The Dragonslayer's Heart

by Resa Nelson

  Uncle Claude explained that the people of Bellesguard rose as gently as the sun and took their time enjoying each day. “They’re not like Northlanders or Midlanders,” Uncle Claude said. “The fields here are much easier to tend. Southlanders work only as much as needed. They spend most of their time eating and talking.”

  “They’re lazy?” Skallagrim wrinkled his nose in distaste at the thought.

  “Not lazy,” Uncle Claude said. “They get their work done, and then they enjoy the pleasures of life.”

  They traveled to the far end of Bellesguard. Auntie Thurid pointed at a ridge where a large oak tree grew. A large grassy lawn dotted with sheep and goats spread between the ridge and a large manor. “That’s where we’re going. We’re almost there.”

  Beyond the ridge, Skallagrim considered the beautiful stone manor. It looked peculiar because it stood three stories high but its width looked smaller than its height. On the left side of the manor, an enormous iron flower adorned the top of a slim tower that stretched twice as high as the manor.

  “See?” Auntie Thurid continued, pointing at the manor. “Doesn’t it look like a giant toad? Can’t you see the way the toad shoots its tongue up to catch a fly?”

  Skallagrim squinted. “I don’t see it.”

  They drove along a narrow dirt road toward the stone manor, leaving the center of Bellesguard behind. Heading toward the ridge that defined the estate’s boundary, they had open fields to the left and woods to the right.

  A short distance ahead, a Northlander girl darted across their path and ran to the other side of the road. She dove to the ground and disappeared in the tall grass growing by the path.

  “Who was that?” Skallagrim said.

  Before either of his guardians could respond, a boy wearing the garb of a Southlander dashed onto the road and looked in all directions, sword in hand. He froze for a moment when he spotted the horse and cart but then relaxed and waved with his free hand.

  “I don’t understand,” Skallagrim said. “Is he trying to kill her with the sword?”

  “I have no idea,” Auntie Thurid said. “We don’t know these children.”

  The Southlander boy took a few steps forward toward the cart.

  Out of the tall grasses, the Northlander girl pounced. She caught the boy from behind and wrenched his sword away into her own hands. She then pointed the sharp tip at his chest.

  Sagging in defeat, the Southlander boy raised his hands above his head and sank to his knees, remaining there until Uncle Claude pulled the cart up alongside them.

  The Northlander girl beamed. “Welcome to the dragonslayer training camp of Bellesguard!” She paused and then spoke to Auntie Thurid. “I thought the new boy would be a Northlander.”

  “I am one!” Skallagrim said.

  The Northlander girl brightened again. “Oh, I thought you were a Midlander because you look like one. But you’ve got a real Northlander accent!” She thwacked the Southlander boy with the flat of his blade but held onto his weapon. “All of the others are Southlander boys. I’m so happy to have a fellow Northlander to talk to.” She screwed up her face in a scowl for a moment. “Of course, everybody speaks Northlander so we can’t have any secret conversations in front of them. But still—I won’t be the only Northlander anymore!”

  The Southlander boy began to rise, speaking words Skallagrim didn’t understand.

  The Northlander girl thwacked him again and forced him back on his knees. “Speak my language so everyone can understand you!”

  “I said,” the Southlander boy said with a heavy accent, “give me back my sword!”

  “It’s mine for now,” the Northlander girl said. “I won it fair and square. I’ll give it back when we’ve greeted our guests accordingly.” She took a few steps forward with a flounce and then swept the sword in a grand gesture. “My name is Bruni. I’m from the Boglands.”

  “The Boglands!” Auntie Thurid said in surprise. “How can that be?”

  Bruni laughed. “I was born there. It’s only the folks who move to the Boglands who want nothing to do with people. I’m not like that. I want to see the world!”

  The Southlander scrambled to his feet and charged at Bruni. When he reached toward her, she spun away and took several quick and well-placed steps away from his grasp. Once more, Bruni pointed the sword at his chest, keeping him at bay. Without taking her gaze away from him, she said, “This is Seph. He thinks he’s better than me. It’s tiring to keep proving him wrong, but a dragonslayer must do whatever is necessary.” Bruni sighed. “These Southlander boys make it necessary to prove myself again and again and again.” She nudged the tip of the sword at Seph, and he cried out in fear. “Don’t make me prove my point, Southlander.”

  Enthralled by the young dragonslayers, Skallagrim jumped from the cart and joined them. He pointed at the sword that Bruni had wrenched away from Seph. “Can I hold it?”

  Bruni looked at him with startled eyes. “No! Seph had no right to bring it outside, much less take it in his hands. I shouldn’t even be touching it, except for the fact I needed to show Seph which one of us is cleverer.”

  Skallagrim’s guardians eased their way from the cart and stepped forward. Uncle Claude extended his hand. “Then it’s best for me to take it.”

  “I think not,” Bruni protested. “I don’t know you!”

  Skallagrim sidled closer to her. “It’s fine. He’s my Uncle Claude and a weapon merchant. You couldn’t ask for safer hands to hold that sword.”

  Bruni stood her ground.

  “You welcomed us when we rode up,” Skallagrim continued. “You must have known we were coming.”

  “Just you,” Bruni said. She kept a sharp gaze on Uncle Claude. “But it’s occurring to me that you might not be who I think you are.”

  She backed away and nudged Seph with her foot.

  The boy jumped to his feet and reached for the sword.

  “I’ve got the sword!” Bruni said. “Use your dagger.”

  Seph frowned but withdrew his dagger and stood side by side with Bruni as if anticipating a fight.

  Uncle Claude raised his hands in surrender. “Nothing to worry about. We’re here by invitation.”

  “You,” Bruni said to Skallagrim. “You never told us your name.”

  “I’m Skallagrim. We’ve come from Tower Island.”

  “I doubt that,” Seph said. He adjusted his grip on his dagger and pointed it at Uncle Claude. “Only Scaldings live on Tower Island. And you don’t look like no Scalding.”

  “He already explained he’s a Northlander,” Bruni said to Seph. “And he’s got a proper Northlander accent, so I believe he was raised as one even if he doesn’t look like one.”

  Seph gestured with his dagger at Uncle Claude, inspiring the man to take a step back. “But what about him?” Seph said. “He’s obviously a Midlander.”

  “I call him my uncle,” Skallagrim said. He pointed at Thurid. “I call her my auntie. But we’re not related by blood. Like I said, Uncle Claude is a weapon merchant and sells his wares throughout the three countries. Auntie Thurid is an alchemist.”

  With growing concern etched on their faces, Bruni and Seph turned their attention to Auntie Thurid.

  “She’s a Northlander!” Skallagrim said. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “We’ve heard talk about portents of uncertain times,” Bruni said. “And Northlanders who betray their fellow Northlanders.” Bruni paused and reconsidered. “At least one Northlander. Maybe more.”

  “That’s not us,” Skallagrim said. “So, put down your weapons.”

  Unconvinced, the young dragonslayers refused, although they appeared less stiff in stance.

  “You said you heard about troubling portents,” Auntie Thurid said. “Where? How?”

  “None of your concern until we get you sorted out,” Bruni said.

  An old but fit man emerged from the woods behind the young dragonslayers. His bald head contrasted with a neat white beard. Mapped with deep wrink
les, his face looked grizzled. “Consider them sorted,” he said. “Hello, Thurid. Good to see you, Claude.”

  Bruni and Seph sagged with relief.

  The old man walked toward them and held one hand toward Bruni.

  Turning the weapon around, Bruni handed its grip to him.

  Taking the sword, the old man said, “We’ll discuss this later.”

  Skallagrim watched in amazement when Auntie Thurid rushed forward to hug the strange man. Uncle Claude grinned and followed in her footsteps.

  Who is that old man?

  Auntie Thurid turned to look at Skallagrim. “I keep forgetting how long it’s been.” She beckoned for Skallagrim to join her side. To the old man, she said, “This is Skallagrim.”

  The old man wore no sheath on his belt, so he had to hold onto the sword. He planted its sharp tip in the ground between his feet. “Skallagrim,” he said. Something caught at his voice as if he were catching cold. Or as if something troubled him enough to cry. “My name is Benzel of the Wolf.”

  CHAPTER 6

  “Benzel of the Wolf,” Skallagrim said, perplexed. “I never heard a name like that before.”

  Benzel smiled and looked at Thurid. “It used to be Benzel of Heatherbloom and later Benzel of Hidden Glen. It was your auntie who gave me the name that stuck.”

  Skallagrim tried to puzzle it out. “Are you part wolf?”

  The adults laughed, but the young dragonslayers paid such rapt attention that Skallagrim thought they must have wondered the same thing.

  “No,” Benzel said. “I’m all mortal. All Northlander.”

  Skallagrim considered a new question. “Did you grow up with wolves?”

  “No.” A wistful look softened Benzel’s eyes. “But I once found a wolf pup, and it grew up by my side. It became my family.”

  Bruni and Seph exchanged wide-eyed looks.

  That’s more than he’s told them.

  Uncle Claude interrupted. “Benzel of the Wolf is a new teacher. He’ll be yours.”

  “Join us for the first lesson,” Benzel said to Skallagrim. He pointed at the woods from which the young dragonslayers had emerged. “We have our own building behind the manor. The quickest route is through there.” To Bruni and Seph, he said, “Tell the others I’ll be there shortly.”

  Skallagrim followed Bruni and Seph onto a narrow path that led through the woods. Taking a quick glance back, Skallagrim saw Benzel of the Wolf conferring with his guardians.

  What do they have to talk about?

  It worried Skallagrim that he’d never heard anyone say Benzel’s name before. If Benzel of the Wolf had known his guardians for such a long time, why had they never mentioned him? They knew Benzel would be Skallagrim’s teacher.

  And if Auntie Thurid and Uncle Claude knew all this, wouldn’t they have told Skallagrim’s parents? They’d always been as thick as thieves with his guardians. Skallagrim assumed there were no secrets between them. Why had Mother and Father never talked about Benzel of the Wolf?

  “This way!” Bruni called out.

  With a start, Skallagrim saw he’d fallen so far behind that he’d almost lost sight of them. He hurried to catch up with Bruni and Seph, doing so just in time to step out of the other side of the woods. Here, a grand expanse of buildings and lawns greeted him. A short distance away stood the back of the grand manor Skallagrim had first seen from the streets of Bellesguard. Another stone building faced him.

  Bruni pointed at it. “That’s where we train. The family that lives in that manor had it built especially for dragonslayers!”

  Skallagrim considered it to be a simple building compared to the manor because it had plain walls and a square shape. He also considered it to be grand because a dozen or more houses on Tower Island could easily fit inside.

  A group of 20 other boys streamed across the emerald lawns and into the training building.

  “Let’s go!” Seph said before he ran to join them.

  A young woman trailed far behind them. She wore her long, dark hair piled on top of her head in a neat bun.

  Walking next to Bruni, Skallagrim said, “Is that the dragon queller? I met her at Limru.”

  “Limru?” Bruni turned to him with surprise. “When were you in Limru?”

  “On the way here. We stopped there. That’s when I met her. I saw her quell a dragon!”

  “No, she’s not from Limru.” Bruni stared at the woman. “We heard a rumor about a dragon queller in the Midlands, but no one here believed it.”

  Skallagrim squinted as the distance between them grew shorter. “Are you sure that’s not her?”

  “That’s Pingzi Po. She’s from the Far East.”

  “Far East?” Skallagrim thought he must have heard Bruni wrong. “No one from the Far East ever leaves it.”

  “She did. She came with Master Benzel.” Bruni’s tone took a serious turn. “Now that you’re going into training, you must know this: treat your teachers with respect. That means you must address Benzel of the Wolf as Master Benzel. You must address Pingzi Po as Mistress Po.”

  Skallagrim brightened with new hope. “Is she our teacher, too? Will she teach us how to quell dragons like the Dragon Queller of Limru?”

  “She’s not a dragon queller,” Bruni said. “Mistress Po is a demon queller.”

  The thought chilled Skallagrim. “A demon queller? Are there demons in Bellesguard?”

  “Not that anyone knows of. No demons in all of the Southlands as far as I know.”

  “But there must be a demon somewhere if she’s come all the way from the Far East.”

  Bruni shook her head. “I don’t know. Nobody does.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “But they say she’s the one who has portents. I never heard of anyone in the Northlands, Midlands, or Southlands who knew what a portent was, much less had one. It’s only the Far Easterners that can have them.”

  Skallagrim mulled over what Bruni said. “If there’s no demon, then why is she here? To help us with portents she sees?”

  “Maybe. All I know is Mistress Po and Master Benzel—whenever you see one of them, the other’s not far behind.”

  Demons. Quellers. Portents.

  There’s nothing like any of that on Tower Island.

  Skallagrim felt as if the ground he now walked upon welcomed his feet. The warm breeze embraced him.

  This is where I belong. It’s where I was always meant to be.

  For the first time in his life, Skallagrim felt confident and at peace. Side by side with Bruni, the Northlander from the Boglands, he entered the hall built to train dragonslayers.

  CHAPTER 7

  The first thing Skallagrim noticed inside the training hall was its massive area and high ceiling. Skallagrim assumed the space would be divided into rooms. Instead, the interior of the great stone hall stood as one massive space. Within moments, Skallagrim understood why.

  For now, only Skallagrim’s fellow trainees occupied the hall. A few of them paired up, took wooden swords from rows hanging on one wall, and began sparring. Each wooden sword stood shoulder-high and required two hands to control. Each pair of fighters required a great amount of space. For one thing, the boys needed space between each other to avoid being struck. For another, every swing of the sword required clearance above their heads and on all sides. They also needed space to keep from hitting or being hit by other dueling pairs.

  “I don’t understand,” Skallagrim said. “Where are the real swords? Why do they fight with wood?”

  Master Benzel entered with Mistress Po close on his heels.

  Bruni gave a sharp whistle.

  All the boys gathered in front of Master Benzel in a neat row.

  Master Benzel gestured toward Skallagrim. “Meet our newest candidate. He is Skallagrim Scalding from Tower Island. Don’t be deceived by his appearance. He’s a true Northlander, so take care to speak his language until he learns Midlander and Southlander.”

  When everyone turned to look at him, Skallagrim realized with surprise that
he felt no discomfort.

  This is where I belong.

  “His first question,” Master Benzel continued, “is about the wooden weapons. Who would like to answer?” Master Benzel gave a pointed look at Seph.

  Seph answered with a defiant tone. “The wooden weapons are called wasters. They are the same shape and weight as a dragonslayer’s sword.”

  Standing next to Skallagrim, Bruni piped up and draped a proud arm around his shoulder. “Dragonslayer swords are made by the finest blacksmiths in the Northlands. There’s no other country that knows how to make them.”

  Another boy snorted. “That’s because they keep the know-how to themselves. They keep it secret.”

  “For good reason,” Bruni said. “It’s the best and strongest type of sword in all the world. No one wants that kind of sword falling into the wrong hands.”

  Master Benzel cleared his throat.

  Bruni and the boys fell quiet.

  “The reason we use wasters,” Master Benzel said, “is because all swords, and especially those made for dragonslayers, are very sharp and dangerous. If you use a real sword to train, you risk getting hurt or hurting your classmates or me or Mistress Po.”

  The lady in the beautiful dress stood behind Master Benzel and gave a slight bow toward the young dragonslayers in acknowledgment.

  “That would be foolish,” Master Benzel said. “For that reason, you will use a wooden sword for the purpose of learning how to use a dragonslayer sword. As Seph pointed out, the wooden sword is the same size, shape, and weight, which makes it perfect for training. If you accidentally hit someone with it, the result will be a bruise or possibly a broken bone in the very worst case. If you accidentally hit someone with a real sword, you could kill them. No one dies here. Understood?”