by Resa Nelson
Astrid had finally felt that same lust, and now she'd learned it wasn't blood lust. It was something entirely different.
She understood what DiStephan had felt that day—and every day he'd killed a lizard. It wasn't the desire to kill for the sake of killing.
It was the desire to live.
I'm not the monster. The lizard is the monster, not me.
By the time she climbed back down with Starlight in hand, DiStephan held out his cupped hand, filled with the lizard's blood.
DiStephan smiled. "Trust me."
Although the handful of blood seemed more challenging than killing the lizard, Astrid worked up the courage to drink it. Astrid cringed at the first awful taste, but she drank it all.
Wiping her mouth against her arm, Astrid shuddered, wishing she had something to wash away the taste from her mouth. "Why would you have me drink something so vile?"
When DiStephan didn't answer, Astrid looked up at him.
DiStephan simply grinned. He pointed at her.
By habit, she'd wiped her mouth with her left hand. Astrid stared at the hand. It couldn't be—it was her left arm that Norah had devoured.
Looking down, Astrid saw her arms.
Both of her arms.
CHAPTER 31
"I don't understand," Astrid said as she walked through the forest with DiStephan. "If I can do this—"
She held Starlight in both hands, pointing the sword in front of her. She let go of the hilt with her right hand. Astrid's new left hand—her spirit hand—held Starlight.
"It's a mix of belief and lizard's blood," DiStephan said. "Like shapeshifting."
"And if Lenore can walk on her spirit feet," Astrid continued, "then why can't you lift anything heavier than a sword?"
"I've got the belief but no lizard's blood."
DiStephan didn't look as solid and sure as he had a few days ago, when Astrid had first met him inside his burial chamber. He appeared faded a bit around the edges.
Of course, DiStephan didn’t actually fade. It was Astrid's ability to see him that waned.
The effect of that first pinch of night's bane she'd eaten had to be wearing off. She carried a small bag still full of the herb, but she wanted to eat it as seldom as possible. She wanted to stretch her time with DiStephan.
"Lenore walks on her belief, and you use yours to hold Starlight," DiStephan said. "I use my belief to show myself to anyone who uses night's bane.” He shrugged. "Because you can drink lizard blood, belief is a more powerful force for the living than the dead."
"Maybe you aren't trying hard enough," Astrid said, trying to be helpful.
"Maybe you should drink some more lizard blood," DiStephan said dryly.
"I was very brave to drink it," Astrid said, feeling a new kind of energy surging through her. She felt as playful as a child, as hopeful as the day she'd met DiStephan. The world felt warmer and brighter. "And I was quite courageous to slaughter that lizard. If anyone is going to be calling themselves 'Death Shadow,' I think it should be me. I'm the Death Shadow, not you."
DiStephan couldn't help but smile. "You're not a Death Shadow, Pigeon."
"Yes, I am!” Astrid put Starlight back in its sheath. "I brought death to that lizard—one handed, at that—and now it's nothing but a shadow.” Astrid frowned, unhappy with her logic, wanting to fix it. "And I cast my shadow on its dead body," she added dramatically. "I brought death and I have a shadow. Therefore, I'm the Death Shadow."
"Pigeon," DiStephan said. "A Death Shadow is a ghost."
"Oh," Astrid said, reconsidering. "I'm not a Death Shadow.” She looked at DiStephan, beaming. "But you are!” She returned her gaze to the path ahead, considering her options. "I'm the Death Shadow's sweetheart. I'm in league with a Death Shadow. I wield the Death Shadow's sword. If we meet brigands, I'll say, ‘Beware! I'll run you through with my sword while the Death Shadow throws dust in your eyes!'"
"On second thought," DiStephan said, "maybe you've already had too much to drink."
"Why do you say that?” Astrid felt more energetic with every step she took, skipping by DiStephan's side, relishing her childlike happiness.
When she'd fought the lizard, Astrid felt strong and focused and vital. She'd felt powerful and aware.
For the first time ever, she'd felt the thrill of simply being alive. Every breath she took was its own sweet reward.
Even though she still hated for any living thing to be hurt, she'd considered one important thing when she'd taken a final look at the dead lizard's body before they left it behind: if only one of them had to live, the world was a better place with Astrid in it than with the lizard that tried to kill her.
DiStephan studied her as they walked, the corners of his mouth turned up. "It's good to see you again."
Astrid's gait sobered. "I cried last year. When I thought you had left and everyone else decided you were dead."
"I know."
Astrid looked at him. He'd faded even more. "You were with me? When I cried?"
DiStephan nodded. "I saw your pain. Felt it. You've done no wrong, and it was difficult to watch you blame yourself for everything."
Astrid opened her mouth to protest, finding herself at a loss for words.
Surprised by her own silence, she wondered if killing one lizard had already changed her so much.
"You blamed yourself for Natalia's death," DiStephan continued. "But Natalia went mushroom hunting during the height of dragon season when Guell had no dragonslayer. Stupid girl! Natalia died because she took a stupid risk, not because of you!"
A wave of concern for DiStephan washed through Astrid. "You saw Natalia?"
DiStephan's voice was dark and soft. "I knew she couldn't see me, but I tried to warn her anyway. Pushed branches so they scratched her face. Kicked grass and bushes, trying to scare her back to Guell. Yelled at her, hoping she'd hear something, anything. Nothing worked."
Astrid's heart ached for him. She knew what being a dragonslayer meant to DiStephan. Years ago, a boy from Guell had been killed running goods between villages. Even though a lizard had attacked the boy just outside another village, two days' distance from Guell, DiStephan had agonized over his death, despite the fact he'd been busy killing another lizard when the boy died. "I'm sorry," Astrid said.
"It's not your fault. Neither is what happened to Natalia or Mauri or Guell or me.” DiStephan paused. "On the other hand, you once made a knife for me that broke the first time I used it. Nearly impaled myself by mistake. That was your fault."
"Sorry," Astrid said, remembering. "About the knife, I mean. Not about everything else."
"You're not sorry I died?” DiStephan said, his voice laced with hurt.
Astrid scrambled to repair the damage. "I didn't mean—"
DiStephan grinned.
"I see," Astrid said evenly. "You're making fun of me now."
It seemed as if they'd never been separated. All the worry and regret and longing she'd felt since first realizing the likelihood of DiStephan's death melted away. Everything felt right in the world.
Astrid smiled. "I missed you, too."
The forest path opened up into a field, and Astrid squinted at the brightness of the sun when she stepped out of the forest. Then she heard a familiar sound.
The music of metal striking metal.
They stood where Astrid had arrived many weeks ago with Lumpy and Broken Nose.
Astrid recognized one of the men.
From far in the distance, the man shouted, "Girly!"
* * *
As they approached Randim's camp, Trep raced toward Astrid, his twisted blonde braids streaming behind. He skidded to a stop, just in front of her, and his face darkened. "What happened to your arm? Who did this to you?"
That's right. None of the blacksmiths could see Astrid change shape. They wouldn't be able to see her spirit arm.
Astrid shrugged. "Dragon."
Trep's forehead crinkled while his eyebrows rose in surprise. "And you live to tell the
tale?"
Astrid nodded.
Trep smiled again. "That's the Girly I know!” He clapped her back heartily.
When the other blacksmiths drew closer, Astrid felt surprised at how happy she was to see them again.
Trep turned toward his colleagues. "Look!"
Several blacksmiths groaned.
"That's right, it's the Girly come back, at just the exact day I said she would. I win the pot, so everybody who's in it, pay up!"
Most of the men handed silver rings and armbands to Trep, who giggled with delight, cupping his hands as they filled with his new-found bounty.
Astonished, Astrid watched until she saw Randim drop a ring into Trep's hands. "You wagered on my return?"
As Randim began to speak, Trep interrupted. "Was my idea and all. They thought it nothing but a fool's errand, even Randim himself, but I knew you'd find your way off that island.” Trep winked. "No girly who can twist iron into a dragonish sword can be kept against her will."
Randim frowned, looking at Astrid. "What happened to your arm?"
In unison, Astrid and Trep said, "Dragon."
Trep added, "And she lives to tell the tale!"
Astrid took a step toward Randim. "I've come to ask for help."
"I'm the one who said you'd show up," Trep continued, oblivious to Astrid's request. "Randim bet you wouldn't."
Randim studied the grass at his feet. "He asked me to watch over you, and I failed. I shouldn't have left you with Drageen, but when I learned you were his sister, it surprised the promise out of me."
Baffled, Astrid said, "Who asked you to watch over me?"
Still examining the grass, Randim said, "Him."
More confused by the moment, Astrid said, "Who?"
Randim glanced up for a second in Astrid's direction. "He did."
Astrid followed his gaze, noticing DiStephan by her side, arms crossed, glowing with satisfaction.
"Randim," Astrid said. "Who are you talking about?"
"The ghostie," Randim said, kicking at grass blades.
Astrid turned toward DiStephan. "Is there anyone in the world you don't know?"
"Randim, is the ghostie here now?” Trep said brightly. "Can you see him?"
Astrid frowned. It was a good question. How could Randim see DiStephan?
"Take the men and get back to work," Randim said to Trep.
Cradling his winnings, Trep led the other blacksmiths back to the smithery.
Astrid noticed a slight bulge in Randim's cheek. She'd forgotten that he chewed herbs as he worked. Suddenly, everything made sense. "Why are you chewing night's bane?"
"Always have," Randim said.
Astrid was puzzled. "But it will kill you."
"Not if you start young and get used to it," Randim said. "Picked up the habit from my father."
"You've seen DiStephan whenever he's been with me.” Astrid remembered what they'd said moments ago, which surprised and touched her. "You made a promise to my Death Shadow?"
"The Death Shadow," DiStephan said pointedly, "is still here."
"Of course you are," Astrid said. She turned her attention back to Randim. "You made a promise to my Death Shadow?"
To DiStephan, Randim said, "Are we square, then?"
In turn, DiStephan turned to Astrid. "On the day he bought you from the brigands, I told him if he didn't keep you safe, I'd herd every lizard I could find to feed off him and his men—don't think lizards aren't deathly afraid of spirits and easily spooked.” To Randim, DiStephan said, "You failed. I offer one more chance."
Watching Randim, Astrid remembered working at the anvil with him as her striker. She remembered the heat and his muscular arms, slick and shiny with sweat. She remembered feeling desire.
No. I'm not in love with Randim. I love DiStephan.
And yet, she noticed how real and solid Randim looked, while DiStephan kept fading like a memory.
She had to focus on the task at hand. She didn’t have time to think about foolish things. Not while Lenore was enslaved. She told herself to ignore her attraction to Randim.
For now, at least.
Astrid said, "I need six blacksmiths to go trading at sea."
Randim cast a nervous glance at DiStephan. "No one can afford to give their time away for nothing."
"Everyone wants land," Astrid said. "I can give them farmland and town land and ties to the hinterlands that produce the best bog iron I've ever used."
"You own land?"
"It's the place Drageen destroyed," Astrid said. "There are burnt houses and bones to clear, but the land is good."
"And you'll be safer from brigands," DiStephan added.
"Don't have problems with brigands, thanks to Drageen," Randim said. "But some have been uneasy doing work for him lately, myself included. More than six will want to go. Maybe twice that number."
"We need a ship," Astrid said. "We'll need to pay for seamen.”
But it would be best to send Lenore back to a place that had no cinders or ashes or skeletons.
Once they'd freed Lenore, Astrid could continue her journey north to pursue a hermit's life.
"I'll take six blacksmiths on board, and the others can go to Guell now and make it into a place where you can live."
DiStephan leaned forward and hovered menacingly.
"Call off your Death Shadow," Randim said to Astrid. "And I'll get your men."
* * *
At Tower Island, Drageen inspected the ship he'd obtained from the brigands. It was a solid vessel, longer and sleeker than the trading ships they commonly used. Outfitted with oars, it could navigate shallow ports easily. The captain swore its graceful curves made it glide over ocean waves like a seabird.
Satisfied, Drageen sought the alchemist in her sphere inside the tower. He found her sewing the last bone fragments into the red sail, bright as freshly spilt blood.
The sail nearly covered the floor inside the sphere. Drageen picked up a border of the sail, inspecting it. "Will it still function as a sail? Don't the bones weigh it down? Don't they make it impossible to furl and unfurl?"
The alchemist focused her attention on her sewing, stitching cross hatches over the last bone fragment. "Spirits are made of air. The spirit is trapped in the sail. She lifts it. She'll work with the wind to give the ship speed."
"That isn't my main concern," Drageen said, worrying the edge of the sail between his thumb and forefinger. "Can the spirit see into the future as well as the present? Does she know where my sister goes tomorrow?"
The alchemist looked up at Drageen and smiled. "The spirit advises you to travel with gold and silver. Where we go, men will help, but their help will be expensive."
"But Astrid—"
The alchemist bit the thread, finishing the last stitch. "The spirit is bound to her own bones. She has no choice but to deliver Astrid to you."
CHAPTER 32
Several days later, Astrid, DiStephan, Randim, and five other blacksmiths arrived in the nearest seaport town. They walked the streets while the captain Astrid had hired readied the ship to set sail.
Randim pulled a narrow leather scroll from his pouch and unrolled it, revealing a map. Astrid drew closer while he pointed to a cluster of islands.
"Here's where the ghostie says we need to go," Randim said. He pointed to a symbol of tiny crossed swords and a dragon near the islands.
"What does that mean?” Astrid said.
"'Beware! Here be dragons!'“ Randim said nervously.
Astrid laughed.
Startled by her response, Randim shuddered. "How can you laugh after losing an arm to a dragon?"
"Randim," Astrid said warmly. "I drink dragon's blood for breakfast. Besides...” She reached back, patting Starlight, safe in its sheath. "We won't be going unarmed."
* * *
The first few days at sea took toll on Astrid and the other blacksmiths. But once she grew used to the ocean swells and the rolling motion of the ship, Astrid came to appreciate the solitude and peacefu
lness of the journey.
Their ship approached the harbor of the island where DiStephan claimed they would find Lenore.
The harbor was little more than a long stretch of beach, dotted with dozens of narrow ships slid upon the sand like sunbathing seals.
Astrid slipped a small pinch of night's bane between her cheek and gum, the same way she'd seen Randim do.
DiStephan materialized solidly by her side.
"Look," DiStephan said, pointing at the ships already docked while theirs slid between them.
The front of each ship rose high, carved in the shape of an open-mouthed dragon.
"Beware," Astrid quoted solemnly, remembering Randim's map. "Here be dragons."
"Right," DiStephan said, staring at the long ships.
"Randim, come ashore with me," Astrid said. "Everyone else stay onboard.” When she touched Randim's shoulder, she realized how much she'd missed him.
"I believe," DiStephan said coolly, behind Astrid, "I can lead you to Lenore."
Guilt washed through Astrid.
At the same time, she relished the moment. She'd never felt this way about two different men at once. Part of her simply wanted to enjoy the feeling and sort things out later.
After Randim and Astrid climbed down from their ship, they followed DiStephan past the beach to a sunken pasture dotted with rolling waves of earthy mounds. Standing on the crest of a hill, Astrid looked down into the sunken pasture.
But it wasn't a pasture.
It was a hidden village.
The rolling earthy waves turned out to be turf-roofed houses dug into the land. Shaped round like wheels, the houses contained stone walls that stood like spokes, dividing each house into a few rooms. A fire burned in a center hearth, at the hub of the wheel.
Open stone walkways connected the houses, winding through the pasture in a maze.
As they eased from their grassy perch down onto a walkway, villagers noticed, drawing daggers.
"Let's be calm," Astrid said. To the closest villager, Astrid said, "We're looking for a woman named Lenore."
The villager squinted. He spoke rapidly, slashing the air with his dagger in crisscross motions.
"Does anyone recognize the language he's speaking?” Astrid said.
"No," Randim said. "We should have brought the Captain. The Captain's fluent in many tongues."
