by Resa Nelson
“No, it’s not,” Hsu Mao said. He stopped pacing and paused to compose himself. “No one is going to the Northlands. Pingzi had a portent dream. If the portent is true, then it isn’t safe in the Northlands.”
“I can go with Pingzi to the Northlands,” Benzel said.
“No one,” Hsu Mao insisted, “is going to the Northlands.” He shook his head in frustration. “You people are impossible.”
Benzel blew on his tea to cool it. To Hsu Mao, he said, “You’ll be joining us?”
Hsu Mao groaned. “What else would I do?”
CHAPTER 24
“A disturbance?” Skallagrim said to Lumara. “What kind of disturbance?”
After asking a fellow dragonslayer to cover his normal route, Skallagrim had taken some time to himself and spent it with his son Drageen, now old enough to grasp matters of importance. Skallagrim had spent the morning sailing with his son on a mission to teach him the dangers of the waters surrounding the Northlands, just as his father Sven had done when Skallagrim was young. The boy played outside while Skallagrim and his wife talked in their room above a tavern in the port city of Gott.
“You always expect everything to be as clear as new ice,” Lumara said. She wrapped both arms around the huge egg she kept hidden under her skirt. It made her look pregnant. Last week she’d taken her dragon shape to expel the egg, which contained their second child. Now she kept it next to her belly to keep it warm as well as hidden. “You expect everything to be perfect. Life isn’t perfect.”
“But you’re a dragon.” Skallagrim gestured with his hands as if performing magic. “You have powers.”
“I can take mortal shape or dragon shape. That’s the extent of my power.”
“But your sister is a dragon goddess.”
“Yes,” Lumara said in exasperation. “And as I keep telling you over and over again, that doesn’t mean she knows everything. Only Creation knows all. The gods and goddesses of this world are servants of Creation. That doesn’t mean they have the same powers.”
Then what good are they?
After years of marriage to a dragon, Skallagrim believed he’d have the same problems if he’d married a mortal woman. Instead of arguing about in-laws, they argued about gods.
“Alright,” Skallagrim said, reminding himself to be patient. “What can you tell me about the disturbance?”
Lumara walked to the window and looked outside, presumably to keep an eye on their son while he played. “I don’t like it.”
“That doesn’t help. Is there anything specific you can tell me about it?”
Lumara faced him and leaned against the wall. “Fiera explored the future as well as she could. She sensed trouble in the Northlands. Something dark and dangerous.”
“Some kind of god?”
Lumara shook her head. “Some kind of mortal.”
Skallagrim laughed. “There are plenty of mortals who fall into the dark and dangerous category. Brigands. Thieves. Merchants with no morals.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Lumara’s voice trembled. “It’s something more serious.”
“I doubt there’s much to worry about. The winter route is still weeks away. The Northlands is teeming with dragonslayers. And there’s no weapon forged that can defeat a dragonslayer’s sword.”
They jumped at the loud rap on the closed door.
Lumara took another look outside and then gave a relieved look to her husband. “Drageen is fine. He’s still out there playing.”
All we’ve accomplished by talking about this unknown disturbance is to worry ourselves when there’s no need. Of course, our son is fine. Why wouldn’t he be?
Skallagrim opened the door to their room, surprised to see his fellow dragonslayer Bruni on the other side.
She entered their room before Skallagrim could invite her inside. Bruni’s face looked pale and fraught with anxiety.
I’ve never seen her like this before. Not even when we trained in Bellesguard together.
Skallagrim closed the door. “What’s wrong?”
“Some villagers from Hidden Glen found the dead body of a dragonslayer,” Bruni said. She gestured to the west with shaking hands. “One of the new ones from the Midlands. The villagers brought his body here to Gott.”
“Something is wrong.” Lumara took a step forward. “A disturbance.”
Bruni looked at her in confusion. “What disturbance?”
“Sometimes I sense things,” Lumara said.
“Like a portent?”
“Something like that. I’ve been sensing trouble in the Northlands, but I didn’t know what kind or exactly where.” Lumara cast another anxious look outside. To Skallagrim, she said, “I think it’s time for our son to come inside. I’ll get him.” On her way out of the room, Lumara gave Bruni’s shoulder a firm squeeze.
Alone with Skallagrim in the room, Bruni said, “Come with me. We need to find out what killed that dragonslayer.”
Unease crept over Skallagrim’s skin. “It wasn’t a dragon?”
Bruni shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Why the confusion?”
Despite being behind a closed door, Bruni lowered her voice as if fearful someone would overhear. “Because his dragonslayer sword is missing. No dragon would take the sword.”
The unease creeping over Skallagrim seized him like claws.
Everyone knew the danger of a dragonslayer’s sword falling into the wrong hands. Most people had the means to afford nothing more than a dagger, which they used for eating, cutting cloth or rope, and as a weapon when need be. Every wealthy man carried a short sword at his side, designed especially for fighting. Whether dagger or short sword, that weapon was the first thing everyone picked up in the morning and the last thing put down before bed.
No one could predict when or where an attack could happen, and that meant being prepared at all times.
But dragonslayer swords were different. Few blacksmiths knew how to make them, and those secrets had been guarded and passed down from blacksmith to apprentice for centuries. While the blade of a short sword might be as long as a man’s forearm, the blade of a dragonslayer’s sword typically stretched the length from a dragonslayer’s feet to chest. Though light in weight, a dragonslayer’s sword required two hands on its grip due its cumbersome length.
And the cost of a dragonslayer’s sword equaled a fortune. For that reason, many villages pooled their resources to pay for the sword of one dragonslayer who protected all of those villages on the same route.
But a missing or stolen dragonslayer’s sword presented a problem far greater than its superficial value. Unlike short swords that might bend or break at any time, a dragonslayer’s sword proved to be both strong and flexible. Although intended to be used only against dragons, anyone who carried a dragonslayer’s sword held the most powerful and dangerous weapon in the world. Especially if that weapon was used against people instead of dragons.
“What I don’t understand,” Skallagrim said, “is how it’s possible for anything other than a dragon to kill one of us. No one goes out on a route without a dragonslayer’s sword. And as long as you hold that sword in hand, only a dragon can defeat you.”
“I know,” Bruni said. “That’s why we need to take a look at his body. It’s our only chance to figure out what happened to him.”
Of course. We know better than anyone else what a dragon’s claw marks look like.
On their way out of the tavern, they passed Lumara with son in hand. Skallagrim told his wife that he’d return before nightfall.
He followed Bruni to a blacksmith’s shop at the edge of Gott. Although the blacksmith had finished his work for the day and swept up his shop, he’d left his fire burning to provide light and warmth. The scent of smoke permeated the air. Skallagrim imagined that just being in the smithery at the end of the day would leave a film of black ash on his skin.
They joined the other few dragonslayers taking a day or two of rest from their routes, who now huddled ar
ound a young Midlander’s body, lying supine on a wooden bench. All had studied at Bellesguard in years before or after Skallagrim and Bruni, so they didn’t know them well.
A tall dragonslayer known as Powlo turned and spread his arms wide to shield them from the sight of the dead body. “This is no place for a woman.”
Bruni pushed Powlo aside.
“Suit yourself,” he said with a wave.
Skallagrim joined Bruni’s side and immediately wished he had taken a moment to brace himself.
He resisted the urge to gag at the putrid smell. The dead man’s skin appeared so pale that it bore a bluish hue, making him look more like a spirit than a mortal.
As Bruni had guessed, the body hadn’t been ripped apart by dragon bites. Although blood had soaked the shirt, now stiff because it had dried, there appeared to be only one wound.
Powlo pointed at the single rip in the dead dragonslayer’s shirt. “It could be a dragon. A single tip of the dragon’s claw punctured him here. See how close it is to the heart. This man would have died at once.”
“Have you looked at his back yet?” Bruni said.
With the exception of Skallagrim, the other dragonslayers looked at her in astonishment. A short and stock dragonslayer named Zhawn dismissed her question. “There’s no need when the answer is staring you in the face.”
“Flip the body over,” Bruni commanded.
When the other dragonslayers sneered at her request, Skallagrim stepped forward and helped Bruni heave the body onto its front. When Skallagrim let go of the body, he noticed his fingertips left indents on the corpse’s skin.
Skallagrim stared at the dead man’s back. “By the gods,” Skallagrim uttered.
The back of the shirt showed a clean cut as wide as a finger.
“That cut was made by a short sword,” Bruni said. She leaned closer to examine it. “Based on the width, the blade went deep enough for the sword’s point to pass through his chest.” She looked up at the other dragonslayers. “That’s not a claw mark on the front of his shirt. It’s where the point of the sword came through his chest and pierced the front of his shirt. He was stabbed in the back. This dragonslayer was killed by a man, not a dragon.”
“Not necessarily,” Powlo said. “The cut in the shirt could be where the creature slashed at him before piercing his heart.”
“Take his shirt off,” Bruni said. “We need to look at the wound.”
Once more, Skallagrim stepped in to help her lift the body. To the other dragonslayers, he said, “Give us a hand this time.”
Minutes later, the shirtless corpse revealed the truth.
“She’s right,” Skallagrim said. “No dragon made any of the marks we see. The cut goes through the body, and no dragon would do that. A dragon would have ripped his chest open. The injury is neat and clean.”
“A man killed him,” Bruni said. “And a man stole his dragonslayer sword.” She stared at the surrounding dragonslayers.
“Don’t look at me,” Zhawn said. “I’ve got my own sword. I don’t need a second one. No one here does.”
“What about the villagers who brought him here?” Skallagrim said. “Did one of them take it?”
“Unlikely,” Powlo said. “I had this man’s route years ago. I know those villagers. I can vouch for them. They found him a few days after he passed through Hidden Glen. He was on his way back to Gott before starting the route again.”
“Maybe he was sleeping on his stomach when it happened,” Zhawn said. “Someone slipped up and drove a sword through his back. It’s the only explanation I can imagine.”
“What does this mean for the rest of us?” Powlo said. “If one dragonslayer can be murdered in his sleep, then how do we keep the same thing from happening to the rest of us?”
“It could be worse than we think,” Bruni said. “Remember the dragonslayer that died a few weeks ago?”
“Wait,” Skallagrim said in surprise. “Are you saying that two dragonslayers are dead? How did this happen? Who’s the other one?”
“The dragonslayer from Daneland,” Zhawn said. “A dragon killed him. I heard the dragon picked up the sword in its mouth and ran off with it.”
Skallagrim suspected he knew the point Bruni meant to make. He said, “Is it certain that a dragon killed him? Did any other dragonslayer see his body?”
“No,” Bruni said. “What if it wasn’t a dragon that killed him? What if the same man killed two dragonslayers?”
The winter route is weeks away. All dragonslayers will soon be making plans for passage to the Midlands and then to the Northlands.
“We shouldn’t go on the winter route this year,” Skallagrim said. “A man who can kill a dragonslayer puts every Northlander at risk.”
Powlo frowned. “What are you saying? That we leave the Midlanders and Southlanders in danger of being attacked by the dragons when they migrate?”
“No,” Skallagrim said. “Someone needs to stay in Gott to tell each dragonslayer who finishes his route here what has happened. Half of us should take the winter route. The rest of us will stay here to protect the Northlands. We’ll look for the man killing dragonslayers. When we meet a man carrying a dragonslayer sword that doesn’t belong to him, we’ll know he’s the murderer.”
CHAPTER 25
Skallagrim cleared out his room at the tavern. In the tavern’s main room, he met his son and pregnant wife to bid them farewell. This close to winter, most merchants had left the port city of Gott, and few patrons filled the room.
“I’ll come home to Bellesguard as soon as I can,” Skallagrim told his family.
His son scuffed his shoe against the tavern’s wooden floor, kicking sawdust from side to side. “I can be a dragonslayer, too. I can come with you.”
Skallagrim knelt to face his son and grasped him by the shoulders. “Someone needs to watch over your mother while you travel. Your new baby brother or sister will be here soon. If I’m not there when that happens, I need you to help take care of the baby. Can you do that, Drageen?”
The boy sniffed and kicked at the floor some more. Finally, he looked up at his mother with bright eyes. “I can help Mama.”
Lumara clung to the false belly that the egg she held beneath her dress formed. She smiled at her son. “That would be wonderful.”
Skallagrim looked up at the sound of the tavern door swinging open to see Bruni walk toward him. He stood to face her.
Joining his family, Bruni said, “Powlo and Zhawn are taking the Desolate Route in the southwest part of the Northlands. The others are pairing up to take the Main Western Route. I’ve talked to Brigga and the local shop owners. When the rest of the dragonslayers come to Gott, they’ll hear what’s happened. Whether they stay here in the Northlands or sail to the Midlands, no one will leave the city without a partner.”
“Be careful,” Lumara said.
Bruni nodded. “And you, as well. By pairing up, I wager we can make quick work of whatever kind of brigand is to blame. All you need think about is getting home, safe and sound.”
“We’ve booked passage on the fur trader’s ship,” Skallagrim said.
“He’s already left,” Bruni said.
Startled, Skallagrim said, “When?”
“I don’t know. I’ve just come back from the wharf, and his ship is gone. But there’s a new one coming in. It was too far away to tell what kind. If they’re here for a quick trade, we might arrange passage with them.”
Skallagrim couldn’t shake the image of the young dragonslayer’s dead body. Everyone faced risks in every country, but this kind of cold-blooded and underhanded slaughter rattled him. When people felt harmed by others, they either took their complaint to a regional court of chieftains or judges or challenged the wrong-doer to a trial by combat where the gods would reveal the righteous party by making certain that person won the fight.
But most people avoided courts and trials because everyone knew right from wrong. If a man killed another, he knew his duty and met it by going to t
he dead man’s family and offering the payment as prescribed by law.
Most people didn’t commit crimes. Those who did paid for them.
The worst type of criminal was the hidden one. No one could respect a man who failed to acknowledge the crime he committed and pay for it to bring balance back to the world.
The fact that such a criminal now roamed the Northlands made Skallagrim fear for the safety of his family. He needed to arrange safe passage back home for them.
Giving a knowing look to his wife, Skallagrim said, “I won’t leave Gott until I see you on board a ship.” To Bruni, he said, “Take us to where you saw the incoming ship.”
By the time they walked to the wharf, the sight of the incoming ship made Skallagrim catch his breath because he’d never seen anything like it before.
Unlike a low-lying Northlander craft, this wooden ship floated high above the water. Its shape reminded Skallagrim of cupped hands. Instead of a single square sail, this ship had three sails colored bright orange, like a sunset. The sails looked like the fins of a fish, with narrow bones running through them diagonally, creating scalloped edges.
“That’s no Southlander or Midlander ship,” Bruni said with an edge of caution in her voice.
“No,” Lumara said. “It’s from the Far East.”
“Stay back,” Skallagrim told his wife. “Bruni and I will find out who’s on board.”
Lumara laughed. “Nonsense.” She took her son’s hand and led him toward the strange ship that now docked. “You’ll see there’s nothing to fear.”
When Bruni began to protest, Skallagrim stopped her. Gesturing toward Lumara, he said, “She’s always right. There’s no point trying to argue with her.”
Nearing the ship, Skallagrim realized just how correct his wife had been when he recognized the man who stepped over the ship’s railing and onto the wooden dock. Skallagrim shouted with joy. “It’s Master Benzel!”
Bruni yelped in delight, raced toward her former teacher, and wrapped her arms around Benzel before he realized what happened.
Skallagrim stepped toward Benzel, whose surprised face relaxed into a warm smile. Looking down, Benzel’s smile widened as he finally recognized the woman hugging him as Bruni. He held out an open arm to Skallagrim, who happily walked into Benzel’s embrace.
