The Dragonslayer Series: Books 1-4: The Dragonslayer Series Box Set

by Resa Nelson

  The gothi's fingertips brushed the palm of Astrid's hand. Spathar's fingernails felt as sharp as Starlight's edges, and her skin looked as translucent as the dying petals of a white chrysanthemum. The gothi's hot breath lingered in the cave's chilly air, smelling like anise and wine.

  When Astrid curled her fingers into a fist around the stone, Spathar wrapped her own hands around it and whispered.

  Not understanding, Astrid looked into the gothi's eyes, hoping to see something in them that would give her insight.

  Instead, Astrid remembered something Drageen told her two years ago: Dragon bites are deadly.

  Almost everyone dies, even those descended from a dragonslayer. Only those with the purest dragonslayer blood can survive. Like you.

  Still staring in the gothi's eyes, Astrid realized why she'd been wrong to believe the stone of darkness could have saved Banshi from a lizard bite.

  When the dragon bit you, chewed you up, its spit mixed with your blood. It made you stronger. That's why you have the power to produce bloodstones. Only those who truly become like the dragon can produce bloodstones. That's you, Astrid.

  Norah, a true dragon, had chewed up Astrid in childhood. A few months ago, Astrid had been bitten by a lizard and assumed she would die because dragons and lizards were entirely different creatures. Her recovery from a lizard bite had been impossible. Unheard of. The only explanation seemed to be the presence of the stone of darkness.

  But what if the same bloodline that allowed Astrid to survive Norah's bite allowed her to survive a lizard's bite? Wouldn't that explain why Banshi died?

  The stone inside her fist heated up like a piece of iron tucked into a hot blacksmithing fire. Crying out, Astrid jerked her fist free and opened it.

  The stone had vanished. A black tattoo in the shape of the stone had burned into Astrid's skin, like the way her scars formed the shape of a sword's blade down her sternum and spine. Unlike her scars, the stone tattoo ached as if someone had driven a knife through her palm and left it there. Frantic, Astrid looked up at Spathar. “What did you do?”

  The gothi smiled briefly and uttered a few words before walking past the women toward the mouth of the cave.

  Kikita said, “She said you're welcome.”

  “I'm what?”

  Astrid followed Kikita's gaze while she watched Spathar walk out of the cave and disappear around the waterfall. “Perhaps she has given some type of gift to you,” Kikita said. “Some advantage that you cannot understand until you need it or use it.”

  Shaking her aching hand, Astrid said, “At least I can't lose the stone now. Mandulane or the Krystr soldiers can't steal it from me.”

  “Unless they cut off your hand,” Kikita said. “And perhaps that would destroy the stone or make it fall out.”

  “I don't think it's lodged in my hand. I think it's melted into my skin.” Astrid blew on her palm, but that only made it hurt more.

  “I have an idea. Come with me.”

  As Astrid followed Kikita toward the mouth of the cave, she noticed the Hidden People had removed their few belongings. They'd left behind only the spilled blood of their sacrificial offering. Apparently, the Hidden People intended to find a new place to lie low.

  Once they reached the slippery rock ledge between the entrance to the cave and the waterfall, Kikita took Astrid's hand and held it under the falling water. Astrid cried out at the painful pressure against her newly injured palm, but Kikita held it firmly against water. Within minutes, the pain faded.

  Astrid looked at Kikita in astonishment. “It feels better.”

  Kikita smiled. “Cold water is good for burns.”

  They edged their way around the waterfall, wincing at the brightness of the sunlight. The Hidden People and Spathar had vanished. Back on the shore of the lake, Komdra stood and spoke to his men, while Dirin translated for the Midlander Iron Maidens who then relayed the information to the other women.

  Astrid and Kikita headed toward them, the Far Easterner straining to hear Dirin's words but failing because Komdra drowned him out. Finally, the women reached the rest of their group and stood outside it.

  Komdra spoke passionately and gestured with his hands. He pointed at the sun, which now skimmed above the western horizon.

  Of course. We're at the beginning of summer. In six weeks' time, the sun will set for only a short time in the depths of night and then rise for a very early dawn. Most of each day will be bathed in light.

  After Dirin spoke, Kikita turned to Astrid. “Komdra talks about joining forces with us. He says Mandulane already controls all of the Midlands and most of the Western Islands. The Krystr soldiers head now for the Northlands, but Komdra believes we can get there first and spread the word of their coming.”

  “That's impossible,” Astrid said. “The only way is through the Midlands and across the sea. If Mandulane controls the Midlands, how can we possibly travel through them?”

  “There is a narrow waterway from the lake to the sea. The Hidden People said they and their kind still protect this waterway. They have boats sheltered away that we can use. However...”

  Astrid felt a sudden fear creep down her spine. “However?”

  Kikita looked into Astrid's eyes with the grimness of a friend preparing to deliver the news of a loved one's death. “The waterway opens onto the sea where islands line the coast. These islands once were home to the Hidden People.” Kikita rubbed her hands together. “Now the islands are home to clerks of the Krystr. The only way to cross the sea to the Northlands is to sail within a stone's throw of a Krystr stronghold.”

  CHAPTER 60

  DiStephan perched on a step high on the stairway that spiraled through the tower. He sighed heavily, reminding himself that the relationship between dragon and dragonslayer always had been fraught with complexity. Why should today be any different?

  Fiera worked her sorcery on the step where he rested his feet, taking her sweet time as always. At this rate, they'd be lucky to free the stairway by winter.

  Without warning, the stairway shuddered beneath DiStephan. He looked up to see his own startled feelings reflected on Fiera's face.

  “That wasn't your doing?” DiStephan said.

  Ignoring him, Fiera cried, “Taddeo!” Her voice rang with an empty tone throughout the tower, but no one responded.

  Another shudder shook the stairway hard enough to make DiStephan grasp each side of the step with his ghostly hands, forgetting for the moment that not even a long fall had the power to harm him.

  Irritated by Taddeo's failure to answer, Fiera rubbed her palms together. A tiny spark ignited, floating above her cupped hands while she mumbled to herself.

  “What is it?” DiStephan said, growing more concerned by the moment. “What's happening?”

  Fiera stared into the floating spark, seemingly lost in it.

  Footsteps echoed throughout the tower when Taddeo ran down the steps from above. “Fiera? What are you doing?”

  DiStephan scooted to one side of his step, even though Taddeo could have simply run through him. DiStephan didn't like the uncomfortable sensation of anything passing through him and avoided it whenever possible. Turning to look back at Taddeo, DiStephan said, “She won't talk to me.”

  Taddeo sank down on the step next to DiStephan. Puzzled lines creased his face as he watched Fiera and the floating spark above her hands. “Has a mountain spit forth your fire?”

  Fiera shook her head. “No more than the ocean crashing with one of your storms.” Her eyes widened when the spark exploded and fizzled out. “The dragonslayer,” Fiera said. “She embraces the stone of darkness.”

  DiStephan turned to Taddeo. “You said that wouldn't happen.”

  Ignoring the ghost, Taddeo leaned forward, staring into Fiera's eyes. “Can you be certain?”

  Fiera stared back. “Absolutely.”

  DiStephan fidgeted. “She'll need help. She doesn't know what the stone is or what it means. You have to let me go to her.”

  Wh
en Taddeo spoke, his voice wavered. “That is not possible. Fiera needs you here.”

  “What about what I need? What Astrid needs?”

  Taddeo's gaze cooled as he looked at DiStephan. “What sense does it make to put what you need before what we need? Please explain how that will benefit you and your kind.”

  DiStephan felt the ghost of his heart deflate.

  Of course. He's right. He's always right.

  Out loud DiStephan said, “Isn't there anything we can do to help her?”

  “Continue with our work here,” Taddeo said while Fiera nodded her agreement. Taddeo paused as if pulling a thought deep from his memory. “And have faith that there are others who would help her when she needs it most.”

  * * *

  Trapped inside the rocky surface of Dragon’s Head, Drageen continued to fume.

  What I did to Astrid is what happened to me. I trapped her just as the curse of the dragons trapped me inside this rock. But I am the leader of the Scaldings! Who else can protect the Northlands?

  Drageen considered everyone in his clan as his kin, as well as the thousands of people who worked their lands in the north and depended on the Scaldings for protection.

  Bloodstones provided the only source of reliable protection in battle. Anyone who bathed in a concoction made of bloodstones could not be wounded over the course of at least a month, sometimes longer. An army of men bathed in bloodstones could easily win any battle or skirmish in far less time.

  But producing bloodstones required a certain degree of purity, and Astrid was the last Scalding capable of creating them. Drageen always suspected their mother had been unfaithful. That unfaithfulness resulted in his birth. He'd never learned the identity of his blood father and didn't care to know it. Thank the gods he'd been born into the Scalding clan, the wealthiest and most powerful family in all the Northlands. Only a fool would relinquish the Scalding name.

  A slight tremor passed through the rock encasing Drageen's body or spirit or whatever form he took inside Dragon's Head. It felt like a hesitant shudder, like the body's reaction to an unexpected draft of chilly air.

  If Drageen had been capable of sitting up and taking notice, he would have. Instead, he became keenly alert.

  Is change coming? Is there a chance one of the Scaldings will entrap a dragon here in my place and set me free?

  When he was younger, he'd imagined that someday he might need a bloodstone or two that emerged slowly and naturally from Astrid's body for the sake of fighting the dragons that constantly attacked Tower Island before Taddeo set Norah free.

  But as more and more merchants brought word of the self-made king and the new religion that savaged the Southlands, Drageen saw the obvious. Astrid's bloodstones represented the only hope of defeating such an army. And the only way to harvest the vast number of bloodstones the Scaldings would need to protect the Northlands meant creating a horrific degree of chaos to scare the bloodstones out of Astrid's body. Unfortunately, that required destruction and mass murder.

  But doesn't saving the lives of thousands justify the deaths of a few hundred? Doesn't saving an entire land from invasion and takeover require sacrifice?

  The rocky ground around him trembled again, harder this time.

  Drageen thought he felt something loosen, ever so slightly.

  CHAPTER 61

  Below deck, Astrid sat alone on the wooden floor. They'd followed the directions given to them by the Hidden People and found this ship sequestered away in an inlet off the lake sheltered by trees. The planks reeked of musty cloth and old potatoes. Several layers of dust covered every surface, making Astrid sneeze every few minutes. She'd found an abandoned cloak and wrapped it around herself like swaddling clothes to ward off the chill.

  Normally, Astrid had no use or time to sulk, but tonight she decided to wallow in self-pity while she could.

  Thorda and the other Iron Maidens acted smitten with the men who had ventured uninvited into their lives. The Midlander women hung onto every word of Dirin's translation of Komdra's commands.

  Komdra says we should risk sailing past a Krystr stronghold to get across the sea and to the Northlands. Komdra says the only people on those islands are weak and insignificant clerks. Komdra says Mandulane has better things to do than go anywhere near such a place. Komdra says we'll be safe.

  Komdra says, Komdra says, Komdra says.

  Why were the Iron Maidens listening to him?

  I'm a dragonslayer. Komdra has been sitting pretty on his little remote island while I've been traveling throughout the lands killing lizards. He's been removed from our world while I've been fighting in the thick of it. He's encountering the Krystr clerks for the first time while I've—

  The memory of Margreet punched Astrid like a fist in her stomach. Only a year ago, when Taddeo told Astrid her duty included traveling the winter route, she'd refused. Back then, Astrid wanted nothing more than to protect her own people, meaning Northlanders but especially the village of Guell. Astrid wanted nothing to do with foreigners. Let them protect themselves.

  Meeting and knowing Margreet and Vinchi changed everything. Astrid never would have guessed she could love people from other countries as much as she loved her own friends in Guell.

  But it happened.

  And it made her want to protect all the lands from the terror of the Krystr soldiers and Mandulane's rule. She wanted to protect the Northlands, Midlands, Southlands, Far Eastlands, and even the Western Islands where Komdra came from. And if the map she'd seen at Mandulane's camp illustrated the truth about the expansiveness of the world, she wanted to protect every land in existence.

  Astrid removed the pin she wore near her throat. She studied its tree shape as she cupped it in her hands. She remembered Limru and the way the Krystr soldiers destroyed it and tied the bodies of the Keepers of Limru to the outdoor temple's sacred trees. She remembered the day she'd cleaned up the destruction with Vinchi at her side. She remembered the way Margreet took the bones of the dead and set their spirits free.

  Fighting back tears, Astrid remembered wanting Margreet and Vinchi to live in Guell alongside Lenore and Randim, Trep and Donel, Beamon and Kamella, and all the others. How wonderful it would have been to be with them all in one place. One safe place.

  The Krystrs are to blame.

  Hatefulness twisted like a serpent in Astrid’s blood.

  Margreet died because of the Krystr soldiers. Because of the lies and wickedness they spread. Because of the people they've poisoned.

  She stroked the surface of the pin with her thumb. The pin of the last Keeper of Limru, now dead.

  They deserve to die.

  Astrid thought about the Krystr soldiers and clerks and Mandulane.

  They have brought madness upon the world.

  Astrid put the pin back on. She'd dare anyone to look at it and call her a barbarian for wearing it.

  The Keepers of Limru died protecting their gods and beliefs. She felt determined to make sure they had not died in vain.

  The ship lurched as if steered into a sudden turn.

  The hatch door above banged open, and Kikita's voice called down the stairs from the deck above with fear and urgency. “Astrid!”

  Jumping to her feet, Astrid pulled Starlight from its sheath and bounded up the stairs.

  CHAPTER 62

  Starlight drawn and held tightly in her hand, Astrid clambered onto the deck of the ship, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. She took a wide stance to steady herself against the gentle pitching of the ship beneath her feet. A chilly wind whipped across her face, and a spray of sea mist stung her eyes, making them water.

  Then she smelled smoke.

  The Iron Maidens and Komdra's men shouted while they ran to one side of the ship. Astrid followed, noticing the sun skimmed the horizon, indicating a late-night hour during this yearly season of perpetual twilight.

  Astrid felt stunned to see how close they sailed to a long and narrow island dominated by a stone mansion lar
ge enough to put any others to shame. Her stomach twisted when she recognized brown-cloaked clerks lined on the beach, torches in hand.

  “They see us! We have to sail faster,” Astrid said to anyone who would listen.

  But no one did. Komdra climbed atop a barrel near the mast and clung to it while he shouted orders. His men scrambled to grip the oars at the ship's sides, and the Iron Maidens followed suit until all the rowing seats filled.

  Good. The sooner we get out of here, the better.

  Instead, the ship began to pivot toward the island's shore.

  “No!” Astrid shouted, running toward Komdra with Starlight still in hand. “What are you doing?”

  Komdra climbed down from the barrel and placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

  Looking into his eyes, Astrid thought she saw genuine affection as he clapped her back and said something she couldn't understand. He then shouted more instructions to the men and women.

  “This is madness!” Astrid said while she followed Komdra.

  Spotting Dirin where he rowed, Astrid tried to reason with the man, forgetting he spoke the Midlander language, not Northlander. “Don't you understand?” she shouted at Dirin. “All we have to do is sail past the island! They won't be able to reach us in time. There's no need to do this!”

  Dirin gave her a puzzled look for a moment, and then returned his full attention to rowing.

  “We'll be ashore in moments!” Astrid called out to anyone who could understand her. “Back up!”

  Astrid lost her balance and struggled to stay on her feet as the ship slid onto the island beach, the sand grating loudly below. Before she realized what had happened, clerks climbed over the railing and onto the deck, flaming torches in hand.

  Komdra shouted, and his men drew their swords and axes, immediately attacking the clerks.

  “No,” Astrid whispered. “This can't be happening.”

  The air filled with shouts, swinging weapons, and the slick scent of blood.