by Resa Nelson
And by the appearance of the yellow smoke, Astrid guessed he had just come out of an alchemist's cottage, probably his mother's.
“Go on without me,” Astrid said to Thorda. “See what you can find out from the blacksmith.”
Thorda frowned. “Do you not wish to meet him now?”
“No. It can wait. I'll be there in a few minutes.”
Thorda glanced from the boy to Astrid to Starlight. Finally, she sighed, seeming to assume Astrid would be safe without Thorda by her side. She walked away without looking back.
After meeting Fee and Glee, Astrid felt more wary about approaching alchemists or anyone who knew them. Although Fee and Glee had posed no harm, their knowledge of the Scaldings served as a reminder that Astrid already had something for which many people would be willing to kill.
Two years ago, the events at her home village of Guell and her experiences with Mauri and DiStephan and brigands had resulted in an abundance of bloodstones cut out of the soles of her feet. She knew from her brother Drageen that with the help of an alchemist, the bloodstones could be ground and added to liquid. Anyone who bathed in the bloodstone liquid was protected by it for a certain time. Any blow delivered against protected skin would bounce or glide off, leaving no damage.
Astrid dreaded the thought of Mandulane learning of her bloodstones, secretly buried in the yard of her smithery. Although others in Guell knew the bloodstones existed, no one else knew where Astrid had hidden them. And if Mandulane were to get his hands on her bloodstones, he could easily conquer every country on the map she had seen in his tent.
Astrid shook off her sudden impulse to shiver. What if the stone of darkness held a power as great as that of her bloodstones? More than ever, she decided to proceed with caution, even with a boy who seemed on the verge of getting in trouble with his mother for playing with her potions.
The boy coughed and rubbed his eyes while Astrid drew near. His straight brown hair had a shaggy cut and threatened to cover his eyes. He stood slightly taller than Astrid, his body in the awkward stage between child and man, lean with young muscles showing promise of growth. Freckles dotted his nose.
“Is your mother at home?”
The boy shook his head and pointed toward the field. “She's out there.”
For a moment, Astrid felt a strange foreboding, as if something had shifted out of place. Odd for an alchemist to be working the fields but not completely unheard of. “You speak well,” she said, shaking off the peculiar feeling.
“Mother's a Northlander, like you.” The boy sneezed loudly, his body shaking from the force of it.
“Gods keep you safe,” Astrid said automatically. She thought the idea of a sneeze allowing one's spirit to momentarily escape the body and be vulnerable must be nothing more than a superstitious belief, but she often said the blessing just to be on the safe side.
“Too late for that,” the boy murmured, brushing his hair out of his eyes while he looked at the ground.
“What?” The foreboding grew stronger, and Astrid shifted her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, reminding herself that she had Starlight to protect her.
The boy sneezed again, twice this time. “Mother's due to work all day. She'll come back for evening meal. You can see her then.”
Astrid reconsidered the situation. The practice of alchemy often came more naturally to women than men, but she'd heard of some male practitioners. Maybe the boy's mother wasn't the alchemist in the family.
“And your father?”
The boy shrugged. “Died some years ago. It's just me and Mother.” He grabbed the end of one sleeve of his dark tunic and shook it hard. He repeated the motion with the opposite sleeve. Each time, a small cloud of yellow dust shook free and drifted away on the wind.
Astrid pointed at the final dust cloud. “Does your mother know you play with such things?”
For the first time, the boy looked directly at her, taking a moment to size her up. “It's not play,” he said. “Alchemy's actually quite hard work to learn if you want to get it right.”
Taken aback, Astrid found herself speechless.
The boy brightened and extended a handshake. “Albrecht's the name. I take it I'm the one you're looking for.”
CHAPTER 23
Astrid followed Albrecht inside the cottage he shared with his mother and perched on a stool. The boy attempted to straighten up a room that looked as if a windstorm had torn it apart.
Unlike Fee and Glee's tidy and well organized cottage, Albrecht's home looked cluttered and cramped. A large iron pot hung over the smoldering hearth, wisps of smoke rising through the small ventilation hole in the roof. Two straw pallets for sleeping lay on the floor by the wall behind the hearth. Piles of clothes, spoons, measuring cups, and bottled potions crowded the surfaces of the wooden benches lined up against the other walls. Unrolled scrolls filled with drawings and diagrams criss-crossed the floor, making it impossible to walk without stepping on one.
Albrecht stepped in the tiny spaces between them until he reached the hearth, plunking himself down on a flat stone at its edge. “Tell me why would a pretty miss like you be looking for an alchemist. You need a love potion?”
Astrid remembered what Fee and Glee had told her: For your own protection, repeat nothing of what you see or hear today. She also remembered every alchemist who failed her during the past year. It was time to try a new approach. “No. I need to understand the power of stones.”
Albrecht picked up a piece of straw resting atop the stone next to him and stuck it in his mouth to chew. “What about it?”
“How do you tell a stone's purpose?”
“You start with the color. For example, snowstones are white, the pure color. You use them for good intents. Flamestones are yellow, the warm color. You use them for warm things like love potions.” He paused to look her up and down. “Are you sure you don't want a love potion? You look like you could use one.”
“I'm sure,” Astrid said evenly. “What about other colors?”
Albrecht chewed on his straw some more. “Blue and green stones are cool to the touch. You use them for things like cooling a fever or a feud or rivalry. Red, of course, you'd use in battle.”
Bloodstones. Of course.
For a moment, his gaze shifted to the sheath holding Starlight on Astrid's belt. “And black is for darker purposes.”
Astrid swallowed hard, uncomfortable with this new information. “What type of dark purposes?”
Albrecht removed the straw from his mouth and used his fingers to splay the edge he'd chewed. “Nothing a miss like yourself need concern herself with.”
Feeling her nerves get the better of her, Astrid looked down. She clasped her hands in her lap. “Having knowledge can be as useful as having a sword. It doesn't mean you'll use it unless someone attacks you.”
“True.”
Astrid looked up to see Albrecht stand and reach for a small bottle of yellow powder. Sitting back on the flat stone, he un-stoppered the bottle, shook a small amount into the palm of his hand, and twirled the splayed end of the straw in it, his own spit coating the straw allowing the powder to stick. “What are you doing?”
Without looking up, Albrecht said, “Protecting my mother and myself.” He threw the straw on top of the fire.
The powder ignited, and the straw exploded. A thick red smoke cascaded up through the roof and throughout the cottage.
“From what?” Astrid withdrew Starlight from its sheath and backed up until her body blocked the doorway. Although blinded by the red smoke, she felt certain she heard Albrecht moving inside the cottage. She felt compelled to keep him from leaving until she could determine if he meant to harm her or the Iron Maidens.
When the red smoke dissipated, the hearth fire sparked white like an overheated and ruined piece of iron being struck by a hammer. The fire crackled and popped while hundreds of white sparks grew larger and jumped toward Astrid. She held up the flat of Starlight's blade to protect her face, and the
sparks sang as they bounced off the sword.
“Tell me,” Astrid yelled, still unable to see much of the rest of the cottage through the lingering smoke. “What are you afraid of?”
The deflected sparks sizzled on the floor, winding into each other and taking the form of a huge snake. Still sizzling, it slithered toward her and lifted up in the air until it looked her directly in the face. Without warning, it struck at her.
Taking a step back, Astrid struck a diagonal blow and lopped off its head, which fell on the floor and shattered into black ashes. A fountain of new white sparks sprang from the flopping body, forming two new heads.
“Tell me!” Astrid shouted in desperation. When Albrecht didn't answer, she shifted her grip of Starlight's hilt from both hands to one hand. Not knowing what else to do, she reached into the pouch at her waist, felt around for the stone of darkness, and pulled it out. Facing the growing snake made of white sparks, she held Starlight in one hand and the stone of the darkness in the other.
A surge of anger and resentment rushed through her. Who was this boy to assume she meant harm to him or anyone else in this village? Why should he be so stupid to jump to such a foolish conclusion? Who was he to attack a dragonslayer?
A shudder reverberated through the cottage like the ripples from a stone thrown into the middle of a lake. Something invisible shimmered its way through the remaining smoke and the snake of sparks. With a sound like raindrops plopping on a thatched roof, the snake collapsed into a pile of ashes as the red smoke cleared.
In a far corner, Albrecht sat on the floor huddled in a ball with his arms wrapped around his legs. Staring at Astrid, his skin paled and his eyes widened. “Please don't kill me!”
It would serve him right.
Startled by her own reaction, Astrid said, “Of course I won't kill you. All I want is for you to tell me what you know. And why did you fight me? What are you afraid of?”
“Them,” Albrecht stuttered as tears spilled from his eyes. “The ones I signaled.”
Astrid resisted the urge to shiver when a chill ran through her. “You signaled? With the red smoke?”
Albrecht nodded.
The red smoke had plumed up through the hole in the roof over the hearth, probably rising high in the sky. Gripping both Starlight and the stone tighter, Astrid said, “Who did you signal?”
Albrecht swallowed hard and sniffled. “The Krystr soldiers. They camp a short ride to the east.”
CHAPTER 24
Astrid's mind raced. Krystr soldiers made camp a short distance from here and the boy alchemist had just signaled them. They could infiltrate the village soon.
Albrecht was young but he seemed to be skilled with potions. He also looked frightened and willing to talk. Even though time ran short, this could be her best opportunity to understand what kind of power she held in her hand.
Striding quickly toward the boy, Astrid thrust the stone in front of his face. “What is this? What is it for?”
He stared into the heart of the stone. Another tear ran down his face.
“Tell me,” Astrid said. “Quickly!”
“I told you,” he said. “Dark colors have dark powers.”
“What kind of power? Did I use it just now? Is it protective?”
“I don't know.” The boy hesitated, looking down as shame crossed his face. “Perhaps it was me, not you. I was scared. I lost my focus.”
“And the stone?”
“I've never seen anything like it. I don't understand it.” Albrecht paused. “Someone old might know.”
Astrid pressed her lips together, even more furious that the Krystr soldiers had attacked Fee and Glee, the only alchemists who seemed to understand the stone and its purpose. She didn’t know if the women had vanished or been killed, but she held little hope she’d see them again.
And now more Krystr soldiers would arrive at the village at any moment. Why was it so impossible to learn about the dark stone that had emerged from the bottom of her foot?
She wove her way through the maze-like paths of the village while cottage doors slammed shut and bolted, leaving no one in sight. Astrid shivered with dread. What if the Krystr soldiers had already come and waited around the next corner? What if ...
When Astrid stumbled out into the open center of the village where they'd first arrived, she caught sight of Thorda and the other Iron Maidens. Astrid ran toward them, and Thorda met her halfway.
“We must go,” Thorda said. “We must be quiet.”
Astrid nodded. “The boy sent a signal to Krystr soldiers. He said their camp is nearby. They'll be here any minute.”
Thorda's lips pressed together grimly. “We take this time to run.”
The sound of hoof beats filled the air, and dust appeared just above the surrounding treetops.
Astrid paused, suddenly taking notice of the size and shape of the clearing where they stood and the trees and bushes surrounding it. “No. We'll hide instead.”
CHAPTER 25
A dozen Krystr soldiers rode into the village from which the red plume of smoke had risen, sending a signal of distress that had been agreed upon weeks ago with the villagers. The stink of smoke still hung in the air. The leaves on the trees shivered when a fresh wind blasted through the clearing and kicked up a swirl of dust.
While the soldiers halted their horses and dismounted, Dunlop felt his heart warm with anticipation. Too many savages still resisted, roaming the countryside and wreaking havoc for the good and respectful who had already proven their faith and loyalty to Mandulane and the Krystr god. Just last winter he'd been one of those savages as he'd toiled on his father's small farm, constantly under the old man's critical eye and victim to his harsh tongue: Stop being such a lazy lout, Dunlop. Everyone else in this family accomplishes twice as much in a day, Dunlop. Why can't you be good for something, Dunlop?
But all that had changed with the arrival of a handful of Krystr soldiers and clerks, who tromped among the crops and halted each worker, telling them the story of the Krystr and the way the world was changing to embrace this new god. Of course, Dunlop hadn't hesitated to put down his hoe for the chance to take a break and meet new people and hear new ideas.
The hired workers had done likewise, but everyone else in Dunlop's family had resisted. Dunlop recognized power when he saw it, so he figured if his folks or siblings didn't have that ability it was their own fault when the soldiers killed them. No one in his family had ever stood up for him. Why should he stand up for them?
Because Dunlop had demonstrated his new-found loyalty to the Krystr, one clerk took it upon himself to promote the boy from field hand to soldier. Still swelling with pride and the joy of seeking adventure instead of weeding fields of barley, Dunlop trembled with anticipation as he jumped from the saddle to the ground. The past months had been rewarding, but he yearned for real conflict. He loved the idea of proving himself right and others wrong, especially with a gang of soldiers to back him up.
When he prepared to draw his sword, his leader tossed the reins to his horse to Dunlop, saying, “Take care of the animals.”
“But you need me!” Dunlop protested, holding onto the reins as if they were dead snakes. He quickly silenced himself when the leader shot a dark look at him. Dunlop had already suffered explanations of why he had to do what he was told and how he could benefit. He didn't want to be told again.
Instead, he accepted the reins of all the horses until the animals surrounded him. One snorted at Dunlop while the others tugged on the reins. They looked longingly at new spring grass, just steps away.
The other soldiers drew their small swords and shields and disappeared into the maze-like paths that wound through the village.
Dunlop sighed. It would be easier to give in to the horses than struggle to control them. Still holding onto the reins, he allowed the horses to lead him to the grass. He spotted a nearby tree branch. If he could tie off a couple of horses, he could then look for other makeshift hitching posts.
Bef
ore he could make his way to the branch, a woman stepped out from behind the tree and smiled at him.
Dunlop paused, smiling back. “Hello, miss.” He then noticed her odd choice of clothing: a man's pants and tunic instead of a dress. Her long hair hung loose, flowing with the wind.
His blood chilled. She must be a savage woman who refused to tie up her hair and wear the clothes denoting her position as a lower being and servant to men.
Dunlop cried out when something hard struck him behind the knees, buckling his legs and making him drop to the ground. Moaning, he curled up his chest to his knees and wrapped his arms around them, but it didn't make him feel any better.
“Quickly!” the savage woman shouted.
Someone stuffed a small wad of leather in his mouth, stifling his voice. At the same time, many hands grabbed him, rolling him onto his belly, grabbing his arms, and tying them behind his back with thin leather ties, the kind most people kept handy.
All of the hands were small, not nearly as large as his. And even though they treated him roughly, nothing they did was severe enough to harm him.
Excitement rushed through his veins. Most women never seemed to notice him, and now it felt as if many women were fighting over his body. A sense of pleasure washed through him, nearly to the point of swooning.
For a moment, he didn't even mind that they were savages.
When the hands released him, Dunlop rolled onto his side in time to see a gang of women mounting the horses he’d meant to tie up. For a moment, he felt confused because he thought he recognized one of the women.
The horses!
Dunlop tried to shout out a warning to his fellow soldiers, but the balled-up leather in his mouth muffled every attempt. Now feeling angry and duped, he squirmed on the ground as the women rode away, working to pull his hands free of the leather ties. It took several minutes but Dunlop finally wrangled one hand free, the leather tie still hanging around the other wrist like a bracelet.
He pulled the balled-up leather out of his mouth and called out loudly for the other soldiers.