The Dragonslayer's Sword

by Resa Nelson

  Suddenly, a soft silvery light poured down. They saw themselves in a small clearing.

  Astrid let go of Mauri, looking for the source of light.

  "It's the moon.” Mauri pointed up.

  Dark clouds separated, letting light from the full moon escape.

  Relaxing, Astrid took Mauri's child hands in hers again, this time concentrating on her own adult hands, focusing on transforming Mauri's to their right size.

  Mauri's hands shifted. She sighed in relief. "That's better. Much better."

  Mauri's hands stopped moving. They'd shifted and changed, but they weren't right. They looked twisted and misshapen, slightly larger than her previous child hands.

  Mauri looked up at Astrid, frowning in confusion. "What happened?"

  Astrid stared at Mauri's hands in horror, sickened by what she'd done to her friend. "I don't know. I don't understand."

  Mauri was a potter. She needed her hands just as much as Astrid needed her own to work.

  But Mauri shrugged it off. "They feel fine now. That's all I care about. Maybe you can try again tomorrow."

  A rustling in the undergrowth startled them.

  They both saw it at once: large round eyes, reflecting the moonlight, peering through tall grass, ankle high. The women stood still as a curious wedge-shaped head with long wispy whiskers and tiny ears emerged through the grass, followed by a sleek brown-and-cream spotted body with a long tail. Its tiny clawed paws scratched at the ground.

  Mauri clung to Astrid's arm with her twisted hands.

  "Don't worry," Astrid said. "It's just a shore cat."

  "Then what's it doing in the forest?"

  "Maybe looking for food. They're inquisitive little things, but they're harmless."

  "You know what else they're called? Dragon's Sight. They're lookouts for dragons. It's looking for food, all right, and we're it. We're the food."

  "That's nothing but legend. There's no such thing as Dragon's Sight. It's just a shore cat, nothing more."

  The cat looked up at them, sniffing, its eyes hauntingly silver in the moonlight.

  As quickly as it had appeared, it vanished back into the tall grass.

  "I wish they'd find us," Mauri said.

  "We'll find them soon," Astrid said. "Either DiStephan or Taddeo or both. They have to be here somewhere."

  "Not them."

  Astrid took a long look at Mauri in the moonlight. Her hair appeared tangled and matted. Dirt streaked her face, and her eyes were still swollen from crying. "Then who?"

  Mauri's face scrunched into a doughy ball for a moment, and then hardened into something tired. "I can't live without a roof over my head, without food on the table. I can't be poor again."

  None of it made any sense. Maybe it was the shock of witnessing a massacre. Maybe it was because they hadn't had anything to eat or drink since they'd been captured. Astrid spoke calmly, wanting to help Mauri. "You've never been poor. You've always had a roof and food and a safe place to sleep. You've always been—"

  Suddenly, Astrid understood, gazing at Mauri's hands.

  If Mauri's hands stayed like this, Mauri would have no means of earning her keep. Mauri was afraid of being reduced to the life of a beggar. And all because Astrid had made Mauri's hands useless.

  But unlike DiStephan and Natalia and the entire town of Guell, Mauri wasn't dead. It was just her hands, and Astrid believed she could change Mauri's hands back to normal, once they were safe and fed and rested. When Astrid had renewed the energy and focus she'd need.

  "I promise you'll be all right," Astrid said. "However long it takes, whatever I have to do, I'll make sure you can be a potter again. And if I can't, I'll build you a home. I'll get food for you. You'll never go without anything you need as long as I'm alive."

  Astrid saw pain rise in Mauri's eyes again. For just a moment, her eyes glistened in the silver light.

  "I can't take another step," Mauri said.

  "Rest here," Astrid said, pointing toward the tall grass. "I'll look for the dragonslayer camp. I haven't heard anyone following us. I won't be gone long—you'll be safe here."

  Mauri sighed as she sank into the soft grass.

  Astrid left Mauri, keeping thoughts of brigands and hungry dragons at bay.

  * * *

  Astrid found a familiar path and used landmarks to find her way through the forest. But trees and boulders and trodden paths looked far different by moonlight than by day.

  Astrid's heart beat faster when she spotted the glowing embers in the middle of a small, abandoned clearing. She knelt by the remains of the camp fire, holding her hands close to check its heat.

  The aroma of roasting roots nearly made her faint with hunger.

  Astrid recognized the cluster of trees where he slept at night and the hollow log near the embers where he kept his weapons. Astrid looked into the log and found it empty.

  He was cooking food in the embers. He had to be close by.

  Astrid stood, looking around the dragonslayer's camp. "Taddeo?"

  Someone moved, over by the cluster of trees.

  Astrid squinted, seeing no one.

  She remembered the day she'd met DiStephan. Astrid, Mauri, and the child seller had talked to DiStephan for several minutes before his father, the dragonslayer of Guell, had stepped forward from a tree trunk. DiStephan's father had camouflaged himself so that no one had seen him, despite his being in plain sight, several feet away.

  That had been in clear daylight.

  Astrid had arrived in a dragonslayer's camp at night. Unexpected and unannounced. If she'd woken him, he might be too groggy to recognize her.

  Astrid stood in front of the glowing embers, holding her arms open to show herself unarmed. "Taddeo," she said. "It's me, Astrid."

  No one answered.

  Astrid felt certain she saw someone standing in front of a tree trunk, trying to blend in, keeping still.

  Maybe Taddeo had been looking for dragons—maybe even killing one—when the brigands attacked Guell. Maybe Taddeo had brought a dead dragon to the town, looking forward to the grateful expression that would light up the butcher's face, only to find the butcher himself slaughtered.

  Maybe Taddeo was stunned, like Mauri. Maybe grief and guilt had overcome him.

  Maybe he blamed himself because he hadn’t been there to stop the brigands.

  "Mauri is with me," Astrid said. "I'll bring her here. We need your help."

  But when Astrid returned to where she'd left Mauri, she found herself alone in the woods.

  Mauri was gone.

  CHAPTER 12

  "Mauri!” Astrid called out, racing to the tall grass where Mauri had sat down to rest.

  The soft grass stood straight and tall in the moonlight. Astrid saw no impression left in the grass. No indentation.

  It was as if Mauri had never been there at all.

  Or hadn't been there long enough to leave any mark behind.

  "Mauri!” Astrid searched the area. Maybe Mauri had fallen asleep. Maybe she'd found a more comfortable spot.

  Astrid looked everywhere.

  The clouds had cleared from the sky, revealing the strong and clear moonlight. Astrid was sure this was the right spot. This had to be where she'd left Mauri. She recognized the tall grass because that's where the shore cat had emerged, its eyes glowing in the moonlight.

  Astrid shivered.

  The shore cat. Mauri called it Dragon's Sight, a messenger scouting for a dragon's next meal. What if Mauri was right? What if the shore cat had brought a dragon to Mauri? What if the dragon had eaten her?

  Astrid searched the tall grass again, poring over every blade, looking for signs of slaughter.

  Whenever a dragon attacked, it clamped its teeth around a leg, dragging until the victim stopped struggling. Even if a dragon had swallowed her whole, there should be a trail of blood.

  There was nothing. No blood. Not even so much as a broken blade of grass.

  Maybe Mauri had gone looking for food. Maybe sh
e'd recognized where they were, and she'd gone looking for DiStephan.

  A sudden chill raised goose bumps on Astrid's arms. Instinctively, her nostrils flared as she took a deep breath.

  Something didn't smell right.

  Astrid reached out to the nearest tree, inching toward it. Maybe she could press herself against the trunk and blend in.

  A sudden rustling in the woods startled Astrid. When she tried to turn toward the rustling without giving her position away, her foot caught on a gnarled root poking through the forest floor.

  The last thing Astrid remembered was falling hard against the ground.

  * * *

  The next morning, Astrid woke up alone in Taddeo's camp to a crackling fire, freshly roasted roots, a plateful of berries, and a pot of thick herbal broth.

  Astrid sat up, wincing at the fiery ache in her ankle. She stretched her arms, relieving the stiffness in her back from sleeping on the ground.

  Taddeo or DiStephan must have found and brought her here to the dragonslayer's camp. Whichever dragonslayer it was, he'd made sure she wouldn't go hungry.

  But where was he now? Why had he left camp?

  She held the steaming pot of broth to her face, inhaling its warmth and heady aroma.

  Healing broth.

  She'd seen DiStephan make and drink it after a hard fight. He'd told her the herbs promoted quick recovery and sound sleep.

  Astrid drank, savoring its thick consistency and spicy flavor.

  In the empty camp, she thought about Guell. Many of the townspeople had resented Astrid for stealing the most lucrative apprenticeship from the eligible boys in Guell. They blamed Temple's choice as sentimental, because his daughter had been killed by a dragon a year before he bought Astrid. They blamed the dragonslayers for advising the child seller to take Astrid to Temple. Most of all, they blamed Astrid.

  At the same time, some people had accepted Astrid. Like Donel, who had cheerfully knocked on her door every week and asked to be her apprentice. His eyes were warm and bright. Then there was Beamon, whose face lit up every time he'd seen Astrid, and they'd often talked about their work. And once, when Astrid had been ill, Kamella had brought broth to her every morning and sat with her to make sure Astrid drank it all.

  Suddenly, the world felt like a very quiet and lonely place.

  It didn't matter. Becoming a blacksmith had saved Astrid's life. She was sorry that Guell had been destroyed, but she still had her freedom. She could be a blacksmith anywhere.

  She took a slow walk through the camp. "Taddeo?"

  No answer.

  Astrid stopped, shifting her weight to her good leg. She'd have to bind her ankle with cloth to give it some support.

  Astrid sat on a nearby boulder. "What do I do now?"

  Again, no answer.

  There's Mauri. I have to find Mauri.

  The brigands would track the women down. Mauri and Astrid alone would be no match for any of the brigands, much less 30 of them.

  The more of us, the better. Especially if we have swords. I'll find Taddeo or DiStephan first, we'll pack up all his weapons, and we'll look for Mauri. She has to be close by. Maybe she's even gone back to—

  Guell.

  Astrid's eyes widened with sudden realization.

  Beamon!

  The last time she'd seen Beamon, he was wounded. Pretending to be dead, so the brigands wouldn't finish him off.

  What if Beamon was still alive?

  Astrid considered the situation. She'd sworn to do whatever it took to help Mauri.

  But how could Astrid turn her back on Beamon after he'd been so kind to her? Brigands were known for slaughtering villages, leaving no one alive. Beamon would be injured too severely to help himself. He'd die without her help.

  Astrid knew if she didn't go to Guell now, it would be a decision that would haunt her every night. She'd never sleep for wondering if Beamon had died when she could have helped him.

  Mauri would have to wait a little longer.

  Astrid had to go back to Guell.

  CHAPTER 13

  Astrid smelled the aftermath before she reached the town. A soft breeze carried the stench of blood and death.

  Astrid steeled herself in the same way she prepared to approach any difficult piece of blacksmithing.

  "Focus on the task at hand," Astrid told herself. "Look for Beamon. If he's alive, help him. If he's not, move on."

  Astrid trudged through the woods on a familiar path. She wasn't far from the town.

  The breeze carried a stronger scent, laced with smoke. No matter how Astrid braced herself, nothing could prepare her for the return to Guell.

  Instead of catching sight of the first cottage, she saw a smoldering heap of blackened ash. Wisps of curling smoke rose from it. And the smell of roasting meat.

  Astrid approached the heap until she saw the scorched bodies. She took a deep breath to steady herself, only to gag on the stench.

  They'd burned the cottage with the family inside.

  "Focus," Astrid told herself. "Look for Beamon."

  As Astrid made her way through the town, she discovered many of the townspeople had been burned alive inside their homes. Bodies lay scattered on the roads, throughout the town, and among the stone walls still standing.

  Farmer Garnet lay dead in the road. His throat had been cut, and his blood had soaked into the dirt. His skin had gone pale and blue and cold.

  Farmer Garnet didn't look real anymore. He looked like something out of a nightmare.

  Kneeling beside his body, she remembered the way he'd smiled, many years ago, when she'd delivered a repaired hoe blade. "You'll be a fine blacksmith as long as you listen to Temple," Farmer Garnet had said to her. He'd never made fun of her or belittled her for wanting to be a blacksmith.

  While she searched for Beamon, Astrid discovered insects feeding on the bodies.

  It's just the beginning. First insects, then carrion birds.

  The wind blew in from the sea, which meant they were downwind of any dragons. Once the wind shifted, it wouldn't be long before the dragons would come.

  She'd looked everywhere for Beamon and hadn't found him. Maybe he'd crawled into the crops and died among them.

  There were no survivors. Everyone in Guell was dead.

  * * *

  Astrid looked down the road toward her own cottage and smithery, both still standing, unharmed.

  If Mauri had come back, maybe she'd taken refuge in Astrid's home. Astrid had checked Mauri's home but found only a pile of cinders.

  Astrid remembered the sword with the stone she'd set in the hilt, the one she'd used against the dragon. Of course, she'd been unsuccessful using it, but it was still a good sword.

  She searched her cottage first, walking in through the remains of the front door the brigands had kicked in.

  The tools.

  Drageen had thrown Astrid's tools into the ashes of her cooking hearth.

  She dropped to her knees in front of the hearth, digging through the ashes with her hands.

  There!

  Joy and relief rushed through Astrid when she pulled out a hammer from the ashes, cleaning it off.

  She considered it her long-time friend, one of the first tools she'd ever made. It wasn't pale and blue and dead, like Farmer Garnet. It looked just the way she remembered it and fit inside the palm of her hand just as perfectly as always.

  "Dear friend," Astrid whispered to her hammer.

  She'd go back to Taddeo's camp. Maybe he'd be there by the time she returned. Maybe he'd help her find Mauri.

  Now she needed the sword.

  When Astrid entered the smithery, she was greeted by the scrape of weapons pulled free from their scabbards.

  Two brigands approached Astrid with extreme caution. One held a sword, the other a dagger. She recognized the same men she'd injured just yesterday: one man had a broken nose and black eye, while the other's forehead bore a bruised lump the size of a fist.

  "I told you she'd come back
for her things," Broken Nose said, eyeing her. "So pay up."

  The lumpy brigand shook his head, reaching down with his free hand to pick up an iron collar attached to a long chain from the ground. "Don't be daft! I do nothing but watch her—you get your money later. We catch nothing but an ax between the eyes if she gets away again."

  "Hands behind you," Broken Nose said to Astrid. "I been thinking on that," he said to the other brigand. "I'm not so sure we ain't got another choice."

  She pulled the hammer from her pouch, but this time Broken Nose knocked her to the ground, sitting on her legs while pinning her arms down with his sword. He grinned at Astrid. "That's a pretty little nose you've got there. How'd you like it if someone broke it?"

  "Now, now," Lumpy said, untangling the chain. "That's no way to speak to a lady."

  "Lady!” Broken Nose laughed long and hard. "She's nothing but a dirty, low-life barbarian."

  "Stop calling me that!” Astrid wriggled, trying to get free without cutting herself on the sword pinning her down.

  "We stop calling you a barbarian when you stop acting like one," Lumpy said.

  He knelt by Broken Nose, opening up the iron collar on its hinge. "What you been considering?"

  Chilled, Astrid believed she knew what he considered...the same thing any man like him would consider when he captured a woman.

  Astrid stiffened, wondering how she could protect herself if they tried to rape her.

  "Seems to me we got ourselves a pretty situation," Broken Nose said. "Did you get a look at this sword here? It's quite the beauty."

  Astrid forgot about being afraid when she realized he was holding her sword. "That's mine!"

  The brigands laughed.

  Lumpy winked at her. "Excuse the mistake, Mistress. We be giving it right back to you any minute now. As soon as you let us slip this pretty necklace on you."

  Astrid twisted her limbs while she shifted shape, making her arms slender enough to slip from where they were pinned by the sword and her legs small enough to pry from Broken Nose's body as he sat on her.

  She scrambled to her feet and sprinted.

  "Hey!" Broken Nose shouted at Astrid's quick escape.

  Astrid fell when a strong hand gripped her ankle. Rolling onto her back, Astrid kicked hard with her other foot, landing a solid blow on Lumpy's chest.