by Resa Nelson
“Step where I step,” Taddeo said. “It’s tricky.”
Doing so, Pingzi followed Taddeo onto the bridge. Looking down, she saw her feet stand on transparent beams of red and orange. She felt nothing solid beneath her feet, and yet she stood.
Don’t think about it. You’re with a dragon god. Trust him.
“Take us to the World Tree,” Taddeo said.
The bridge swung wide across many more fields.
A massive tree came into view. The trunk appeared to be as wide as the city of the Northlander gods. Its branches stretched as far as the horizon to either side and reached up through the sky.
The bridge tilted up toward the top of the tree. It stopped at the tree’s greatest height.
Dizzied by the tremendous height, Pingzi followed Taddeo from the bridge onto the highest of thousands of steps carved into the branch. Relieved by the solid feel of the step beneath her and the vertical edges to which she clung, Pingzi wondered if she stood at the top of the sky.
A short distance above, the light blue color of the sky turned abruptly to indigo at a gently curving edge. The dark space blazed with blinding stars that seemed so close that Pingzi worried she’d burn her hands if she grazed one by accident.
“Follow me,” Taddeo said. He climbed down the steps carved into the massive branch.
Torn between the desire to keep up with his pace so she wouldn’t lose sight of him and the terror of slipping and plummeting an impossible distance to the ground below, Pingzi clung to every surface that allowed her to grip it. After a great while, she descended to a room cut into the branch, where she found Taddeo.
The room formed a tunnel through the branch. At the opposite end, Pingzi saw shadowy figures, each bearing many arms shaped around them like tree limbs. Moans echoed through the length of the tunnel-like room, and the shadowy figures hunched over as if carrying the weight of the worlds on their shoulders.
Taddeo watched the distant figures in sorrow. “They can’t help us.”
“Who are they?”
Without meeting Pingzi’s questioning gaze, Taddeo said, “The tree spirits of the Midlands.”
Taddeo said nothing else but continued climbing down the steps carved into the branch.
Hours seemed to pass before Pingzi caught up with him again in a similar tunnel-like room. This time, he walked toward her as if coming from the opposite end, where shapes of gigantic animals unlike anything Pingzi had ever seen before clustered together. Tiny bright lights popped in and out of sight among them. Pingzi wondered if those lights might be pixies. She once heard the Southlander gods took the form of pixies.
Walking past her, Taddeo said, “They don’t want to get involved. The Southlands and Far Southlands have no interest in what happens north of them.”
Although Taddeo kept a quick pace climbing downward, Pingzi sensed her weariness and slowed down. Even though she knew descending the gigantic tree had to be far less taxing than climbing up, it exhausted her. Still, she persisted.
Finally, Pingzi arrived at a third tunnel-like room where she found Taddeo standing among a handful of men and women dressed in shimmering snakeskin and brightly colored feathers. Their hair and eyes were as black as her own, but their skin looked browner than any she’d ever seen before. Their large and prominent noses jutted out from their faces. They spoke in a language sounding guttural and lyrical at the same time.
Not daring to interrupt, Pingzi slid close to Taddeo, who paid rapt attention to the figures she assumed to be gods.
Startled, Pingzi recounted the ones she’d seen already: the Midlander tree gods, the Southlander pixie gods, and the mysterious gods of the remote and unexplored Far Southlands.
Are there other countries that exist in the world?
The elegant gods spoke as if negotiating with Taddeo, who responded in their tongue. A woman dressed in a garment made of woven tree fronds and a headdress of tiny white flowers waved her hand across the space between her fellow gods and Taddeo.
A series of still images appeared in that space, one after another. Each image looked like a painting made on a square of stone.
Pingzi paid rapt attention as the images passed before her eyes. They showed monstrous figures, mortals bedecked in gold and blood, cities of stone, and a dragon made of smoke.
A final image showed a tapestry hanging on the temple wall and a woman standing in front of it. That woman stood tall with pale skin and long blonde hair.
“That’s a Northlander,” Pingzi said. “What are these pictures, and why is there a Northlander in them?”
“A prophecy,” Taddeo said. “And a promise. The gods agree to help us protect the Far East and their own land on one condition. Many years from now, a great malevolence will rise and threaten their country and mortals they protect. The prophecy says a Northlander can defeat that threat.”
Pingzi found such a thing difficult to believe. “I know how the Northlander gods are. They’d never help any other gods. Why should these gods help us?”
“Unlike the Northlander gods, these gods believe all gods are brothers and sisters.”
Pingzi stared at the foreign deities with new appreciation. She pointed at the image of the Northlander woman. “Astrid must be the Northlander they talk about. But the men in the pictures—none of them looked like Drageen. Where is he? Shouldn’t Drageen be with Astrid?”
Taddeo’s voice dropped with disappointment. “Forget Drageen. He is lost.”
“Lost? Drageen is still on Tower Island. Surely you’ve seen him there.”
“I have.” Anger flared in Taddeo’s eyes. “Whenever I try to help my family trapped on Tower Island, Drageen thwarts me.”
Pingzi tried to make sense of what Taddeo said. “He should be helping you. Haven’t you explained that the dragons came to rescue him? And Astrid?”
“Listen!” Taddeo snapped.
Pingzi cowered, troubled that she’d inadvertently dishonored the dragon god.
A goddess intervened. The inflection of her voice indicated she asked Taddeo a pointed question.
The dragon god answered in her language.
Seemingly satisfied, the goddess waved a hand at the final image of the Northlander woman, and she retreated toward the opposite end of the tunnel with her fellow gods.
After composing himself, Taddeo turned toward Pingzi. “You are a demon queller, and yet you act as if you know nothing of demons.”
As much as Pingzi yearned to protest, she believed the time had come to take the dragon god’s advice and simply listen.
“The first demon you quelled was Benzel of the Wolf—a Northlander. The demon spirit that is part of every mortal’s makeup took him over because he witnessed his family and village massacred in his childhood. Instead of giving all his effort to creating a new life, Benzel chose to harbor resentment and hatred. He devoted his life to hunting down the berserkers who murdered his family instead of taking care of his son.”
Unable to stay quiet, Pingzi said, “I quelled Benzel.”
Taddeo nodded. “You did. You quelled him after the demon inside him caused damage he then failed to repair. Benzel chose to ask one of his gods for help finding the berserkers in exchange for his first-born child.”
Pingzi couldn’t contain her protest. “But Benzel never planned to have children! He never intended to marry. All of that happened years later.”
“Bad decisions,” Taddeo said, “always have consequences. When Benzel allowed the demon spirit inside him to make those bad decisions, he failed to consider the consequences. And when those consequences came home to roost, he failed to address them.”
“He meant no harm.”
Taddeo gave the same examining look as the goddess had cast at Pingzi moments ago. “Benzel meant to murder all the berserkers. Northlanders have laws that punish murderers. Killing them is not within the realm of those laws. If Benzel had succeeded, he would have become a far more revolting man than any of the berserkers who killed his family.”
/> Shaking his head in disappointment, Taddeo continued. “Because Benzel hid from the gods, he failed to teach his son how to live rightly and properly. Because Benzel failed, his son Skallagrim went on a murderous rage after his wife was killed. He abandoned his children for the sake of revenge and lost his life in the process. Because Skallagrim failed to teach his children how to live rightly and properly, they are now at risk.”
“Benzel and Skallagrim were in pain,” Pingzi said. “That’s why they sought revenge.”
Taddeo’s eyes gleamed and changed to yellow as if he were about to shift into his dragon shape. Instead, he flicked his hands toward the floor, and water seeped out of it with a slow but deliberate rise. “Every mortal in your world has pain. But when one mortal acts like Benzel or Skallagrim, his actions prove that he is so lost inside his demon spirit that he forgets the pain of all others. He feels only his own pain, and it becomes so important to him that he thinks it matters most. Because he gives so much importance to his pain, it overwhelms him. He will do anything to stop it, and fails to consider how his decisions will hurt other mortals.”
Even though the water should have flowed out of each end of the tunnel, it didn’t. Instead, the water level climbed to Pingzi’s ankles. “They didn’t mean to become lost,” she said.
The expression in Taddeo’s eyes softened. “No mortal ever does. Mortals believe they are good, even when they lose their way. Even when they do the most horrendous things.”
Sorrow clutched at Pingzi’s throat. “You said Drageen is lost. Is there nothing I can do to help him? Is it too late for the demon inside him to be quelled?”
“He is lost and cannot be helped,” Taddeo said. “Although there may come a day in the future where he will find a way to redeem himself.”
“And Astrid?”
“Astrid needs no help. She knows how to quell her own demon.”
Pingzi brightened with hope. “So, it is Astrid in the prophecy! She’ll be the one to save our lands.”
“No, not Astrid,” Taddeo said. “The Northlander woman of the prophecy will follow her path long after Astrid’s death.”
The hesitant tone in the dragon god’s voice made Pingzi believe he failed to reveal all that could be revealed about Astrid. “But she matters,” Pingzi said. “Astrid may not be the Northlander woman in the prophecy, but she is part of it. And when she learns about the family she has lost, she will understand the mistakes they made.”
“She will understand nothing!” Taddeo snapped. “I came from my realm many decades ago because Kikita convinced all dragon gods to give mortals a chance. We came to learn why mortals are the way they are. We are the ones to benefit from understanding the mistakes they make—not Astrid!”
“Why not?” Pingzi said in distress. “Why shouldn’t Astrid know the things about her family that can help her from making the same mistakes?”
Taddeo’s voice darkened. “Because having that knowledge will color her decisions. We must see how she acts without that knowledge. Everything she does will show us who she truly is. Knowledge will disguise the truth about who she is.”
Pingzi’s heart dropped, because she understood the truth in the dragon god’s argument. “She’ll find out the truth about her family. Someone will tell her.”
Taddeo laughed. “You believe every mortal has a grasp of truth and facts? Haven’t you noticed how people twist the truth into stories that barely resemble it? The people in her life will tell Astrid all types of stories—I can count on most of them to have little if any truth in them.”
Pingzi’s spirits sank even deeper. Taddeo was right. She knew few people who could keep facts straight or resist the temptation to add their own embellishments. “Surely, some truth will slip out. Maybe Astrid will have the heart to recognize it.”
Taddeo smiled. “Then the dragon gods will plant lies of their own. She must be tested. Otherwise, everything we have done by coming to your realm will be for nothing.”
The water level climbed to Pingzi’s knees, and she shivered from its cold touch.
“Be gone, demon queller,” Taddeo said. “You have done enough. Leave the rest of the work to the gods.”
He waved his hand high above his head, and the water rose to meet it. Taddeo shifted into his dragon shape and swam away.
Pingzi floundered in the water, trying to keep her head above its surface.
But the next time she blinked, Pingzi sat up awake in bed in her own home in the city of Zangcheen in the Wulong province of the Far East. Dry and warm, she shivered nonetheless and wept while thinking of Benzel of the Wolf and Skallagrim and the terrible choices they all had made.
CHAPTER 26
“Bee?” Drageen frowned and took a step inside her chambers. The strange expression on her face startled him enough to forget why he’d come. “Do you need help?”
The alchemist gave a relaxed smile. “Why would I need help?” The dull expression in her eyes shifted, and her smile went away. “What’s wrong?”
Drageen plopped onto a bench near her table and twisted his hands together. He didn’t know where to begin. “Everything. Gloomer is talking like a mad man. The whole world is going mad.”
With the comforting and firm tone Drageen had come to appreciate, the alchemist Bee said, “Begin at the beginning.”
“A merchant from the Midlands came early this morning. He says a place in the Midlands was destroyed. I can’t remember the name. Some sacred place.”
“Sacred.” Bee paled. “The River of Iron?”
Drageen frowned. How could there be a river made of iron? “No. Not a river.”
“The Moonflower Mountains?” When Drageen shook his head, Bee tried again. “The Temple of Limru?”
“Limru. That’s the place.” Drageen shook his head in frustration. “The merchant is scared. He’s a Midlander but says he won’t go back to the Midlands. He says it’s not safe there anymore.”
Bee seemed to go into a fog. “The Temple of Limru? No one disturbs that temple. No one dares.”
“Someone did. That’s the problem. Now Gloomer thinks it’s the end of the world. He thinks Tower Island will be attacked next.”
“Of course, he does. He assumes that whoever attacked the Temple of Limru did it because it held a fortune in gold and silver.”
“What?” Bee’s words shocked Drageen. “How?”
“Worshippers left offerings for a thousand years in the form of silver and gold chains and bracelets and rings. They’ve never been disturbed. Now it’s finally happened. Someone destroyed the temple to steal its fortune.” Bee glanced at Drageen. “That’s why Gloomer worries. If there are people brazen enough to steal from a temple that’s been respected by everyone for the past thousand years, it stands to reason they’ll attack an island that has a tower covered in gold.”
Drageen jumped to his feet and then sat again. He alternated between standing and sitting, too upset to be satisfied with either. “That’s no excuse. Gloomer has gone too far. He insists on using Astrid to make some kind of protection for the island. He says there’s something special in her blood. Something in our bloodline.” Drageen wiped the sweat from his brow. “I can’t let him do that. It’s my duty to protect my sister.”
The alchemist Bee sat down at the table and became still.
Now standing, Drageen circled the table and stared at her. “Bee?”
She cleared her throat and stared at the tabletop, avoiding his gaze.
Shaken, Drageen placed his hands on the tabletop as if prepared to hold it steady in case the earth shook the tower. “Bee? What is it?”
“He’s right,” Bee said.
Drageen thought back to when Madam Po came to Tower Island with a dire warning.
You’re not Scaldings. It’s what you’ve been told, but it’s not true. If you stay on Tower Island, the Scaldings will destroy you just as they destroyed the rest of your family.
“Madam Po said we’re not Scaldings,” Drageen said. “There are whispers a
bout who we really are. Whispers that Sven wasn’t our grandpapa. Whispers that our blood comes from Benzel of the Wolf. Is it true?”
Bee nodded but said nothing.
Although the attack of dragons had stunned Drageen so much that he forgot Madam Po’s warning, the memory of it haunted him now. “Did the Scaldings kill our family?”
Finally, Bee raised her head and looked at him. “No matter what the situation, there are always choices, even if you don’t like them. Your grandfather Benzel and your father Skallagrim made bad choices, but the Scaldings made even worse ones. You must not be like them.”
Her words left him light-headed. Drageen kept his hands pressed against the tabletop to steady his balance. “Them? Do you mean my family or the Scaldings?”
Tears welled in Bee’s eyes. “Both.”
Drageen eased to sit next to her. “Are we in danger right now? Astrid and me?”
“You’ve been in danger since the day you were born.”
Her response made Drageen’s stomach turn. “Because of the Scaldings? We’re in danger because of them?”
Bee nodded. As if snapping out of a fog, she looked around her chambers with a startled gaze. “Where’s Astrid?”
Drageen rubbed his face with his hands as his mind raced. “I sent her to the top of the tower. No one but Gloomer goes there anymore, and he’s never awake this early in the day. I told her to keep watch and come here if she sees anyone walking into the tower.”
When Bee spoke, her voice trembled. “It may be time for us to leave Tower Island. Can you handle a ship well enough to sail us away from here?”
Drageen nodded. “Yes. Assuming no one tries to stop us.”
“I think,” Bee said, “we ought to leave now.”
Drageen bolted out of the alchemist’s chambers and headed toward and up the tower stairs, aware of her footsteps following behind. Seeing the door to the tower rooftop ajar, Drageen flung it open and stepped outside.
The sight facing him confounded Drageen so much that it paralyzed him in his tracks.
