by Resa Nelson
“I did something foolish. I asked the gods for help, but they wanted my first-born as payment.” Before Snip could voice her contempt, Benzel continued. “I made that bargain decades ago. I assumed I’d never have children. My son is a surprise. And now I have to find someone who can keep him safe. I trust you the most.”
“Men,” Snip said. “Stupid, stupid men.” Her expression hardened. “And what bargain was so important that you made such a ridiculous choice?”
Without thinking, Benzel looked up at the Scaldings who circled them, far enough away that they couldn’t eavesdrop.
Following his gaze, Snip’s voice cracked in astonishment. “Your bargain had something to do with the Scaldings? And now you come here to ask for help?”
“I don’t know what else to do.”
Snip trembled in an effort to not cry. “I hate you for being such a fool.” She wrapped her arms around Benzel and held him close. Snip whispered, “I hate you so much.”
Her husband Sven stepped toward them. He held a toddler boy on his hip. “Back away, Benzel. You’ve caused enough trouble in her life.”
Snip held onto Benzel but slipped to stand by his side. To her husband, she said, “It’s alright. Benzel’s son needs a home. I agreed to take the babe as my own.”
“What?” Sven gestured with his free hand to the toddler on his hip. “We have our own son. And did you think to consult me before agreeing to such a thing?”
Benzel felt Snip stiffen her back as if her husband’s words ruffled her sensibilities. “Benzel didn’t consult anyone when he found me in Bubblebrook. I was a baby. I would have died without his help. He didn’t ask his aunt or uncle in Hidden Glen if they’d let me join their family. He took me to their home. He made them do it.” She brushed the tears from her face and stood her ground. “I’m taking his baby as my own.”
Sven paced toward them and held their son toward Snip. When she refused to take the boy, Sven put him down on the wooden planks of the dock.
The toddler boy whimpered and looked up at the adults towering above him in dismay.
“Sven!” Snip said in disbelief. Letting go of Benzel, she lifted her son into her arms.
Sven pushed her away. “This is our island, Benzel.”
Thunder rumbled closer, and fog swept across the dock. For a few moments, it engulfed Benzel and the Scaldings.
“Come with me, if you please,” a little girl’s voice called out.
Startled, Benzel spun around. The fog cleared enough for him to see a strange ship pulling up next to his own ship. Unlike any other ship he’d ever seen, this one had high sides and several sails that looked as thin and transparent as dried leaves.
Moments later, a little girl with black eyes and hair in pigtails climbed onto the dock and walked toward him. She wore a blue shirt and pants that billowed with every step.
“Please.” She bowed to Benzel and spoke broken Northlander with a strange accent. “Come with me.”
Benzel glanced back at the Scaldings, who looked as confused as he felt. To the foreign girl, he said, “Who are you?”
The little girl looked behind her, and a dragon rose out of the fog.
Unlike the oversized lizards that dragonslayers trained to kill, this dragon appeared ethereal. Like flames emerging out of smoke, its scales shimmered orange and yellow and red. It hovered behind the little girl with eyes as black as coal and teeth as long and sharp as nails.
The Scaldings shuddered in fear but held their ground.
The little girl listened while the dragon growled and then said, “I am Pingzi Po. I am demon queller.”
The sight of the dragon made Benzel reach for the dragonslayer sword slung across his back, but he didn’t withdraw it. If a little girl showed no fear of the dragon, it made no sense for Benzel to be afraid of it.
“A demon queller.” Benzel hesitated. “You think there’s a demon here.”
The dragon growled again.
The little girl nodded. She stepped closer and took Benzel’s hand in hers.
Although surprised by her touch, Benzel let Pingzi hold his hand.
“There is always choice,” the little girl said. “Maybe you don’t like choices you have. Maybe they make you feel helpless. But there is always choice.”
“You don’t belong here,” Sven said. He pointed at the little girl but spoke to Benzel. “Leave with her and never come back.”
“He’s my brother,” Snip protested.
“No, he’s not! He’s a stranger who found you and kept you as his pet.” Sven fumed. To Benzel, he said, “She’s mine now. My wife. My boy’s mother.” Sven turned toward the Scaldings surrounding them. “Is anyone here willing to risk everything we’ve worked so hard to gain for the sake of a man who’s been hunting all these years because he wants to kill us?”
Several of the Scaldings shouted, and some drew their short swords, ready to fight.
In that moment, Benzel realized the true reason why he wanted to kill the Scaldings.
He remembered the sound of his father chopping wood. He remembered the smile on his mother’s face and the sound of her laughter when she’d chase Benzel around their garden. He remembered the soft feel of Fluffyhop’s fur.
Benzel remembered the charred bodies he’d glimpsed after the Scaldings had destroyed Heatherbloom. They’d been so grotesque that he couldn’t tell which ones belonged to his parents.
I want to kill the Scaldings because they need to pay for what they did to me.
I need revenge.
Wrenching his hand out of the little girl’s grasp, Benzel let loose a primal scream, drew his short Scalding sword, and rushed at Sven.
Snip shrieked, “Benzel, no!” She stepped back with protective arms around her son.
Sven took several quick steps to the side to evade Benzel’s incoming blow and then drew his own short sword.
Benzel recovered and threw another blow at Sven’s head.
Sven raised the flat of his blade to block that blow but then stumbled and fell onto the dock. Instinctively reaching out to catch his own fall, Sven let go of the sword. When it landed on the boardwalk, it bounced out of reach.
In a flash, Benzel straddled Sven’s fallen form with sword held high, aimed at Sven’s heart.
No one moved.
“You killed my mother!” Benzel yelled. “You killed my father!”
“No!” Sven cried in protest. “I’m the one who spared you.”
“Spared me?” Benzel spat in disgust, still holding his sword’s point high above Sven’s heart.
“It’s true,” Snip said in a quiet voice. She held perfectly still, even though her son squirmed in her arms. “You know it is.”
“But you were there with the rest of these monsters,” Benzel said to Sven. “You killed my mother and father. You killed my unborn sister. Now you want to condemn my son to death.” Benzel screamed, “It’s not fair. You can’t kill my son, too!”
Benzel trembled. He raised the sword a fraction higher. “You don’t have the right to decide who dies.” He slammed the sword down at Sven.
At the last second, Benzel shifted its point to the side, where it impaled the wooden board, a finger’s width from Sven’s chest.
Benzel doubled over. He held on tight to the sword’s pommel to keep from falling. He trembled with a new realization. “And neither do I.”
The little girl stood nearby, waiting patiently. The dragon paced behind her and snorted.
“There is always choice,” the little girl said. She held her hand out to Benzel.
Benzel cast a look at Thurid, grateful to see she still held his son.
Sven climbed to his feet, and Snip shoved their son back into his arms. She then marched to Thurid and took Benzel’s son from her.
“He’s mine now,” Snip said to Benzel. “Does he have a name?”
Still reeling from nearly killing Sven and now fearing the approach of the Northlander gods, Benzel said, “No. He’s yours to name.”
Benzel walke
d toward the little girl, Pingzi Po, and accepted her hand in his.
A peculiar feeling seemed to emanate from the girl and swirl around Benzel. It made him think of his entire life in a flash.
He thought about the promises he’d made to Snip to stay with her, only to leave in search of finding berserkers to kill.
I could have made the choice to keep my promises to Snip.
He thought about how Thurid had offered to help him strike a deal with the Northlander gods for the cost of his first-born child.
I could have made the choice to refuse that bargain. I could have protected my future son instead.
Benzel thought about how he’d spent his entire life filled with anger and hate and the desire to seek vengeance. He thought about how all that mattered to him was killing those who had harmed him and Snip.
I could have made the choice to live a different kind of life.
But I didn’t.
And I’m still filled with anger and hate and vengeance.
He looked at the little girl with new understanding. “You said you’re a demon queller. Are you saying that I’m the demon? And that you’ve come here to quell me?”
She squeezed his hand. “Come with me.”
Sadness overwhelmed Benzel, and he fought back the urge to weep.
I wanted to kill the berserkers, and that made me go berserk.
Lightning illuminated the distant sky.
The storm is getting closer.
The dragon growled again and then climbed on board the ship.
“Now,” the little girl said. “Please.”
I wasted my life.
Benzel had no will to fight. He only wanted to know what to expect. “Are you going to kill me? Is that what a demon queller does?”
The little girl gave Benzel a blank stare and then looked back at the ship.
Benzel followed her gaze. Although he could no longer see the dragon, he heard its soft growl.
“A demon queller doesn’t kill.” The little girl tugged on Benzel’s hand. “I will help. It will take time.”
Benzel looked back at Thurid, Claude, and all the Scaldings. He raised a hand to bid farewell to the sister he had chosen.
Snip still held his son. “I will take care of him,” she said. Turning to face the rest of the clan, she announced, “This babe is a Scalding from this day forward. Don’t speak about how he came to us. Not to anyone.”
Benzel let the little girl lead him onto the ship. The fog covered the ship like a blanket. As it sailed, Benzel realized the fog hid the ship and its occupants from the encroaching storm. It gave him hope.
For the first time since the day he chased Fluffyhop to the edge of Heatherbloom, Benzel felt at peace.
The Dragonslayer’s Heart
by Resa Nelson
The Dragonslayer’s Heart
Copyright © 2019 by Resa Nelson
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Cover Art © 2018 by Eric Wilder
First Edition January 2019
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the invention of the author, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, event, or locale is entirely coincidental.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many thanks to my fellow authors, Carla Johnson and Tom Sweeney, who read this novel before publication and gave me excellent feedback.
CHAPTER 1
When Lumara was a young dragon, she loved to hide in the tall grass, lie in wait, and then pounce on crickets when they jumped. She relished the warm scent of sunshine and the way the grass tickled her dark, mottled scales. She respected the way the soft earth felt when she dug her curved claws into it.
Lumara couldn’t imagine anything more wonderful than living her life as a young dragon in the Far East.
But when she came of age, everything changed. First, she discovered by sheer accident that she could shift her shape into that of a mortal woman.
It happened one day while Lumara stalked a group of wading birds at the ocean’s edge. The young dragon slithered through the high beach grass growing by the sand. The wading birds talked to each other in peeps and chirps, none the wiser that Lumara would soon have a few of them for lunch.
But when Lumara sprang from her hiding place, she stumbled on the clumsy arms and legs of a mortal instead of sprinting on her mighty dragon legs. The birds flew up in unison, and the beating of their wings whipped Lumara’s new-found black hair across her face.
Then her sister—the dragon goddess of fire—stepped through empty air and planted her own mortal form on the beach.
The dragon goddess Fiera wore a flame-colored gown whose bodice and high-standing collar were covered with orange, red, and yellow gems. Her own black hair swirled around the goddess’s head like wisps of smoke while sparks danced around her arms. “Sister,” Fiera said, “your time has come to shine.”
Fiera might as well have driven a dagger into Lumara’s heart.
Lumara felt unimportant and weak.
How can I shine? I’ve never done anything to prove I’m worthy. Not like Fiera. Not like any of the dragon gods and goddesses.
Fiera looked down at Lumara, naked from having just transformed from her dragon body and still on her hands and knees after attempting to run on them.
Lumara’s skin itched from the transformation as well as the sand covering it. She took care in speaking to her sister, partly because Lumara respected her elders and partly because Fiera scared her.
As far as Lumara knew, Fiera scared everyone.
“Fiera, please forgive my appearance. I don’t know what happened.”
The dragon goddess plucked a gemstone from her collar. She used its sharp edges to cut long ribbons of beach grass. “It’s your nature,” Fiera said. “When you’re older and more experienced, you will gain the power to shape your appearance. Right now, it’s shaping you.” She arranged the grass blades on the sand and then tossed the gemstone on top. A beam of sunlight pierced the gem, causing it and the pile of grass to catch fire.
Lumara cried out and backed away, still on all fours.
Fiera laughed and stepped into the fire. “You forgot who you are, Lumara. Or is it that you haven’t figured it out yet?”
Lumara watched in stunned silence while the fire wrapped around Fiera until she disappeared in it.
It’s killing her!
Lumara didn’t know whether to feel terror, grief, or relief.
After all, Fiera had lived for hundreds of years, maybe thousands. Since the day they left their own realm nearly 100 years ago, all dragons knew her as the Imperial Dragon that lived in the royal city of Zangcheen in the Wulong Province. Everyone knew that as Imperial Dragon, Fiera served as a trusted ally and advisor to the emperor.
Lumara was nothing but a young dragon who enjoyed chasing crickets before eating them.
As abruptly as the fire had begun, it snuffed out and left a column of thick smoke behind.
Fiera stepped out from that smoke and held a bright red dress in her hands. “This should suit you.”
The conflicting feelings Lumara felt now turned to guilt. “You made that?”
Fiera smiled and handed the dress to Lumara.
Instead of the rough texture of the beach grass, the red dress felt as soft as spider silk. With Fiera’s guidance, Lumara shrugged into the dress. She marveled at the way its touch caressed her skin.
If being mortal feels this good, I may never go back to my dragon shape again.
Fiera fussed over her for a moment, adjusting the dress to make sure it fit and arranging Lumara’s hair so that it spilled over her shoulders in an attractive way. “There,” Fiera said. “Now you’re ready.”
Lumara felt frightened by Fiera’s words, even though there seemed to be no reason for it. “Ready? For what?”
“To meet with our kin. There are problems afoot in this mortal world.”
Every passing moment confused Lumara more.
The incoming tide rushed
up and nipped at Fiera’s bare foot. It sizzled and trailed a thin tendril of smoke as the water retreated back to the sea. Fiera snapped at the water. “Horrid ocean.”
Lumara had never so much as stuck her nose in the water, but she decided to take no chances that she’d fare any better than her sister. “What do problems in this world have to do with me?”
“Everything,” Fiera said. “Because you’re the solution to those problems.”
CHAPTER 2
Twelve-year-old Skallagrim didn’t mind his daily chore of collecting eggs from the hens’ nests. His family lived in the stone house farthest from the shining gold tower that gave Tower Island its name, so the walk across the courtyard to the large wooden hen house was short and easy. He didn’t even mind carrying the kind of basket that girls used to gather herbs and vegetables, because his mother had made it.
Skallagrim could feel her love woven into it.
Most of the hens clucked and scratched at the ground outside their shelter. Two birds fussed at each other and flapped their wings until Skallagrim shouted at them to stop.
When he opened the door to the hen house, the boy wrinkled his nose at the stink inside. He didn’t understand why he never got used to the smell. But underneath the offensive odor lay the pleasant scent of fresh-cut hay that Skallagrim had put down yesterday at Father’s request.
A single chicken left in the hen house cackled as the boy approached.
“Good morning, Miss Bitsy,” Skallagrim said. “How’s my pretty girl today?”
The chicken stood up with a soft squawk to let the boy reach into the nest.
“Two eggs!” Skallagrim said in surprise. He placed the eggs from Miss Bitsy’s nest into his basket with great care. “That’s the best you’ve ever done in one day.” Before moving on, he gave the bird a tender scratch on the back of its neck.
Miss Bitsy gave a few soft clucks and then settled back down in her nest.
Skallagrim gathered several more eggs and then counted them. He had a dozen, and Mother said that should be enough. He looked at Miss Bitsy before leaving the hen house. “It’s a fine morning. Don’t you want to take a walk outside and get some fresh air?”
