by Resa Nelson
"Astrid!” Mauri looked up from her seat at the potter's wheel. Her long blonde hair was plaited into several braids and pinned up, leaving soft wisps at the nape of her neck. Her hands were gray and slick with clay, the edges of it pale and dry on her wrists.
Astrid flinched at her own sudden shyness. Having no control over one's own body was what happened to children, not adults. Feeling like a child embarrassed her. "I don't want to interrupt."
Mauri smiled, pretending she didn't notice Astrid's new appearance. If Mauri had shown the slightest surprise, it would have been insensitive and rude. "Nonsense," she said. "Come in and sit down. Talk with me awhile."
Astrid knew Mauri meant to be kind, but Astrid didn't want kindness. She wanted someone who could help change her back. "Something horrible happened."
Mauri's voice was even and calm. "Let me show you what I made. Here...sit at the wheel."
Astrid hesitated. She sat on the floor. It bothered her that Mauri ignored her words.
Mauri took an unfired vase from a shelf. "Kamella asked me to make this. Did you know Beamon Waterson is courting her? Kamella said he brought a handful of field lilies to her. Bright yellow ones."
More and more, Mauri's behavior unnerved Astrid. She felt as if she'd drunk too much beer, and the world was spinning out of control.
Astrid picked up a stone from the dirt floor. It was the size of her thumbnail, coated with gray pottery dust. She focused on the cool touch of the stone to make the world stop spinning.
"I think Beamon is sweet.” Mauri shook her head, her voice quiet and compassionate. "I don't know how I'd survive if I were him. I can't imagine how hard it was for him to be the one who found her body. I know he still misses Natalia. I think he's courageous to pick flowers for another."
Everyone thought DiStephan had been killed by the dragon that killed Natalia. His body had never been found, so they assumed the dragon had taken him to its lair.
Only Astrid knew the truth—DiStephan was still alive.
"Beamon and Kamella would make a good match," Mauri said. "He needs someone who can return his kindness."
No one had known they were lovers: DiStephan the dragonslayer and Astrid the blacksmith. No one had suspected.
Days before Natalia died, Astrid saw him kill a dragon, and he'd done something horrible, something Astrid had never imagined possible. Something that changed her opinion of him. She'd been far more frightened of DiStephan than of the dragon.
So she'd told him to leave. As confused and disturbed as Astrid, DiStephan had vanished without a word to anyone.
Mauri sat down beside her and held out the vase. "I hope this pleases Kamella. Do you think she'll like it?"
If Astrid hadn't demanded it, DiStephan never would have left town.
And Natalia wouldn't have lost her life to a dragon.
"Help me," Astrid said. "I need help."
"What can I do?” Mauri's voice was quiet and soft.
"We have to keep Taddeo in Guell. He's all we have to protect us from the dragons."
Mauri set the vase down. Gray smudges from the clay had dried completely on her hands, making them look cracked and dried. She glanced at Astrid's over-sized breasts. "Don't allow others to change you. Who and what you want to be is your choice."
Astrid looked at her own hands, larger than they should be. "I have no choice. I have a responsibility."
"You always have choices," Mauri said, her voice cracking.
Astrid looked up. For a moment, Mauri seemed to be fighting back tears. It startled Astrid. She couldn't imagine what Mauri would have to cry about.
Mauri spoke evenly. "You may not like the choices you have, but you always have choices."
Astrid shook her head. "I can feel the dragons approaching. Sometimes I think I can smell them in the air."
"Your responsibility is to yourself."
Astrid hesitated, turning the stone over in her hand. She began to answer but stopped when she turned toward Mauri. Startled, Astrid forgot what she was going to say.
Mauri had changed. Her hands were tapered and graceful. Her eyes were larger and deeper set. Her cheekbones, higher.
Mauri was the same. It was just that a little more of the beauty within had surfaced.
* * *
When Taddeo came for the repaired Magenta, Astrid was prepared. He'd never catch her off guard again.
She glanced at the sword leaning against a nearby tree stump, smiling. She'd worked long and hard hours on that sword.
Taddeo leered at her, the expression in his eyes assuming more than it should. "You may deliver the Magenta to my camp at noon."
Astrid concentrated on her work. "No."
"Tonight, then?"
"No.” Astrid looked evenly at Taddeo. "You can have her now or come back some other time."
Insult edged his voice as he looked at the sword leaning against the tree stump. "Where is the Magenta's stone?”
Instead of the crimson stone, a small rock was imbedded in the hilt.
"Once in my hands, the gem turned to stone.” Astrid gauged his reaction: surprise followed by hesitation. Followed by a tolerant but determined smile.
As she'd suspected, he knew such a thing was impossible. Unless one believed in magic and enchantment.
Another sword rested on top of the anvil behind Astrid. She handed the Magenta—with the gemstone replaced—to Taddeo.
He smiled, examining her work. "There are other weapons I would have you forge for me."
Taddeo had failed to lure her into his lair. Now he sought other reasons for contact with her.
"No."
The tone of Taddeo's voice didn't alter. "I would pay, of course.” He glanced at her. "Whenever price you desire."
"I'm committed to other work."
"At a later time, then."
"No," Astrid said softly. "I think not."
Taddeo's face changed. A leer etched itself darkly in his eyes as they became narrower and smaller. His nose grew misshapen. The lines that had so beautifully defined his jaw and cheekbones weakened. His posture slackened and his youth faded.
Astrid watched in shocked silence. For the first time Taddeo's shape changed—she'd thought it impossible. She'd considered him too strong to let anyone's opinion take hold.
"I know other blacksmiths in other towns," he said. "The quality of their work lacks much. But it may be time to seek a change. Perhaps I have killed enough lizards for Guell.” He paused, waiting for Astrid to protest. "Other towns seek my services."
Astrid calmly stood her ground. "It's a decision you alone can make."
His eyes squinted in an unbecoming manner as he searched her face.
Astrid wanted to remember Taddeo the way she'd known him, not as he'd become. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember exactly what he had looked like, only moments ago.
Astrid started at the rumble of thunder. She looked up, but the sky was clear and blue. No storm in sight.
Taddeo raised his head, his nostrils flaring. He sniffed the air like a dog. Then he knelt, laying one ear to the ground.
Astrid cried out as a dragon came crashing through the birch trees. In the distance, someone screamed.
The dragon looked like an enormous, fattened snake with bowed, crab-like legs. Its scales were dark and mottled, like tiny unlit coals spread evenly across the forge table. Long ridges shadowed its eyes on its flat serpent head, and the veined jowls at its throat heaved like a bellows. It lowered its belly to the ground, sizing up its prey.
Its long, forked, yellow tongue flicked as rapidly as new flames.
"Aiy yah!” Taddeo shouted, grasping the hilt of the Magenta. But when he leapt forward, the Magenta held him back. The sword was too heavy for him to wield.
The dragonslayer looked at the Magenta in disbelief, as if his best friend had betrayed him. He looked at his arms and his body, no longer large and muscular, but now withered with age. Until this moment, Taddeo hadn't noticed how severely Astrid's per
ception had changed him.
The dragon inhaled their fear, its tail cracking the birch trunks as it lashed back and forth.
Taddeo's gaze lifted toward Astrid. Enraged, he shouted, "Change me back!"
She didn't hear his words. Astrid stared at the dragon, mesmerized by its yellow eyes, as big as saucers.
Primal eyes.
Unwittingly, her breath began to match the rhythm of the dragon's panting.
Its curved and serrated teeth glistened, ivory sharp in its slackened jaw, dripping with spittle.
"Aiy yah!” Taddeo mustered his strength, pulling with all his might on the hilt. Still unable to raise the sword, he dragged it in the dust until the tip lay between him and the dragon.
With the agility of a cat pinning a mouse by the tail, the dragon slapped the sword flat on the ground with one foot.
Taddeo shouted, refusing to release the hilt, falling to the ground with the sword. The dragon's sharp, curved claws sliced Taddeo's cheek. The wound raised a welt, and then bled steadily. Oblivious, Taddeo grimaced, kicking at the dragon's foot to make it let go of the Magenta.
The dragon's jaw dropped slightly, and for a moment it looked like it was smiling.
Taddeo held onto the hilt of the Magenta with both hands, pivoting on his side, pushing with both feet against the dragon's foot, the tendons stretching taut in his face and neck and arms.
With its free front foot, the dragon pinned Taddeo's head to the ground.
"No!” Astrid snapped out of her fog. She reached for the sword leaning against the tree stump.
Astrid faced the dragon. Not knowing what else to do, she gripped the hilt with both hands, holding the sword spear-like above her head. She aimed the point directly at the dragon's yellow eye. "Let him go!"
Deftly, the dragon batted Astrid in the chest, knocking the sword from her hands and the wind from her lungs.
Backing away, she picked up the sword.
The same sword that had felt so much a part of her when she'd forged it felt alien to her now. She knew what to do with a hammer and tongs. But this sword—it felt like a stranger.
Taddeo was willing to give his all. Why shouldn't she?
Hands trembling, Astrid tried pointing the sword at the dragon and running straight toward it. Fear pulled her up short, and she found herself running away instead. It was as if her feet had betrayed her head.
She tightened her grip, focusing on the cool, hard touch of iron. She had to find a way to be just as cool and hard.
Gathering her courage with a quick breath, she ran forward, pointing the sword at the dragon.
The dragon evaded her blow, only getting nicked.
But her attack forced the dragon to let go of the Magenta and Taddeo.
Astrid fell, pulled by the force of her missed blow, landing face first in the dust. She scrambled up to her feet.
The dragon panted loudly behind her.
Spinning to face it, she was struck numb with horror.
She saw herself reflected in the dragon's amber eyes. What she saw on her own face was what she had seen on DiStephan's face the day she saw him kill a dragon, the day he'd frightened her.
Astrid and DiStephan had gone out in the woods on a picnic when DiStephan had smelled dragon in the air. It wasn't an adult dragon that DiStephan had killed. It wasn't even a fledgling.
It was a hatchling, weak and vulnerable.
DiStephan's fighting instinct had kicked in. All he'd known was that it was a dragon, and he fought with full force. He didn't simply kill the hatchling. He'd beaten it into bloody pulp, acting more like an animal than a man.
For the first time, he'd scared her. Instead of feeling safe with him by her side, she'd felt endangered.
That was eight months ago.
Now she saw the desire to kill for the sake of killing on her own face. It was something she never imagined she'd see.
Blood and dust covered Taddeo's face, and he cried out again while he pulled the Magenta weakly toward the dragon, barely nudging its belly.
The dragon batted Taddeo across the smithery yard. It raised its foot to Astrid.
"No!” Astrid raised her sword steadily. "I don't want to hurt you!"
The dragon snorted, its eyes narrowing.
"I know about you," she said shakily, staring back. "You make people smaller and weaker, and sometimes they're so scared they turn into deer, and the only way you can tell they were ever people is to look in their eyes, because that's all that's left of who they used to be.” Astrid shook her head slightly, looking straight into the dragon's eyes. "Don't do that."
The dragon stepped closer, its sideways-angled legs moving in opposition. It stepped on the thick pads of its feet, dragging the back of its paws against the ground. The tips of its claws barely grazed the grass as they lifted with each new step. When the dragon lumbered, it seemed to throw its limbs forward through sheer will.
Astrid stood her ground, but she wanted to run away. In a moment of panic, she drew the sword in close to her body. She held it vertically, unwittingly using it more like a shield than a sword. As the dragon stepped close enough to touch her, she kept the blade between them. One sharp edge touched the dragon's nose, the other, her own skin.
Terrified, Astrid babbled.
"I know you're hungry," she said. "But don't eat people. There are animals in the forest. There are grain fields and wild berries in the south. There's food all around—you don't need anyone in Guell!"
When the dragon leaned forward, Astrid pressed back the pressure with the blade, still not cutting the dragon's skin. "I know you don't understand what I'm saying, but I think you understand what I mean."
The dragon sniffed her hair. It licked the sweat from her arms with the tips of its forked yellow tongue, sending chills down Astrid's back. Before she could blink, the dragon sprang back through the birch trees.
Trembling, Astrid sank to the dirt, both hands still clinging to the hilt of her sword.
With a thud, Taddeo sat next to her. He stared at the birch trees in disbelief. "That," he said, panting, "I have never seen. The beast took you up on your offer."
"Dragons aren't that much different from you or me," Astrid said, shaken. "They just live the best way they know how."
Taddeo looked younger, as if he'd regained most of his strength. "If you were not so compassionate, you could be a dragonslayer.” Taddeo shook his head, looking at Astrid with admiration and only a hint of desire.
Astrid stared at the trees, gasping, feeling her heart shake. "I don't want to be a dragonslayer."
She thought about DiStephan. Now she understood the primitive rage he'd felt when he slaughtered the hatchling on a gentle spring day. It was something she never wanted to feel again.
"You realize, of course," Taddeo said, standing and offering her a hand up, "you have now dismissed a week's meal for the town."
Astrid accepted his hand, leaning on her sword as she stood. "There will be others.” She looked out toward the birches, and then squinted at Taddeo. "I trust you won't let the next one get away."
Taddeo caught his breath. He relaxed into a smile. "No," he said with confidence. "That is the last one to get away."
Realizing her clothes felt loose, Astrid looked down to see that her body had returned to its normal shape and size.
"That happened when you fought the lizard," Taddeo said. "You returned to yourself."
Awkward and hesitant, Astrid gave him a slight smile. "You've returned to yourself, too."
"Yes," Taddeo said, clearing his throat. "As has the Magenta.” He bowed slightly. "Thank you for your work."
"You're welcome," she said, watching the dragonslayer walk away with the sword she had forged for him.
* * *
By the time Taddeo brought the Magenta back to his camp outside of Guell, the day had faded to darkness. In a short time, he'd built his fire, cooked dinner over it, and settled in for the night.
He thought about Astrid before he fell asleep.
She'd surprised him today, bargaining with the dragon, convincing it to leave them and Guell alone.
He knew her to be well experienced in making weapons but not in using them. She didn't have the slightest idea how to use a sword, but her courage had proved more than he'd predicted, even considering who and what she was.
Astrid posed more of a danger than Taddeo had anticipated.
But he still had one advantage.
Astrid and everyone else in Guell believed he was a dragonslayer.
Only Taddeo knew that nothing could be further from the truth.
CHAPTER 6
"I don't know why you need me," Astrid said as she walked the dirt streets of Guell, linking arms with Mauri.
"I need you desperately," Mauri said, her voice bright with hope. "You and your knack for choosing the sweetest berries. If I do the choosing, fate gives me all the sour ones."
Astrid sighed with feigned exasperation. "Once again, this is about food. Not about me. Not about our friendship. Not about enjoying a beautiful, sunny day.” Astrid unlinked her arm from Mauri's to cross her arms in mock disappointment. "It's always about the food."
As she teased Mauri, Astrid realized this was the happiest she'd felt since DiStephan's disappearance. For the past eight months, she'd focused on nothing but the ground, the way she'd done when she first came to Guell. She'd gone out into the town rarely, and noticed little but the dirt beneath her feet even though she had a good friend and good neighbors in Guell.
But today Astrid looked up while she walked through the town, taking in everything with fresh appreciation.
Situated at the edge of the forest and on a peninsula, a half-moon of 60 cottages formed the village of Guell, separated from the crops by a stretch of trees. The half moon extended into a narrow spit of land, occupied solely by Astrid's cottage and smithery.
Sixty-foot-high oak and pine trees formed a canopy over Guell, letting the sun dapple through but keeping the air cool and fresh, even on the hottest summer days. The trees grew close together, and most trunks were little more than a foot in diameter. Their roots gnarled up through the ground, covered with old, brown pine needles and cones, sometimes punctuated by a stray strip of green weeds. The roots splayed out like the toes of giant birds. To walk among the trees felt like walking between the long, skinny legs of an enormous flock of monstrous cranes or storks.
