by Resa Nelson
Astrid clutched Starlight's grip with both white-knuckled hands, keeping its point in front of her in case she had to defend herself. Slowly backing away from the chaos unfolding all around her, Astrid felt numb. Maybe she could hide below. Maybe she could crawl into a corner. Maybe she could—
Kikita cried out, and Astrid turned to see a scowling clerk grab the Iron Maiden by her hair. He grabbed the ax from her hand and aimed its sharp blade at her throat.
Before she realized it, Astrid took a few quick steps and then ran Starlight's blade through the clerk's back.
He paused as if unsure what had just happened. When he looked down at the tip of the sword emerging from his chest, his grip on Kikita's ax loosened, and she snatched it back from him. The clerk pulled himself free from the blade, struggling toward the railing and leaning over it. His blood stained the deck.
With all her might, Astrid shoved him over the railing, satisfied when she heard his body hit the beach below.
For a moment, she looked up and met Kikita's steady and determined gaze.
While the shouting and chaos continued with each man and woman fighting the attackers on the ship's deck, Astrid looked for the next clerk to kill.
CHAPTER 63
Hours later, Astrid stood alone on the island's beach, surrounded by the slain bodies of more than a hundred Krystr clerks. The frigid sea water lapped back and forth across her feet, sunk into the coarse wet sand. Each gentle wave shocked her like a slap across the face, icy and unrelenting.
The horizon glowed with early morning light, and the sun would soon crawl higher in the sky. Already, the air warmed, although Astrid felt numb and cold.
Seabirds screamed as they whirled in the sky above the beach. It wouldn't be long before distant carrion birds picked up the scent of death in the wind and hastened to come for the feast.
With a sudden chill, Astrid wondered if any lizards lurked on the island. Looking over her shoulder, she saw nothing but the stone mansion and Kikita standing at its entrance.
No. Any lizard living on this island would have come by now.
Like carrion birds, lizards could detect the scent of a fresh kill from far away. Twice each year, lizards swam across the sea separating the Northlands from the Midlands, so the shallowness of this water's passageway would pose no challenge to them.
And considering that many lizards were likely in the middle of their spring migration, dozens of them could arrive within a few hours.
“We have to leave,” Astrid whispered, looking across the water to the wild and untamed Midland shore.
A stirring on the beach caught her attention. Among the slain clerks bloodying the sand and sea, a young man raised his head and gazed cautiously all around him.
Astrid stood still when their eyes met across the stark distance between them. The young clerk froze as well, like a spider she’d once caught crawling up her arm as she awoke one morning long ago. Instead of killing it, she’d blown it off her arm and onto the dirt floor, letting it skitter away.
What have I become?
Astrid remembered the blood she’d drawn today, suddenly afraid of herself.
Before she could take another breath, the young clerk scrambled to his feet, and Astrid saw his brown robe soaked in blood. He stumbled toward the incoming tide, and threw himself into the narrow stretch of seaway that separated the island from the Midlands mainland.
The young clerk moved as if his life hung by a thread. He’d probably drown within minutes.
Shame washed over her. Astrid turned her back to the seaway. She couldn’t bear to watch another clerk die.
Facing the stone mansion, she yelled, “Kikita! We have to leave!”
Kikita waved her understanding and vanished inside the mansion.
Astrid walked into the sea water until it reached her chin, begging the water to wash away all the blood. She opened her mouth to wash out the iron taste of it. She scrubbed her arms and clothes on her body, shivering as the water stained red around her.
When she couldn't take the cold any longer, she backed up to the beach to let the weak sun dry her.
She didn't want to look at the landscape of death behind her. She didn't want to think about what had just happened. So she kept her feet where the tide could keep washing them clean, minute after minute. She stared at the Midlands shore, keeping one hand resting around Starlight's hilt in case the lizards came.
Several minutes later, Kikita joined Astrid's side. “They will join us soon,” Kikita said. “They have been thorough.”
“Why did we come so close to the island?” Astrid said. “Why did we provoke the clerks?”
“Opportunity.” Kikita spoke in an even tone and without regret. “Komdra learned that Mandulane is secreting Krystr clerks away on islands to protect the hordes of treasure they’ve stolen. Komdra believes we will need every advantage to defeat them. Gold and jewels will finance us for the days ahead and weaken Mandulane’s resources.”
“Is that why they fought? Why they climbed on board our ship?”
“I imagine fighting us might be less daunting than the wrath of Mandulane after failing to protect his wealth.”
Astrid stared at the bloodied beach. “Should we do something about the bodies? Burn them? Bury them? Cover them with stones?”
“Komdra says no. He says leave them.”
Astrid swallowed hard. “Lizards will find them. You know what will happen.”
Kikita nodded. “Everyone knows what will happen.”
“And then the carrion birds will come. When the lizards have finished, the birds will fly the bones high up in the air, drop them on the beach, and then eat the marrow out of them when they shatter.”
“Komdra knows. He says let it be a message to Mandulane and the Krystr soldiers.”
Astrid nodded. She'd thought as much. “We should leave now, before the lizards come.”
“I know.” Kikita looked over her shoulder toward the stone mansion. “They know, too.”
Astrid heard them chattering and laughing in the distance. Komdra and his men, as well as the Iron Maidens. A few had been injured during the battle with the Krystr clerks, but none had died or been seriously injured.
That came as no surprise. After all, none of the clerks had held weapons, unless a torch could be counted as one. They had killed a small army of unarmed men.
As if reading Astrid's face, Kikita said, “They attacked us. They could have let us pass in peace.”
“We had time to sail away. We could have simply left them behind.”
Kikita sighed. “Yes. And they would have sent word to Mandulane, who might then have cut us off before we could reach the Northlands.”
“Or perhaps not.”
A throng of Komdra's men and Iron Maidens rushed past Astrid and Kikita, their arms full of colorful cloth and hearty vegetables and silver bracelets. The clerks had most likely stolen their treasure from Midlanders and traveling Northlanders who wore their wealth on their arms. As they piled happily back onto the ship with their bounty, Komdra strolled up next to Astrid. He carried a wooden box made in the same shape of the stone mansion and painted to look like it.
Grinning, Komdra opened the lid to show Astrid and Kikita its contents: silver and gold ingots, coins, and jewelry, as well as precious gems.
Staring in disbelief, Astrid murmured, “That must be worth a fortune.”
Komdra giggled like a young girl in love for the first time. Replacing the lid, he placed the box on the sand, careful to keep it away from the incoming tide. He removed a silver brooch holding his shirt together at his neck and handed it to Astrid.
“He is grateful to you,” Kikita said.
Astrid stared at the silver brooch he placed in the palm of her hand. Made of thin strands of silver, the brooch took the shape of a dragon surrounded by two snakes. When Astrid first met DiStephan, he'd given this brooch to her as a silent message to the blacksmith Temple when the childseller peddled Astrid in Guell. If not for this brooch, Astrid never wou
ld have become a blacksmith, much less a dragonslayer. If not for this brooch, she might have died all those years ago.
Astrid pinned it to her own shirt, next to the Keeper of Limru pin.
Komdra nodded his happy approval and then spoke briefly. He picked up his treasure chest and boarded the ship with it.
Kikita followed, gesturing for Astrid to come with her.
But Astrid stood still, Komdra's words still ringing in her ears. Years ago when she'd first met him on his home island, she'd learned a few words of his language. Until now, she'd forgotten everything she'd learned. But she recognized what Komdra had just said.
Slaughter Island.
From his words and joyful grin, Astrid realized he had taken it upon himself to name this spit of land.
Taking one last look across the water at the wild Midlands coast, Astrid took care not to focus on the dozens of slain clerks littering the beach while she ran to keep up with the others. A sudden movement in the bushes lining the Midlands coast startled her, as if someone or something had just run through them.
Letting her gaze drift across the sea, Astrid realized she saw no sign of the injured young clerk who had thrown himself into the water.
CHAPTER 64
It took less than a day for the ship to sail through the narrow passageway between the western shores of the Midlands and the chain of islands off its coast. The passageway then opened up into the broad and choppy sea separating the Midlands from the Northlands. The sun beat down so strongly that Komdra's men stripped off their shirts, revealing muscles that rippled like waves across the sea. Weathered lines creased their brown faces, but their chests and backs were smooth and pale from the long winter now behind them.
Astrid stood at the railing, staring at the rhythmic movement of the sea, feeling its presence when it rocked the creaking wooden boards beneath her feet. Her mouth felt dry from the salt spray she'd unintentionally swallowed.
She stood with the wind in her face to carry away the lingering stench of blood. No matter how hard she'd scrubbed her skin with the seawater on the beach of Slaughter Island, the blood of the clerks she'd killed remained in her hair, her clothes, and the pores of her skin.
Kikita joined her side. “They are ready.”
Astrid nodded, and the two women crossed the deck and walked down the stairs to the lower deck. A sudden draft kicked up a stale but pungent scent of horse musk. Even though they'd brought no animals with them, Astrid knew many men often sailed with horses tied up on the lower deck. Although the floor had been swept clean, she imagined bits of hay used to keep the floors tidy had probably fallen into crevices between the planks, keeping the scent embedded in the ship's flesh.
Komdra and Dirin perched on a couple of barrels, laughing loudly. They looked up, smiling, when the women walked before them.
“I have a plan,” Astrid said. “At this time of year, lizards are entering the Northlands. They are likely finishing their swim across the sea and stepping on shore as we speak. We will land while they are still near the shores. Why not drive them back and use them to guard against the Krystr invasion?”
Kikita stared at Astrid for a moment. “Use them?”
“Yes.”
Kikita relayed Astrid’s idea. Dirin translated for Komdra, and both men shared another laugh. After another chain of translations, Kikita turned to Astrid. “They think you've gone mad.”
“Nonsense. It's a good plan.”
“How do you plan to control the lizards?” Kikita said dryly.
“We could build a great wall to fence them in. Or we could chain and collar them. We could stake the chains to the ground and give them enough lead to cover a good amount of territory.”
“It would take the entire population of the Northlands a year to build such a wall. And probably just as long to forge chains long enough for the lizards to roam and strong enough to keep them staked to the ground. I simply do not see how any of this is possible, and neither does Komdra.”
Astrid considered Kikita's words. The Iron Maiden probably spoke the truth. Astrid longed to harness the power of lizards and use them against Mandulane and his Krystr soldiers, but the task seemed impossible. “Then what are we going to do?”
Komdra spoke solemnly.
Dirin listened and then translated for Kikita.
“Komdra says we should split up,” Kikita told Astrid. “Once we arrive in the Northlands, we can form small groups. There are enough Iron Maidens who speak either Northlander or Midlander so that each group can spread the word about the inevitability of the Krystr invasion. Instead of trying to line the coasts of the Northlands with dragons, we can line it with Northlander men. We can stop the Krystrs as soon as they attempt to invade.”
Of course. Many Northlanders in the southern region speak Midlander. The groups with a Midlander speaker can cover the lower Northlands while the rest of us can travel through the upper Northlands.
“All right,” Astrid said. “But tell Komdra one more thing.”
Kikita spoke of the decision to Dirin, and then waited for Astrid to speak again.
“Tell everyone that I will no longer kill lizards. And they should only kill a lizard in self defense.” For a moment, Astrid questioned her own decision. But she spoke it out loud before she could change her mind. “The Northlanders are better served by risking a lizard attack because the lizards may attack the Krystr soldiers instead.”
When Komdra understood Astrid's words, he laughed once more and clapped her back heartily when he replied.
Kikita hesitated before making the translation. “Komdra says you are no longer a dragonslayer but now a slayer of men, like him.”
Astrid wanted to say she was merely a blacksmith, but the words wouldn't come. Her hand, the one that had absorbed the stone of darkness, throbbed as an icy chill spread like frost throughout her body.
Komdra was right. Astrid had become a slayer of men.
After all these years, had her heritage finally caught up with her?
What if she was no better than the rest of the Scaldings?
What if she'd been right all those years ago when she believed herself to be nothing more than a monster?
A startled cry from one of Komdra’s men broke her concentration, and Astrid looked up to see a foreign ship cutting off their path.
The foreign ship bore the wide white sail with an image of a fish whose tail had been cut and formed into legs by the Krystr god.
CHAPTER 65
Mandulane stood in the middle of his ship while it cut cleanly through the sea toward the vessel carrying rebels.
He loved battle because it called for his finest clothes. This morning he’d taken his time dressing and selecting his garb.
Black leather shoes fastened with polished buckles, made by the finest cobbler in the Southlands. Billowy dark red pants imported from the Far East, sashed in matching material. A well-fitting linen shirt. A long, flowing black cloak fastened to his shoulders with a row of silver brooches, fashioned by the craftsmen of the Northlands and fancifully shaped like the dragons they so feared. And over the sleeves of his shirt, Mandulane wore dozens of silver bracelets on his upper arms and forearms, announcing to the world his wealth and power.
“Dunlop!” he shouted, while keeping an eye on the ship ahead.
“Yes, your lordship!” the young soldier called out as he raced across the rocking deck. Moments later, he knelt at Mandulane’s feet.
“Is that the one?”
“I believe so. Yes, sir!” Dunlop stared at the wooden floorboards. “The clerk is dead, but he claimed to see many women with swords and axes fighting alongside the men from the Western Islands. They must be the same women I encountered. And that dragonslayer woman.”
Mandulane grunted. In truth, the morning’s breakfast continued to disagree with him, but he enjoyed the way his grunt made the young man at his feet squirm. “I imagine this is proof they still live.”
Dunlop trembled. “Those women looked dead at the t
ime, your lordship.”
“Fine,” Mandulane shouted as the wind whipped around him, making his fine red pants dance around his legs. He closed his eyes briefly at the pleasure of the feel of the silky cloth against his skin. Going into battle always provided a fine excuse to parade about in eye-catching fashion.
“I suppose they pretended to be dead,” Dunlop said. “But those dragons were real, and they killed your soldiers.”
Had there been no wind, Mandulane would have spat at the reminder that a ragtag band of women who believed themselves to be warriors claimed responsibility for killing Krystr soldiers. The very idea was an affront against the Krystr god himself. “Never mind,” Mandulane said. “Rise to your feet and make your weapon ready.”
A crash filled the air when the two ships collided. Mandulane smiled with approval as Dunlop jumped up and followed the other soldiers who stormed aboard the enemy ship.
Chaotic shouts climbed above the waves that slapped against the sides of each vessel.
Mandulane strolled toward the bow of his own ship and watched the battle unfold, especially delighted when one of his men delivered blows at women who dared to think so high and mighty of themselves.
“Chop them down to size,” he said.
* * *
Dunlop’s heart raced when he jumped onto the enemy ship. Buoyed by waves, its deck rose to meet his feet sooner than he expected, and the sudden impact jammed his ankles. Dunlop cried out from the pain and dropped to his knees.
His fellow soldiers, as always, found an enemy to fight one-on-one.
Dunlop scanned the deck and saw a nearby woman taking an ax from beneath her belt and eyeballing the back of a Krystr soldier already embattled with an islander man.
Without taking the time to rise to his feet, Dunlop threw his body forward, grabbed the woman’s ankles, and jerked her legs out from under her. She gasped as she fell, and the impact of her body on the deck jarred her enough to loosen her grip on the ax.
Dunlop yanked it from her hand and then buried its blade in her stomach.
Her scream reminded him of sheep at slaughter time.