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

by Resa Nelson

  So while the men rummaged the cottage, Astrid quietly worked at the knots in the leather ties with her fingers. Unable to see what she was doing, Astrid closed her eyes and tried to visualize everything she felt. Each tie had a smooth dark side of finished leather and three softer unfinished sides. She found it easier to gain purchase by squeezing her fingernails into the edges of the finished leather and tugging slowly on it.

  There! One length freed itself from a knot and she pulled it loose. Re-examining the knot, Astrid felt it tied in at least three other places. But if she kept working at it, she might be able to free herself and run away. She searched quickly for another smooth side of leather and dug her fingernails into its edges, wiggling it back and forth as it began to loosen.

  Suddenly, the air filled with the sound of breaking glass.

  The bottles of potions. The men are breaking the alchemists' bottles.

  Moments later, gray smoke mixed with sparks of crimson and azure and ocher shot through the hole in the cottage roof like a geyser. Astrid first noticed the pungent mix of acrid and sickly-sweet scents. She turned her head in time to see the smoke rise and spread like wings above the cottage, although from her vantage point the cottage was upside down and the smoke seemed to pour beneath. For a moment, she thought she saw the figures of two women in the smoke, growing wings and taking flight toward the woods.

  Coughing and wheezing, the men stumbled out of the cottage. They staggered toward the startled horses.

  They must have thrown the bottles of potions in the hearth fire. Even I know better than to do something as foolish as that!

  As long as the men were recovering from the explosion caused by the contents of the bottles thrown into the fire, Astrid knew she had another minute or two to work at loosening the ties. And once they were on the road, she might be able to continue. Assuming she freed all the knots, she could then hold the tie in her hands until an opportunity to escape presented itself.

  And if DiStephan's ghost still accompanied her, he would likely create an opportunity for her.

  Soon, the men mounted their horses and trotted down the road, kicking up dust in Astrid's face. She wheezed and coughed onto the horse's side, pressing her nose against its hair and using it as a filter. Her torso bounced up and down on the horse's back, nearly knocking the wind out of her lungs with every step. Just as she'd hoped, she managed to keep her hands draped in a way that disguised her working the knots of the leather ties loose. She worked slowly and patiently until the tie binding her hands to her ankles came loose and then held it tightly. Now all she needed was the opportunity to slide off the horse and run free.

  Within minutes, Astrid smelled the opportunity as they approached it.

  Most people never noticed it: the tangy and briny scent of a lizard lying hidden in wait for its prey.

  CHAPTER 14

  Still draped across the horse’s back, Astrid took a deep breath.

  Get ready to run, she told herself.

  Although her wrists were still tied together, she’d freed them from her ankles and now kept her eyes open for a good opportunity to escape while pretending to be helpless.

  Careful not to draw attention to herself, Astrid turned her head slowly, resting her cheek against the horse's flank. The animal's body blocked most of her vision, and its gait made her seasick. But she made out a solid line of horses ahead, riding two or three abreast when the width of the road allowed.

  The road itself was flanked by old fields of cornstalks, long ago stripped of ears and left to rot in the sun. She'd heard rumors that such abandoned crops marked the path of the Krystr army, who killed farmers, stole the food they'd grown, and left the land in shambles. Fee and Glee had warned the Krystrs were attacking. These men must be part of that army.

  Astrid's heart raced and she wavered in a moment of panic. She'd only seen a couple of Krystr clerks last year at a distance. The memory of them made her feel uneasy and unsafe. If the men who had attacked the alchemists' cottage and bound Astrid like an animal were part of the Krystr army, they probably planned to kill her.

  Unlike Northlander men, they wore pants and shirts of dull colors and light weight for the balmy weather here in the Southlands. Their faces were brown from the sun, and they wore their dark hair cropped above their shoulders. Most of them stood shorter than the average Northlander man, barely taller than Astrid.

  A soft breeze carried the sharp tang of lizard scent, stronger now. The beast must be lying in wait somewhere nearby.

  One of the horses ahead suddenly reared, throwing its rider and screaming.

  Now!

  Astrid let go of the tie and slid off her horse, which skittered and bucked. When Astrid's feet hit the ground, she found herself surrounded by dozens of terrified horses, wide-eyed and looking for a place to run.

  Clouds of dirt rose from the road, and men shouted while they tried to control their animals. Another horse bucked and threw off the man who had taken her captive.

  When he landed face-first on the dirt road, Astrid grabbed Starlight's hilt with her bound hands and pulled it free from its sheath on his back. She then darted between the panicked horses and sped into the field of dead cornstalks.

  Astrid forced her way through the narrow rows with the flat of Starlight's blade resting on one shoulder. She slowed down when she felt the unevenness of the ground beneath her feet, caused by plowing, growing corn, and rainstorms. She slowed her pace to a slow jog to avoid tumbling or twisting an ankle.

  A thunder of dry rustle filled the air behind her. Hoof beats echoed hollowly, making the ground tremble beneath her feet.

  Astrid cut through a few rows and moved away from the approaching horse. Glancing up, she saw the stalks towering above her head wave when she pushed them aside, giving away her location. Turning and shifting to hold Starlight against her chest, Astrid moved sideways, still careful of the uneven ground. This way, she could slip through the field unnoticed.

  In the distance, a horse screamed and others whinnied in fear, trampling the ground as if trying to find a way to escape the mayhem.

  Dust filled Astrid's mouth, and she fought back the urge to cough while she kept moving sideways. Behind her, cornstalks waved like a stormy ocean and the shouts of men grew closer. They'd be upon her in moments.

  The stone. No one searched my pouch yet. They don't know I have the stone!

  Astrid dropped to one knee, letting Starlight fall to the ground. With her wrists still bound together, she found it difficult but not impossible to open the drawstring pouch and dig out the dark stone. She shoved it inside one shoe and in between her toes.

  Taking a fleeting glance at her sword, she saw a hand emerge from the cornstalks and steal Starlight away. Astrid climbed to her feet and bolted in the opposite direction, knowing that pursuing Starlight could cost her life.

  Astrid kept zigging and zagging through the field until three mounted men surrounded her, their horses whinnying and snorting in the dusty and dead field. Instead of running away, she stood her ground as gracefully as she could while the men looked down on her with disgust etched on their faces. They dismounted and circled Astrid as if she were a dangerous animal.

  Although Astrid had eaten lizard meat recently and had the ability to shapeshift, that skill required time and concentration, neither of which she had at the moment. She wished she knew how to transform in the blink of an eye into smoke like Fee and Glee, if they hadn't been burned into cinders instead.

  She'd also learned how to choose her fights and had already done her best to escape. While the men circled her cautiously, Astrid held her bound hands out as an act of surrender, the disappointment of failing to take advantage of the chance to escape dropping in her chest like a stone in a well gone dry.

  CHAPTER 15

  Once they dragged Astrid out of the cornfield and back to the road where chaos had erupted, the man who spoke Northlander realized her sword was missing.

  “Where have you gone and hidden it?” he deman
ded, shoving her so hard she fell to her knees. Dust rose into her mouth and nose, the dry taste of it making her want to sneeze.

  Surrounded by men, she immediately noticed their boots. Their stains and creases made them look well worn. The men smelled as if they'd spent the day walking through a barnyard.

  “I didn't,” Astrid said, wincing at the force with which her knees had slammed on the unforgiving ground. “Someone took it. One of you.”

  When she looked up, Astrid noticed a few dead stalks of corn rustle gently far behind the men. Hesitating for a moment, she wondered if it might be nothing more than the wind.

  Possibly.

  But why were only a few stalks moving out of an entire field?

  And why were those few stalks in the same area as where she'd dropped Starlight?

  The men’s leader spoke to the others, who argued among themselves, each showing his sword to the others to prove he hadn’t stolen Astrid’s sword. After much debate, they mounted their horses.

  Once again, Astrid found herself flung over the back of his horse and tied in place. By dusk the group of men and their horses arrived at an enormous encampment in a shallow valley of simple tents, all dyed blue.

  When the men hauled Astrid off the horse and led her into the camp, she couldn't help but think the tents looked like water and the people bustling among the tents were like fish and eels and freshwater crabs. Small fires burned in front of every tent on the encampment's perimeter, forming a barrier of fire to keep out night predators.

  The men led Astrid through the maze of blue tents. She noticed other small fires here and there, lighting their way. Finally, they came upon a large tent, its poled top rising high above the others and decorated with fluttering ribbons. The tent glowed from within, lighting up the encampment like a monstrous glow worm.

  Astrid's knees buckled when she realized her hunger at the sudden smell of rich and potent spices blended with roasted meat. For a moment, she could have sworn she tasted cream in the breeze. The tinkling sound of tiny symbols and heavy drumbeats pierced the night air escaping from the interior of the large ribboned tent. She winced at the sharp bite of an insect, slapping it away from her jaw with her bound hands.

  A hand reached out of the large tent and pulled a flap back, allowing entrance. One of the men shoved Astrid inside.

  A large brass cauldron stood directly beneath the tented peak that towered high above. Swirling designs decorated the cauldron, in which untamed and unpredictable flames roared. Thick mats made up of many layers of colorful fabrics formed a circle around the fire, but only one man draped himself across them, bedecked in robes thickly striped in maroon and amethyst.

  Although dark-haired and youthful, his head verged on the brink of balding. With a sharp nose and narrow-set small eyes, he reminded Astrid of a hawk, ever watchful and ready to pounce on its next meal.

  At the moment, he sat with his back to the brass cauldron of fire, giving his full attention to a handful of dancing women. Servants lined the walls of the tent, standing quietly in the shadows, ready to jump at a moment's notice.

  Astrid noticed a large pale cow hide hanging on the wall behind the hawk-like man. Recognizing the shape of the Northlands, she realized with a start that a map had been drawn on the hide. Until now, she'd only seen maps of the Northlands and the many islands to the west.

  But this map showed the Northlands to be a small part of a much larger world than Astrid had ever imagined. While most of the land masses remained pale, some had been colored a dark rusty red. All of what she supposed were the Southlands had been painted as well as the lower half of what looked to be the Midlands.

  Astrid stared at the map in amazement. A continent as large as the Northlands and Midlands combined lay below the Southlands, separated by a narrow sea. She'd heard tell of the Far Southlands and had always assumed it was the lowermost region of the Southlands. But could the Far Southlands be another place altogether?

  The greatest continent of all dominated the right side of the map, and Astrid guessed it to be the Far East, its southernmost shores dotted with islands. Yet another large continent covered the left side of the map, and a large ocean stood between it and the Northlands. Although the red portions of the map were small, arrows from it pointed to the Upper Midlands, the Northlands, the Far Southlands, the Far East, and the Far West.

  A weary but bright-eyed soldier cut his thumb with his dagger as he approached the map. He smeared his blood on a section of the Midlands.

  It's blood.

  A cold wave of fear washed through Astrid’s veins.

  They mark the territory they conquer with their own blood. And the conquering path is headed toward the Northlands.

  The soldier sucked the remained blood from his thumb. He turned and stared when the music grew louder and the dancing began.

  Although Astrid didn't think of herself as a good dancer, she'd developed the habit of letting townspeople drag her into dances of celebration before a community meal, usually one held in her honor on the heels of a slain lizard. She'd come to relish the belly-aching laughter that came with plodding her way through the steps, intricate or not, danced at any particular village. Often she'd remember the right steps in the wrong town and giggled as everyone needled her for bringing another village's dance into the mix. She was used to dance steps that felt like skipping or hopping or galloping.

  She recognized the women were dancing because they kept time to the music. But it was a type of dance Astrid had never seen before.

  Dressed from neck to toes in bright blue garments that looked like a second skin, the women writhed like upright snakes. Their bellies and chests and hips undulated in a way Astrid never imagined was possible. But the women didn't laugh or giggle or show any joy at all. As they shook and squirmed, their faces were as blank as if they were sleeping.

  But it looked like a sleep made of nightmares, not of peace.

  Watching closer, Astrid felt herself go cold at the sight of the clench of each woman's jaw and the down-turned corners of her mouth.

  The hawk-like man raised one hand, letting his fingers and palm undulate like the women's bodies as he motioned the nearest dancer to approach. A tall, slim woman with hay-colored hair tied up in a knot danced slowly toward him, seeming to taunt him with the dance. But she continued toward him, acting mesmerized by his beckoning hand. Finally, she slid onto his lap and into his hands.

  At that moment, a cold dread washed through Astrid like an unexpected ice storm.

  As the hawk-like man touched the dancer in his arms, Astrid realized that none of the dancers wore clothes. Instead, their skin had somehow been colored.

  Shapeshifters?

  Astrid averted her gaze.

  Not likely. If men like these came looking to harm alchemists, how much stomach would they have for shapeshifting?

  “Mandulane,” a guard called out in Southlander. When he spoke, the one word Astrid recognized was “dragonslayer.”

  Everyone inside the tent laughed except for the dancers and the hawk-like man, who replied without looking up from the body of the dancer in his arms.

  The guard who had announced Astrid's presence smacked himself in the head and muttered. Clearly angry with himself, he dug his fingers around the tie binding Astrid's hands and dragged her to the opposite corner of the tent, careful to cut a wide path around the still-undulating dancers.

  Deep in the corner sat an old man with glazed eyes who stared into the seemingly vast space swimming before him. The old man clung to a hollow reed stuck between the edges of a small cauldron and its slightly ajar lid. Oblivious, he wrapped his lips around the reed and sucked loudly, closing his eyes. A thin white vapor escaped his mouth while he leaned back and sighed in relief.

  The guard threw Astrid roughly to the ground and barked an order at the seated man.

  Several moments later, the old man opened his eyes and squinted at Astrid. Nodding, he reached behind him and drew out a large wooden bowl filled with a gooey
blue substance. Reaching blindly for the bowl's rim, he wrapped his fingers around one of many needles stuck into it and smiled as he worked it free.

  CHAPTER 16

  Astrid stared at the needle in the old man's hand. Glancing back over her shoulder, she stared at the dancing blue women again.

  Of course. They'd all been tattooed from neck to ankle.

  She jumped to her feet in horror. Terrified, the small bit of knowledge of the Southlander's language evaporated from Astrid's mind. “No!” she shouted in her own language.

  The old man giggled in delight, staring at her as he grinned and fingered the blunt end of the needle. “Ah,” he said in Astrid's language. “We have a Northern girl in the mix.”

  The guard’s rough hand slammed on her shoulder, forcing her back on the ground.

  The old man used a wooden spoon to stir up the thick blue dye in the bowl now positioned between them. “Never mind that nitwit,” he said, still speaking in Astrid's language while he cast a narrow glance at the guard hovering above her. “Except, of course, to do what he says. Otherwise, he'll beat you until you're covered with bruises.” He paused for a wink. “Trust me. The piercings are easier to take than a beating.”

  Still panicked, especially with Starlight stolen in a far-off cornfield, Astrid trembled and focused on gathering her wits. A sudden thought occurred to her. “I'm already pierced.”

  The old man raised an eyebrow, and he quickly scanned her body. But only her face, neck, and hands showed. Her clothing covered the rest of her skin. “Give us a peek,” he said.

  Astrid loosened her shirt and pulled it down to her collarbones, exposing her throat.