by Resa Nelson
The cow mooed and kicked, connecting with a leg on the stool. The force knocked the stool out from under Frandulane, and he fell to the ground.
The milkmaid laughed.
Frandulane climbed to his feet and glared at the cow. He said to the animal, “I ought to use my sword on you.”
“Keep your sword put away.” The milkmaid took her time looking Frandulane over. She offered a smug smile. “Legend says the Scaldings have lavender eyes. You don’t.”
Her directness made Frandulane nervous. She’d stepped into sensitive territory. If anyone else had brought up the matter, Frandulane would end the conversation before it could begin. But he liked the milkmaid. He liked the idea of winning her over as his wife.
And he liked the idea of having a woman who wasn’t a Scalding to talk to about family matters. Maybe she would see things that he couldn’t.
“There’s a reason my eyes are still blue. It’s because neither of my parents has killed anyone.”
The milkmaid’s smug smile vanished. The look in her eyes became alert and cautious. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“When I was very young, an alchemist came to Tower Island and put some kind of concoction in our food. The Scaldings always eat together in the main hall, and the alchemist knew that. She put her potion into the main meal that everyone ate. The next morning, most Scalding men and children woke up with lavender eyes. It affected some women, too, but not all of them. My family thinks the potion perceived violence. I once heard someone say that killing another person taints the blood or soul or some such thing, and that’s what the alchemist’s brew detected and then left its mark in the eyes.”
The milkmaid wrung her hands but otherwise stood on steady feet. “Your clan has murdered people. But your own family has not.”
Her willingness to hear the story lifted Frandulane’s hopes. “Exactly. Scaldings born into families whose eyes turned lavender are born with lavender eyes. I’ve also seen a Scalding with blue eyes leave the island and return with lavender eyes after killing a man.”
The milkmaid stared at him. “Your eyes are blue.” She spoke as if trying to reassure herself. “You have blue eyes.”
“I do.” Frandulane stepped forward and took her nervous hands in his. “But if anyone ever tries to harm you or our baby, I could wake up with lavender eyes the next day.”
“You would be willing to kill to protect us.” She said it as a statement, not a question.
“Of course,” Frandulane said. “I will do anything to protect my own family.”
When her eyes welled with tears, Frandulane remembered she was an orphan.
She’s never had a family, not a real one. She doesn’t know what it’s like to have someone willing to put their life on the line to keep you safe.
“Come with me,” Frandulane said, now filled with confidence. “We can get married here in the Midlands or on Tower Island. Wherever you like.” Frandulane let go of her hands and grasped her shoulders. “You’ll need to bring warmer clothing. It’s colder up north.”
“It’ll be a grand adventure,” the milkmaid said. “I’ve always wanted to have an adventure.”
Frandulane kissed her, remembering all the good times dallying with the milkmaid many weeks ago. When he backed away, she smiled.
“We could leave for the Midlands now,” Frandulane said. “The sea’s too rough to sail now, and most ships won’t sail until spring. But I’ve heard of one ship that sometimes leaves earlier than the rest.”
The milkmaid’s eyes shone bright with hope. “I’ve never been on a ship before.”
“First we go to the north coast and book passage. Then we sail to the biggest port city in the Northlands.” Frandulane returned her smile. “With any luck, we’ll arrive in Gott before any of the dragonslayers.”
CHAPTER 19
Several weeks later, Lumara had just finished cleaning up the smithery at the end of the day when Brigga rushed in.
“The blacksmith has gone home,” Lumara said. “If you have anything to be repaired, you can leave it with me and I’ll tell him about it tomorrow.”
“I’m not here to see the blacksmith.” Brigga’s eyes darkened with concern. “I’m here to see you. The Scalding who tried to kill Skallagrim is here. I saw him just now in the tavern, but he didn’t see me.”
Nothing frightened Lumara. She’d never felt endangered. But for the first time in her life, she worried about the safety of someone else. “Do you think the Scalding will try to kill Skallagrim again?”
“Not if we can help it,” Brigga said. “He’s out at the caves looking for that dragon again. I’ve got a horse waiting for you.” Brigga pointed at Lumara’s clothing. “But it’s still cold outside. You need to bundle up first.”
Lumara scurried to gather up all the clothing that she had and wore it all in layers. She already wore what she’d earned when she’d first begun to work in the smithery. Her first payment had been linen pants and a shirt, like the Northlander men wore, along with a good pair of leather shoes. Lumara opened a bench by the wall and dug out the dress she’d been wearing on the day she met Skallagrim. She shrugged into it, wearing it over her shirt and pants. From the same bench she removed a hooded cloak and put it on.
“Follow me,” Brigga said. “We’ve no time to waste.”
Lumara closed up the smithery and hurried to catch up with Brigga in the street outside.
Brigga’s arms shook while she untied the reins of a horse from a post. “Brownie’s a good horse. But you have to let him know who’s boss.”
Brownie sniffed the air and gave a nervous neigh. He jerked his head and backed away from Lumara.
Brigga stared at the horse as if it had turned into a butterfly. “What’s wrong with you?”
Lumara understood the horse’s concern.
It knows I’m not mortal. The horse can sense it.
“There now,” Lumara said to Brownie. She showed her open palms to the horse. “Nothing to be afraid of.” She hoped her voice sounded soothing and that the animal would find it calming.
Instead, Brownie gave a series of troubled neighs and strained away from the reins Brigga held in her hands.
“There’s no time for this,” Brigga said. She reached into the pouch hanging from her belt and gave a carrot to Lumara. “Try this.”
Lumara held out the carrot so Brownie could get a good look at it. She kept still and patient.
Brownie stomped a few times but then ventured near the carrot and sniffed at it. Despite a few nervous glances at Lumara, Brownie conceded and ate the carrot.
“Like I said,” Lumara said to the horse. “Nothing to be afraid of.”
Brigga handed the reins to Lumara. “Ride north of town. Follow that road until it splits in two. The right path follows the ocean, while the left path leads toward the foot of the mountains where the caves are. Take the left path. When you get to the foothills, keep your eyes open for another horse. I’ve been letting Skallagrim take Spot.”
Lumara couldn’t help but smile. “Spot?”
Brigga shook her head in misery. “Never let an eight-year-old boy name your horses.”
With a laugh, Lumara climbed on top of the horse. Remembering the serious nature of her task, she said, “What should I do when I find Skallagrim?”
“Convince him to start his dragonslayer route now. That will take him north to the Boglands. Don’t let him come back to Gott.”
“Should I tell him about the Scalding you saw?”
“No! If they come face to face, someone will die. Tell him I got word of a dragon up north. I’ll keep an eye on the Scalding and send word if I see any trouble in the making.” Brigga untied the pouch from her belt and handed it to Lumara. “Here. It’s not much food, but it’s something.” Brigga paused. “Of course, there’s one less carrot now.”
While Brigga headed back to the tavern, Lumara urged Brownie toward the north end of Gott. Looking up at the sky, she felt grateful to see a decent amoun
t of daylight left. She saw there might be enough time to find Skallagrim before nightfall.
For a moment, Lumara considered dismounting so she could turn into a dragon, hunt the Scalding down, and kill him. It would be an easy solution.
But it wouldn’t help. Not after everything I promised Fiera I would do. Not after everything she taught me.
Lumara dug her heels into Brownie’s sides, urging the horse until it ran.
* * *
Following Brigga’s instructions, Lumara took the left fork in the road when it split and followed it to the foothills. By now, the sun dipped so low that it touched the horizon. She needed to find Skallagrim soon.
Brownie whinnied and broke into a trot. Soon, the horse left the path and headed toward the mountains.
Another horse whinnied up ahead.
“Well, done, Brownie,” Lumara said. “You’ve found your friend.”
She found a white horse tied to a tree at a makeshift camp. After dismounting and securing Brownie’s reins to the same tree, Lumara studied the scene. A fallen log faced a simple ring of small stones containing ashes from a fire. Encouraged, Lumara sank to her hands and knees and questioned those ashes. “How long have you been here? Do you know Skallagrim? Do you know where he’s gone?”
The ashes stirred and then reached out to her.
When Lumara held an open hand toward them, she realized that although she’d cleaned up the smithery, she’d failed to clean herself. Like the blacksmith, at the end of each day, smudge marks of soot covered her skin.
She didn’t mind if the ashes marked her, too.
A small pile of ashes swept up to rest in her palm.
Lumara let the ashes show her what they knew. They shifted to form tiny pictures against her skin. An image of Skallagrim started a fire within the ring of stones and cooked a rabbit he’d caught. He ate his fill and then hung the remaining carcass from a tree at the entrance to a cave. His image faded to black.
It’s bait. He used the rest of his meal as bait for the dragon he thinks he’ll find.
“Thank you, my friends,” Lumara said to the ashes. She let them fall back into the pile with their friends.
With light growing dimmer by the moment, Lumara headed toward an area that matched what the ashes had shown to her. She saw where Skallagrim had hung the carcass, but it had disappeared. Looking at the ground, she saw fresh animal tracks.
That’s certainly not a lizard. Maybe a fox. Or even a wolf. Maybe more than one. They’re the ones that took the bait and disappeared with it.
Confident that she’d traveled far enough away from Gott that no one in that city could hear her, Lumara shouted Skallagrim’s name but heard no one answer.
He has to be here somewhere. But how do I find him in the dark?
And how do I protect myself if a pack of wolves comes by looking for another treat?
Lumara saw a simple solution. One that held a certain risk, but she’d done it before with success. Why wouldn’t it work again?
First, she placed her shoes outside the ring of stones. Then she stripped and folded each item of clothing into a neat square and placed it on top of the fallen log. Shivering in the cold night air, Lumara shifted her shape to become a dragon.
No pack of wolves stands a chance against me now.
Lumara blinked until her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Her dragon eyes could see in the dark much better than her mortal ones.
She flicked her long yellow tongue into the night air in search of Skallagrim’s scent. Lumara turned slowly in place, continuing to flick her tongue until she tasted a trace of him. She followed that trace and picked up another. Bit by bit, she climbed up a mountain side and onto a narrow path, barely wide enough to contain her dragon body.
When she approached a tree growing on the steep ground next to the path, its branches rustled so hard that it made Lumara wonder if a monster hid among them. Instead, a few large birds bolted into flight out of the tree, disturbed from their sleeping place by Lumara’s presence.
She looked skyward, watching the birds fly away.
The thwack of something hard against her leg made Lumara look at it in astonishment. Even in this dim light, she had no problem making out the sight of a swinging sword and the man who wielded it.
Skallagrim!
Lumara had assumed she’d be able to sneak up on Skallagrim, knock him unconscious, and then take him back to the makeshift camp. She hadn’t considered he might get the jump on her.
Hoping to seize the advantage, Lumara lashed her tail out with just enough force to knock Skallagrim down without harming him.
But with a fierce cry, Skallagrim dodged her lashing tail. He charged forward and landed a blow against her ribs. But her protective scales allowed his sword to slide off.
I can’t stay here! He can’t find out it’s me!
Lumara sprang away from Skallagrim and retraced her journey down the path and then down the mountainside. She sprinted, certain she could out-run the dragonslayer. Bounding back to the makeshift camp, she heard the horses snort and whinny. Without looking back, Lumara returned to her mortal form. But before she could find her clothing, she heard the dragonslayer speak.
“What are you?” Skallagrim said.
Lumara turned around to see Skallagrim standing behind her, sword in hand. Still naked, she stood tall and proud before his eyes in the faint light of dusk. “Isn’t it obvious?” she said. “I’m a woman.”
“I saw what you did. I saw you change from a dragon.”
Lumara stood her ground. “Your eyes played tricks on you.”
Skallagrim shook his head. “I know what I saw.” With trembling hands, he pointed the dragonslayer sword at her. “Tell me what you are.”
He won’t kill me. He can’t.
Still, Lumara remembered a conversation she’d had with her sister Fiera years ago. Fiera had said it might come to this. Fiera said it might be necessary to tell the truth.
“As you wish,” Lumara said. “I will tell you what you want to know. My sister is a dragon goddess.”
“Dragon goddess.” Skallagrim kept the sword pointed at her. “There’s no such thing.”
“Not in the Northlands. She is worshipped by the people of the Far East.”
“And you? Are you a goddess, too?”
“No.” Lumara gathered her wits in case she needed them. “I’m just a dragon.”
Skallagrim swallowed so hard that Lumara heard it. “I kill dragons,” Skallagrim said. “It’s my duty to my country. To my people.”
“You kill lizards,” Lumara said. Although she didn’t like being threatened with a sword, she believed she could reason with the man. “That’s what we call them. They’re animals, not gods. We know lizards destroy crops. Kill people. Of course, you kill lizards. If you didn’t, they’d wipe out the mortal population.” She paused. “But it’s never a good idea to kill a true dragon like me. Not unless you want to feel the wrath of an entire nation.”
Skallagrim’s face paled with fear, but he continued to hold his sword steady. “What are you doing here? If you’re truly from the Far East, why did you leave?”
Now we get to the heart of the matter.
“To help,” Lumara said. “Because your own gods have given up on you.”
“What?” Skallagrim’s face twisted in confusion. As if unaware of his actions, he lowered his sword. Although he still held onto the grip, he let the sword’s point rest on the ground.
Heartened, Lumara continued. “Your people let their worship of the Northlander gods fade, and your gods are offended. Worse, they’ve witnessed a level of violence that all gods find unacceptable.”
Skallagrim shifted in discomfort. “Because we kill dragons?”
“Because you kill each other.”
“It’s what people do. It’s part of life.”
“Not the life intended for this world by the Creation that all its gods and goddesses serve.” Lumara thought again of the strategies she’d discussed wi
th Fiera. Lumara considered all the things they’d agreed could and should not be discussed with mortals. “A Northlander clan chose to decimate entire villages. In time, they corrected their ways. But one of their own spent his life following a dream of murdering them all.
“If left alone, this family would have succeeded in mending their ways. But the Northlander who vowed to murder them all may change that course. The Northlander gods take this as proof that mortals are hopeless creatures that don’t deserve to live. Your gods want to destroy all mortal life in this world.”
Shaken, Skallagrim used his sword like a cane to steady his walk and eased over to sit down on a log next to Lumara’s discarded clothing. “They want to kill us?”
“Not just Northlanders. Midlanders. Southlanders. Far Easterners. Everyone.”
“That makes no sense. Why destroy the entire world?”
“It’s not the world your gods want to destroy. Just the mortals in it.”
Skallagrim let his sword fall to the ground and rubbed his face with his hands. “Why?”
Lumara walked to the fallen log on which Skallagrim sat and picked up the clothing she’d left on it. Once she’d dressed, Lumara spoke. “If mortals can lose so much control that they willingly slaughter each other for insignificant reasons like revenge and spite, then they can’t be trusted to respect any living thing in this world, whether animal or plant or tree or river. The Northlanders have proven to their gods that they can’t be trusted to live without placing the entire world at risk. That’s why the Northlander gods think all mortals must be destroyed. But not all gods agree.”
She sat next to Skallagrim on the log and placed her hand on his shoulder.
“My own gods have ruined everything.” Skallagrim stared into space with a stunned expression.
Lumara reached around his shoulder and held him close. “There is still hope. The other gods of this world believe we can reason with the Northlander gods and convince them to let mortals live.”
Skallagrim shook away his malaise. “I loved you the moment I saw you. I thought you would be my wife. I thought we’d have a family and be happy. But that’s impossible now.”
