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

by Resa Nelson

  Mandulane inhaled sharply and resisted the urge to take his sword from its sheath and run the clerk through with it.

  Mandulane reminded himself that Clerk Thomas had gathered valuable information from the Northlanders plotting against him about the shores that now lay ahead. Clerk Thomas learned the tricky path through the seaway that would allow Mandulane to steer the ship through the shallow, dangerous waters without ripping the bottom of the vessel open on the sharp, rocky formations hidden from sight.

  Even better, Clerk Thomas overheard the Northlanders planning to send one of their own to a Western Island in search of ships to steal. Just as the clerk advised, they seemed to have intersected that stolen ship. “Fine,” Mandulane said with a tired sigh. Obviously, Clerk Thomas wanted attention. “Tell them.”

  The clerk’s face brightened with joy. “Thank you, Lord Mandulane. I will do as you say. I will not let you down.”

  “For the sake of Krystr,” Mandulane said with a heavy sigh. “Do not forget that I am your warrior king.”

  Clerk Thomas dropped to his knees and bowed until his forehead touched the deck. “Of course,” he said. “Of course, of course, of course.”

  Mandulane kicked the clerk in the head, although not hard enough to knock him out. “Quit your yammering and get to it!”

  Clerk Thomas kept his eyes lowered. He bowed and kept bowing while rising to his feet. Without another word, he turned toward the soldiers and skittered across the deck to join them.

  Mandulane wrapped an arm around the mast as if it were his closest friend. The sails above him snapped in the wind. He smiled at the coastline ahead, growing closer with every heartbeat.

  What a choice: to invade or to intercept the Northlander ship. Or perhaps to do both.

  He loved this part of any invasion. Approaching a new region by sea or land. Seeing its stillness. Knowing its people either prepared for bed or would soon be rising to face a day they could not anticipate and would struggle to accept. The ease with which his men killed those people. And the even greater ease with which Mandulane would manipulate and control those who survived.

  Looking at the coast ahead reminded him of his sweetest victory: the Temple of Limru. That had been a lovely day. Mandulane led his men quietly through the forest, and they pounced upon the unarmed and unsuspecting Keepers of the temple. They executed a fine slaughter with no survivors, although Mandulane kept a nagging suspicion that one of the Keepers might have slipped away through the forest.

  He chuckled, remembering his greatest stroke of genius: hanging the dead bodies by tying their hair to the limbs of their precious trees.

  What a glorious day that was.

  Mandulane mesmerized himself with fond memories. He leaned his head against the mast as if placing his head on the shoulder of someone he loved.

  Several minutes later, Mandulane found himself rudely interrupted when shouts from his own men filled the air.

  An arrow buzzed past Mandulane’s face, pierced his hand, and impaled it to the mast.

  CHAPTER 43

  After letting loose the first arrow, Drageen knew he succeeded because the man standing by the Krystr ship’s mast stood in place as if he were bound to it.

  Glee placed the next arrow into his free hand.

  Drageen notched it, keeping his gaze steady on the Krystr ship. During his boyhood, he learned to use all manner of weapons and kept in practice ever since, convinced that a day would come when his life would depend on those skills. Years ago he purchased this ship to pursue Astrid, stashing all types of weapons on board. Now he thanked himself for his foresight.

  Taking aim, he held the bow steady with his left palm, resting his right thumb against his chin and letting the bow’s string pull taut against the two fingertips curled around it. Keeping his knees relaxed and feeling the deck roll beneath his feet, Drageen waited for the right moment and straightened his right fingers to let the arrow fly.

  It arced through the air and ripped through the center of the Krystr ship’s largest sail. The wind tore the sail apart. Pieces of it snapped as loud as thunder. A Krystr soldier screamed, most likely finding himself the recipient of Drageen’s second arrow.

  Drageen extended his right hand until he felt the shaft of the next arrow slap against his skin. For the next several minutes he shot arrow after arrow, first puncturing and destroying every sail on the Krystr ship, and then felling soldier after soldier.

  Although some enemy arrows launched in response, most fell short or wide of Drageen’s ship. A few clattered harmlessly on deck, landing nowhere near Drageen or the alchemists.

  The tattered remnants of the enemy ship’s sails fluttered helplessly in the wind, keeping it at a standstill.

  The wind picked up, filling the large, square sail of Drageen’s sleek Northlander ship and speeding it toward his enemy. Pausing, he smiled and spoke softly to himself. “And so they came to claim what was theirs; bashing, thrashing, and crashing like gods.”

  Glee nudged his arm, shouting to make herself heard above the wind. “That’s the last of the arrows!”

  Drageen relaxed his grip on the bow and shoved it at Glee. Squinting at the enemy ship that grew closer by the moment, it looked like he’d single-handedly killed or maimed every man on board.

  Still, it’s foolish to assume the best when the worst might be lurking around the next corner.

  “Have you and your sisters any weapons?”

  Glee shook her head and shouted again. “Only our craft. Would diversions be of help?”

  Hope shuddered through Drageen’s body, and he grinned at the alchemist. He told her how the alchemists could work their skills.

  In a flash, Glee gathered her sisters.

  Bee yanked out all the tools impaling the bun on top of her head, and her white hair fell to her shoulders.

  Fee and Glee raced below deck for a moment and reemerged soon, their arms cradling containers of potions stocked on board years ago by Bee. The alchemists gathered in a circle and knelt on the deck, hurriedly putting a concoction together.

  Drageen cried, “Hold on!” and gripped a side railing to steady himself, bracing for the worst as his Northlander ship smashed into the side of the enemy Krystr ship.

  * * *

  Infuriated, Mandulane wrapped his free hand around the feathers at the end of the arrow that impaled his other hand to the mast. Attempting to break the end of the arrow off, his first attempt merely bent it, sending a shock wave of pain through his impaled hand. “Help me!” he shouted at the nearest fallen soldier, who had landed near Mandulane’s feet.

  The soldier didn’t respond. Mandulane kicked him in the head. “Get up and help me!”

  Still, the Krystr soldier failed to move. His skin had a grayish tone.

  “You are not dead!” Mandulane yelled, kicking the soldier again for good measure. “Do as I say. I command it!”

  Mandulane took a quick glance around him, stupefied to see at least one arrow penetrating every Krystr soldier he’d brought on board. Most of them looked lifeless, while others were impaled to the deck and writhed in pain.

  But then Mandulane spotted Clerk Thomas huddled in a corner, weeping and covering his face with his hands.

  “Clerk!” Mandulane roared, even more furious to see the clerk unharmed. “Get over here!”

  Clerk Thomas let his hands fall away from his face, and looked up. His face reddened and his weepy expression made him look like a frightened child. The clerk shook his head, refusing to budge.

  Mandulane pointed at the oncoming Northlander ship, drawing dangerously near. “Do you think they will let you live?” he shouted at Clerk Thomas. “If you do not release me right now, I will kill you myself before they have the chance!”

  Clerk Thomas’s eyes grew round and startled. He looked like a rabbit spotting its hunter, not knowing whether to stay still or bolt. With a terrified glance at the Northlander ship, the clerk crawled across the deck toward the mast, keeping his head low and an eye open for
flying arrows.

  This is why I hate clerks. They preach about the wickedness of women, but clerks are just as cowardly as any woman I’ve ever met.

  “Stand on your feet and act like a man!”

  Clerk Thomas acted as if he hadn’t heard Mandulane’s words, but Mandulane knew better. The clerk simply pretended and would later put on an act for anyone who would listen, proclaiming his innocence.

  But he succeeded in crawling across the deck and then stood up. The clerk kept the mast and Mandulane between himself and the line of fire, even though the onslaught of arrows had stopped.

  “Snap the shaft in two,” Mandulane said, pointing at the arrow impaling his hand to the mast. “It’s a job for two hands, not one.”

  “I can’t reach that far.” Clerk Thomas’s voice trembled.

  “Then come face me! They’ve run out of arrows. Hurry!” Mandulane willed himself to be calm. In a steady voice, he said, “Do it now and I will forgive you and let you live. Wait another moment, and I will kill you before I kill any of them.”

  Clerk Thomas moved faster than Mandulane had ever seen before. First, the clerk positioned himself next to Mandulane and kept his gaze straight ahead at the oncoming Northlander ship. He placed both hands on the arrow’s shaft. His first attempt merely bent it more, causing Mandulane to bite back the pain. But the clerk’s second attempt broke the wooden shaft in half.

  Gritting his teeth, Mandulane slid his impaled hand along the length of the shaft to free it, blood pouring from the wound. Shoving the bloody hand in the clerk’s face, Mandulane shouted, “Fix it!”

  To Clerk Thomas’s credit, he dropped to his knees and ripped off a strip from a dead soldier’s shirt. Within moments, he wrapped and tied the makeshift bandage around Mandulane’s hand.

  When Mandulane placed his good hand on the pommel of the sword sheathed at his side, the ship shook so hard that its momentum knocked him and the clerk to the deck floor.

  Looking up, Mandulane saw that the Northlander ship had rammed his own.

  Moments later, a cloud of red fog poured across the deck and blinded him.

  CHAPTER 44

  Northlanders and their alchemy, Mandulane thought. Cowards!

  The deck rocked beneath him, and Mandulane steadied himself on his hands and knees. He considered his options at breakneck speed.

  Enormous billows of thick red fog spilled across the deck of the Krystr ship.

  “Mandulane!” Clerk Thomas shouted, hidden within the red fog. “Where are you?”

  Ah. He unwittingly provides a distraction for the Northlanders. Perhaps the clerk is worth something after all.

  Mindful to make no sound, Mandulane crept away from the clerk’s mawkish cries. He edged away from the point of the ship’s impact. He felt his way across the deck floor, unable to see anything and at the same time recognizing the advantage of unexpected protection.

  Squinting through the red fog, Mandulane saw it swirl around the direction of Clerk Thomas’s voice and rise above it. Mandulane remained under the cover of a bank of low-lying patches.

  The rising fog looked like burning embers, clearing away from Clerk Thomas and revealing his presence. It split into long ribbons, which twisted together into the shape of a gigantic sword.

  Clerk Thomas screamed, and the ethereal sword took a wide, sweeping swing at his head. Ducking in time to prevent being decapitated, Clerk Thomas raced toward the railing and vaulted over it.

  A loud splash told Mandulane the clerk had abandoned ship.

  The Krystr warrior king felt no surprise. It’s what clerks were good for: choosing cowardice.

  What does it matter? I’m the greatest warrior of all. I have no need for useless clerks.

  Mandulane sometimes heard stories of Northlander alchemy but never believed any to be true. This rolling red fog had to be some kind of trickery.

  A Northlander man jumped from his ship onto the deck of Mandulane’s vessel. “And so they came,” the Northlander man said in Mandulane’s language, “to claim what was theirs; bashing, thrashing, and crashing like gods.”

  Mandulane crawled behind the mast, taking a moment to assess the situation.

  Like most men from his region, the Northlander stood tall with fair skin. However, unlike other blond Northlanders, this man’s soft brown hair fell in wisps to his shoulders. And if Mandulane’s quick glance and good vision proved to be correct, the Northlander’s eyes were lavender.

  A Scalding.

  Mandulane fought a wave of nerves.

  How did a Scalding know I would be here?

  Like everyone else from the Southlands to the Midlands, Mandulane knew of the horrors committed by the Scalding family of Tower Island. They’d battled to conquer and claim the island that once belonged to dragons, the only mortals to ever conquer dragons. They’d earned their family name by pouring boiling oil or water or some such thing from the height of their tower home upon any fools attacking from below, scalding and killing them.

  They’d even taken one of their own girl children, put her in a cage with a dragon, and let her be chewed up by it. Instead of killing her, the dragon left her covered with scars.

  Mandulane shuddered. Of all the places in the world, he only dreaded attacking the Northlands, all because of the Scaldings. He considered bypassing the Northlands altogether, or at least waiting until he became the warrior king of the rest of the world before attempting an attack on the region dominated by Scaldings.

  Slow footsteps thumped across the deck. Staying low, Mandulane peered around the mast.

  A wave of intense black smoke rolled around the Scalding, who sniffed and searched like a hunting dog. “Show yourself, coward,” he said.

  The Scalding held a dragonslayer’s sword with both hands, and a red gemstone glinted from its hilt.

  The wind flapped the ripped sails above Mandulane’s head. His hand grazed a rope lying on the deck.

  A sure sign from the Krystr god! A gift. An unexpected weapon. Mandulane shrugged off his nerves and fear of the Scaldings. Wrapping his hand around the rope, not knowing or caring if it had been ripped free or was still attached to a sail, Mandulane jumped to his feet and whipped it at the Scalding’s face.

  Startled, the Scalding stepped back in time to evade the rope. He yelled, “Alchemist!”

  Mandulane drew his sword, but the black smoke curled into the form of an enormous dragon. Red fog formed two glaring eyes.

  Trickery!

  Mandulane considered the lingering, low-lying red fog and how it covered the dead and dying bodies of his Krystr soldiers. One false step and he could trip over them, giving the Scalding the opportunity to move in for the kill.

  Standing in place, Mandulane swung his sword in broad, sweeping strokes to cut through the dragon made of smoke, cleaving it into pieces that hovered for a moment in mid-air before dissipating.

  The Scalding opened his mouth again, but before he could say anything he fell into the clearing smoke and fog.

  Clerk Thomas, drenched from the sea, held onto the Scalding’s ankle with both hands.

  The Scalding thumped face first onto the deck, startled and disoriented. His sword clattered upon the wooden planks, bouncing away from his hands.

  Seizing the opportunity, Mandulane leapt across the bodies between them and shoved his sword toward the Scalding’s back.

  But the tip and sharp edges of Mandulane’s sword merely cut the cloth of the Scalding’s shirt, leaving his skin intact.

  The Scalding tried to wrench free of Clerk Thomas’s grip without luck. Frantic, the Scalding reached for his dragonslayer’s sword, touching the pommel with his outstretched fingertips.

  Mandulane hit the Scalding in the head with his pommel, stunning the Northlander long enough for the rolling deck to allow the dragonslayer’s sword to slide away.

  Raising his sword high above, Mandulane brought it straight down upon the Scalding’s back only to watch it graze off, leaving him untouched.

  Terror gripped
Mandulane. What kind of trickery kept a man safe from the cutting edge of a sword?

  Dazed, the Scalding struggled to free himself from the steady grasp of Clerk Thomas. At the same time, the Scalding kept reaching for the dragonslayer’s sword. His pant leg had ridden up, revealing the bare skin into which Clerk Thomas dug his fingers, his nails raking the skin and leaving bloody trails.

  Mandulane brightened with hope. Raising his sword high once more, the Krystr warrior brought it down with all his might across the knees of the Scalding, cleaving his legs in half.

  Clerk Thomas looked at his own arms, now covered in the Scalding’s blood, and fainted.

  With a shriek that sounded more surprised than pained, the Scalding looked down at the clean cut separating him from his lower legs, now trapped under Clerk Thomas’s unconscious body. Finding himself free of the clerk’s grasp, the Scalding placed his hands at the remnants of his knees, shouting at them in the Northlander tongue.

  Astonished, Mandulane watched the Scalding’s leg stumps cover themselves with new skin, halting the flow of blood. Mandulane had heard rumors of strange powers possessed by the Scaldings and other Northlanders but never believed them to be true. Not until witnessing them with his own eyes.

  But Mandulane had no fear of such powers. They simply angered him.

  The Scalding used his arms to drag himself toward the dragonslayer’s sword, pushing himself along with the stumps of his knees.

  Dropping his own sword to the deck, Mandulane straddled the crawling Scalding, scooped his own arms underneath his enemy’s armpits, and hauled him overboard into the ocean below.

  Mandulane paused long enough to watch the Scalding disappear beneath the waves.

  Mandulane retrieved his own sword and grabbed the Scalding’s sword with the other. He walked over the dead and dying Krystr soldiers and left an unconscious Clerk Thomas behind.

  Taking a quick leap, Mandulane boarded the Northlander’s ship and found it deserted, except for three wisps of stray smoke. For the first time, he noticed another Krystr ship behind the Northlander ship. No matter how hard he squinted, that ship sailed too far behind to determine who might be on board. He looked up toward its mast, startled to see the Krystr flag had been removed.