by Resa Nelson
On the other hand, Frandulane and other Scaldings made life miserable for Skallagrim by ridiculing and haranguing him for looking nothing like a true Scalding.
Skallagrim cared deeply about his parents. But he felt little for any other Scalding on Tower Island. Father promised to see him again. Surely, Skallagrim could visit Tower Island whenever he wished.
What do I have to lose?
“Tell me,” Father said. “Are you willing to take a chance?”
Skallagrim smiled. “I am.”
CHAPTER 4
After bidding farewell to his father the next morning, Skallagrim paid rapt attention to Auntie Thurid while she taught him how to help sail their Midlander ship. When they came to the dangerous islets, Skallagrim repeated the verse in his head that he’d learned from Father. Although the Midlander ship had less finesse, Uncle Claude steered it successfully through the same path Skallagrim had learned.
Once they’d made it through to the open sea, Skallagrim looked back. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Why can’t ships just sail to either side of the islets?”
Uncle Claude secured the last of his sails. “Look around. What do you see on either side?”
Skallagrim studied the seascape. As far as he could see on either side of the islets, ocean waves crashed and foamed. “Big waves.”
“They’re caused by what lies beneath,” Uncle Claude said. He pointed beyond the islets. “Steep and jagged crags surround the entire coastline of the Northlands. It’s as if a gigantic monster opened its jaws to let the Northlands rest on its tongue—and its teeth hide just below the water’s surface to snag anything that dares to approach.”
Skallagrim imagined such a monster lurking beneath the depths. “Except for the islets?”
Uncle Claude nodded. “It’s the one place where ships can pass through, assuming their captains know how to do it.”
“But Father sailed along the southern coast.”
“In what kind of ship?”
“A small one. Father says most Northlanders use it for trading in villages easier reached by sea.”
“That’s right. A small ship like that can skim along close to the shore. If it needed deeper water like the larger Northlander ships, that would put it far enough out to sea to be in danger of getting crunched in the monster’s jaw.”
Skallagrim looked back at the islets through which they’d passed. “If it wasn’t for that one place of safe passage, then the Northlands would be cut off from the entire world.”
Auntie Thurid joined them and slid her arm around her husband’s waist. Her pale Northlander features contrasted with his darker Midlander looks. “Thank the gods we didn’t get cut off from each other.”
Uncle Claude smiled and kissed her.
By the end of the day, the ship docked in the largest port city of the Midlands. From there, they traveled by horse and cart through the Midlands. Although Skallagrim had seen some of the Northland terrain from his father’s ship, he’d never seen anything like the Midlands before. He stared in wonder at its vast fields and pastures, stretching all the way to the horizon and filled with hundreds of workers or grazing cattle and sheep.
When they followed a path into the forest, Skallagrim gawked at the hundreds of trees towering high above.
“This is the Forest of Aguille,” Uncle Claude said. “One of the most precious places in all the Midlands.”
The sudden dip in temperature astonished him, even when Uncle Claude compared entering the forest to walking into shade. Small animals that Skallagrim had never seen before skittered up tree trunks and jumped from branch to branch.
“Squirrels,” Auntie Thurid explained. “And chipmunks. You’ll also see mice and voles on the forest floor. And a few tiny lizards thrown in for good measure.”
The entire forest seemed alive in a way that Skallagrim had never seen anyplace on Tower Island. In addition to the animals, colorful birds sang bright songs and flitted about. Every breath of wind made thousands of leaves rustle, and they sounded like a rushing waterfall. He’d never imagined such a place could exist in the world.
Uncle Claude reined the horse to stop the cart at the edge of a clearing within the heart of the forest. A circle of grass as large as a village spread before them like a patch of harvested land surrounded by towering stalks of grain. In the center, ancient trees with trunks as thick as houses clustered together and towered above the forest. Hundreds of branches spread high in the air like a spoked wheel to protect the clearing from rain and snow. The branches lapped over the top of the forest surrounding the clearing.
Gold and silver chains hung from the mighty branches. Thin streams of sunlight pierced through the canopy, making the chains sparkle.
Dozens of wattle-and-daub houses, tucked into the forest, surrounded the grass clearing and ancient trees. Skallagrim didn’t notice the houses at first because they blended in so well with the woods around them. With a start, he realized dozens of people stood among those houses and stared at the cart. Unlike brightly colored Northlander clothes, these people were dressed in shades of muted brown.
“Where are we?” Skallagrim whispered.
An older man rushed forward, and Uncle Claude jumped from the cart with a grin to embrace him.
“The Temple of Limru,” Auntie Thurid with a hush. “These Midlanders are the Keepers of Limru. They worship the tree spirits and protect the temple that honors them.”
Skallagrim whispered. “Why is there silver in the trees?”
“Gold, too,” Auntie Thurid said. “That’s the yellow metal you see. It’s even more valuable than silver.”
Skallagrim craned his neck to get a better look at the gold.
Auntie Thurid continued. “Those are gifts from Midlanders who came to pay respect to the gods. The silver and gold stay in the trees at all times. No thief ever steals any of the treasures left by worshippers.”
Skallagrim found that hard to believe. “Why not?”
“Even thieves ask the gods for help and protection.”
Skallagrim watched as more people greeted Uncle Claude. “Why do they know him? Is Uncle Claude a Keeper?”
“No. But he’s a Midlander.”
Skallagrim screwed up his face in a quizzical look.
“Midlanders aren’t like us Northlanders,” Auntie Thurid said. “They feel close to the tree spirits gods and loved by them. That’s why it’s important to every Midlander to journey to the Temple of Limru at least once—on any day and year they choose—to bring a gift to the gods. That means, sooner or later, the Keepers of Limru meet every Midlander in the nation.”
That idea left Skallagrim dumbfounded. He knew every Scalding who lived on Tower Island, but he couldn’t imagine knowing everyone in an entire country.
When Uncle Claude brought a small group of Midlanders toward the cart, Auntie Thurid climbed down to greet them and gestured for Skallagrim to do likewise.
“Welcome,” said the older man who had first hailed Uncle Claude. He spoke the Northlander language with a thick accent. He smiled with excitement when he looked at Skallagrim. “This is the one!”
Auntie Thurid spoke with a firm but friendly voice. “Yes, this is our nephew, Skallagrim. He’s from Tower Island, and he’s been accepted to train as a dragonslayer.”
“Scaldings,” said a petite Midlander woman who’d tucked her hand around Uncle Claude’s bent elbow. She sounded disappointed. “They raised him.”
Auntie Thurid spoke before anyone else could. “So far. But he’ll spend the rest of his youth among dragonslayers. They’ll help him.”
Skallagrim frowned in confusion at her words.
Help me? Why do I need help?
He wondered if Uncle Claude had told these Midlanders about the way the Scaldings made Skallagrim feel like he didn’t belong on Tower Island because he looked like he had no Northlander blood. With a start, Skallagrim realized that if he stood among these Midlanders, he’d blend in with them. Like Skallagrim, they all had dark hair, and their skin
didn’t look as pale as the skin of a Northlander.
The Midlander woman rested her head against Uncle Claude’s shoulder, and her voice sounded wistful. “The boy looks like her.”
Now she had Skallagrim’s full attention. “Who do I look like?”
Before Auntie Thurid or Uncle Claude could speak, the Midlander woman said, “Our dragonslayer, of course.”
“Dragonslayer?” Skallagrim said. First, he felt more confused. “How can a woman be a dragonslayer? What kind of woman would want to be one?”
Auntie Thurid and Uncle Claude hurried to speak at the same time as the Midlander women, but Skallagrim heard the Midlander woman say, “Your mother, of course.”
While his guardians protested and denied the claim, Skallagrim said, “My mother?” He remembered how Mother and Father said they had a friend who gave Skallagrim to them as their son.
“Your mother is at home where you left her,” Auntie Thurid said with an edge in her voice.
Everyone turned toward her, and she stood tall with a fierce look in her eyes. “You’re the son of Snip and Sven Scalding,” Auntie Thurid said to Skallagrim. “Let no one tell you otherwise.”
Skallagrim didn’t want to upset her, but he also wanted to know the truth. He’d learned there were good times to talk to adults and bad times. When Skallagrim chose a good time, it resulted in a pleasant and easy conversation. When he chose a bad time, the results ranged from terrible to disastrous.
Auntie Thurid is upset. This seems like a bad time.
It occurred to Skallagrim that the subject might be one that he should never discuss with Auntie Thurid, Uncle Claude, or his parents. It certainly made no sense to discuss it with anyone else on Tower Island.
On the other hand, Skallagrim considered the fact that his guardians would deliver him to dragonslayer training soon.
Maybe I’ll meet someone who knows the truth about me. Someone who wouldn’t get upset if I ask questions.
A commotion of crashing tree limbs and thudding feet interrupted Skallagrim’s thoughts, and he turned to look in the direction of the disruption.
A lizard twice the size of a deer leapt out of the woods and into the green clearing. It skidded to a stop at the sight of dozens of people surrounding the clearing on all sides.
Dark, mottled scales covered the creature’s body. Its legs bowed out to the side like steps. When it took a step, the back of its foot first dragged against the ground and then flipped up into place. Its feet displayed sharp, curved claws. Sharp teeth lined its open jaw, and strings of spittle hung from it. A bright yellow and forked tongue flicked out of its mouth like a flame.
The animal’s eyes gleamed with intelligence.
It’s a dragon!
Terror gripped Skallagrim, and he couldn’t speak or move.
However, none of the Keepers of Limru had that problem.
The old man who had first greeted Uncle Claude hummed a low tone.
The other Keepers matched his tone. Within moments, humming voices filled the clearing and surrounded the dragon.
A young woman came crashing out of the woods in the dragon’s footsteps. Like the other Midlanders, she had dark eyes. She wore her long, black hair tied up in a bun on top of her head. She wore a long black dress, but its sides were hiked up and tucked under her belt, exposing her legs covered with black woolen hose. She held a long strip of muddied white cloth in her hands. She spoke to the dragon, but Skallagrim didn’t understand the words.
She looks like a Midlander. She must be speaking that language.
The dragon spun to face her and whipped its tail back and forth.
The young woman straightened her back and sharpened her tone when she spoke to the creature again.
The dragon emitted a moan lower than the humming still surrounding it. The animal paced back and forth, but its tail slowed down to a twitch.
The young woman took a tentative step toward the dragon. When she spoke, she sounded as if she were trying to reason with it.
All of the Keepers hummed louder.
When Skallagrim realized Uncle Claude and Auntie Thurid were humming as well, he joined in. Skallagrim liked the way it made his throat feel. As soon as he started humming, Skallagrim became aware of something he could almost touch in the air, as if it had filled with the kind of vibrancy that came from a thunderstorm. That vibrancy made Skallagrim feel strong and powerful, as if he were at one with the Keepers of Limru.
Appearing to give up, the dragon sank to the ground with a heavy sigh.
The young woman sped to kneel before it and wrap her muddied white cloth several times around its jaw to close it shut. When finished, she tied a neat bow and kissed the top of the dragon’s head.
It stared at her with such forlorn that Skallagrim wondered if the creature loved her.
The old man called out to her. “Come meet the boy who will become a dragonslayer.”
The young woman walked toward them with the dragon at her heels. She stared at Skallagrim with a perplexed look. “He speaks Northlander?”
“It’s all he speaks,” Auntie Thurid said. “For now. He’ll learn Midlander and Southlander as part of his training.”
The young woman nodded to Skallagrim and said, “Welcome to the Temple of Limru. I’m Flora.”
Stirred by what he’d just witnessed, Skallagrim brimmed with curiosity. “Are you a dragonslayer? Why did you let the dragon live?”
The dragon stepped in front of Flora and curled its tail around her legs.
“I’m not a dragonslayer,” Flora said. “I’m a dragon queller.”
“Queller?” Skallagrim stared at her, dumbfounded.
“I don’t kill dragons.” Flora paused and reconsidered her statement. “Better to say I won’t kill a dragon unless it gives me no other choice. I see if I can calm it down first. That’s what quelling is.”
For the first time, Skallagrim noticed a sheathed sword at her side, obscured somewhat by the folds of her skirt falling from the bits of hem tucked under her belt.
The dragon moaned and rested its chin on top of Flora’s leather shoe.
She winced.
Alarmed, Skallagrim said, “Does it hurt?”
Flora grimaced. “Only when I have to clean the spit off at the end of the day.” She paused. “It does leave the leather nice and soft, though.”
The lax attitude of Flora and the Midlanders toward the dragon troubled Skallagrim so much that he couldn’t hold back his thoughts. “But all dragons should be killed! Otherwise, they’ll destroy crops and people alike. What good does it do to let one live?”
A hush fell over the Midlanders.
Flora appeared to choose her words with care. “If a dragon can be quelled to a point where it does no harm to crops or people, why not let it live? How are we to know that a dragon’s life isn’t as valuable as our own?”
That idea shocked Skallagrim to the core.
Isn’t the life of a mortal far more important than an animal’s life? Especially one with the power to kill people?
Flora shook her head slightly, as if she’d read Skallagrim’s thoughts. “And what if a dragon can be convinced to help us?”
“Help?” Auntie Thurid said in surprise. “How?”
The dragon tapped its tail against Flora’s leg, still curled around her. She reached down and grasped the end of its tail as if holding someone’s hand. “As a guard. Maybe even a protector.”
“You think you can train the dragon.” Uncle Claude said it as a statement, not a question.
“Possibly,” Flora said. “If it works, I’ll be happy to know we’ve got a dragon patrolling the perimeter of Limru.”
“But why would you need one?” Auntie Thurid said.
Flora exchanged a worried glance with the old man who had first greeted Uncle Claude.
The old man cleared his throat before speaking. “An ill will blows throughout the Midlands.”
As if in agreement, the gold and silver chains hanging in the trees
jingled in response to a soft breeze rushing through the leaves.
“The tree spirits,” Uncle Claude said. “They’ve warned you?”
“Not so much a warning as a mild alert,” the old man said. “Nothing is cast in stone.”
“Nothing ever is,” Uncle Claude agreed.
“But there is a certain danger afoot in the world right now. Whether or not that danger passes through the Midlands is yet to be seen.”
“Danger?” Auntie Thurid said. She shifted her weight uneasily from one foot to the other. “What type of danger?”
The old man shrugged. “That is also yet to be seen. In the meantime, we see no harm in exploring new ways to protect Limru should we need it.”
Skallagrim looked up at the massive canopy of green leaves and glittering gold and silver high above his head. For a brief moment, he wondered if he should have stayed on Tower Island where everyone was safe from dragons and unknown, mysterious dangers.
Another breeze stirred the trees, making their limbs and leaves move like waves in the ocean. The air smelled fragrant and pure. Beyond the clearing, birds continued singing their bright and cheery songs in the forest.
Skallagrim remembered how his parents claimed he had the heart of a dragonslayer. Surely, no dragonslayer would ever prefer to hide away on a remote island instead of preparing himself to face whatever danger might come.
He looked up at his guardians. “It’s alright, Auntie Thurid,” Skallagrim said. “When danger comes, we’ll all be ready for it.”
CHAPTER 5
For the next several days, Skallagrim continued traveling by horse and cart with his guardians throughout the Midlands and then into the Southlands. He didn’t notice that much difference between the two countries. Neither had any true mountains. Instead, soft, rolling hills ran through lush fields and valleys. It wasn’t until they reached the lowest part of the Southlands that the flattest land Skallagrim had ever seen stretched between a few hillsides.
When they reached Bellesguard, the place struck Skallagrim as being an especially friendly and open community that appeared to welcome every traveler. Its narrow city streets were made of cobblestones, lined with simple stone houses. Although the stone houses reminded him of the homes on Tower Island, instead of being spread around a courtyard, they stood jammed against each other. Women wore simple kerchiefs on their heads and wide flowing skirts as colorful as the wildflowers that graced the hillsides. Men wore leather breeches tied at the knees, colorful woolen hose on their calves, and simple but roomy white blouses.
