by Resa Nelson
Let the fool pray…as long as he follows my lead.
“You can ask the Mighty Emperor to watch over the merchants and help them find out if a demon exists,” the empress said. “Or the Mighty Emperor could show them the way to the strange house that looks like a toad.”
Emperor Po smiled. “I have something else in mind.”
CHAPTER 12
The next morning, a 30-year-old man, Sven, stood at the edge of a high cliff overlooking the great western sea bordering the southwest corner of the Northlands. “I don’t how it can be possible,” he said to his father, standing by his side.
“Does it matter?” the older man said. “It looks real enough.”
The rumor had found them days ago when their large extended family traversed the southern coast of their homeland. Even at such an adult age, Sven longed to have a more normal life than the nomadic one of his family. He envied farmers who lived in the same homestead inherited from their parents. He longed for a boring life of planting and harvesting and marrying a local girl. He even envied merchants who traveled most of the year but returned home to settle in one place for the winter.
Even that would be better than constantly being on the move.
But maybe that will change now. Maybe it’ll change for good.
“You can see it’s a new island,” his father continued. “I know these coasts, and there’s never been an island there before.”
Sven stared at the unusual sight in the distance. He couldn’t remember an island being in this particular place in the ocean. It stood far enough in the distance that little on the island could be seen other than the obvious: a peculiar tower that gleamed as if it were made of gold.
His family counted on that appearance being true.
On the rocky beach below, the youngest men in his family waited by the ship for which they’d traded yesterday and then sailed until they spotted the island.
Sven appreciated his father’s wisdom of seeking higher ground to gain a better vantagepoint. From here, the island appeared deserted. From here, it would be impossible to miss the gleam of weapons in the sunlight, but there were none to be seen. Only the tower glistened.
“Should we wait until tomorrow?” Sven said.
His father crossed his arms, still staring at the island. “No need. The boat can get us there before nightfall. If the island’s occupied, we’ll have enough daylight to decide whether it’s more prudent to fight for it or give up and come back.” He nudged Sven with glee. “And if no one’s home, we’ll claim it and move in.”
As always, the man’s ease of taking something that didn’t belong to him troubled Sven. Unfortunately, no one else in his extended family ever seemed troubled by anything. Sven had spent a lifetime being ridiculed by his own kin for his sensitive feelings, and so he often kept them secret. Up until this moment, he’d dreamed of finding the right circumstances—perhaps the right village and the right girl—of running away from his family and changing his name so they couldn’t ever find him.
At the same time, the distant island appealed to Sven. He wondered if it might be time to agree with his father for once.
What if the island is vacant? If we’re the first people there, doesn’t that mean it’s rightfully ours? It’s not as if we’d be taking it from anyone.
Sven shuffled his feet. “Do you think there might be some type of fresh water on the island?”
“Probably. Even if there’s not, it’s easy to collect plenty of rainwater. Remember how often it rains in this part of the country,”
“We’d need farmland. Some way of growing crops.” The more Sven looked at the distant island, the more he liked it. “And some pastures for grazing. We’d need to raise sheep or cattle. At the very least, some pigs.”
“We’ll find all that out soon enough.” His father chuckled. “I knew you’d warm up to the idea of having the same place where you can rest your head at night.”
Sven nodded. “I do.” He hesitated when worry nagged at him. “And yet I can’t help but wonder how such a strange place came to be. How can we be sure there’s no bad magic associated with it?”
“We can’t. But we can go take a look and find out if anything seems off-kilter.” His father gave Sven another friendly nudge. “Don’t worry so much, son. Life is about taking chances and being willing to fail if things go wrong. You can’t live your life hiding under a blanket and pretending you’re safe.”
On one hand, Sven agreed with his father. Hiding under blankets was for children, and Sven took pride in being a man.
On the other hand, he wondered if maybe he should have taken a different kind of chance on one of the villages they’d passed through and be farming his own land with a good wife by his side right now.
A familiar and terrible memory lurked at the edge of his mind. Like always, Sven shook it off.
The past is past. The best I can do now is move forward with the best of intentions.
Sven gestured toward the sloping side of the cliff that led down to the beach. “Let’s go see what’s on that island.”
* * *
Just as Sven’s father predicted, the small Northlander ship arrived at the island by the time the sun dimmed that afternoon. The handful of family members disembarked and explored the island. His father directed the others to investigate the island perimeter, fields, and pastures, while choosing to inspect the tower with Sven. It looked like a child of the gods had made it at the beach by dribbling wet sand in a stack. Seemingly shaped by nature, the tower’s surface looked bumpy and uneven.
A large and flat area stood in front of the tower. Sven walked across it. “This could be used as a courtyard. We could surround it with houses.” He walked up to the tower’s exterior, where beams of sunlight bounced off its golden surface. Sven ran his hand across it, comforted by its cool touch. “This feels like real gold.”
His father joined Sven’s side. “It looks like real gold.” He clapped a strong hand on Sven’s back. “Our family has just found its fortune.” He gestured toward an opening into the tower that stood as high as a doorway. “Let’s find out if anyone’s inside.”
Although Sven felt relaxed and confident when he followed his father inside the tower, that feeling soon wore off. Its interior made him feel uneasy, even though Sven saw no reason why it should.
Everything looked as if it had been carved by water, like a river’s current polishing the rocks over which it runs. A winding staircase climbed up to the top of the tower, where sunlight peeked through a small opening in its roof. Narrow hallways flanked the staircase. Halfway up, a walkway and a second set of stairs branched from the main steps and led into a large globe attached to the tower wall like a goiter on an old man's neck.
“This is no accident of nature,” Sven said. “Someone carved this.”
His father laughed. “Impossible! It would take 100 men 100 years to create such a thing of beauty and grace. I’ve seen the ocean carve wonders even greater than this one.”
“Hello?” Sven called. He took a step back toward the entrance in case it should become necessary to make a run for it. “Is anyone here?”
Both men stood quiet, and the wind whistled down the stairway from the opening in the roof above.
A chilly breeze tickled the back of Sven’s neck. He shuddered at its touch. He thought he heard something rustle. “Hello! Who’s there?”
No answer.
“See?” his father said. “There’s no one here because no one built this tower. Obviously, we’re the first to find it. That makes it ours.”
Sven thought he heard something sigh. “I don’t think we’re safe here.”
“You don’t think we’re safe anywhere. But I have an idea. Sooner or later, people will find out we’re here. We should change our family name.”
Sven gave his father a startled look. “Again?”
“To something that will make it clear no one should challenge our claim to this island.”
Sven scoffed. “Why no
t use what they called us in the last place after we poured boiling water on the people who attacked us?”
“You mean it as a jest,” his father said with a smile. “But it’s a fine idea. From now on, we’re the Scaldings.” Still talking, he left the tower and strolled across the area that would someday make a fine courtyard.
Sven turned to follow, but halted at the sound of a whisper. Too terrified to move, he strained to make out the words but couldn’t.
The whisper died.
It’s my imagination, that’s all.
Looking back, Sven saw a shadowy opening. Letting his curiosity lead, he walked toward it until he saw that it opened into a dark hall with stairs going below ground.
A burst of cold air flew out from the shadowy opening, and it reeked of the stench of something dead in the ocean.
Sven stifled a cry of terror and ran out of the tower and back into the safety of the sunlight outdoors.
CHAPTER 13
The next few years were hard on Benzel. On one hand, he felt honored to be part of the process of choosing a new dragonslayer to replace Sinchetto. On the other hand, Benzel felt he wasted time in the Southlands that he should be using to hunt down the berserkers he needed to kill. At least word had been sent to Hidden Glen, so Snip knew Benzel still lived and why he was forced to stay in the Southlands for such a long time.
Benzel accepted a horse given to him by Master Paldi as compensation for the years he’d dedicated to the dragonslayers.
Now, Benzel rode into the Northlands alongside Chelli, the new dragonslayer he’d helped choose.
Master Paldi had also accepted Benzel’s request to train alongside the new dragonslayers. The master had been surprised until Benzel explained that he had no intention of becoming a dragonslayer. After having seen a dragon attack Sinchetto, Benzel merely wanted to know how to use a sword against a dragon should the need ever arise again.
While training, Benzel came to appreciate the reason for his presence. The few dozen dragonslayers-in-training had similar skills but very different temperaments. Some exhibited an obsession with chasing women, and Benzel didn’t want to let those men anywhere near Snip or any other Northlander women he knew. While most had sunny dispositions, a few were surly, and Benzel believed that would cause conflict among the Northlanders the new dragonslayer would be assigned to protect. Benzel came to appreciate the easy-going nature of most Southlanders, but some of the candidates were so relaxed that he thought his fellow Northlanders would find it difficult to believe such candidates capable of slaying a dragon.
Chelli had the perfect balance of a pleasant nature combined with dedication to perfecting his fighting skills and a strong interest in protecting others.
At the same time, Chelli was a talker. From the time of his selection as the new dragonslayer to leading their horses off the ship that brought them from the Southlands, Chelli talked night and day about himself. As much as he liked the new dragonslayer, Benzel felt relieved that once he introduced him to the first village on his route—Benzel’s home village—it would then be someone else’s turn to accompany Chelli to the next village.
By the time they traveled the roads leading from the Northlander port city of Gott, Chelli turned his attention toward Benzel.
“We’re heading toward your home? What is the name again?” Chelli said.
“Hidden Glen.” The tremor in his voice surprised Benzel. He cleared his throat and hoped Chelli hadn’t noticed.
“You fear something,” Chelli said, his voice full of concern. “No need for that. I’m here. I can protect you if we meet a dragon on the way.”
Benzel meant to say something reassuring but mumbled instead.
“You think now of Sinchetto?” Chelli said. “No need for that. He died a brave man, and you did a brave thing to help him die. You must have found a peculiar dragon because Sinchetto was a great slayer. I doubt there are that many peculiar dragons here in the Northlands. No need to worry, my friend.”
Surprised by the way Chelli’s words made him feel calm, Benzel found it easier to speak. “It isn’t that. It took years to replace Sinchetto. What if a dragon attacked my village? What if it killed my family?”
What if a dragon killed Snip? How could I forgive myself for leaving her behind?
“I see your worry now,” Chelli said. “You lost a home once. You think it will happen again.”
His words startled Benzel, who had been careful to keep his past a secret during his stint in the Southlands. He’d been careful to make secret inquiries about berserkers so it wouldn’t interfere with the training of the young dragonslayers. Every so often someone in the town of Bellesguard would tell Benzel of hearing about someone who claimed to spot a berserker. But when he investigated that report, nothing ever came of it. Although Benzel had been vigilant about searching for berserkers during the past few years, he’d found none of them.
Does Chelli know I’m looking for berserkers?
As if reading his mind, Chelli said, “You think no one knows you want to kill berserkers, but everyone does.” He winked. “You are not as stealthy as you think, my friend.”
Those words made Benzel realize his true fear, and he spoke it out loud. “What if the berserkers came back while I was in the Southlands? What if the berserkers killed what’s left of my family?”
“I wager that did not happen,” Chelli said. “But if it did, I will help you find those berserkers myself.”
While the dragonslayer’s words made Benzel feel better, he stayed silent and lost in thought until they arrived at Hidden Glen.
“We’re here,” Benzel said. He urged his horse to trot. “Follow me.” Benzel hurried through the village until he arrived at his own home, happy to see it still standing and untouched by dragons and berserkers. “Snip!” Benzel shouted as he dismounted and secured his horse’s reins to a nearby tree. “Auntie Helga! Uncle Kjartan!”
Within moments, Benzel found himself wrapped up in his aunt’s arms. When Chelli joined them, Benzel introduced him to Auntie Helga and then asked her about the rest of his family.
“Your uncle is mending the blacksmith’s roof,” Auntie Helga said. “And your cousins are helping him.”
“And Snip?”
“Married,” Auntie Helga said. “She’s gone.”
Her words startled Benzel so much that he didn’t know where to begin. “Snip can’t be married—she’s a child!”
Auntie Helga shook her head. “Not anymore. She’s grown and old enough to bear children of her own.”
The thought of any man taking advantage of Snip angered Benzel. “Who took her? Where are they?”
Auntie Helga placed a firm hand on Benzel’s shoulder as if she were about to place a rein on him. “She married a Scalding.”
The answer confused Benzel. “Scalding?”
“The Scaldings,” Chelli said. “I heard of them. They suffer no fools.”
Benzel turned his attention to Chelli. “What do you know?”
“They are Northlanders. They protect their own. I hear they once stayed at a mansion where others attacked, and the Scaldings boiled water and threw it down upon those attackers.”
“See?” Auntie Helga said. “She’s in good hands.” Auntie Helga paused. “Although she sent word for help. A merchant brought word this morning, and your uncle is pondering what to do about it.”
“Help?” Benzel’s concern heightened. “What’s wrong?”
Auntie Helga’s face became drawn and tight. “The merchant who brought the message has a reputation for being less than truthful. The message is so outlandish that we wonder if it’s real or if it’s his way of trying to make us pay for the details he’s withholding. Details that may be nothing more than lies.”
“Tell me,” Benzel said.
“The message says Snip’s new family is under attack.”
Chelli laughed. “What? Pouring boiled water on their attackers no longer works?”
“That’s the problem. The message says
the attackers slip past the guards at night. The attackers are murdering the Scaldings in their beds.”
“Berserkers!” Benzel said in horror.
“No,” Auntie Helga said. “The message also claims the attackers aren’t mortal.”
“Not mortal?” Chelli said.
“If they’re not mortal,” Benzel said, “then what are they?”
Auntie Helga gave Benzel the most serious look he’d ever seen on her face. When she spoke, her voice trembled. “Monsters.”
CHAPTER 14
Benzel didn’t like the look of Tower Island. He stood on the shore of the Northlands, staring at the distant island while waiting for the Scalding sent to meet him prepared the small ship to sail. White gulls circled above Benzel’s head and squawked as if trying to warn him away.
Grey-Eyes growled at the birds, high overhead, and pawed at the ground.
That place doesn’t look like anything I’ve ever seen before. It doesn’t look natural.
And who are these Scaldings?
The one preparing the small ship had been sent by his family to wait for help to arrive from Hidden Glen. He looked like an average Northlander, although Benzel sensed something off-putting about the man’s manner.
The Scalding waved and gestured for Benzel to board the ship, although the Scalding kept clear of Grey-Eyes. “There’s no place for wild animals like that on Tower Island.”
“Grey-Eyes is tame,” Benzel said. “He goes where I go.”
The Scalding winced but didn’t challenge Benzel again.
Once Benzel and Grey-Eyes clambered on board, the Scalding scampered about to set sail and stay on course. When satisfied, he shouted against the sound of the waves slapping against the side of the ship. “You’re Snip’s brother? She don’t talk about you much. I thought her uncle Kjartan and his sons would show up instead. That’s what Snip’s expecting.”
“They’ll come if I send for them,” Benzel said. “They sent me to weigh your situation and what can be done about it.”
The Scalding grunted. “Why don’t you trust your own sister’s word? Isn’t that good enough?”
