shook his head in disappointment. "Girls are too squeamish to be of any use. I need boys, and look what I've got."
For the first time, Astrid realized that all the butcher's children were girls. Squealing, giggling girls.
Natalia pointed at Astrid and chanted:
Mind yourself
Mind your thoughts
Or Scaldings
Tie you into knots
They take you
Into their tower
Walk inside
Where dragons glower
Rip your head
Leave you for dead...
"Natalia!” The butcher said sternly. "Quiet!"
Astrid closed the blanket shut in front of her eyes.
"I'm headed down south for the next month or so," the child seller said. "If I find any boys, I'll bring th
em back for you."
The butcher nodded. "The bigger, the better. I need strong bodies and stout hearts."
The butcher's daughters shrieked in delight as they chased a stray kitten down the street.
The child seller smiled. "Understood."
Walking on, Astrid kept pace at the child seller's heels, focusing once again on her feet. No one wanted her. No one would buy her.
She wondered what the child seller would do with her body once he'd killed her. Maybe he'd sell her to a butcher, who'd chop her up to feed to the hogs. Or to a fisherman, who'd chop her up and use her for fish bait. Or maybe he'd sell her alive to brigands, who'd kill her for the fun of it.
He'd had no problem selling Mauri. She was pretty and older than Astrid. Mauri's smile was as warm as a fire, and her voice bubbled like a tiny stream in early spring when she talked to strangers. And now, lucky Mauri would live in Guell.
Astrid didn't know how Mauri had become an orphan, but everyone who met Mauri loved her. The first farmer they spotted bought Mauri within moments of meeting her.
Astrid felt sure she'd never see Mauri again.
By late afternoon, the child seller had offered Astrid to nearly everyone in the town, and no one wanted her. They hadn't found the blacksmith yet, but what if the dragonslayers were wrong? What if the blacksmith didn't want her either?
Astrid collapsed on the dirt street, folding her arms across her knees and resting her head on them.
"Girl," the child seller said.
Astrid couldn't fathom how he did it, but he seemed to always know her location at any given moment, especially when they were in a crowd. She felt too tired to look up.
She felt his hand on her shoulder as he knelt beside her.
"We've got business to tend," he said. "Let's go."
"It's no use," Astrid said, her voice muffled by the blanket.
The hand hesitated on her shoulder. The child seller was funny that way. He rarely touched her—only when he seemed to think there was no other way to communicate with her. Astrid believed she could tell what he was thinking by the way he touched her. Right now, she felt convinced he meant to figure out how to make her get back on her feet and keep walking.
His fingers drummed lightly on her shoulder. "Not if my merchandise doesn't cooperate with me," he said. "Come on, Girl."