The Dragon Seed Box Set

by Resa Nelson

  When Benzel placed a soft kiss on his forehead, Skallagrim noticed a strange tingling sensation that spread down his face and then throughout his entire body. Benzel squeezed Skallagrim with his arm and then let go.

  Bruni released Benzel and said, “I’m so happy to see you. Something terrible has happened.”

  The ship’s creaking sound made Skallagrim look toward it, and he saw another familiar face. “Mistress Po!”

  Delighted once more, Bruni rushed to extend a helping hand toward Pingzi Po as she climbed over the ship’s rail and onto the dock.

  Skallagrim noticed that although Mistress Po had aged, the walking stick she carried in one hand surprised him.

  “I’ve been a married woman for many years,” she said in well-practiced Northlander. “You may call me Madam Po.” Pointing back at a handful of Far Eastern men who worked to bring down the ship’s sails, she said, “My husband is there among the sailors … somewhere.”

  “Mistress Po,” Bruni said out of habit and then corrected herself. “Madam Po. You shouldn’t have come. These are dangerous times.”

  “Point your sword at me,” Madam Po said.

  Bruni gave her a blank look.

  Madam Po slammed one end of her walking stick on the wooden dock. “Now!”

  Bruni looked to Benzel for help.

  “I would do what she says,” Benzel said. “I’ve found that’s always best.”

  With tentative hands, Bruni pulled her dragonslayer sword out of the scabbard slung across her back and pointed it at Madam Po.

  Before Bruni had time to react, Madam Po lunged toward her with several swift blows of her spinning stick, first knocking the sword aside and then striking Bruni’s outstretched arms so hard that she dropped her sword in surprise. Madam Po grabbed the sword and took several quick steps to retreat. Grasping both the sword and her fighting stick, Madam Po held all the power.

  “Ow,” Bruni said, rubbing her forearms. “Did you have to hit me so hard?”

  Madam Po said, “I prove a point. Yes, the times are now dangerous. A portent tells me a dragonslayer will be killed by men or demons. If they are demons, I can quell them.”

  “Your portent came true,” Skallagrim said. “A dragonslayer is dead.” He paused and corrected his statement. “One dragonslayer has just been murdered. Another was killed before him, but everyone thought a dragon killed him. We’re not so certain now.”

  Madam Po returned the sword to Bruni, while Benzel’s face darkened. “Which dragonslayer was murdered?” Benzel said.

  Bruni slid her sword back in its sheath. “I don’t know his name, but he’s young. Probably finished his training a few years ago. At least ten years younger than me and Skallagrim, maybe more. Someone killed the dragonslayer and took his sword.”

  Benzel shook his head in anger.

  “That is bad,” Madam Po said. “A dragonslayer’s sword is a powerful weapon.”

  “Yes, it’s bad,” Skallagrim said. “That’s why I came here looking for help. I need a ship that can take my family back to Bellesguard.” He gestured to each as he introduced them. “My wife, Lumara. My son, Drageen.”

  Madam Po tilted her head and spoke to Lumara. “You belong to the Far East.” Her eyes twinkled. “Would you not rather go there?”

  Lumara caught Skallagrim’s attention in the familiar way she spoke to Madam Po. “I made a promise to bear my husband’s children and care for them. I can do that better at our home in Bellesguard.”

  Madam Po’s eyes narrowed briefly, as if questioning Lumara’s response. But then Madam Po said, “We would be most happy to help you, but if there are demons to quell, that must come first.”

  Desperate to protect his family, Skallagrim made a suggestion. “Could your crew take Lumara and Drageen to Bellesguard and then return for you?”

  Madam Po nodded her consent. She then turned to the ship and shouted.

  The Far Eastern man that Skallagrim presumed to be her husband came to the railing and entered into a lively conversation with her in their native language.

  Skallagrim looked to Lumara and said, “What are they saying?”

  Too engrossed in listening to the conversation, Lumara gestured for Skallagrim to wait.

  Benzel clapped a hand on Skallagrim’s shoulder. “We should form a plan.”

  Turning his attention to Benzel, Skallagrim said, “We have one. The dragonslayers who know of it have paired up and will cover routes to look for the murderer. I’m going with Bruni today on the Boglands route. She’s told the shop keepers what to tell the rest of the dragonslayers when they come to rest in Gott. We’ll have them team up and cover other routes. If we’re still looking when it’s time for the winter route to begin, half will take it and the rest will stay here.”

  “Send me on a route,” Benzel said. “Pingzi and her husband can come with me.”

  Although Benzel still carried his dragonslayer’s sword, his back hunched over with age. Instead of the strong posture and square shoulders he used to exhibit, Benzel’s shoulders now rounded forward. His hands looked as gnarled as tree roots. His blue eyes lacked the clarity they’d once had and now looked clouded.

  He’d be an easy target. I can’t let him walk into danger.

  “You’d be of more help here in Gott,” Skallagrim said. “Bruni told the shop keepers what to tell the other dragonslayers, but what if they don’t listen? What if they think the danger is less than it truly is? What if they stay on their own instead of pairing up?” Skallagrim shook his head. “I don’t want any more of us to die. The other dragonslayers might not listen to instructions from shop keepers, but they’ll listen to you.”

  Benzel nodded in agreement, but he couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice. “I’ll make sure they understand.” He clapped Skallagrim’s shoulder once more. “Pingzi is anxious to find the man causing all this trouble so she can quell him. I’ll explain that we need to stay in Gott for now. Although I don’t know how long I can keep her here.”

  While Pingzi continued the animated conversation with her husband, Bruni joined Skallagrim and Benzel. To Skallagrim she said, “I know you often travel your route by foot, but it takes too long. Losing time is something we can’t afford.”

  Skallagrim nodded in agreement. To Lumara, he said, “Take Drageen on board Madam Po’s ship. Hide him below deck for good measure. Hide yourself when you can.” He expected a protest. Instead, Lumara kissed him and then held him tight.

  She whispered in his ear. “Be careful. Portents are powerful things, and I trust your Madam Po. If you find this murderer, he could prove to be worse than any lizard you’ve ever faced.”

  Skallagrim bid farewell to his family and then walked with Bruni to the stables on the western side of the city.

  CHAPTER 26

  Instead of strapping the sheath of the dragonslayer’s sword across his back like a true dragonslayer, Frandulane preferred to hold the grip in one hand and carry it by letting the sheathed blade rest on his shoulder. Despite the weapon’s great length, he marveled at its light weight, especially when held this way.

  His cousins murdered their first dragonslayer in his sleep weeks ago to acquire the sword, but Frandulane took ownership of it. Years ago, when he’d tried to hunt Skallagrim down, Frandulane had encountered a boy who insisted he had an older brother in training to become a dragonslayer. The boy showed Frandulane a few things he’d learned from his older brother. After journeying back to the Northlands and finding the cave where they’d hidden the dragonslayer sword, Einarr and Tungu expected Frandulane to give that sword back to them after allowing him to look at it. However, Frandulane remembered what he’d learned from the boy. Frandulane brandished the sword, using broad and sweeping strikes aimed at his cousins.

  They’d stepped out of the way and let him keep it.

  “That’s Gott up ahead,” Einarr said. Strapped across his back, Einarr carried the second dragonslayer sword they’d acquired just days ago. He and brother Tungu had honed t
heir killing skills by tracking another dragonslayer, hiding when he set up camp for the night, and murdering the young man in his sleep. Einarr practiced reaching back to find the grip and pulling it free in case he needed the dead dragonslayer’s sword.

  Although Frandulane envied the thrill his cousins must have felt when they killed those dragonslayers, he had an advantage that he wasn’t ready to give up. Unlike the lavender eyes of his cousins and almost all of the other Scaldings, Frandulane’s eyes were still blue because he’d yet to commit murder.

  There were advantages to not being recognized as a murderer, and Frandulane planned to keep that advantage for as long as he could.

  Walking behind, Tungu muttered.

  “What’s that?” Frandulane said without turning back to look at his disgruntled cousin.

  “I said, we’ve got to be careful,” Tungu said.

  Frandulane scoffed. “Doesn’t matter. No one in his right mind would challenge men carrying dragonslayer swords.”

  “What about me?” Tungu protested. “I ain’t got one!”

  “Don’t worry, cousin,” Einarr said, following Frandulane’s lead. “We’ll protect you.”

  “You’re missing the point,” Tungu said. “All I’ve got is a regular sword.”

  “Don’t you worry, cousin,” Frandulane said. “You’re safe with us. Whether we meet man or beast, we’ve got the best weapons in the world to protect us.”

  “Not that you know how to use them,” Tungu said.

  Frandulane laughed. “How hard can it be? There are only so many ways you can swing a sword. Anyone who can use short swords like ours can use a dragonslayer sword.”

  The cousins kept walking and later entered the port city of Gott.

  Where are the crowds? I thought this place would be packed.

  Frandulane felt annoyed that the city didn’t appear exactly the way he’d assumed it would. He walked with his cousins through streets sparse with foot traffic. When a young man whose clothing and skin were covered in soot crossed their path, Frandulane guessed he must be a blacksmith’s apprentice. Assuming the young man had the knowledge to answer his questions, Frandulane stopped him and said, “Where are the merchants?”

  The blacksmith’s apprentice appeared preoccupied. “Mostly gone at this time of year. There’s a few left on the boardwalk but not many.” He pointed at a long and narrow wooden dock behind him.

  “Gone?” Tungu said in dismay. “How can we sell these swords if all the merchants are gone?”

  Not seeming to notice the dragonslayer swords, the apprentice said, “You can always book passage and go to the Midlands. That’s where merchants spend the winter. There and the Southlands.” The apprentice spotted a familiar face far behind the cousins and yelled out, “Missus! I got the nails you asked for!” He then sprinted toward a matronly woman carrying a basket filled with potatoes.

  “Now what?” Tungu said.

  “First, we see if there’s anyone left who’ll buy the swords,” Frandulane said. “If not, we’ll hop on a ship to the Midlands.”

  “The Midlands?” Einarr said. “If we go there, we can’t get back home until spring.”

  Frandulane remembered the way his cousins had taunted him about his devotion to his wife and child. It troubled Frandulane that he’d left telling them little and leaving them to wonder when he’d return. But his desire to gain stature as a Scalding trumped his feelings for his family.

  “If you like,” Frandulane said, “you can leave for Tower Island now. You can be safe and sound at home while I strike out for adventure.”

  Tungu guffawed. “That’s right. Me and Frandulane will make our riches while you sip your mama’s soup all winter.”

  Einarr bristled. “I was thinking we left telling no one of our plans. Just don’t want people thinking we’re dead.” In a huff, he led the way toward the boardwalk.

  A peculiar ship at the end of the boardwalk caught Frandulane’s attention. Its scalloped orange sails made it look like a fish jumping on top of the water.

  He didn’t understand why, but the sight of that ship made him queasy.

  “If we have to sail,” Frandulane said, “we’ll do it on a Northlander or a Midlander ship. And by all means, stay away from that strange ship at the end of the boardwalk. We can’t risk dealing with strangers from lands whose ships we don’t recognize. Such people are too unpredictable.”

  The cousins sidled down the boardwalk, examining the few merchants and ships remaining. No merchant would agree to purchasing the dragonslayer swords, and they acted perturbed by the offer.

  “That’s it,” Einarr said when the last merchant brushed them off. “Now we’ve got to find a ship that’ll take us to the Midlands.”

  Frandulane spotted a ship whose crew busied with its rigging. “Look. There’s one getting ready to leave.”

  The cousins hurried to the ship and stood on the dock while Frandulane shouted to those on board. “There’s three of us needing passage to the Midlands. Do you have room?”

  A young man stepped to the rail. “What do you have for payment?”

  Frandulane raised his hands and arms, on which he’d shoved the silver rings and bracelets they’d taken from the last dragonslayer’s corpse. “There’s more if you need it.” He pointed at Einarr and Tungu, who wore the silver they’d stolen from the first dragonslayer they killed.

  The young man turned and talked with the crew. After a few minutes, he faced the dock again and said, “That’ll do. But waste no time coming aboard. We leave now.”

  Before the cousins could take a step, a grizzled old man stood between them and the ship. He stared into Frandulane’s eyes and said, “Sven?”

  Being called mistakenly by his father’s name shook Frandulane. “No,” Frandulane said to the old man. “I’m his son. Frandulane.”

  His answer surprised the old man, who now shifted his gaze to the hilt of the dragonslayer sword that peeked over Frandulane’s shoulder. “His son, Frandulane,” the old man said. “But you’re no dragonslayer.”

  Einarr smirked. “He is, and so am I. Move aside, old man. We’re on our way to the winter route.”

  Before they could take a step forward, the old man withdrew his own dragonslayer sword and struck two warning blows in the space between them.

  Terrified, Einarr and Tungu stumbled back on their heels.

  The young man on the ship shouted, “Come on! We’re not waiting on you.”

  Frandulane stood his ground, feeling bolder by the moment. “Don’t make me hurt you, old man.” He pulled out his stolen dragonslayer sword. Forgetting its length, he tried holding it one-handed only to feel its full weight and cumbersome size when horizontal. Frandulane wrapped both hands around the grip and pointed it at the man’s eyes.

  “Wait! I know that old man!” Tungu took another step back and took his short sword in hand, while Einarr pulled out the dragonslayer sword and fumbled with it. “I heard of a man ready for the grave who knows his swords,” Einarr said. “That’s Benzel of the Wolf.”

  Remembering all the stories of the Northlands from his childhood days, Frandulane knew it had to be true. His uncles told all the children on Tower Island frightening stories—about a Northlander who wanted to kill all of the Scaldings—to make those children behave.

  If you don’t do as you’re told, Benzel of the Wolf will skulk back on the island with his rabid wolf. He’ll stab you in your sleep and then his wolf will rip you apart and eat your bones.

  Seeing the man who inspired those scary stories made Frandulane’s blood run cold, despite Benzel’s advanced age.

  The elder swung his sword again with expertise and speed to keep the cousins at bay. “You’ve committed no murder, Frandulane,” Benzel said. “Your eyes are still blue. Walk away from those scandalous Scaldings.”

  Tungu stepped up to Frandulane’s side. “That’s why you had us do the killing,” Tungu said to Frandulane. To Einarr, Tungu said, “Frandulane meant to blame us for it all along wh
ile keeping his own hands clean and his eyes blue.”

  Einarr turned to face Frandulane, bringing his sword to point it away from Benzel and at his cousin instead. “Is that what happened? You said you wanted us to show you how. You said you wanted to learn from us. But it’s all been to make you look innocent?”

  Benzel ignored them and spoke directly to Frandulane. “I wasted my life seeking vengeance against the Scaldings because they murdered my father. My mother. My unborn sister. Rage blinded me. It turned me into someone I never wanted to be. A monster. Don’t let that happen to you. There is still time to save yourself.”

  Frandulane kept his sword pointed at Benzel. When he turned his head to look at Einarr, Frandulane saw a foreign-looking woman approaching. She pointed at Frandulane and shouted, “Demon!”

  CHAPTER 27

  Pingzi Po marched toward the three Northlander men with determination but caution. She hadn’t understood why Benzel rushed between them and the ship they intended to board until now.

  Two of the men had dragonslayer swords that didn’t belong to them.

  In her native Far Eastern language, Pingzi called out to her husband Hsu Mao, who followed her footsteps. “Do you see their swords?”

  “Yes,” Hsu Mao called back. “I see them.”

  “I will try to reason with them,” Pingzi said. She shifted her grip on the walking stick that she kept with her at all times. “But I sense they are not like Benzel. They may have no sense in their heads.”

  She heard the sound of Hsu Mao taking his short sword from its sheath, and it helped her resolve.

  “They have no training with those swords,” Hsu Mao said. “We equal them in number, but we outshine them in knowledge.”

  Heartened, Pingzi Po switched to speaking Northlander and shouted at the three Northlanders. “Demon!”

  Their inexperienced response threw Pingzi off balance.

  The three Northlanders waved their swords wildly in the air as if battling off the wind. In a flurry of random blows that connected with nothing, Tungu stumbled forward. When he tripped over his own feet, he reached out with his sword and it impaled a startled Benzel.