by Resa Nelson
“I learned everyone must make their own decisions. Even if they’re bad decisions.”
“And your sister?”
“He beat her so bad she could have died,” Trep said. “When she could walk again, she made her way to the Far Northlands, where he’d never dare venture. She works with the boggers and smelters. She’s one of the folks that prepares iron for us to smite.”
Astrid sighed in relief. “I’m glad to know that.”
Trep’s sister is an Iron Maiden. Like Lenore. Like me.
Like Margreet almost was.
A new thought occurred to Astrid. Margreet had become a fierce fighter, despite a few moments of weakness when she saw Gershon again after being separated from him for months. From everything Astrid had witnessed, Margreet had done her best to fight for a new life. She came close to winning her trial by combat, and Astrid would never know what had gone wrong. Only Margreet and perhaps Gershon knew that particular truth.
What if Margreet hadn’t let Gershon kill her? Astrid remembered watching the fight and seeing Margreet look away the moment before he’d risen from the pit and attacked her. She’d fought with every fiber of her being. She’d fought with all her heart.
Of course, Astrid thought. Why didn’t I see it before? Margreet was an Iron Maiden like the rest of us.
Astrid realized she’d witnessed Margreet learn to stand up inside her own skin. She’d discovered her place in the world, even though it had been short-lived.
The Last Keeper of Limru stood up on her feet and decided who she was. She decided to become an Iron Maiden, and she succeeded. Margreet lost the fight, but the prize she won was herself.
The thought brought solace to Astrid, and she chose to embrace it.
Astrid and Trep sat throughout the night, watching the dusk turn to dark and the sky fill with bright shining stars and a full moon glowing pale yellow that rose above the horizon.
As the night progressed, the moon turned a darker yellow, then orange, and finally blood red when it reached its highest point in the sky.
All the while, Astrid found an even deeper solace in knowing that the same moon and stars were shining on Tower Island and the Iron Maiden, the image she’d forged to caution those with ill intent when they entered the Northlands to think otherwise.
The Iron Maiden
Copyright © 2016 by Resa Nelson
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Cover Art © 2015 by Eric Wilder
Second Edition January 2016
First published by Mundania Press, 2011
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the invention of the author, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, event, or locale is entirely coincidental.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As always, many thanks to fellow writers Carla Johnson and Tom Sweeney for their spot-on insight, advice, and brilliance.
Thanks to Andy Volpe for suggesting the title to me. I began with the title, not knowing who the Iron Maiden was. The title had an impact on the entire series.
I was very much inspired by presentations I saw at the 29th Medieval and Renaissance Forum at Plymouth State University in Plymouth, New Hampshire. Thanks to Dr. Roberta Milliken and Dr. Raymond Eichmann for giving me their permission to be influenced by their presentations. I recommend their work highly.
The Stone of Darkness
By Resa Nelson
CHAPTER 1
Astrid hated lying in wait for the monster-lizard commonly known as a dragon. Keeping still for hours took a hard toll on her body, leaving it stiff and achy.
She placed one hand on the tree limb on which she sat, lifting her body just enough to shift and find a more comfortable position. Astrid winced when the rough bark scraped against her legs. Resisting the temptation to snort in disgust, she realized no comfortable position remained. Not after spending all morning perched ten feet up in a sturdy oak like some type of predatory bird.
At least, Astrid thought, the view is beautiful.
Her tree stood alone on a ridge overlooking the exquisite rolling countryside of the Southlands. She watched farmers in the valley below as they walked the fields and flicked handfuls of seeds to sow the early spring crops. The air was mild and warm. The heavy scent of basil drifted on the wind and made her nose twitch.
Don't let your attention wander. Just because you haven't seen the dragon yet doesn't mean it's not here. It could spring out of nowhere, rise on its hind legs, slam its belly against the trunk of this tree, and knock you to the ground.
She wrapped her fingers around the branches growing from the limb to steady herself.
Midway through her second year as a dragonslayer, Astrid had followed the winter route from her home in the Northlands and spent the past few months here in the Southlands. She stayed mostly in DiStephan's birthplace, the small city of Bellesguard where everyone had known or heard of him.
It struck Astrid as a friendly and open community that welcomed every traveler. Simple stone houses jammed against each other, creating narrow city streets made of cobblestones. Women wore wide flowing skirts as colorful as the wildflowers that graced the hillsides. They tied simple kerchiefs on their heads to keep the playful wind from blowing their hair across their eyes. Their husbands wore leather breeches tied at the knees, colorful woolen hose on their calves, and simple but roomy white blouses. The people of Bellesguard rose as gently as the sun and took their time enjoying each day, working only as much as needed and then spending their time in relaxed conversation and what seemed to Astrid like constant dining.
Astrid snapped her attention back to the present when she heard the sudden, sharp sound of a breaking twig.
The ridge on which the oak tree grew was the natural boundary of the grounds owned by the wealthiest man in Bellesguard, Master Antoni.
His stone manor stood in the distance. Although rising three stories, its narrow width made it seem smaller than its true size. A slim tower stretched six stories high on the left side. An enormous iron flower adorned the top, which made the manor look like a gigantic toad shooting its tongue skyward to catch a blossom floating on the breeze. An expanse of green stretched beneath Astrid, a grassy lawn cropped short by the family's herd of sheep. But when she turned to look, Astrid saw a small goat grazing below.
Oh, no. The boys sent the wrong animal as bait!
Despite her sudden impulse to jump out of the tree, scoop the precious goat up in her arms, and bolt toward Master Antoni's manor, Astrid paused and drew upon her many months of experience. She'd learned to look before leaping.
The lawn lay wide and open beneath her, but two new rows of simple wooden fences formed a narrowing passageway from the distant grounds of the manor to this grassy lawn. When the goat entered this area, its neck pressed against a string that triggered a gate positioned to swing shut behind the animal. That action locked the goat into an area surrounded by fencing and the edge of the ridge on which Astrid's tree perched.
At first glance, Astrid believed it was impossible for a lizard to be lying in wait anywhere nearby. When she'd investigated the lawn and its perimeter at sunrise, she'd spotted none of the trenches lizards typically dug out of the ground. She knew the tell-tale signs: freshly turned earth, unusual piles of leaves or sticks, sharp claw marks in the ground.
She listened and turned her head. She heard only the occasional bleating of the young goat and the tearing sounds as it yanked bunches of grass blades for its breakfast. A cool breeze grazed her face, carrying the scents of freshly baked bread from the manor, basil and thyme from its herb garden, and the juice of chewed grass.
When Astrid looked at the lawn below, she saw the smaller trees and bushes lining the edge of the ridge swayed gently in the breeze. Nothing seemed out of place. It looked safe enough to take the young goat back to the manor and politely admonish Master Antoni’s sons for their mistake. Astrid dropped from the tree limb, bending her knees deeply to absorb the shock as her feet hit the ground.
A lizard vaulted over the bushes. Its silvery blue scales shimmered and reflected the sunlight. Measuring the length of two horses, the lizard hit the ground running, its short legs bowed and squarely bent. Its yellow tongue flicked like fire above the spittle hanging from its slackened jaw.
By the time Astrid withdrew her sword Starlight from its sheath, the lizard clamped down on the smaller animal's front legs, filling the air with the sound of crunching bones. The goat screamed.
Astrid sprang forward, only to realize her mistake when dozens of arrows shot by Master Antoni’s sons arced in the sky above. The boys hid behind a pile of old branches near the castle, and the arrows they shot darkened the sky like a sudden rainstorm.
She could have kicked herself for forgetting the plan. She'd promised to keep cover during the first shower of arrows only to forget when it counted.
Astrid darted to take cover behind her tree. She cried out as an arrow pierced through the edge of her trousers and into a fallen log, pinning her to it. Moments later, blood blossomed through the green fabric covering her calf. Her emotions ran so high that she never felt the arrowhead graze her skin.
A familiar low-throated rumble made her look up. The lizard straddled the young goat, its massively thick and squat legs bowed. Spittle hung in threads from its slack jaw. It raised its head and saw Astrid for the first time.
While Astrid struggled to pull free from the arrow, the lizard stepped over the slaughtered goat and approached her with a cold, calculating look in its eyes.
CHAPTER 2
Astrid reacted more from instinct than experience. In one swift move, she grabbed the feathered tail of the arrow with one hand and used the other to swing Starlight in a short stroke to cut the wooden shaft in half. The remaining shaft still stuck to the fallen log allowed her to slide it through the hole the arrow had made in her pants leg. Astrid pulled free.
She turned in time to see the lizard's snout inches from her face. It slammed a front paw into her chest, knocking the air out of her lungs as she crashed to the ground. Gasping for breath, Astrid tightened her grip on Starlight, but the lizard knocked it out of her hands.
The lizard's spittle dropped on the side of her face. Its snout grazed her nose while it sniffed her skin, seeming to taunt her. Astrid winced at its sour odor. She stretched her arm toward her weapon, but Starlight had landed just beyond her reach.
Astrid balled her hand into a fist, took a roundhouse swing, and punched the lizard in the eye.
The animal started, raising its head slightly and shaking it in disbelief. Straddling Astrid, it now left enough space for her to sit up and punch it in the eye with her other fist.
Even more surprised, the lizard took a small step back, giving Astrid enough room to dive underneath its front leg and retrieve Starlight.
Astrid rolled over and scrambled to her feet.
The lizard spun, its eyelids shut as it snapped at the air surrounding her.
Astrid cried out when she felt its dagger-like teeth scrape against her wounded leg. She bounded away from its mouth and seized the moment: the lizard hesitated, its body low to the ground and its legs bent like stair steps.
Astrid used the lizard's leg to spring onto its back.
The lizard twisted its body in response, but Astrid had already driven Starlight in between the scales covering the back of its neck. The beast writhed, throwing Astrid onto the ground.
Crawling away from the dying lizard, she watched it until she saw its body go limp.
Only then did Astrid feel the sharp pain throb in her calf. She raised her ripped and bloody trouser leg to examine the damage done by the arrow and look for signs that the lizard had bitten her.
Still bleeding, the grazing wound made by the arrowhead looked minor. The bleeding appeared minimal and seemed likely to stop once it could be treated properly.
She found rips in her trousers made by lizard teeth, but she found not even a scratch on her skin. She'd escaped being bitten.
But as Astrid leaned over her leg, the spittle that had landed on her face dripped onto her bleeding wound. Crying out in horror, she used her shirt sleeve to wipe the spittle off the wound, accidentally spreading the spittle across her broken skin.
No, no, no!
Frantic, Astrid hurried to wipe the blood and spittle away from the wound.
But it was too late. She'd already seen the lizard's spittle mix with her blood, which meant it had probably already entered her body. Everyone knew it wasn't the lizard's bite that killed; it was the poisons contained in its spittle, poisons no one could survive.
Astrid knew she would be dead by tomorrow.
CHAPTER 3
“Miss Astrid!” a chorus of voices cried out in the distance.
Like a herd of heavy-footed sheep, a group of eleven young men thundered down the path between the manor house and the ridge where Astrid rested on her back next to the lizard she'd just slain. Even if they hadn't been shouting, she would have known they were coming by the way the ground trembled beneath her bones.
She gazed at the sky, taking in its sharp blue tone and the absence of clouds. With every breath she noticed the scent of basil still in the air, although not nearly as noticeable as it had been earlier today. When a breeze kicked up, it bent her tree's branches and moved their shadow just long enough for the sun to warm her skin.
I'll miss this. I'll miss all of it.
Peter, the master's oldest boy, dropped to his knees by her side. He picked up her hands in his. Worry creased his face and the light in his eyes diminished like a flickering candle about to go out. But when Astrid turned to gaze at him, his concern lifted like fog. “She's alive!” he shouted.
His brothers and friends gathered around the lizard's carcass, poking it with sticks while keeping their distance. At Master Antoni’s insistence they spoke Northlander in Astrid’s presence, giving them the opportunity to stay fluent while respecting her struggle with foreign languages. “Of course she's alive,” his middle brother Joseph replied. “She's a dragonslayer.”
Popping up to his feet, Peter grinned and extended a helping hand to Astrid. His grin faded when she looked away and shook her head. He faced the others and the tone of his voice deepened into authority. “Leave that thing alone and come here. Something's wrong with Mistress Astrid.”
Reluctantly, Joseph took a final poke at the dead lizard and led his brothers and friends to gather around Astrid. Joseph removed a skin of water strapped across one shoulder and offered it to her. “Have a drink.”
Peter took the skin from his brother's hand and glared at him. Kneeling next to Astrid again, Peter lifted her shoulders and wedged himself behind them to help her sit up. He then raised the skin and squeezed a stream of fresh well water into her mouth.
It felt good to rest against Peter's chest and let him prop her up. Astrid relished the clean taste of the water, grateful for every gulp. Why hadn't she noticed the simple pleasures the world offered until now?
“Here's the problem.” The youngest brother John pointed at the wound on her calf. “She's injured.”
With a sudden burst of energy, Astrid slapped John's hand away before he could touch her leg. “Keep away from it! There's dragon spit on it!”
Everyone except Peter jumped back from Astrid, horror shining in their eyes. She felt Peter's body shudder, and the waves of his fear reverberated through her.
Peter's voice trembled. “It's our fault. This was our idea, and you got hurt because of us. We're no better than murderers.”
“Nonsense! When I fought the lizard, its spittle dropped on my face. It wasn't until after I killed the thing that I examined the place where—” Astrid stopped, not wanting to tell the boys she'd been grazed by one of their arrows. “When I looked at my wound, the spittle fell from my face onto the wound. It's my own stupid fault. If there's a murderer here, it's me. I managed to murder myself.”
“Maybe you'll be all right,” Peter said hopefully. “If the dragon didn't bit
e you—” He paused and frowned. “Then how did you get hurt?”
John twisted his head, peering closely at Astrid's leg. “Look! It's from an arrow.”
Astrid said, “It's not your fault, it's mine. I forgot the plan. I came out of the tree too soon. If I had remembered what we agreed upon, this wouldn't have happened.”
“And everything would be fine,” Peter said. He brushed tears from his eyes before they could fall.
“Peter?” John's voice quivered and his own eyes filled with tears at the sight of his oldest brother struggling to keep his composure.
“Go back to the house, all of you,” Peter said. “Find Father. Tell him what happened. Tell him Mistress Astrid needs a quiet place and whatever else we can provide.”
As his brothers and friends dawdled, they cast fearful looks among themselves. Astrid understood. A dragonslayer's death would ripple through towns and countryside like a rock thrown into the center of a pond. It could take months to secure the services of a new dragonslayer. Until then, those towns risked attacks by lizards and many people were likely to die.
A girl screamed.
Before she lost consciousness, Astrid saw the master's youngest daughter standing in the path, wide-eyed with horror while she stared at the bloody remains of her pet goat, torn apart by the lizard.
CHAPTER 4
When Astrid awoke, she discovered herself lying in a large bed covered in soft furs. It felt like floating on a cloud despite the pungent scent of bear and wolverine. Soft sunlight outlined the edges of tapestries that had been placed across the windows facing her, making the room so dim that it took several minutes for her eyes to adjust. She didn't remember being in this room before, and she suspected it belonged to the private family chambers inside the manor.
Someone snored nearby.
Squinting as she propped herself up on her elbows, Astrid made out a figure slumped in a chair next to the bed.
