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

by Resa Nelson

  Mandulane doesn’t know how to use it. He doesn’t understand it’s a weapon that needs two hands on its grip.

  Astrid looked for a way to take advantage of his ignorance.

  Mandulane kept an easy grip on each sword, so nonchalant that he seemed to have no expectation of using either one. He spoke seductively, now holding the swords out to each side as if inviting Astrid once more to embrace him.

  For the first time, Astrid noticed the unusual nature of his beautiful outfit: a stunning blue robe with enormous sleeves that hung well beneath his outstretched arms. Astrid lowered her sword. She approached Mandulane and gestured her intent of accepting his embrace.

  Mandulane smiled in smug victory.

  But before he could put his arms around her, Astrid ducked under one of them, grabbing a handful of the gorgeous fabric hanging from his arm. Slipping behind his back, she grabbed the hanging sleeve from his other arm. She pulled it back with the other sleeve and pinned his arms in place. Astrid punched him in the lower back with Starlight’s pommel.

  Now startled and unbalanced, Mandulane toppled forward and landed on his face.

  Straddling his back, Astrid used Starlight to skewer the fabric of both sleeves and then twisted the sword.

  Mandulane wrenched himself away from Astrid, his hands still bound behind his back by her sword and his own mangled sleeves. He rolled onto his side and struggled to his feet.

  Astrid reached behind him and yanked Starlight free. She gripped its blade in both hands, shoved it against his shoulders, and knocked him to the ground again. She dropped to straddle his chest, pressing Starlight’s blade against his throat.

  A profound roar rose above the din of battle. Keeping Starlight’s blade pressed against the choking Mandulane’s throat, Astrid looked up to see a towering wall of water moving toward shore.

  “Taddeo?” Astrid said, startled by the sight but not surprised by it.

  His voice filled the space around her. “One final time,” an invisible Taddeo said, “choose who you are: mortal or dragon.”

  Astrid remembered a day, not so long ago, when she wished all the gods of the Northlands and Southlands and Midlands and all the rest of the world would rise up and demolish such wretched people as Mandulane, his Krystr soldiers, and the Krystr clerks. She’d wondered what it would feel like to stand among the gods and raise her sword to help them.

  I’m standing with them now. My wish has come true.

  Astrid smiled, realizing her life meant something.

  Choose who you are: mortal or dragon.

  Keeping the pressure on Mandulane and refusing to let him rise, Astrid watched the wall of water until it slammed into her. In that moment she realized, more than anything else, she wanted to be with her friends.

  She made her final choice.

  CHAPTER 57

  Astrid wondered if she was waking from a dream. Her head felt stuffed and groggy. She opened her eyes to a blinding light, and she couldn’t make out her surroundings or get her bearings.

  “Hello, Pigeon.”

  Astrid’s eyes widened at the sound of a voice she hadn’t heard in years. “DiStephan?”

  He laughed. “DiStephan the dragonslayer at your service.”

  The blinding light faded, and he stepped out of it as if emerging from fog. Grinning, he walked toward her until close enough to take her face in her hands and kiss her.

  All of it familiar, so familiar. His touch, his taste, his scent. Astrid melted into his arms, feeling home at last.

  Breaking away, she stared into his eyes. “Then I’m dead?”

  DiStephan shrugged. “Your spirit looks alive enough to me.”

  Astrid struggled to remember. What had happened last? Where had she been?

  The wall of water, which came to wash the Northlands clean.

  “I’m a ghost,” Astrid said. “Like you.”

  The light swirled around them like crows turning cartwheels in high winds. From within it, another voice spoke. “Dead. Ghost. This is too much talk. Why must you always talk so much? We have been waiting a great long time for you, and all you do is talk.”

  Astrid looked into the light, unable to see another form yet. Looking back at DiStephan, she said, “I know that voice, but I don’t remember who it is.”

  DiStephan’s grin widened.

  A petite woman with auburn hair flowing free stepped out of the light, hands on her hips, waving an irritated finger at Astrid. “All that time we spent, I am now so happy I could not understand a single word you said if all you do is speak nonsense all the time.”

  “Margreet,” Astrid whispered.

  Margreet cast an exasperated look at DiStephan, who laughed. “Of course,” Margreet continued. “If the gods had mercy they would let us keep our own languages instead of making us understand each other.”

  “Margreet!” Astrid shouted, running to the petite woman, wrapping her arms around her, and spinning, lifting her off the ground.

  “Mercy!” Margreet cried. “If you do not stop this dizzying nonsense I will become sick all over you!”

  Astrid stopped, wrapping her arms so tightly around Margreet that the woman gasped for air.

  “Astrid,” DiStephan said. “Don’t break her.”

  “Hello?” another voice called from the light.

  Margreet vanished into it for a few moments and reappeared, pulling a man with her.

  “Vinchi,” Astrid said, covering her mouth with her hands and letting tears spill from her eyes.

  Margreet shook her head in disbelief. “For a woman who claims that blacksmiths must not cry, you shed far too many tears.”

  DiStephan embraced Vinchi, saying, “Happy to see you, friend.”

  Wide-eyed, Vinchi stared at all of them. “Am I dreaming?”

  “Oh, yes,” Margreet said, linking her arm around Vinchi’s elbow. “This one has no faith in anything. He believes gods are nothing but silly whims. You think when we die we simply vanish like an extinguished fire, yes?” She kissed his cheek.

  “Please your gods, let me never come awake,” Vinchi whispered, placing a hand on Margreet’s arm.

  Looking from Vinchi to Astrid, Margreet said, “Like I have said, we have waited for you a great long time, DiStephan and me. I have waited the greatest time, but you are worth that time.”

  “Where are we?” Astrid said.

  “Together,” DiStephan said. “A great many of us. We’re all together.”

  The light faded enough for Astrid to see dozens of figures surrounding them. She called out once she recognized them. “Lenore! Randim! Donel!”

  “Mistress Dragonslayer!” Donel hurled himself at her, hugging tightly.

  Still in Donel’s arms, Astrid reached out to catch Lenore’s hand, squeezing it while her friend’s face lit up.

  Drifting out of Donel’s arms, Astrid looked at everyone surrounding her. “This is what I wanted,” she said, awash with joy. “For all of us to come together. I wanted Margreet and Vinchi to come to Guell.” Astrid hesitated, wondering if the dragon spirits of the world might have heard her wish and given her a way to make it come true. “But I suppose we’ve brought Guell to them instead.”

  The light faded even more so that they appeared to stand on a road made of it. Beyond them, Astrid saw other paths walked by other people in many different directions. On a nearby path, she noticed a man standing on its edge, seeming to stare at her.

  A man with lavender eyes.

  “Drageen,” Astrid said softly.

  He raised a hand in a farewell gesture and then turned to walk away, following a group of people who might have been the Scaldings.

  Astrid turned to DiStephan. “What of the others? Mandulane? The Krystrs?” She glanced at Margreet, not needing to speak out loud the name of the man who had married and killed Margreet: Gershon.

  DiStephan’s smile faded. “They have other places to go. Other things to do.”

  “And Mauri?”

  DiStephan’s expression
softened. “I suspect she took her path years ago. We might not see her again.”

  A little bit of Astrid’s heart broke, but she took solace in where she found herself. “We’ll stay together? All of us?”

  DiStephan nodded. “All of us.” He hesitated. “But there is something you should see first. Something else you should know.”

  Overwhelmed with the joy of having all her friends around her, Astrid couldn’t imagine what he meant. “What?”

  DiStephan cleared his throat. “The blood spilt by the Krystrs poisoned the land and water and air. That blood killed our homeland and could have killed the rest of the world. Taddeo and the other dragons did what they had to do to save themselves.” He paused. “The Northlands are gone. The Midlands and Southlands, too. Even the Western Islands.”

  “Gone,” Astrid repeated, letting the gravity of it all sink in. “Everyone is dead.”

  “Not entirely,” Margreet said. “All people elsewhere live. The Far East and Far Southlands. The Land of Ice.” She smiled. “And the Land of Vines. Because of you, these people live.”

  “Because of me?” Astrid frowned. “But what did I do?”

  “It’s something you left behind that is destined to help keep peace in the world and prevent anyone like Mandulane from rising to power again.” DiStephan took her hands in his. “This may startle you or even cause you grief at first, but I promise you will soon see the joy in it.”

  “And we can keep waiting until they can join us,” Margreet added.

  “They?” Astrid said, perplexed. “Who are you talking about?”

  Instead of answering, her friends simply smiled.

  The light surrounding them shifted, and Astrid saw black velvet night in all directions. Moments later, brilliant shining lights littered that velvet night.

  Astrid looked down at the path of light beneath their feet. “Are we standing on starlight?”

  DiStephan pointed beneath their feet, beyond the stars surrounding them.

  Astrid looked, at first puzzled by what she saw.

  But soon enough she came to understand it.

  CHAPTER 58

  A soft screech startled Killing Crow. He noticed a small pile of something … not seaweed … a short distance from his hiding place, where the line of tall grass ended and the beach began. The pile nestled close to the wooden dragon head embedded in the sand and reminded him of the dried skin a snake would leave behind after crawling out of it. But this pile looked far too large for a snake.

  Killing Crow considered easing from his hiding place to investigate the strange aftermath left on the beach by last night’s storm, but an inner feeling warned him to stay put. Killing Crow learned long ago to listen carefully to such feelings, so he remained still but ready to fight.

  Patience rewarded him.

  The pile wriggled, and the long tail of a lizard flopped out.

  Killing Crow leaned forward to get a better look. He recognized all animals that existed in the Shining Star Nation. Every animal was his brother or sister, a fellow spirit holding its own type of knowledge and wisdom. He knew many lizards but none this big! If the rest of the lizard proved to match the size of its tail, this lizard might be as large as …

  The dragons of the Great Waters Nation.

  But that nation lay far to the south in the Turtle Lands, a journey that took many, many days to travel. That nation had the vast warmth that dragons desired. Why would a dragon come to the Shining Star Nation?

  Perhaps it brings us wisdom we can learn from no one else.

  But Killing Crow remained still just in case he might be mistaken.

  The tail flopped back inside the large pile of dead skin, which trembled and then fell to one side.

  A few minutes later, a toddler crawled out of the pile, which collapsed in its wake. The child’s skin looked as pale as the sand, and even paler yellow hair curled in ringlets around its head.

  A shapeshifter. I have witnessed a dragon change into the shape of a child!

  Shapeshifters were rare, but he knew the stories of the shapeshifters who had once been members of the Shining Star Nation and understood the honor of being in the presence of one. Killing Crow frowned. But why has a shapeshifter come into our territory?

  The naked child stood on wobbly, pudgy legs. It faced away from Killing Crow so he could not tell its gender.

  “Da DAH!” the child cried, bouncing up and down on its legs. “Da DAH!” Seeming to wait for a response, the child looked around the beach, clapping its hands happily. “Da DAH!”

  Another voice called out, and a man scrambled up from the ocean’s edge as if he’d just swum in from it.

  Killing Crow lowered his position in the tall grass, making sure he could not be seen. He wrapped his hand about the handle of his stone knife, ready to attack.

  * * *

  Trep believed he’d heard someone call his name. He thought he’d seen someone floating in the tide and holding onto a piece of the ship that had broken apart during last night’s storm. But it had been only a large clump of seaweed. “Peppa!” he called out.

  “Da DAH!” a young voice cried joyfully.

  Trep stood still, remembering what Kikita told him the day she’d placed the egg in his care.

  All of the world’s spirits created Dragon’s Head to protect Wendill and make our enemies believe Benzel of the Wolf had successfully killed him, Kikita had explained. This means Dragon’s Head has great powers that affect anyone it absorbs in different ways. For Wendill, it kept his body alive but aged him greatly. When I saw Drageen emerge I knew he had changed. And when Astrid let herself become part of Dragon’s Head, it detected she carried a new being with our blood. Dragon’s Head protected her child by advancing its age to give it a better chance of survival. The child will progress the way Astrid did after she was born: first in a dragon’s body and then in mortal shape.

  “Da DAH!”

  Trep searched for the source of that voice but couldn’t find it. He stood still, letting the incoming tide lap around his ankles, the water cold as ice. He shivered in the bright warmth of the day.

  Astrid doesn’t remember her first few years of life as a dragon, Kikita had told him. And like Drageen before her, she was locked safely away where no one would learn the truth about her until she had changed into mortal form. Only then were people other than her mother or father allowed to see her. Not even Drageen saw her until she looked mortal, just like no one saw Drageen until he took mortal shape.

  A small movement caught Trep’s eye. There!

  Trep ran toward the child standing by the pile of dead skin and the ship’s dragon figurehead.

  “Little One!” Trep called while he ran.

  The child squealed with joy, reaching chubby hands toward him in delight. “Da DAH!”

  Trep slid down onto the sand and scooped the child into his arms. The child he’d first kept as an egg and then as a young lizard inside his pouch.

  Astrid’s child.

  His child. His little girl.

  She squealed, wriggling and full of excitement in his arms. He released his hold on her and looked at the little girl. She clapped her hands happily against his cheeks, beaming while she looked into his eyes. “Da Dah.”

  “Yes, Little One,” Trep said, overwhelmed with relief at having found her.

  Had she been a boy, Trep would have named her after the man who most likely had been the greatest shaping force in Astrid’s life. Temple the blacksmith saved Astrid’s life by teaching his beloved craft to her.

  But the name Trep would now give his child was one that he believed Astrid would have chosen herself. “Yes, Margreet. Da Dah is here. And let’s see if we can find your aunt.”

  Picking little Margreet up in his arms, Trep stood and shouted, “Peppa!”

  “Peppa!” little Margreet crowed, mimicking her father.

  Trep stood in place and turned slowly in a circle, calling his sister’s name.

  Something moved behind a long curved
plank that had once been part of their ship, now lying on the sand.

  Holding Margreet tightly, Trep ran, digging in hard with every step. He found his sister crumpled behind the wooden remnant. “Peppa.”

  Moving stiffly, she sat up. “What happened?”

  “The ship broke apart in the storm.” Trep smiled. “We’re safe now.”

  Looking up at him for the first time, Peppa stared wide-eyed. “Whose child is that?”

  Little Margreet wriggled, squealing with further excitement, pointing to the ground.

  “Of course,” Trep said. He lowered the girl to the ground. “She wants to say hello.”

  But the moment little Margreet’s bare feet touched the sand, she waddled toward the grass at the shoreline.

  “Look!” Trep said, swelling with pride. “She walks by herself so soon!”

  Peppa sat up taller. “Who is she?”

  Trep crept behind his daughter, beaming with every step she took.

  Little Margreet ignored him, half walking, half stumbling forward with every bold step. Giggling wildly, she toddled into the tall grass.

  Trep froze at the sight of a dark man who stood behind the tall grass. The stranger looked down at little Margreet.

  She wrapped her arms around the stranger’s leg, still giggling.

  Trep reached for the dagger tucked under his belt only to discover he’d lost it.

  Of course. The storm had stolen it from him.

  * * *

  Killing Crow didn’t know what to do in this peculiar situation. A shapeshifter clung to him, hugging his leg as if she already knew him.

  The shapeshifter’s father, most likely a shapeshifter himself, faced him. Killing Crow did not understand the man’s expression.

  But then a woman walked up from behind them. Could she be the child’s mother?

  The woman stared at Killing Crow for a long moment. Her eyes, strangely blue like the sky above. Her long pale hair as wet as seaweed. She shivered violently.

  Without hesitation, Killing Crow acted toward her in the same way he would treat any woman in the Shining Star nation or from any nation in the Great Turtle Lands. He lifted the shirt of deerskin he wore over his head and handed it toward her.