The Dragonslayer's Sword

by Resa Nelson

  "Guell was destroyed," Astrid said.

  "Yes," DiStephan said, his voice softening with sorrow. "I know. I saw."

  "What?” Astrid pressed her palm against the cool ground, steadying herself. "If you know—if you saw—how could you just stand by and watch? How could you do nothing? Why didn't you help us?"

  "I was in Guell in spirit," DiStephan said. "But I was here in body."

  He laid his hands upon the bones.

  "No. That's impossible," Astrid said.

  "It happened the last day I saw you. I was coming back to Guell and got attacked.” DiStephan shook his head. "It was my own fault. Not paying attention..."

  "You're not dead. You're right in front of me. I can see you."

  DiStephan leaned forward, extending one hand to Astrid, across the skeleton laid out on his own clothes.

  Astrid reached out, but her hand slipped through his as if he were fog.

  For several long moments, she stared at his hand and hers. They looked so much alike. Solid and strong and real.

  But DiStephan's hand didn't feel solid or strong or real. It felt like nothing.

  Astrid eased back, away from him.

  "Sorry, Pigeon. I didn't know how else to tell you."

  He wasn't real or solid, but he looked like DiStephan. He sounded like DiStephan. He was DiStephan, even if he was nothing more than smoke lingering in the air long after a fire in the forge has been put out.

  She watched as he stood and paced around the burial chamber.

  "So many times I've been at your side, shouting, screaming, and trying to make myself heard.” He stopped, pointing an accusing finger at her. "Including the time you jumped the ravine with that half-hearted effort, right before Lenore took that bloodstone out of your foot."

  Astrid looked away until she found herself focusing on the skeleton. It was the only thing that seemed real at the moment. "I thought I'd stepped on something, and Lenore—"

  "You meant to jump into the ravine, not across it. And you would have succeeded if I hadn't been there to give you that extra push."

  Astrid remembered that day because she'd argued with Mauri. Astrid had admitted how she'd accidentally changed Taddeo into a weak old man before the dragon had burst into her smithery yard.

  "I'd never seen Mauri so angry," Astrid said. "She was all I had left, and I seemed to be losing her. I thought I'd put everyone's life in danger because of what I did to Taddeo.” Astrid shook her head at the irony of her words. "It felt like everything had gone wrong, that it was my fault."

  "Why didn't you listen to Lenore?"

  Astrid looked up. "What?"

  "She told you, people aren't always what you think they are. You thought you were to blame, but what was truly happening? Mauri was never afraid for anything more than her own skin, and Taddeo was testing you. He made himself old and weak. You had nothing to do with it."

  "What do you know about Taddeo?"

  DiStephan stopped pacing, arms crossed. "More than you, but we're not talking about Taddeo. We're talking about you jumping into that ravine."

  "You should have let me."

  DiStephan's anger deepened. "No—"

  "If I'd died in the ravine, everything would be fine. Everyone in Guell would be alive, and I'd be with you."

  Pausing, thinking, Astrid realized it wasn't too late. She reached for the bag tied to her belt.

  "That's Taddeo's bag!" DiStephan said. "He told you about the night's bane."

  Astrid opened the bag.

  "Stop that! Take any more before the day's end, and it'll kill you!"

  Astrid ignored him, slipping her fingers inside the bag to get another pinch of the herb.

  DiStephan leapt across the room until he stood toe to toe with her. He postured like an attacking dragon, curling his fingers like deadly, sharp claws. "Listen to me, the Death Shadow!"

  Astrid laughed. "I'm not afraid of you."

  DiStephan screwed his face up into a terrifying sight. "You should be!"

  Astrid laughed harder.

  DiStephan frowned, his voice pained. "Are you making fun of me?"

  Still laughing, Astrid fumbled as she tried to dig a pinch of night's bane, and the bag dropped free from her belt.

  DiStephan scooped up the bag.

  Astrid sobered. "Give that back."

  "It's not your time to die," DiStephan said. "You're needed."

  Astrid lunged for the bag, but DiStephan held it high, far beyond her reach. She jumped, but it was an impossible task.

  Her best bet was to reason with him.

  "If being needed means getting my feet cut open so the Scaldings can get the bloodstones out of my body, then I'd rather die now."

  "I'm not talking about the Scaldings," DiStephan said.

  "Everyone else is gone. The Scaldings believe Tower Island belongs to them, and Drageen killed hundreds of people because he thought it would help him keep what he wants.” Astrid grew more heated and convicted with every word. "Maybe Mauri was right. People only look out for their own best interest. That's how the world is."

  "Not Guell."

  "Guell is gone. I have no place to go. I can't work as a blacksmith anymore."

  "What you've always needed is to love and be loved," DiStephan said. "But you're already loved—not the way you want, but you are loved nonetheless."

  Astrid understood.

  She'd had the love of a dragonslayer, the friendship of a potter, and the guidance of a blacksmith. But the potter's friendship had been a lie, and the blacksmith and the dragonslayer were dead. That left her only with the love of a ghost.

  Astrid opened the palm of her hand. "Give me my night's bane. There's nothing you can say to keep me from taking it."

  DiStephan lowered the bag, placing it in Astrid's hand. "Before you take any more," he said, "hear my words."

  Astrid wrapped her fingers around the bag, holding it tight, waiting for him to have his say.

  "Lenore," DiStephan said, "is alive."

  CHAPTER 30

  "That's impossible," Astrid said. "I saw her during the attack. I saw—"

  She realized she'd seen a brigand strike Lenore with the flat of his blade—not its sharpened edge. She'd seen him drag Lenore away, but Lenore could have still been alive.

  Guilt tugged at Astrid as she remembered calling out to Lenore without thinking. If Astrid hadn't distracted her, Lenore could have escaped.

  "She's alive?" Astrid murmured, beginning to hope.

  DiStephan nodded. "I've seen her. A brigand took her out of Guell during the raid. He sold her."

  Of course. It all made sense.

  "Just like Lumpy and Broken Nose sold me," Astrid said.

  "Lumpy?” DiStephan cocked his head in confusion. "Broken Toes?"

  Everything inside Astrid felt twisted and tangled. Being with DiStephan's ghost was too hard. Everything was too hard.

  She wished she'd never come.

  Astrid dropped the bag of night's bane onto the burial chamber floor. She saw no more need of it.

  DiStephan frowned. "What are you doing?"

  "Starting over," Astrid said. "You're right. There's no need to give up. I still have one arm. If I can't be a blacksmith anymore, maybe I can gather blooms of iron. I'll go north to the iron bogs. I can work alone. Live alone."

  DiStephan's jaw slackened in astonishment. "But what about Lenore?"

  Astrid felt as raw and cold as a bloom of iron. "What about her?"

  With that, Astrid turned and left DiStephan alone in his burial chamber.

  * * *

  Astrid left the island and walked north.

  As the day wore on, she tried to focus on making her way through the woods.

  "I don't need anyone or anything," Astrid told herself. "All I need is to be free. No shackles. No cages. No one controlling me except me."

  Lenore was probably fine. She made her way in life as a sing hunter. She might be hunting sing right now. She'd probably been sold to a farmer to te
nd crops and hunt sing whenever needed.

  Astrid wanted to go far north where she could live her life out as a hermit. She didn't want to be stoned or feared because of her scars. Or harvested for her bloodstones.

  It was easier to run away.

  Astrid paused in mid-step.

  She'd had similar thoughts in Randim's camp. She'd tried to take the easy way out by trying to forget about Mauri, back when Astrid believed Mauri was in danger.

  And when Astrid had sacrificed her desire to work in Randim's camp to go in search of Mauri on Tower Island, her reward was learning of Mauri's betrayal and being caged by Drageen.

  Astrid forced herself to keep walking. "Never again," she said. "I won't risk myself for anyone else again."

  All of it had been a mistake, from trusting Mauri to caring about her.

  Tears stung Astrid's eyes when she remembered Drageen giving Mauri's corpse to Norah and the carrion birds.

  There was no point in caring about anyone. People weren't worth it.

  People aren't always what they seem.

  Astrid stopped. That's what Lenore had said on the day she dug the bloodstone out of Astrid's foot.

  "I want to be free to live my life as I choose," Astrid said firmly, arguing with that memory.

  But Astrid sank to the ground and covered her face with her hands. The truth was, she didn't regret going to Tower Island, despite Mauri's betrayal.

  Astrid had done for Mauri what she wished someone had done for her when she'd been imprisoned on Tower Island decades ago.

  "What if Lenore needs help?" Astrid whispered.

  "Then we offer whatever help we can give."

  Astrid looked up to see DiStephan handing the bag of night's bane to her.

  She stuffed it under her belt. This could take time, and she'd need more of the herb in days to come in order to talk to DiStephan. "Do you know where she is?"

  "Yes, but it won't be easy."

  His sword, Starlight, was slung across his back. With a sigh of relief, DiStephan let the sword and its sheath fall through his spirit form to the ground. "You'll need this."

  Astrid's mind raced. She'd bargained with Randim after he'd bought her. What if the brigands had sold Lenore to someone just as reasonable as Randim, someone willing to sell her back?

  Astrid tucked Starlight under her arm. "If we need help, I know where to find it."

  * * *

  They traveled south, following the river's edge, making camp by it that night. The next day, they continued away from the river and through dense forest on well-traveled paths.

  Astrid walked with Starlight strapped to her back, resting in its sheath.

  DiStephan had answered her questions. He'd been in the thick of the attack on Guell, witnessing it all unfold around him, helpless to make a difference because no one could see him.

  Although he could do simple things, like pick up a small bag of herbs or give Astrid an extra push as she leapt across a ravine, it took all the energy he could muster to lift anything as heavy as a weapon, and he couldn't do it for long.

  When Astrid and Mauri were stolen away by Drageen and his brigands, DiStephan had stayed with Taddeo in his dragonslayer's camp.

  DiStephan claimed that duty bound him to Taddeo's side, although he'd changed the subject when Astrid asked him to explain what that meant.

  The shore cat in the moonlit forest clearing had indeed been Dragon's Sight, one of Taddeo's lookouts. It had reported the women's presence to Taddeo moments before Astrid discovered his abandoned camp. Astrid had been right, sensing Taddeo's presence. Like DiStephan's father many years ago, Taddeo blended in with the trees. He'd followed her back into the forest. Astrid had caught her foot on a gnarled tree root, fallen, and passed out when her head hit the ground. Taddeo had carried her back to camp and cooked for her.

  Taddeo and DiStephan had followed Astrid at a distance since then, as far as Randim's blacksmithing camp. There, DiStephan convinced Taddeo to let him go track the brigands who'd stolen Lenore, while Taddeo kept his eye on Astrid.

  When Astrid described everything that happened on the day she went to Tower Island with Randim and his blacksmiths, DiStephan agreed with what she suspected: Taddeo had first taken the shape of the blacksmith Trep to gain access to Tower Island. Next, he shaped himself like Mauri to stay on the island. After the alchemist poisoned Mauri and Drageen gave her body to the carrion birds, Taddeo had taken Mauri's shape again when he confronted the Scaldings, and then shifted into the shape of a carrion bird to elude Drageen. He’d regained his own shape once he freed Norah from her prison.

  "But I still don't understand," Astrid said, walking next to DiStephan on the forest path. "The blacksmiths saw my Scalding body, not the blacksmithing shape I was wearing. If they could see me, why did they think Taddeo was Trep?"

  "Dragons are the only true shapeshifters. When Taddeo shifted shape to look like Trep, everyone saw him as Trep. When you change your shape, the only ones who can see the change are those who eat a steady diet of lizard meat or who drink lizard's blood."

  "Lizards?"

  "Dragons and lizards are different creatures. Similar, but different."

  Taddeo had told her something along the same lines. "I don't think I've ever seen a lizard, unless the legend is true," Astrid said, "that dragons are nothing but lizards with enormous opinions of themselves."

  DiStephan shook his head. "You can tell them apart by how they smell."

  She remembered that scent in her smithery yard, moments before the dragon—who she later met as Gundrid—sprang from behind the birches. Astrid remembered smelling it when she was in the iron cage with Norah. She remembered smelling it when Taddeo had changed into his dragon form and back again in the dragons' cavern.

  But something didn't fit.

  "If Taddeo's a dragon, why haven't I smelled him before?"

  "A dragon's scent can be disguised by wearing a man's clothes."

  "Clothes that have already been worn by a man? With his smell on them?"

  DiStephan nodded. He said, "You've been eating lizard meat all your life."

  Astrid looked at him questioningly.

  Lizard meat. Not dragon meat.

  Astrid remembered Taddeo had always referred to the dragons he'd killed as lizards.

  Taddeo would never kill his own kind. He'd risked everything for Norah. If lizards and dragons were different creatures, she could understand Taddeo killing a lizard.

  Astrid said, "Does that mean dragonslayers kill lizards, not dragons?"

  DiStephan grinned. "Clever girl. And it's eating the lizard meat that makes people think they can change shape."

  "Think?" Astrid said. "How could anyone just think they had changed shape when we do change?"

  DiStephan raised his eyebrows in cool disbelief.

  "We do change shape!” Astrid insisted. "Everyone sees me the way I want to be seen—"

  She paused, realizing it wasn't entirely true.

  "Not everyone," Astrid said, remembering what she'd just said about how the blacksmiths had seen her.

  "Some people have never eaten lizards."

  Astrid's eyes widened in surprise. It was something she'd never considered. She'd seen no traces of lizard meat at Randim's camp. What if Randim and his blacksmiths had never consumed lizards? "If people don't eat lizards, they can't see the changes? Is there something in the lizard meat?"

  DiStephan nodded. "There's something in the blood and therefore in the meat. Consider this: You eat night's bane, it changes how you see the world, like fog burning away. It lets you see more. Night's bane draws back the curtain and lets you see spirits. When people eat lizard meat, it doesn't draw anything back—it adds to how they see the world. How they see each other."

  Astrid pursed her lips, unconvinced. "But everyone sees things differently. How can it be that when I change shape, everyone sees me the way I see myself?"

  DiStephan laughed. "What makes you think people see you the way you see yourself?" />
  What DiStephan said made no sense. She refused to believe him.

  "People only think they can shift shape," DiStephan said. "Dragons actually can."

  Astrid stood her ground. "I can change. I can change as much as I like."

  "How long have you looked like this?"

  The shape Astrid liked had drifted away on Tower Island, the day Randim and his blacksmiths had walked away, and she'd unintentionally reverted to her Scalding body.

  In the days since, in the dragons' cavern, Astrid had never been able to find her way back to herself, to the body she chose to wear.

  She shrugged it off. "I've lost my confidence, that's all."

  DiStephan stopped abruptly, holding up one hand, signaling Astrid to be quiet.

  Instinctively, Astrid's nostrils flared.

  There was an odd scent in the air, nothing distinct or describable.

  But it made Astrid think of the day she'd led Lumpy and Broken Nose through Guell among the feeding dragons.

  But maybe they'd never been dragons, at all.

  Maybe they'd been lizards.

  Suddenly, one sprang toward her from the side of the path, reaching for her leg with its open mouth.

  "Lizard!” DiStephan shouted, kicking up dirt from the path, blinding it.

  The lizard's snout rammed Astrid's thigh, knocking her to the ground.

  "Get up, Pigeon!” DiStephan circled the lizard's head, throwing dirt into its eyes. "Get Starlight!"

  Astrid scrambled to her feet. She pulled the sword from its sheath. The metal sang as she freed the blade, but the motion pulled her forward. The sword smacked forward onto the ground, and Astrid tripped toward it, unbalanced.

  "Keep the tip pointed at its tongue! Edges pointing toward the sky and toward the earth—let the lizard bite into the sword's edges!"

  Astrid shifted her grip on the hilt, one she'd made long enough for both of DiStephan's large hands. The sword felt too heavy for the one small hand she had left. She pointed the tip skyward, shifting the hilt until the crossguard nestled against her hand. It was still difficult to hold the sword single-handed when she pointed it at the lizard, but the choked grip gave her more control, like choking her grip on a hammer.

  Her heart raced, and her nerves blazed with fear.