The Dragonslayer's Sword

by Resa Nelson

  * * *

  It was a long, hard swim, and when Astrid reached the shore, she realized she'd forgotten about one thing.

  Dragon's Teeth Field.

  That barren field now faced her, full of sharp rocks standing upright like dragon's teeth. It had protected her smithery, but now it stood as the greatest barrier possible between Astrid and Guell.

  Astrid shivered in the freezing wind, her skin and clothes soaked. The sun had set, and she grew colder with every moment.

  Astrid cried out when she took her first step onto Dragon's Teeth Field. The rocks sliced the naked soles of her feet open.

  Step slowly.

  She thought of her people as she walked gingerly across the jagged rocks.

  She thought about Lenore and her spirit feet, remembering the day Lenore had dug the bloodstone out of Astrid's foot. She'd promised to make silver shoes for Lenore, and there might still be time to make them.

  She thought about Randim and his blacksmiths, recalling the first day she'd met them. Remembering how she'd found her home at last inside Randim's smithery camp. Remembering how they'd walked away from her on Tower Island, only to stand by her side when she needed them.

  She thought about Donel. She dreaded having to tell him how his father turned into a fish and was swept into the sea, but she owed Donel that. More than ever, she wished she'd taken him in as her apprentice. She remembered every week, timely and steadfast, how Donel had knocked on her door, asking to be her apprentice. He'd done it for years, never giving up, always hopeful.

  As Astrid took every step, she strove to be like him. Never giving up. Always hopeful.

  She had no moon to light her way, no stars. Clouds blocked the sky, and Astrid held her hands in front of her, ready to catch herself if she stumbled.

  Finally, after what seemed like an endless night, Astrid's next step landed on dirt. She heard the birch trees lining her smithery yard rustle in the wind.

  Exhausted, frozen, still wet from the sea, Astrid pitched forward onto the dirt. Cut to shreds, her feet felt sticky with blood.

  Astrid realized she had no energy left to crawl, much less walk.

  "Trep!” Astrid's voice rang between the trees and across her smithery yard.

  She yelled until they came, torches in hand, finding her exhausted and bloody.

  In the torchlight, Dragon's Teeth Field sparkled, littered with the dozens of bloodstones that it had torn from Astrid's feet.

  CHAPTER 37

  Days later, Astrid stood next to Trep at the edge of the town.

  "Ain't she a beauty?” Trep beamed.

  Astrid examined the long row of iron pikes, forming a high fence stretching around the perimeter of the town.

  They looked just like the iron pikes Randim and his blacksmiths had made for Drageen. He'd commissioned the iron pikes to surround Tower Island as part of a fence to prevent dragons from invading.

  But this fence was different.

  The pikes were set close and shackled together.

  What chilled Astrid's blood were the hundreds of bone fragments wired to the iron pikes. The blacksmiths had fashioned thin ribbons of iron and wrapped them around pieces of broken human bone. They’d twisted each bone and iron ribbon to a pike or shackle.

  Every piece of bone came from the ruins of Guell, where Trep and the others found what the lizards and carrion birds left behind.

  "Don't look so glum, Girly.” Trep jerked his thumb toward the bone-decorated pikes. "They give their bones willingly for us. Told me so themselves.” Trep patted a small leather pouch tied to his belt.

  It looked like the bag in which Randim kept his night's bane.

  "You and Randim ain't the only ones looking at ghosties," Trep said happily. "Not anymore."

  "Where did you get that?” Astrid licked her lips nervously. She'd had all the night's bane Taddeo said she could take safely. She knew she could never ingest as much as a pinch and stay alive, based on Taddeo's advice.

  "Randim give it to me, just before you took to sea.” Trep patted the bag again, as if checking to make sure it was still there. "He figured with all that happened here, could be some ghosties willing to help. They helped, all right. Was their idea to build us our own little boat. Suppose they knew we'd be needing one. That's what they say about ghosties—being able to look into the future."

  The new ship they’d built turned out to be nothing more than a large row boat, tied to a pike driven deep into the sand at the edge of Dragon's Teeth Field. If Drageen's ship hadn't been wrecked onto Dragon's Head at night and if Astrid had swum to land during the day, she would have seen the narrow wooden walkway the blacksmiths had built across the opposite end of the field that she'd walked across.

  As soon as Trep and the others had found Astrid that night, they'd taken their best tools and rowed to Dragon's Head. They'd pried Randim and Donel loose from the shackles binding them to the ship, and then rowed them ashore.

  Oddly enough, the water had been calm. After they'd come back safely, the ocean returned to the usual choppiness that shipwrecked anyone who ventured into it.

  Had Taddeo and Norah controlled the ocean? Had the dragons protected them?

  Astrid had seen the butcher, brigands, and seamen scared from their human bodies into fish, terrified at the sight of seawater dragons towering above the ship. They'd been swept into the ocean, too, and Astrid wondered if they remembered who they had once been. Were they truly fish now, assuming they hadn't already been eaten by something bigger underwater, or did they know they were people who had changed into fish?

  Astrid had no desire to ever eat fish again, just in case it happened to be someone she knew.

  She nodded toward the iron-and-bone fence. "Will it protect us?"

  "It keeps dragons out, that's a fact. Everyone knows dragons can't tolerate iron. It's like poison to them."

  Taddeo had once shaped himself to look like Trep, only to suddenly grow ill when surrounded by iron carried aboard the ship bound for Tower Island. Likewise, Taddeo's hands had steamed, seemingly burned by the iron bars he'd pushed apart to free Norah from her cage.

  She'd always wondered why Taddeo wore leather gloves when handling the Magenta. Apparently, the gloves were enough to protect him from the iron.

  Astrid wondered if it was just dragons that were sensitive to iron, or if Guell’s iron fence would protect them from lizards as well.

  "Randim told me what he heard on those islands," Trep said. "Same as what we been hearing from those brigands working for Drageen. About that tree temple getting ruined down south. What if they come here, Girly? Don't you think this fence gives us a good first line of defense, whether we face dragons or kings?"

  Astrid smiled at the fence, her voice warm with appreciation. "It's a beautiful fence. A wonderful fence.” She turned, smiling at Trep. "But it's our second line of defense, not the first."

  * * *

  "Don't use the bellows," Astrid said. "You'll get all the heat you need from the coals."

  It was a beautiful day in the smithery. Everywhere she looked, Astrid saw the fresh, yellow-green color of spring, from the baby sprouts of new grass in her smithery yard to the budding leaves on the birches at its edge.

  Astrid had buried the bloodstones in an iron box she'd forged under those very birch trees.

  If everyone was right about the invaders from the south, she'd need to use the bloodstones someday. They'd be safe under the birches, because only Astrid knew they were buried.

  Drageen said chaos forced bloodstones to surface from within.

  Magic. It's magic that's inside me, and that's what Drageen wanted. He envied me because I'm full of magic, and he isn't.

  Once back in her own smithery, she'd been nervous shifting shape, but she was determined to be comfortable wearing her smithing body in front of these two men. After all, she'd known them for years.

  Then she remembered: none of them had eaten lizard meat in months. Only Astrid could see her blacksmithing body.


  Donel hovered at the opposite side of the forging table, his attention glued to every move she made. Although gaunt and weak from slavery and starvation, the heat of the fire made his skin look flushed.

  Astrid plucked the iron shoe from the coals with the tongs. She hammered the last of the silver pieces in place. Satisfied, she handed the shoe and tongs to Beamon, who used a smaller rounded hammer to smooth its silver surface.

  Astrid turned her attention to Donel. "When your skin is warm, it soaks up any ointment or balm you rub on it. Iron is the same. It soaks the silver into its skin."

  When she picked up the other shoe, admiring Beamon's work, Donel walked to her side.

  "Isn't there more pressing work to do?" he said.

  "This is work I promised long ago," Astrid said. "Keeping promises comes first. If you'd rather work with Randim—"

  "No," Donel said. "I'll be there soon enough. I just was thinking maybe we could make something easier. Something I could help with."

  Astrid smiled at Donel, touched that he chose to be with her now, while he could.

  "Besides," Donel said. "Why make shoes for Lenore? She doesn't have feet anymore."

  Astrid bit her tongue. They'd know soon enough. They were all bound to figure it out, once they all had lizard meat on their tables again. Just as Astrid had regained her ability to shapeshift after drinking lizard's blood, they'd all be able to shapeshift once they had lizard meat as a steady diet again.

  Lenore would have her spirit feet back soon enough, with any luck.

  Lizard season was just beginning.

  "When a blacksmith promises work," Astrid said, "he keeps his word. If you have no honor, Randim won't let you near an anvil."

  Donel mulled it over for a moment. He said, "Yes, Ma'am."

  Beamon sighed wistfully. "Kamella's probably awake by now."

  Astrid took the second shoe from him. "Why don't you go find out how she's feeling?"

  Beamon frowned, reaching to take the shoe back. "It's not finished—"

  Astrid stepped away from him, holding the shoes close. "There's plenty of time to finish them later."

  Beamon relaxed into a smile. He hurriedly collected his tools and bolted from the smithery.

  Astrid laughed, charmed by Beamon's eagerness. She changed back to her public shape. Now that she’d come home, she didn't bother smoothing her skin. Being the only one who could shapeshift meant no one else could see the changes she made.

  She saw no point in hiding her scars, because everyone could see them.

  Donel followed Astrid out of the smithery, walking beyond her cottage, the only building left intact after Drageen's attack on Guell.

  Beyond the sparse trees surrounding Astrid's cottage, there now stood an enormous smithery in Guell, manned by Randim and the dozen blacksmiths who'd come here with their wives and children.

  Astrid smiled as she and Donel walked past the smithery, the air thick with the ringing music of hammer and anvil.

  Randim looked up from his fire, pausing when he met Astrid's gaze.

  Astrid waved to Randim.

  Randim pointed to the shoes in Astrid's hands and shouted, "Lenore?"

  Astrid nodded.

  Randim grinned. He kissed his fingers, unwittingly leaving his mouth smudged with soot.

  Astrid felt the sudden pang of missing DiStephan. Randim said the last time he saw DiStephan was when Drageen ambushed them on the island where they found Donel and his father.

  She supposed DiStephan had gone to whatever place ghosts eventually seek, where everyone else who had been murdered in Guell had now gone, leaving only the fragments of their bones behind to guard the living.

  When she walked with Donel into the heart of town, Astrid took in the changes. Trep and the other blacksmiths had cleared the debris, while the women of Randim's camp built new cottages of wattle and daub. It was a small cluster of cottages, but fewer people now lived in Guell.

  Astrid and Donel knocked on the door of one of the pretty, new cottages. They entered when invited in.

  Lenore sat on her sleeping pallet, worn and weary, but looking stronger.

  Donel plopped on the floor at the foot of her pallet, while Astrid knelt beside her, handing the silver shoes to Lenore.

  Speechless with surprise, Lenore stared at the shoes in her hands.

  Astrid leaned toward her. She kissed Lenore's cheek.

  Even more surprised, Lenore turned toward Astrid.

  "From Randim," Astrid said.

  Lenore brightened, holding the shoes close.

  For just a moment, Astrid felt envious. She would have loved Randim if he could have loved her back. But he'd said himself when Lumpy and Broken Nose first sold her to him that he'd recognize his wife when he met her. Astrid couldn't forget the way he'd looked at Lenore when they'd found her in Komdra's town.

  Randim had known. He'd known the moment he saw Lenore that he'd love her.

  Looking at Lenore now, knowing all she'd been through, Astrid didn't want to envy her.

  Although Astrid missed DiStephan, she realized she'd been lucky to know his love both in life and death. How could she not wish the same for Lenore and Randim?

  Astrid realized Lenore was watching her. Astrid smiled brightly, probably too brightly. "How are you?"

  Lenore's expression softened, and Astrid realized Lenore knew. It was in her eyes, full of compassion.

  "Well enough to go sing hunting," Lenore said, her voice as bright as Astrid's smile.

  "No!” Astrid said. "You're not going out among the lizards."

  "Lizards," Lenore said. "That's what Taddeo used to call them."

  "I learned a lot from Taddeo.” Astrid strove to keep her expression and voice as neutral as possible. "Lizards or dragons, you're not going outside this town."

  "Have you seen Kamella?” Lenore's tone was just as firm as Astrid's. "Sing root would do her and everybody else a world of good—"

  "I'll protect you!" Donel chimed in.

  Astrid and Lenore looked at him and said in unison, "No!"

  Donel pouted. "You won't let me hammer. You won't let me protect Mistress Lenore..."

  "Watch over her today," Astrid said. "Make sure she eats well and gets plenty of sleep. Then I'll take her sing hunting tomorrow. Everyone understand?"

  Lenore relaxed, and Donel popped to his feet, hovering over Lenore and tucking her blanket so tightly around her that it nearly cut off her circulation. Donel wagged a warning finger at her. "I'll be checking back on you soon, so don't get any thoughts about doing anything you oughtn't be doing."

  Lenore hugged her silver shoes. She winked at him.

  Donel bristled. "Stop that winking! I'm serious!"

  "So am I," Lenore said.

  When they left Lenore's cottage, Donel glanced back. "She's a handful!"

  Walking to the other end of town, they talked of hammer and tongs and the character of iron. They reached the gate of the iron-and-bone fence surrounding Guell.

  "I'll be seeing you tomorrow?” Donel said hopefully.

  "Of course," Astrid said. "I'll see you often."

  Donel turned his attention to the fence, studying the iron pikes and the shackles binding them together. "You'll teach me?"

  "Everything you want to know," Astrid said.

  She paused for a moment, remembering how Temple had taught her.

  She remembered watching Temple work at his anvil, the first time thinking it was magic, the way the iron turned into different colors and seemed to become as soft as clay.

  But Temple had shown her otherwise. He'd provided an explanation for everything she saw. He'd guided her to think logically, cleanly, and clearly, like any good blacksmith.

  He'd taught her that the real magic is how you let yourself be shaped by others, the same way a solid hammer blow shapes iron into something more beautiful than it could ever hope to be on its own.

  Astrid looked at Donel, grateful to have him as her apprentice, just as she was grateful to c
ome home to Trep and the other blacksmiths, Randim and Lenore, Beamon and Kamella, and all the others, feeling how they'd shaped her.

  Astrid had learned to think of herself as iron, cold and hard and strong. Temple and DiStephan had warmed her with their love, like iron in a fire, brought to a bright yellow forging heat. Lenore, Randim, Trep, and Donel—and even Mauri—had twisted Astrid, helping her understand her own character, like discovering the inherent character in any bloom of iron when it's hammered and shaped.

  Temple said she'd have to decide who she was before she could stand up inside her own skin.

  She'd submerged herself into the world of dragons, where Taddeo had told her the truth and Norah had devoured Astrid's arm. That experience burned like an etching bath, but it made Astrid understand she had something unique within.

  She wasn't merely a woman, and she wasn't a dragon either.

  When they were children, Norah nearly devoured Astrid. The dragon saliva that would kill all except those with the strongest dragonslayer blood merged with Astrid's blood, making her stronger, a producer of bloodstones.

  She felt like a woman who had become part dragon.

  And like a sword ready to be drawn from its etching bath, Astrid felt the dragon inside her ready to emerge.

  Suddenly, Donel's eyes widened, and he stared at Astrid's chest.

  She remembered that day, long ago, when Taddeo had stared at her chest, changing her into someone she didn't want to be.

  But Donel didn't have Taddeo's smirk. If anything, Donel looked scared.

  He pointed at her skin. "The scars," Donel said. "All over your body. They're moving."

  CHAPTER 38

  Astrid looked down.

  All the scars crawled like worms across her skin, leaving smooth skin in their wake.

  They gathered in the center of her chest.

  Stunned, Astrid said, "How can this be happening? How can you see this—you can't see anybody change anymore."

  "I don't know," Donel said, pressing his fingertips against his own skin, pointing between his own collarbones to mirror her. "But it's real."

  Of course. Dragons are true shape changers.

  Donel gasped. "Dragon scales! Your scars, they're twisting together! They're making dragon scales down your chest!"