by Resa Nelson
"I don't want to leave," Mauri said.
Surprised, Astrid stopped walking. Mauri paused, looking back at her.
"What have they done to you?” Astrid said.
Again, Mauri said nothing.
Astrid looked at Mauri's hands and wrists, still twisted. "Are you angry with me because of your hands?” Astrid said.
"Yes," Mauri said. She paused and shook her head. "No."
"What is it? What's wrong?"
Mauri stared at the floor.
Drageen must have threatened Mauri or somehow convinced her to do this.
Then Astrid remembered something Mauri had told her on the day Taddeo had changed Astrid's body against her will, and Astrid couldn't change herself back. "Don't let them change you," Astrid said. "Who and what you are is your choice."
Tears spilled down Mauri's face, but she wiped them away.
"You're my closest friend," Astrid said. "You'd never do this on your own. Somebody had to convince you—"
"Somebody did," Mauri said, her voice quivering. "A long time ago. Before I knew you."
"What?"
"The town where the child seller bought me, when we were children—that wasn't my town. Mine was destroyed, like Guell. They said they'd kill me, too, unless—"
Astrid steadied herself. "Unless what?"
"Unless I watched you. They said I could live if I told them when the bloodstones started coming out of you."
The bloodstone.
Mauri had acted strangely when Astrid first showed it to her.
How could this be possible? Unless...
"Did you send the bloodstone to Drageen after I gave it to you?" Astrid said. "Is that why he came to Guell? Looking for me?"
Looking down in shame, Mauri nodded.
Mauri's shape shifted.
Her hair became as dry and stiff as hay, her eyes dulled to the color of mud, and her skin took on the sheen of cold, liquid stone, but Mauri didn't notice any change in herself.
Astrid still couldn't change her own shape. But her opinion of others still carried the power to change them, whether Astrid desired it or not.
A lie. All these years, our friendship's been nothing but a lie.
CHAPTER 21
Before Mauri could take another step down the narrow hallway, Astrid said, "Let me go."
"I can't."
Astrid whispered, “We can find Taddeo and DiStephan. We'll all go far away, some place where no one can ever find us."
Mauri shook her head, her hay-like hair rustling. It cracked, and bits of it broke off and fell to the floor.
"I love DiStephan," Astrid said. "Let me be with him. He's all I have left."
"DiStephan is dead," Mauri said. "And Taddeo is no man—he's a dragon."
Astrid was tired of Mauri's lies, so she ignored them.
"You can come with us," Astrid said. "Drageen will never find you. He'll never be able to hurt you."
"And live how? On what?"
"On whatever's possible. We'll find a way."
"You don't know what it's like to have nothing," Mauri said. She hugged herself, trembling. Her voice cracked with fear. "You don't understand what it's like to lose everything. I saw my mother and father murdered. Men set our house on fire while we were in it. Wattle-and-daub houses burn fast, like kindling wood. My mother, my father—they tried to stop it, but their clothes caught fire. They burned so fast.” Mauri's eyes glazed, and her voice turned cool and distant. "They screamed so loud."
Astrid suddenly felt sorry for her.
Mauri's eyes became unfocused, as if she'd gone back in time. "When a wall collapsed, I saw a way out. I ran. I left them behind, I didn't get far. The Scaldings caught me as soon as I ran outside.” Mauri regained her focus. "I saw them destroy my village."
Astrid bristled. "I saw them destroy Guell."
Mauri's eyes narrowed. "The Scaldings are your people. You're a Scalding."
I'm a monster. Just like the rest of the Scaldings.
That thought came from Astrid’s childhood, from the days when she hid beneath a blanket, too terrified to let anyone see who she really was.
Astrid shook off those old feelings.
"I'm no Scalding," Astrid said. "I'm a blacksmith."
Mauri's laughter ricocheted off the high stone walls. "Which makes you wealthy. When you lived on Tower Island, you knew nothing but wealth. And when you left, you stayed wealthy, because Temple chose you as his apprentice. He made you the wealthiest woman in Guell."
Confused even more, Astrid searched Mauri's face, trying to understand her. "What does wealth have to do with anything?"
Tears welled in Mauri's eyes. "You don't know what it's like to wonder if you'll get to eat one moment, then wonder if you'll get to live the next."
Astrid extended her arms, covered with scars, toward Mauri. "Haven't you wondered how I got these? Who gave them to me?"
Mauri looked away. "They're your scars, not mine."
A sudden chill ran through Astrid. "What?"
"I do whatever it takes to stay alive.” Mauri shrugged it off. "That's how life is."
Astrid's arms drifted down to her side. "So you don't care about me?"
"Nobody cares about anybody. You don't care about me, not really. If you had to choose between your own skin and mine, you'd choose your own. Anybody would. Everybody would. That's how life is. That's how the world is."
Astrid felt stunned and saddened while she watched Mauri brush a tear away.
"Mauri," Astrid said. "How can you believe that?"
Mauri looked her dead in the eyes. "Because it's true."
Astrid didn't understand.
She thought about everything that had happened since Drageen burned Guell, reconsidering the assumptions she'd made.
She remembered Mauri's peculiar behavior before the invasion.
She remembered Mauri's resistance to escape.
And she remembered how she'd left Mauri alone to go search for the dragonslayers, only to find Mauri had vanished when Astrid came back for her.
"You were the lure," Astrid said, putting the pieces together. "Drageen pretended to capture you. He pretended he'd hurt you, because he knew wherever you'd go, I'd follow."
"Yes," Mauri said. But she shook her head, as if stuck inside an impossible puzzle. "No...I don't know."
Astrid regretted ever having been loyal to Mauri.
Most of all, Astrid regretted sacrificing being happy in Randim's camp for a friend who proved to be an enemy.
I never should have trusted her. I should have walked away from the mercenaries' camp. I should have left Mauri shackled to the cart wheel. I should have worked my 40 days for Randim, and then looked for DiStephan.
Only DiStephan cared about her. He was the one who loved her.
Mauri had pretended to be Astrid's friend. All this time, all their lives, Mauri had done nothing but lie.
"Drageen told you to play along," Astrid said, still piecing everything together. "You had to know his plans. You had to know I'd be looking for you."
"You don't understand.” Mauri ran her hands through her hay-like hair, unaware when she snapped the strands in half. Her eyes lit happily as she looked past Astrid. "They promised he'd marry me. That we'd be wealthy. Then everything would be all right. The rest of my life would be—"
Mauri's eyes dulled when she wheezed, trying desperately to breathe. She stared at Astrid, gasping.
Despite her anger, Astrid felt a stab of concern. "What's wrong?"
Mauri shook her head in confusion.
Stunned, Astrid watched Mauri collapse and die.
CHAPTER 22
Astrid dropped to her knees by Mauri's side. Maybe if she held Mauri's head she could breathe again.
But it was too late. Mauri had stopped breathing, and the life had gone out of her eyes. Her skin felt cool to the touch and faded to a bluish tinge.
Too numb, Astrid failed to notice Drageen slip up behind her. He shackled Astrid's hands before sh
e realized what was happening.
Drageen led Astrid higher and higher through the narrow hallways carved into the tower.
He took her outside to the tower roof, a large circular stone surface ringed by a wall of jagged stone teeth.
Drageen spoke softly to himself. "And so the sacred daughter returns, transformed, transfixed, transmogrified. Her blood blessed. Her love bejeweled. Beloved of the beast."
Astrid's clan, a few dozen Scaldings sitting at a long banquet table, stood and applauded when they saw her.
Behind them, in the center of the tower roof top, stood the enormous iron cage that Astrid remembered as the bad place. She'd spent much of her childhood inside it. At a glance, it looked empty.
But the carrion birds flew overhead.
Drageen squeezed Astrid's hand, holding on tight. "We're the ones who love you."
To the Scaldings, Drageen said, "I give you our savior."
When Drageen and Astrid approached the banquet table, the faces of the men and women of the Scalding clan began to change.
First, their faces shifted until they all looked like Drageen.
Astrid remembered Lenore and the story she'd told. Lenore had looked into a mirror and seen her husband's face staring back instead of her own.
Lenore had lost herself and become her husband.
The Scaldings had lost themselves and become Drageen. None of the Scaldings had the courage to think for themselves, so they let Drageen do the thinking for them.
Astrid missed Lenore. She'd promised to make a pair of silver shoes for Lenore to keep her spirit feet strong, and now Astrid could never keep that promise. Drageen's mercenaries had killed Lenore and everyone else in Guell.
Astrid wished she'd chosen Lenore to be her friend instead of Mauri.
Astrid followed Drageen to the banquet table.
The faces of the Scaldings shifted from looking like Drageen to looking like Astrid.
Astrid stopped, horrified.
The Scaldings gazed upon her, each wearing Astrid's face, waiting in anticipation, as if for an answer only Astrid could provide.
Lenore had imagined she would know happiness married to a wealthy man. Lenore thought she could love her husband, but it was the shoes she'd made with her own hands that made her happy. Giving up her shoes had killed her heart.
The Scaldings clamored around Astrid, everyone chattering enthusiastically, reaching for her. Groping for her.
Astrid raised her hands to protect herself, pushing them away.
When each Scalding spoke, his or her face shifted to its true appearance, soon reflected by the face of every other Scalding.
"You're happy to return to us, Astrid!"
Astrid softened as she recognized the shifting face of a Scalding who had taken Astrid, when she was very young, to the island's grasslands to play with other children. She remembered chasing a lamb and burying her face in its woolly back. She remembered being happy.
"You want to be with no one else except us," said a Scalding who, many years ago, had picked up a weeping Astrid with a scraped knee, holding her, comforting her.
"You need us, like we need you."
They were a sea of constantly changing faces.
Except for Drageen, who remained himself.
"No one else can love you the way we do."
Astrid jerked, as if she'd banged her elbow against something hard, a numbing shock running down her arm.
Astrid looked down at the scars on her arms. "Love?"
Her response silenced them, but they all looked down at their own arms and then reached out to Astrid. One moment the skin on their arms appeared smooth, but the next they were covered with scars. Like Astrid's.
"No!” Astrid grimaced. Their false scars angered her, and that anger gave her strength.
Drageen spoke up like a peacemaker. "Let's all enjoy the meal. Astrid is confused. She needs time to remember who she is."
"I know who I am," Astrid snapped.
But inside, she didn’t feel so sure.
Temple had told her she'd have to decide who she was before she could stand up inside her own skin. Astrid struggled to decide, only to feel confused.
Drageen led her to sit at the banquet table next to him. He spoke to her as if she were a young child. "Of course, you know who you are."
"I'm a blacksmith."
All of the Scaldings laughed long and hard.
Drageen smiled. "Of course, you are."
Astrid stared at the plates heaping with steaming, roasted meats, fragrant breads, and crisp fruits. Although it was late in the day and she hadn't eaten since morning, she felt no hunger. While all of the Scaldings devoured the food, Astrid sat back and watched.
"What do you want from me?” She watched Drageen pick at his food.
"The savior sister, the chosen one," Drageen said. "So sacred yet so innocent, so pure, so sacred and divine."
"What does that mean?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"I deserve to know."
"You know our kindred history. How we came to own Tower Island?"
"Of course, I do."
Tower Island had been the kindred home from the day their grandfather had freed it from an infestation of dragons. One hundred years ago, he'd been a young man hired when dozens had been killed by dragons that slipped onto and away from the island in ways no one could detect. In the end, the survivors had given the island to him in payment, no longer wanting to walk on the bloodstained stairways inside the tower.
He'd fought the final battle in the ocean's depths, darkening the sea with dragon's blood, and bringing back its limb in victory. He'd lived on Tower Island, siring children late in life. Those children, including Astrid's father, had grown to dominate the island and towns on the mainland with the promise of protection from dragons.
"We've always been threatened," Drageen said. "But that threat grows more serious every day."
Dragons wanted Tower Island. Dragons had wanted it for the past one hundred years.
"Don't you understand I make swords for dragonslayers?" Astrid said.
"If you think that means anything, then your dragonslayers lied to you. You know nothing about dragons and dragonslayers."
Astrid refused to believe him. She knew DiStephan. She trusted him. And Taddeo—after what had happened when the dragon came into her smithery yard that day, she'd forged an even stronger bond with him.
As a blacksmith, as the woman who forged their weapons, she felt a special bond with dragonslayers.
And yet, DiStephan's and Taddeo's absence when Drageen and his mercenaries had destroyed Guell still haunted her.
Where were they? Why hadn't they protected Guell?
"What do you know about dragonslayers?" Astrid said. "And dragons?"
When their father died, Drageen had been barely a man and yet left in charge of their kindred at a dangerous time. Dragons had left Tower Island alone for decades.
But when their father died, the dragons attacked again.
"Dragons want to steal this island from us," Drageen said. "I've put the blacksmiths' iron in every tower crevice to stop them from coming underneath the island, up through the tower walls. I'm now lining the island perimeter with iron."
"Iron?"
"It repels dragons. It burns their skin. It's preventing them from attacking—there hasn't been one in weeks."
"But dragons are dying," Astrid said. "Dragonslayers are killing them off. You'll get all the iron you need from Randim, and Tower Island will be safe. What am I doing here?"
Astrid felt chilled when she saw her brother frown in worry. Drageen had never been one to worry.
"Any blacksmith can bring me iron. I need much more than that from you."
Astrid looked up to see the alchemist walking toward them, carrying a small covered bowl. The alchemist put the bowl on the banquet table next to Drageen.
"It's ready?” He raised his eyebrows at the alchemist.
She smiled in response. "I
t's a fine mix, Sir. Good quality."
Drageen sniffed at the red liquid. He rolled up one sleeve and submerged his left hand.
Astrid suspected this liquid contained her melted bloodstone. The last time she'd seen it, the alchemist was dissolving it in Astrid's own tears and the ashes of Guell. "What are you doing?” Astrid asked, watching her brother.
He removed his hand, now covered with deep red liquid, rubbing it into his skin. He took his dagger, still bearing Mauri's bloodstains. He pressed its blade against his bloodstone-soaked skin.
The blade slid off, as if his skin had turned to slippery ice.
"You're very rare, sister," Drageen said with a twinge of envy. "Dragon bites are deadly. Almost everyone dies, even those descended from a dragonslayer. Only those with the purest dragonslayer blood who can survive. Like you."
She'd heard Scaldings whisper that Astrid and Drageen both resembled their mother. She'd heard rumors that Drageen and Astrid had different fathers. That Astrid's mother had been unfaithful, and Drageen was the result.
Astrid looked at her brother's hand, drenched in her bloodstone and tears and ashes, and the dagger that had slid off his skin. Incredulous, she said, "Please don't tell me you believe those stuffy legends."
Drageen held up his red-stained hand and the dagger. "How much proof do you need?"
Astrid wanted to grab his shoulders and shake some sense into him. "It isn't my bloodstone protecting you! It's your belief! You're protected because you believe my bloodstone protects you. All you need is your belief—not my bloodstone."
Drageen shook his head. "When the dragon bit you, chewed you up...its spit mixed with your blood. It made you stronger. That's why you have the power to produce bloodstones. Only those who truly become like the dragon can produce bloodstones. That's you, Astrid."
She blanched. "There's no such thing as magic!"
"Dragon's blood—or, in your case, the dragon-tainted blood dissolved from the stone you produced—makes a man safe from blows after he bathes in it. It doesn't last forever. A good bath will protect a man for a month or so before it wears off. That's a fact."
"It's nothing but fairy tales!"
"It's your duty to protect the clan.” Drageen used his dagger to spear a hunk of roasted meat, raising it to his mouth. "It's your duty to produce all the bloodstones possible."