The Dragonslayer Series: Books 1-4: The Dragonslayer Series Box Set

by Resa Nelson

  One morning Taddeo and a few other dragons followed Astrid to the top of the tower where the large cage in which she and Norah had been kept for so many years still stood. Only two vertical bars were misshaped from where Taddeo had pushed them apart on the day he came to set Norah free.

  Some dragons grew until they were as tall or taller than the cage and allowed Astrid to climb upon them. Others created fires and kept them burning strong throughout the day. Astrid had found the village blacksmith and borrowed his tools, fumbling at first with a hammer fashioned for much larger hands until she decided to change the shape of her hand to fit the hammer.

  Astrid’s blacksmithing work took weeks. Keeping the base of the cage in place, she instructed Taddeo, wearing gloves to protect his hands from the metal, to pry the bars on three sides of the cage loose from the floor and bend them upwards until they flayed out, parallel with the top of the cage. Once the three sides had been freed, Taddeo increased in size until he could easily bend the top of the cage so that it formed a wall of iron bars with the remaining side below, held firmly in place by the floor of the cage.

  For the first few days, Astrid’s muscles ached from lack of use at the anvil. Out of practice, it took awhile for her to remember her trade, but then she fell into a natural rhythm of forging something new out of the very thing that had led to her disfigurement.

  It took shape slowly, and the shape itself looked simplistic, like a figure a child might draw in the sand. Astrid loosened and splayed out a few iron bars from the one side of the cage that stood in its original place, forming a flowing skirt.

  She twisted the bars from the former top of the cage to form a torso, but kept the twisting loose despite its similarity to the technique she used to make a dragonslayer’s sword.

  She forged some of the bars from the remaining sides of the cage to form the shoulders and arms, rounding a few bars into a face, although it had no features.

  She hammered dozens of bars into wavy lengths and welded them around the face. Finally, she signaled the dragon supporting her to lower her back to the ground.

  As the dragons shrank in size and surrounded her, Astrid looked directly up at the iron structure she’d forged: the shape of a woman with a sword raised above her head, her hair flying free and wild.

  “Here be dragons,” Astrid whispered.

  CHAPTER 69

  By the time Astrid finished forging the structure atop the tower, most of the Scaldings had left Tower Island. The villagers who farmed and cooked and tended to the Scaldings stayed. Taddeo struck an agreement with the villagers: the dragons would keep to themselves inside the tower and the villagers would serve them as they had served the Scaldings. Rewarded with ownership of the land they farmed, they could trade any goods they made with merchants who visited the island.

  Before Astrid boarded the next merchant ship set to sail to the Northlands, she stood outside the entrance to the tower to speak with Taddeo one last time. “You maneuvered a way to free Norah from the Scaldings, and now you’ve maneuvered me into returning Tower Island to you.” She couldn’t help but feel suspicion. “What else do you want?”

  Taddeo smiled, one hand braced against the doorjamb, making it impossible for Astrid to enter the tower. “You still have much to learn as a dragonslayer. I thank you for your work.” He looked deeply into her eyes. “Know there is a powerful bond between dragon and slayer. I had that bond with DiStephan when he lived, and that bond still exists with his spirit. You have a similar bond with Norah.”

  Astrid shuddered. “We don’t need it. My family placed us in that cage together. She chewed me up and left me scarred. You freed her. It’s over.”

  A light danced in Taddeo’s eyes. “She was starving,” he said. “She chose not to kill you and make a meal of you for her own comfort. She drank only what little of your blood she needed to stay alive—and she was your age. She chose to let you live because she values all living things.”

  Astrid’s breath caught, remembering the reason why DiStephan had left Guell, only to be killed. She’d seen him kill a hatchling dragon, and his blood lust had disturbed her because of her own compassion for all life.

  “Yes,” Taddeo said as if reading her thoughts. “You and Norah are alike in many ways.” Taking a more serious tone, he said, “If you ever need anything, call upon her or me for help. You have earned the right to do so.” He leaned forward for a moment, his nostrils widening as he inhaled Astrid’s scent. “You may need us sooner than you expect.”

  Astrid remembered a thought that had dawned on her within the past few months. She realized she may have assumed too much. “What happened to DiStephan? Why did he die?”

  Still smiling, Taddeo closed the door, leaving her alone outside the tower filled with dragons.

  * * *

  After Astrid sailed back to the mainland, she traveled through the Northlands on foot, stopping in every village on the winter route to make sure there had been no attacks by lizards, although she did learn of some sightings. But spring had arrived, after all, and the lizards were returning.

  Once inside her own territory, Astrid visited every village under her protection, spending more time simply visiting and learning how the villagers had fared during the winter.

  With each new village, she realized what some villages were wanting, others had in abundance, such as grains or goods. She advised villagers about potential trades they could make without the aid of traveling merchants and suggested the best possible routes and times to avoid lizards, which were predictable creatures.

  Astrid knew lizards were reptiles of habit, preferring to travel the same paths and rarely wandering far from them. With a gentle nudge here and there from DiStephan’s ghost, in the form of a sudden breeze or dewdrops trapped within a large spider web that formed the pattern of an arrow pointing the way, she had already learned a great deal about the migration paths of lizards and shared that knowledge with every village that paid for her help.

  Finally, Astrid came upon a very familiar trench filled with brittle, brown leaves, its sides bearing old claw marks.

  Astrid withdrew Starlight and thrust its point through the leaves, just to be sure no lizard lay in wait underneath them. She spent the next hour walking through the woods, stopping only upon reaching her own dragonslayer’s camp.

  She touched an open wound in a tree trunk where Starlight’s blade had caught when she’d discovered a lizard in her camp last fall. Here, she’d taken a swing and missed. And in the center of camp she’d found the eggs the lizard had been busy eating at the time she’d interrupted its meal, saving three eggs from certain demise. All evidence that they’d once been here had disappeared, but Astrid smiled at the memory of watching Smoke, Fire, and Slag hatch from their shells.

  Astrid continued through the woods, also remembering that she’d left Guell without leaving word with anyone. None of them knew Sigurthor had stolen Starlight or that Astrid meant to get the sword back from him and return home that very day. Of course, now she knew Taddeo had stolen Starlight, all part of a ruse to regain control of Tower Island, the dragons’ true home.

  But she couldn’t tell anyone about that. Keeping a secret wasn’t anything Taddeo had requested of her. It was something she simply knew. A knowledge that ran through her veins and beat inside her heart. The mere thought of going against this knowledge made her skin crawl. It would be best for everyone—people and dragons alike—for Astrid to keep quiet.

  On the outskirts of the village, she saw the blacksmiths out in the fields, plowing and getting them ready for planting crops. Hidden by the woods, she paused and watched them until a lump knotted in her throat. She realized how much she’d missed them.

  Because the blacksmiths were in the fields, the air in Guell seemed strangely hollow and empty without the loud, solid rings of hammer against iron. The smithery in the center of the village stood silent, even though a faint scent of old smoke hung in the air. Beyond the smithery, a group of the blacksmiths’ wives walke
d toward the sea, baskets tucked under their arms.

  Of course. At this time each spring the tide often brought in a wealth of shellfish, depositing them on the edge of Dragon’s Teeth Field, where the jagged rocks protruding from the ground created tide pools that trapped all forms of game from the sea.

  The wives walked away, too busy talking and laughing among themselves to notice anything or anyone outside their close-knit group.

  A gentle humming sound drifted on a breeze.

  Astrid spun, looking for the source.

  A young mother chased her little children, who chased a few geese darting between cottages.

  Beyond them, a woman doubled over just outside the doorway to her cottage, brushing her long dark hair.

  The lump in Astrid’s throat became a boulder, and no matter how she tried, she couldn’t speak. Instead, she ran through the roads of Guell as fast as she could.

  The woman stood, throwing her hair behind her. It took a few moments, but Astrid saw the recognition in her eyes, watching Astrid running toward her.

  Lenore’s forehead creased in anger, and she clutched the hairbrush as she balled her hands into fists and jammed them against her waist. “How dare you run off…”

  Several paces away, Astrid skidded to a stop, never dreaming the profound joy she’d feel at the sight of seeing Lenore alive and well, even if she appeared angry.

  But Lenore’s anger faded, taking a close look at Astrid. “By the gods,” she whispered, unaware of her fists coming undone and the hairbrush falling from her hand. “What happened to you?”

  Still unable to speak, Astrid walked forward, reaching for Lenore’s hair, now flying all around her in the wind.

  Lenore wrapped her arms around Astrid’s waist, holding her close.

  For the first time, Astrid realized she’d forged the cage atop Tower Island into the image of Lenore. Astrid had forged Lenore’s hair to fly forever free on the island now protected by dragons.

  All the time she had forged, Astrid believed that if Margreet could have stared upon such an image she would have seen her own strength inside it. If Margreet could have understood that she, like Astrid and Lenore, was an Iron Maiden, she would still be alive and arriving in Guell today. If Astrid could have done more to help her, Margreet—Astrid’s friend—would be standing by her side right now.

  Finally, Astrid sobbed, sinking her hands elbow deep into Lenore’s beautiful, beautiful hair.

  CHAPTER 70

  One of the blacksmith’s wives ran out to the fields, spreading the news of Astrid’s return. Soon, the villagers of Guell gathered around her, peppering her with questions about where she’d been and why she had left without explanation.

  With Starlight still sheathed at her side, Astrid wrapped her fingers around the hilt out of habit. “When I realized Starlight had vanished, I figured it had to be Sigurthor who took it. I thought I could catch up with him, get my sword back, and be home by nightfall.”

  Randim stood with crossed arms and a darkened face. “Why would a merchant like Sigurthor steal a sword? We traded with him for years. He’s an honest man.”

  “Was,” Lenore whispered, slipping her hand through his elbow and loosening his tight stance a bit. “Sigurthor was an honest man.”

  “When you found Sigurthor,” Randim continued, “why didn’t you come back?”

  “Because Starlight was still missing. I found evidence he’d been murdered—there were tracks. Because I met no one on the road, I figured whoever killed Sigurthor continued toward the other coast, so I kept on the path.”

  Astrid pressed her lips lightly together, determined not to reveal that Taddeo, not Sigurthor, had taken Starlight. She believed what Taddeo said about her bond with the dragons. It was something she couldn’t explain. She simply sensed it in her bones. “After I met Vinchi, he admitted he was the one who found Sigurthor’s body and Starlight. Vinchi took Starlight, not willing to let a good sword go to waste.”

  Randim’s frown deepened. “And left Sigurthor’s body to rot?”

  Astrid shrugged. “It was his decision, not mine. All I can guess is that with dragons traveling south at that time, staying to bury Sigurthor could have cost Vinchi his life.”

  Randim snorted, clearly not convinced.

  Astrid shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another, anxious to go to her own cottage and rest. She kept scanning the group, surprised she failed to see Trep among them.

  “Did you miss the blacksmithing?” Donel said, standing so close that he almost stepped on her feet.

  “Yes,” Astrid said. She wasn’t ready to tell them anything about Tower Island. Not yet.

  At the same time, a wave of sadness crashed over her. She felt the same as the day she’d come awake to discover her blacksmithing arm gone because Norah had devoured it to stay alive. “But I won’t be blacksmithing anymore,” Astrid said. “I’ll be following the winter route at the end of each dragon season instead.”

  Later that afternoon, Lenore fed her, and the two women sat together quietly while the men headed back to the fields to salvage the remains of the day.

  Astrid stood, ready to walk to her own cottage. She paused. “I didn’t see Trep. Is he all right?”

  Lenore nodded. “He took your disappearance hard. Give him time. He will come to you when he’s able.”

  Astrid smiled weakly, taking one more look at Lenore’s face and hair before walking away.

  When she neared her cottage on the edge of Guell, Astrid limped, suddenly noticing pain in the ball of one foot. She shook her foot, assuming a pebble had managed to fall inside her shoe, but the pain persisted.

  She stared at Dragon’s Teeth field, just beyond her cottage, and the wooden walkway running alongside it to the sea.

  Astrid removed her leather shoes and held onto them as she walked past her cottage and gingerly onto the jagged, rocky surface of Dragon’s Teeth field. The edges of the sharp rocks cut into her painful foot. She winced. Close to the wooden walkway, she hobbled over and sat down on it.

  Cradling her foot, she studied the cut skin and noticed a stone inside the cut.

  Last year her brother Drageen had manipulated her for the sake of forcing valuable bloodstones out of her body. She gazed across the sea at the dark outline of Dragon’s Head against the setting sun. Its name came from the shape of the dragon that had once been trapped inside. But now the shape had changed, and Astrid saw the outline showing her brother and his alchemist were still safely encased within the stone. This couldn’t be his doing. Besides, he was dead. He had to be dead.

  But Drageen had identified the catalyst that made the stones emerge as chaos, and there had been plenty of that in Astrid’s life during the past months.

  Careful not to pain herself any more, Astrid pushed and nudged the ball of her foot until a stone dropped from it into her hand. She spit on it in an effort to clean it. But no matter how hard she rubbed, the stone looked as black as a starless night, not red like the stones that had once poured from her feet and that she’d secretly buried near her cottage.

  She held the stone up in the gentle light of dusk, but it only seemed to grow darker the more she looked at it.

  For a moment, Astrid had a strange desire to throw it into the sea and be rid of it. Instead, she stared into the depths of the stone.

  Something shifted inside her body, but she couldn’t put a name to it. Something just felt different.

  Remembering the power of the red stones she’d buried, Astrid put her shoe back on and slipped the dark stone inside.

  For now, she would tell no one it existed.

  “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Astrid looked up, surprised to see Trep’s face, dark and serious.

  “Starlight was stolen—”

  “I know all about that.” Trep paused, biting his lip as if willing himself to be civil. “What were you thinking? Didn’t you know you’d be causing Lenore a world of grief? And what of the rest of us?”

 
; “I’m sorry.” Astrid’s voice choked, but she was grateful to see him.

  Trep sank next to her, letting his legs drape off the edge of the walkway. “You exasperate me, Woman.”

  Woman. Trep had always called her Girly.

  “I saw a woman murdered by her own husband.” Astrid clamped her hand over her mouth, stopping herself from saying more. She hadn’t meant to speak of it at all.

  Trep’s expression softened. “Tell me.”

  Astrid drew her legs to her chest, hugging them close and letting her forehead rest on her knees. “She was a foreigner, but she wasn’t weak. She was strong. We learned how to fight together, and she was a much better swordswoman than me. Her husband called her into trial by combat—”

  “You must have been in Daneland.”

  “Yes, in Daneland. I was sure she would defeat him, but she hesitated. I don’t know what she was thinking. I don’t know why she let him kill her.”

  Astrid continued. “I should have been able to save her. I should have been closer to the fight. I should have had Starlight in my hand and ready to rush in and—”

  “That is against the law,” Trep said, watching the sun dip below the horizon, the clouds above turning blood red. “You would not have been allowed that close because it was her fight, not yours.”

  “But I let her down. I could have been a better friend.”

  After a few long moments, Trep said, “My sister married a Midlander who failed to treat her well.”

  Astrid sat up sharply, staring at Trep. She’d never heard him speak of having a sister.

  “I begged her to end their marriage. It would have been easy enough, but she took being his wife as a serious duty and wouldn’t listen to me.” Trep kept staring at the horizon.

  Unable to bear the suspense, Astrid finally said, “What happened?”