The Dragonslayer's Sword

by Resa Nelson

  Often, it wasn't until after the finished piece had been used that its true nature was revealed. A newly smithed knife might bend at first use or it might cut straight and true.

  It was a test of character.

  "Get one of the billets," Temple said. Days ago, when DiStephan had lost his first sword, Temple had hammered blooms of iron, round lumps of metal, into long narrow rods, no thicker than Astrid's littlest finger. Those were the billets that would form the heart and soul of the dragonslayer's sword.

  "Yes, Sir.” Astrid approached the forging table with a billet in one hand and her hammer in the other.

  The weight of the village's survival rested on her shoulders, and she wanted to be strong enough to bear that weight.

  She shoved the billet into the fire and waited for it to glow orange.

  What Astrid couldn't imagine was how the skills she learned today would shape the rest of her life.

  She shifted the weight of the hammer in her hand, ready to smite iron.

  CHAPTER 4

  Astrid hammered a new dagger blade into shape on her anvil.

  Nothing felt right today. She didn't like the way the iron responded when she struck it; instead of molding into the shape she desired, the metal was obstinate and pushed itself into unwanted directions. Her favorite hammer felt too heavy one moment and too light the next. Even the fire seemed all wrong. No matter what Astrid tried, the heat acted uneven and contrary in its bed of coals.

  She wore baggy trousers gathered at her knees, goatskin shoes tied at the ankle, and a leather vest with large armholes to let her move freely. An abrupt wind rustled through the birch trees then blew past Astrid, blasting the forge's heat over her bare skin, singeing the fine hairs on her forearms.

  Startled, she lost her grip on the tongs, and the dagger blade clattered off the anvil. Letting her anger get the better of her, Astrid swiped the half-formed dagger from the smithery floor with her tongs. She buried it deep into the glowing coals.

  She'd show that stupid piece of iron! If it was going to cool off so fast, she'd heat it longer to make it hotter.

  She pumped the bellows hard, too hard.

  Eight months had passed since DiStephan had disappeared. Everyone in Guell assumed he'd been devoured by the same dragon that had killed Natalia, the butcher's daughter.

  Only Astrid knew the truth, and she'd kept it to herself all this time, hoping DiStephan would come back today or tomorrow or the day after.

  She felt happy as a blacksmith, and she loved her work. But during the past eight months she had come to realize how much she loved DiStephan. Her life was empty and lonely without him.

  She put the bellows down and picked up a fire rake with her leather-gloved hand. She poked the coals around the buried blade. She'd been under-heating everything this morning and was determined to do something right.

  Finally, she pulled the blade from the coals with her tongs.

  The iron glowed pale yellow, and tiny white sparks danced upon its surface.

  Damn!

  Astrid dipped the blade quickly into the cool water in the quenching barrel by the anvil.

  The iron sizzled, still glowing bright yellow.

  Astrid hammered, trying to salvage the blade, but it was too late. The iron bubbled where she'd burned it, having left it in the fire too long. She’d unwittingly ruined the half-made dagger.

  She missed Temple, who'd died five years ago. He'd known dragonslayers all his life and understood them. There had been too many times when Astrid had felt baffled by DiStephan.

  And Natalia had died, thanks to Astrid's stupidity.

  Angry with herself, Astrid flung the ruined dagger across the smithery floor. She struggled, fighting back tears.

  Blacksmiths don't cry, she reminded herself.

  It had been many years since she'd cried in the smithery, not since the day Temple had bought her from the child seller. She'd vowed to never cry again.

  For the first time since she'd come to Guell, Astrid felt scared. She missed Temple, but he was gone forever. She missed DiStephan, who'd vanished without a word. Although she had friends, Astrid felt adrift without DiStephan. He'd been her most trusted ally since childhood.

  "Are you well?"

  Shocked, Astrid looked up to see the new dragonslayer Taddeo standing in the smithery yard, staring at her.

  No one ever came into the smithery yard, especially when Astrid worked. It was an unspoken agreement in Guell.

  Taddeo's eyes narrowed when he took a step closer. He was a foreigner from the Far East who'd come to Guell soon after DiStephan's disappearance. Taddeo had a strange accent, although he spoke their language perfectly. He stood taller and stronger than any man Astrid had ever known. Like most women, she'd felt a tug of attraction to his muscular body and cool green eyes. Although his skin paled several shades lighter than Astrid's, it looked rough and weathered.

  Astrid reminded herself that Taddeo had no chance to learn the unwritten law about Astrid's smithery being off-limits because he lived in his dragonslayer's camp on the outskirts of town.

  Astrid wanted to be fair to him, but the way he stared unnerved her.

  The corners of Taddeo's mouth curved into a slight smile as he stared even closer at her body. "Are you quite well?” His voice lilted with amusement.

  Astrid wanted to hide behind her anvil in embarrassment.

  Because her work required strength, she always shifted her chest and arms to a larger, more muscular shape. She wished she could hide her huge, muscular arms. Not knowing what else to do, she crossed them to keep from trembling. Unlike a man's corded musculature, her arms were smoothly defined. She tripled the size of her arm and chest muscles every time she entered the smithery so she could do the work she loved.

  Everyone in Guell changed their shape. It was normal. Nobody raised an eyebrow, except when it came to Lenore, and that happened only because of her crude behavior. Lenore would sprout larger breasts or longer legs when she walked through town, laughing when men noticed.

  And yet everyone respected Lenore because no man had ever been able to change her body by staring at it.

  Lenore's confidence gave her strength. Lenore kept whatever shape she wanted, no matter how anyone else wanted her to look.

  Astrid wasn't like Lenore.

  "I'm fine.” Astrid's voice shook.

  Other than Temple, no one had ever seen Astrid in her blacksmithing body. She felt as vulnerable as if she were naked.

  She was sensitive about it, because changing to this shape meant finding the male qualities within herself.

  Astrid swallowed hard, trying to focus and regain her composure. She'd never seen Taddeo change in the seven months she'd known him.

  It seemed to be impossible for Taddeo's physical appearance to change. He'd never been affected by what anyone else thought of him. Not even by what he thought of himself.

  It made her wonder if he knew how to keep changes at bay, as if they were dragons.

  Astrid noticed he'd brought the sword she'd made for him, the Magenta. As always, he wore leather gloves while handling it.

  Relieved to focus on something other than her own embarrassment, Astrid smiled. "How is the Magenta? Can I sharpen her for you?"

  Instead of answering, Taddeo kept staring at her body.

  Right now, Astrid looked to be his equal in height and strength, but his stare made her feel weak. She licked her lips, tasting the salt in her sweat. She wasn't used to anyone examining her blacksmithing body, especially not this intensely. She wanted to change back to the shape she wore in public, but changing shape was a private thing.

  She'd rather change her clothes in front of an audience than change her body.

  She'd never undress for Taddeo. Their friendship was a professional one.

  Calm yourself. It's only Taddeo. He's a dragonslayer. He's here to protect you, not to hurt you.

  "Is there a problem with the Magenta? Is that why you're here?"

  Taddeo smile
d strangely, then flourished the sword and held it up, tilting it until the sunlight struck its polished blade.

  The sun glinted against the patterned sword design, illuminating the tiny dragon scales running down the center of the blade and shining faintly blue in contrast to the blade's edges, polished mirror bright.

  Astrid was proud of the Magenta. She'd forged it for him when he first came to Guell.

  Because of the amount of iron and the work involved, a dragonslayer's sword was worth a small fortune. Everyone in Guell and the surrounding territories pitched in to help pay for the swords needed by the dragonslayers who protected them. Up north, the iron-bloom gatherers gave a portion of iron as their fair share.

  Creating the sword was Astrid's payment.

  Taddeo cocked his head sharply at Astrid and laughed. "Have you had no lizard meat upon your table lately?"

  Astrid's smile faded.

  A few days ago Taddeo had dragged a freshly killed dragon into Guell. The butcher had attacked it with the same kind of frenzy he'd used on every dragon corpse since the death of his daughter, Natalia.

  Everyone in Guell understood, because they'd all seen Natalia's body after someone found it in the woods. There hadn't been much of it left, barely enough to recognize.

  "It was very tender," Astrid said softly.

  Taddeo cocked his head higher and nodded as if he'd performed a great and personal service for her. "It pleases me you are satisfied.” He gazed unashamedly and with approval at her arms and chest. "I wish I were as pleased with the quality of other women."

  Astrid frowned, startled by his words.

  "Women here are too small," he stated. "There is nothing to them, no meat on their bones. They've arms and legs like twigs."

  Astrid struggled, trying to figure out how to respond. She didn't like his behavior, and she wanted it to stop.

  But she had to be careful, because everyone's life depended on Taddeo's presence. If she offended him and he decided to leave, the entire town of Guell would be vulnerable to dragon attacks.

  Maybe she misunderstood his intent. After all, he'd been kind and courteous until now. Then there was the Magenta, the dragonslayer's sword. When Astrid had forged the Magenta, it had felt like forging a bond between herself and Taddeo. A bond of mutual respect. Surely, that bond still held true and strong.

  Taddeo's eyes narrowed as they searched hers. His face relaxed into a friendly expression. "The stone fell from its setting.” He opened his other hand, and the crimson-colored gem rested in his palm. "Would you replace it?” He held out the sword to her.

  Astrid took it, examining the sword's hilt. Like any dragonslayer's sword, the Magenta weighed half as much as a new-born baby. Although nearly as tall as Astrid, its blade was only as wide as the length of her littlest finger, as thin as linen, and flexible. The hilt—pommel, grip, and crossguard—was practical and plain.

  Taddeo had brought the Magenta stone with him and asked Astrid to set it in the hilt as the sword's only decoration.

  She'd declined, passing that task along to the jeweler. Now, examining the broken setting, she shook her head. "Beamon's the one who set the gem. He's the one to replace it, not me."

  Taddeo stood straight and proud. "I travel many places and see many things," he said. "Your work is fine as any jeweler's."

  Astrid felt a stab of envy. Taddeo bragged of his travels often, and it touched a deep yearning in Astrid to see other places and different kinds of people. It fanned the flames of her childhood memories when she'd first longed to be free and unshackled of anyone or anything.

  Taddeo's tone sounded condescending. She suspected he might be trying to goad her.

  She handed the Magenta back to him.

  Taddeo crossed his arms, refusing to take it. "My people believe continuity yields consistency. You wrought a beautiful weapon from a lump of iron."

  Astrid bit her lip, determined not to comment on Taddeo's ignorance. Only she knew that making a dragonslayer's sword required far more than a single lump of iron, but she’d promised years ago to keep Temple's secret and felt bound by honor to keep it.

  "No hands, other than her master's and her creator's, will ever touch the Magenta," Taddeo continued. He paused and bowed slightly. "You were kind to give her to me. But this time you must accept payment for your labor."

  Payment.

  She'd been stupid to argue with DiStephan, and it was her fault he'd left Guell vulnerable, without a dragonslayer. As a result, Natalia had been killed by a dragon. Astrid had vowed she'd do anything to keep a dragonslayer at hand.

  She said, "Protecting the town is payment enough."

  Taddeo fingered the crimson-colored gem. "I found this when I cut open a lizard's gullet. I have many like it, all in different colors."

  He was lying. Astrid was sure of it.

  Some people still believed in stories about dragons and treasure, but Astrid didn't believe in magic. The dragons were exactly what Taddeo said they were: lizards. There were fewer these days than she remembered from childhood. Like most people, Astrid believed dragons would be scarce 10 years from now, if they survived at all.

  If Taddeo had more gems, he must have picked them up in his travels.

  His eyes glinted darkly. "I insist. Let me give you a gem like this one. Two, if you like."

  Baubles. Pretty baubles.

  "No, thank you. I'll reset the stone. My share of payment for your services."

  She held his gaze until he shrugged and broke it. "As you wish.” He handed the gem to her. "You should travel with me sometime."

  "What?” Astrid bit her tongue, wishing she'd ignored him.

  He shrugged again. "I have no plans to stay here. You should travel. See different sights. Meet different people, experience different ways of living. Take my people, for instance. They are not farmers, like yours. Mine are hunters. We have different opinions, different customs.” He held a steady gaze with Astrid. "Look at your men. They are passive. It is why they never hunt dragons. They lack aggression and confidence."

  It was true. DiStephan had been an exception. Then again, DiStephan and his father had moved to Guell from a far-away country in the south. Other than his father, DiStephan was the only man she'd ever known who could keep his body strong under the gaze of a dragon.

  She'd heard stories of how a man's body would shrivel and collapse under a dragon's stare, because the dragon perceived the man as weak and insignificant.

  She'd heard stories explaining how dragons were once tiny lizards that grew into giants, because their bodies inflated to match how they viewed themselves.

  But those were probably tales made up by storytellers.

  What Astrid believed was what she saw with her own eyes. She'd seen Natalia's body and others like it over the years. There hadn't been much of Natalia left, because the dragon had eaten her body—not because Natalia had been scared into something smaller and meeker than what she really was.

  "When a passive man—such as the men in Guell—is interested in a woman," Taddeo said coolly, "he sits back and waits for her to come to him."

  Astrid held the sword in one hand and the gem in the other. A gust of wind fanned the fire, and it whooshed behind her.

  "Among my people, a man pursues a woman until she relents."

  Astrid stifled a gasp. She felt her chest growing even larger, and it wasn't her doing. The lacing between her breasts grew taut against the eyelets.

  Taddeo smirked, still holding her gaze. "I suppose I am a mix of both cultures.” He assumed an innocent expression. "Is a week enough time to reset the Magenta?"

  Astrid struggled to keep her composure.

  Furious with Taddeo, she wanted to tell him to change her back to the way he'd found her. She wanted to tell him to keep his thoughts to himself and never let them intrude upon her body again.

  Her hand tightened around the Magenta's hilt, and for a moment Astrid was tempted to strike Taddeo with the flat of his own blade. It wouldn't harm him, although
it might make her feel better.

  But losing her temper at the wrong time was why she'd lost DiStephan and why Guell had lost its dragonslayer. Astrid knew she had to be smart and use better judgment. She couldn't put Guell at risk again.

  "I'll have the Magenta ready in a few days."

  Taddeo's gaze dropped and lingered at her chest. He met her eyes again and smiled. "Good."

  Astrid watched him walk away. As the lacing pulled free of the vest, she held it closed with one hand. She dropped the sword and gem. She ran through the smithery and into her cottage. She stood before her mirror.

  She was different.

  The dragonslayer had imagined her the way he wanted her to look, and that act had changed her.

  Astrid held her vest open. Her breasts had moved. They were higher on her chest and set farther apart. They'd doubled in size but were firm and fully rounded. The nipples had lightened in color and were erect.

  They were fine breasts, but they weren't hers.

  The shape she'd chosen over the years made her happy. Now she felt awkward and ungainly.

  Astrid's view of herself was normally strong enough to keep her body the way she liked it.

  She swallowed the nervous lump at the back of her throat. This was the first time anyone had a perception strong enough to change her this drastically. Sometimes, she discovered slight changes in her appearance after spending time with others: a more even skin tone, her nose a bit longer or a bit shorter. It was important to avoid intruding on anyone else's appearance.

  She closed her eyes. She stroked her breasts, remembering the way they used to be before Taddeo had changed them.

  Nothing moved, nothing shifted.

  Nothing changed.

  Astrid opened her eyes. All she'd been able to think about was Natalia. And DiStephan.

  A wave of panic washed through Astrid. For the first time in her life, she realized she'd lost control of her own body.

  CHAPTER 5

  Astrid stood, too tall and too muscular, in Mauri's doorway. Astrid wore large, loose clothing, trying to disguise the ungainly body she could no longer control. She kept her arms crossed in front of her breasts, which were still much too large. She waited until the spinning sound grated and slowed before knocking on the door jamb.