The Dragonslayer's Heart

by Resa Nelson

  Before he could touch her, Fiera turned into a dragon. In the mortal world, her transformation would have ripped her clothing apart. Here in the realm of the Northlander gods, her clothing turned into the scales that covered her lizard body. She hissed, “Don’t forget to whom you speak! I’m a dragon goddess of the Far East. If you destroy all mortals, then you destroy the mortals of the country I guard. How can this not be my business?”

  “Think, Son,” the All-Father said. “You’re angry at a Northlander who failed to keep his promise to give his child to you. How would you feel if I’d promised to give you to some unknown god?”

  “You can’t be on her side.” Thor gaped. “And his promise was more than delivering his first-born child. He promised to restore temples throughout the Northlands. He promised to make the Northlanders worship us again. He broke all those promises.”

  Still in her dragon form, Fiera slithered behind the All-Father’s chair and curled her tail around his legs. She rested her head on the floor by his feet.

  The All-Father reached down and scratched Fiera behind the tiny ears hidden by her scales. “I’m not on her side.” He straightened and folded his hands in his lap before Fiera could snap at them.

  Fiera stood and eased back into the shape of a woman. Now, her dress appeared wrinkled as it reshaped into cloth from scales, giving her reason to smooth it out. To the All-Father, she said, “How can you be on his side?”

  The All-Father toyed with one of the flat stones on the table but didn’t turn it over. Instead, the carving on its other side remained a mystery. “Think not of sides. If mortals refuse to worship or even acknowledge their gods, what is the point of allowing them to continue to live?”

  Distressed by his words, Pingzi spoke up. “It’s not true!”

  All the gods in the room turned to look at her.

  Although tempted to shrink under their glare, Pingzi stood taller instead. “Everyone in the Far East loves the dragon gods. They guide us. They help us.” She bowed toward Fiera. “And we love and honor them in return.”

  Thor strode toward the table and slammed his hands down on it. The entire room trembled, and some of the sparks hovering around him tumbled onto the flat stones. The sparks crackled like bacon cooking over a fire. “You don’t love or honor us!”

  Pingzi faced his wrath with square shoulders and an upturned chin. “You are not our gods. You give us no reason to love or honor you.”

  Thor grumbled. “Someone should.”

  The All-Father adjusted his hat so that it rested at a sharper angle on his head. “Is that the only reason you came to see me, Fiera? To make a case for sparing mortal lives?” He chortled. “I can see any of the other dragon gods making that case. I never would have guessed you’d be the one to do it. Your disdain for mortals outrivals that of my son.”

  Stunned by his accusation, Pingzi clapped both hands over her mouth before she could utter another gasp.

  “Fair enough,” Fiera said. “I find most of them tedious and boring.” Her tone softened. “But every so often, you meet one who brings true value to the world. Like a demon queller or a dragonslayer.”

  “I knew it!” Thor said. “You’re protecting the dragonslayer who failed what he promised me!”

  Fiera continued as if Thor had said nothing. “And when you meet such a mortal, you understand the value of letting all of them live.”

  “Nonsense!” Thor said.

  “Enough!” The All-Father rubbed his forehead as if willing away a headache. “I find both of you insufferable. I will consider both sides and make a decision later.” He then waved his hand, and the floor took a sharp downward slant.

  Pingzi felt her body suspended in the air for a few moments before she plummeted into the pitch-black empty space where the floor had been moments ago.

  CHAPTER 15

  Pingzi opened her mouth to scream when she plummeted into the black and empty space opened up by the All-Father, not knowing where she was or if the dragon goddess Fiera had fallen into it as well. But the force of air rushing into Pingzi’s mouth silenced her. She pressed her eyes shut. The empty space shocked her skin like the icy waters of a frozen river closing in all around her. A faint odor that reminded Pingzi of a tree burnt by a lightning strike surrounded her.

  The spirit of Pingzi Po slammed back into her mortal body so hard that it knocked the air from her lungs. Gasping, she opened her eyes to see Hsu Mao hovering above her face and TeaTree standing close behind him. Feeling a hard, wooden floor beneath her body, Pingzi realized she was lying on her back. Not recognizing her surroundings, she sat up with a start, only to discover the sudden motion made the world spin. “Where am I?”

  “My home,” Hsu Mao said in Far Eastern.

  “I didn’t know what to do when you fainted,” TeaTree said in Northlander. “You’d been talking to this man and he’d walked away but I could still see him.” TeaTree wrung his hands, and his face strained with worry. “I thought he could help. I caught up with him and showed him where you fell.”

  Happy that the Midlander boy had done something with the intent of helping her, Pingzi took his hand and squeezed it.

  “Would you like me to tell you what happened so you can compare my story to his?” Hsu Mao gave a slight smile.

  “I’d rather that you tell me where I am and how I got here.”

  Hsu Mao nodded. “This is my home. I carried you here. I thought because you want to keep your royal identity a secret, you might not appreciate a public scene.”

  Pingzi rubbed her face. The sensation of the world spinning around slowed down to a stop. But it left the back of her head aching. “You didn’t cause a scene when you carried me through the city?”

  Hsu Mao suppressed another smile. “No. I told people you were drunk.”

  “Drunk?” Pingzi shouted without meaning to do so. It made her head hurt even more, so she softened her voice. “You told people I was drunk?”

  “Everyone believed me. Mostly, they laughed and went about their business.”

  Pingzi propped up on her elbows, but even that simple movement made her dizzy.

  Hsu Mao placed a steadying hand on her shoulders. “They’d still believe me. You’re fragile. Take your time.”

  His words insulted her. “I’m not fragile. I’m a demon queller!” Pingzi pushed off her elbows to sit up, only to be overwhelmed by nausea.

  The boy TeaTree knelt by her side. “Please, Mistress. I don’t know what this man says, but he’s been good to you. How can I help?” He glanced at Hsu Mao. “How can we help?”

  Pingzi spoke first in Northlander and then repeated the same words in Far Eastern so both TeaTree and Hsu Mao would understand. “Take me home. I’ll show you the way.”

  Despite Pingzi’s protests that she felt perfectly capable of walking and merely needed an escort home as a precaution, Hsu Mao refused to listen. Instead, he carried and placed her onto a small cart. He then gestured for TeaTree to help him pull the cart through the streets of Zangcheen.

  Mortified by the unwanted attention from Hsu Mao as well as curious stares from passers-by, Pingzi curled up in the cart and hid her face in her hands. Every so often, she peeked between her fingers and called out directions to Hsu Mao to guide him. Finally, they arrived in front of Pingzi’s house, a wooden home with sharp angles, nestled among others like it.

  Pingzi jumped from the cart and ran to the door.

  Before she could touch it, Benzel opened the door and walked outside. He glared at Hsu Mao and the cart. “What’s this?” Benzel said.

  “I had a portent,” Pingzi whispered to him. “These strangers helped me get home. It’s nothing to get worked up about.”

  TeaTree rushed up. Wide-eyed and breathless, he stared at Benzel for a few moments before bursting into speech. “Are you truly Benzel of the Wolf? You’re a legend! Did you know everyone thinks you’re dead? Rather, everyone I’ve ever talked to believes it. I can’t speak for the rest of the world. Did you truly kill dragons? A
nd berserkers? Did you kill them, too?”

  Benzel crossed his arms and faced Pingzi. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”

  Pingzi drew her body up straight and tall. “I would remind you that this is my home, and you’re a guest in it. And now this boy, TeaTree, is my guest, too. He’ll be living with us.”

  Benzel looked at her in astonishment. “Living with us? Why?”

  Hsu Mao approached them. To Pingzi, he said, “This man is your husband?”

  “No,” Pingzi said. Baffled by a sudden desire to explain, she said, “He’s a Northlander. Obviously.” She waved her hand to point up and down at Benzel’s physique. “A dragonslayer.”

  “A dragonslayer.” Hsu Mao stared into her eyes with fierce intent. “And you said you’re a demon queller.”

  “Did I?” Pingzi fidgeted, surprised that she felt nervous.

  “Why is a dragonslayer living with a demon queller who is not his wife?”

  Benzel edged closer to Pingzi and answered the question in her language. “What business is it of yours?”

  TeaTree clapped his hands together with delight. “Benzel of the Wolf! You speak Far Eastern. Would you please teach me how to speak it, too?”

  Everyone ignored the boy.

  Pingzi focused on regaining her composure, feeling the need to gain control of the situation before it got out of hand. At the same time, she felt intrigued by Hsu Mao and didn’t want to offend him or scare him away.

  “Let’s just say,” Pingzi said, “that we are sanctioned by the dragon gods.”

  Hsu Mao blinked and cocked his head to one side as if making sure he heard her correctly. “The dragon gods sanction a dragonslayer?”

  Benzel grinned. “That’s right. Next time, try keeping your nose out of the business of the dragon gods.”

  His words appeared to strike Hsu Mao like a slap in the face. Hsu Mao bowed toward Pingzi. “My apologies, Mistress Po. I will bother you no longer.”

  “Wait!” Pingzi said.

  Hsu Mao looked up with hope.

  Pingzi struggled to figure out what she wanted to say to him. “I appreciate your kindness in helping me with TeaTree and bringing me home.” She paused, searching for more to say. “It might be a good idea for someone to check in on me from time to time to make sure I recover properly.”

  Benzel rolled his eyes. “I’m standing right here. Don’t you think I can keep an eye on you?”

  TeaTree appeared so excited that he couldn’t help but take dancing steps around them. “What’s happening? What are you saying?” Looking up at Benzel, the boy said, “She likes him, you know. Even though they just met today, she likes him very much. I can tell by the way she looks at him.”

  Pingzi thanked the dragon gods that Hsu Mao didn’t understand the boy’s words.

  Hsu Mao smiled. “I would be most happy to check on the well-being of Mistress Po. And if you find this boy is too excitable for your taste, I can also help with him.”

  Pingzi didn’t understand her conflicted feelings. She wanted Hsu Mao to stay and keep talking. At the same time, she couldn’t wait for him to leave, because she needed to talk to Benzel about her meeting with the gods.

  Since the day she’d met Benzel, he’d become an ally and a confidant. Pingzi often discussed her portents with him, and Benzel helped her make sense of them.

  She needed him to know that the Northlander gods had become so frustrated with their people that they wanted to wipe the entire world free of mortal life. Pingzi also felt the pressing need to discuss Fiera’s efforts to dissuade them, and the All-Father’s promise to think about it.

  Pingzi understood the unpredictable behavior of the gods. Time in their realm appeared different from time in the mortal world. No matter how long the All-Father pondered the question of whether to allow mortals to live or die, that debate could seem to take mere minutes in the mortal world. Or it could seem to take a lifetime.

  “For now,” Pingzi said to Hsu Mao, “the dragonslayer and I have matters of the gods to discuss. But I would be most happy to see you on another day.”

  Hsu Mao gave another bow and a wider smile. He returned to his empty cart and pulled it away toward the heart of the city of Zangcheen.

  CHAPTER 16

  A few days later, Skallagrim returned to the Northlander port city of Gott with Lumara. Since his horses had bolted from the beach where he’d met the mysterious woman, their only option had been to walk through the desolate land south of the city.

  Skallagrim became more enamored with Lumara as each day passed. He felt both at peace and invigorated by her presence, mesmerized by her pleasant and good nature. The fonder Skallagrim became of her, the more beautiful she looked.

  Every time she smiled at him, his heart sang.

  Within a week of meeting Lumara, Skallagrim knew he wanted her to be his wife.

  The familiar streets of Gott comforted Skallagrim, even though he noticed the only boats in the harbor were local fishing vessels. All the ships from the Midlands and Southlands had left.

  I missed my ride. None of these little boats can handle the passage between Gott and the Midlands at this time of year. The seas are too rough. That means I’m stuck in the Northlands until spring.

  Skallagrim smiled at the thought.

  But I’m stuck here with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Here’s hoping for a long winter.

  Walking with Lumara at his side, Skallagrim said, “I wager they’ve kept my room at the tavern. We’ll help you find one, too.”

  When they entered the tavern, Skallagrim beamed when he saw Brigga, the owner. He introduced Lumara, but before he could explain their needs, Brigga interrupted.

  “Where have you been?” Brigga said. Her voice strained with worry. “Three men came looking for you.”

  “Three men?” Her words perplexed Skallagrim. “My last night here I met a woman looking for her missing sister.” He gestured toward Lumara. “I went south to find her. It took all night to get there, but then the horses I hired from your father bolted.”

  Brigga nodded. “I suspected as much. The horses made their way back. We’ve been wondering what happened to you.”

  “Lumara and me, we had to walk. It takes longer on foot.” Skallagrim scrunched up his face in puzzlement. “But why were three men looking for me?”

  Brigga lowered her voice, even though the few townspeople inside the tavern sat so far away and held such a boisterous conversation that they wouldn’t hear her. “They claimed to be your cousins. They wanted to know where you slept. I knew you weren’t in, so I directed them to your room. I didn’t like the air about them, so I followed and caught them.” She stopped in abrupt silence.

  “Something happened,” Lumara said. “Something that made you uneasy.”

  Brigga nodded. “One of them had stabbed his sword into your bed. You’d left the sheets and blankets piled up in a ball under the cover. I suspect he mistook them for you.”

  Skallagrim felt so light-headed that he felt the strength drain from his knees until Lumara placed a firm hand under his elbow as if willing him to keep standing. “My cousins,” Skallagrim said. “You said they were my cousins. From Tower Island?”

  “Scaldings,” Brigga said, confirming his guess. “Your good work gives glory to the Scalding name. All Scaldings are welcome here.” She paused and reconsidered. “Although I’m not sure those three will be anymore.”

  “I don’t understand,” Skallagrim said, genuinely perplexed. “Why would my own cousins try to kill me? It doesn’t make any sense.” He shook his head, bewildered. “Maybe they only said they were Scaldings. Maybe they meant to take advantage by using the family name.”

  “I think not,” Brigga said. “Two of them had lavender eyes.”

  Her words sent a chill through Skallagrim’s blood. “Are you sure?”

  Brigga nodded. “As lavender as the blooms of seahorse flowers.”

  Shaken, Skallagrim reached for a nearby wooden bench and sank down
on it.

  Lumara sat next to him. “What does it mean?” She looked from Skallagrim to Brigga. “To have lavender eyes?”

  “It’s the mark of the Scaldings,” Brigga said. “They’re the only ones to have eyes that color. Legend says it’s the work of an alchemist. I’ve heard tell that the alchemist took some kind of herb or potion to Tower Island and put it in the food without telling anyone. All the Scaldings eat together, so they all consumed it. The next morning, they all woke up with their eyes turned lavender.”

  “Not all,” Skallagrim said.

  “That’s right,” Brigga said. “My mistake.”

  “You don’t have lavender eyes,” Lumara said to Skallagrim.

  “Nor my parents,” Skallagrim said. “Nor my brother.” He shuddered with a new thought. He looked up at Brigga. “You said two of the three had lavender eyes.”

  Brigga nodded. The solemnness of her face made Skallagrim think they shared the same thought.

  Frandulane.

  “But why would an alchemist do such a thing?” Lumara said. “What does it mean?”

  “All I know is rumor,” Brigga said. She deferred to Skallagrim.

  “I doubt I know more than you,” Skallagrim said. “My parents never talk about it, and everything I know comes from my cousins, who tend to either exaggerate or invent the truth.”

  The women waited for him to continue.

  “What I heard,” Skallagrim said, “is that the alchemist put something in the food that would change the color of your eyes to lavender if you or your mother or father ever murder anyone.”

  Throughout his life, he’d never known whether to feel shame of his relatives, pride of his immediate family, or both.

  Skallagrim continued. “They say it’s the kind of herb that attaches to your insides and stays with you all your life. That means if you’ve already killed someone, your eyes will always be lavender. If you haven’t, the herb hides in your body and will change your eyes as soon as you kill.”

  “But you’re a dragonslayer,” Lumara said. “You must have killed many times, but your eyes are blue.”