by Resa Nelson
The Iron Maidens, Komdra, and his men formed small groups to travel first to well populated sections of the Northlands then work their way to smaller regions.
Astrid agreed to travel with Kikita only, feeling disenchanted by the others after their encounter with Gershon. Afterwards, they'd looked at Astrid with no attempt to hide their horror and concern.
Hypocrites.
She hated them for choosing to kill the Krystr clerks instead of sailing away from them, and she hated herself for becoming one of them.
But most of all, she hated Mandulane, his soldiers, and everyone who decided to force their god down the throats of others.
If not for Krystr, none of this would have happened. If not for Krystr, DiStephan would still be alive, and she'd be living the happy life of a blacksmith in Guell among the people she loved.
At least she would see them soon. With Kikita at her side, Astrid hiked the familiar mountains between the port village of Gott and the path that would lead her home.
* * *
Days later, Astrid and Kikita walked in silence on a forest path. Beams of the hot summer sun pierced through open spaces in the canopy of trees above. A light rain pattered against the leaves, and a few warm raindrops slipped beyond the leaves to land on the women's skin.
Suddenly, three young lizards bounded into sight from around a bend in the path. They ran to Astrid, raised themselves on their hind legs, and leaned upon her. For the first time in many days, Astrid laughed when their weight made all of them collapse to the ground. “Smoke,” she said in delight as the lizards regrouped to curl around her. “Fire. Slag.”
Kikita paused and smiled. She crossed her arms. “You have the most unusual friends.”
Astrid scratched each young lizard's nose while she stood up. “I don't understand why they're here. We saw them weeks ago. It makes sense they migrated north and swam across the sea between here and the Midlands. It's what all lizards do at this time of year. But it's peculiar to find them here, unless they're returning to where they hatched.”
Suddenly concerned, Astrid stared at the animals. “What have you done?”
The lizards' jaws hung open, full of sharp teeth and deadly spittle, as if smiling.
Astrid broke into a run, and the lizards and Kikita followed.
Smoke, Fire, and Slag launched themselves past the women and reached the gates of Guell first.
Astrid paused, remembering the day Trep brought her to the new gates of the fence built by the blacksmiths to surround and protect Guell from anyone or anything that might harbor the intention of harm. Long iron pikes forged by Randim and his men stood inches away from each other in a row, shackled together to form the fence. But the sight that still chilled her was the hundreds of bone fragments bound to the fence and gates by thin ribbons of iron. When the blacksmiths created this fence, the ghosts of those murdered in Guell by Drageen and his men volunteered their bones to frighten intruders away.
The lizards sank into a happy pile in front of the gates.
Astrid's heart leapt at the sound of a familiar voice.
“Miss Dragonslayer?”
CHAPTER 68
Donel, the 17-year-old butcher's boy turned blacksmithing apprentice, unlocked the gates and eased them open an inch or so. Although he'd grown even taller since she'd last seen him in the fall, he'd kept his berry-brown hair short and let it naturally curl like wood shavings. He kept a cautious eye on the young lizards resting outside them.
“Watch out for the dragons, Ma'am. Better get your sword out.”
Astrid laughed. “It's all right, Donel. I know these dragons. I saved them from being eaten by a lizard when they were hatching. They know me. They remember me.”
Donel's fingers curled tightly around the bars of the gates. “They came here some days ago and won't leave.”
Astrid knelt by the pile of young lizards and patted Smoke's head. “They hatched just outside of Guell. I suspect they consider this their home just as much as any of us do.”
“I see,” Donel said, still clinging to the gates. “But don't you think we're surrounded by enough dragons already? We've got Dragon’s Head to the west, and there's no telling how many dragons are swarming that place right now. Do we need more dragons at our gates?”
Astrid patted Smoke until the young lizard fell asleep, breathing so heavily and rhythmically that his siblings dozed off, too. Rising to her feet, Astrid spoke softly to keep from waking them. “The only people I've seen them attack were men who tried to kill us.” She gestured to Kikita. “This is my friend. She's an Iron Maiden.”
Donel frowned as he gazed suspiciously from the sleeping lizards to Kikita, who stood quietly behind Astrid. “What did you say she is?”
“Let us in, Donel, and then gather everyone up. It's time for us to talk.”
* * *
Word spread quickly throughout Guell of Astrid's return and the Far Eastern woman who traveled by her side. With Kikita's assistance, Astrid built a large fire in the center of the village.
The townspeople brought root vegetables and grains and a large iron cauldron filled with fresh rainwater to cook a communal soup. While the meal simmered over the fire, Astrid spoke to the crowd made up of blacksmiths, their families, and the original residents of Guell who circled around the open hearth, sitting on large stones and logs yet to be split for firewood. Their familiar faces brought her comfort, and her heart soared when she saw Lenore, Randim, and Trep, who each greeted her with a long and hard embrace.
But when Astrid told the story of what happened when she traveled this year's winter route to the Midlands and Southlands, every face she saw turned grim.
“Komdra and his men and the other Iron Maidens are spreading the word throughout the Northlands,” Astrid said. “Everyone needs to decide. You can stay here in Guell to protect our homes if the Krystr soldiers succeed with their invasion of the Northlands. Or you can head to the lower coasts to stop them before they reach us.”
“No worries,” Randim said, holding Lenore's hand. They sat next to each other on a log. Like always, he'd rubbed his eyes throughout the day while blacksmithing, unintentionally smudging his face with soot. “Guell is a coastal town. We stay here, we protect Guell and the coast at the same time. What is there to decide?”
“It's not so simple,” Donel piped up from where he sat near Astrid's side. “Guell is different. You're forgetting about Dragon’s Head. With all the dragons that come to lay their eggs there, no merchant ever comes here by sea. The few that dare make the journey come by land. If that wasn't enough, the waters between our beach and Dragon’s Head churn so much that no ship can survive it.”
Lenore squeezed Randim's hand. She'd left her long dark hair loose today, and the wind whipped it across her face as she spoke. “Even if the Krystr soldiers wanted to invade us by sea, between the dragons and the lack of a safe port, they'd probably die before they could reach us.”
“Makes us safe on the coast,” Trep said. As always, he'd dressed his long blond hair in narrow braids that now draped across his shoulders. Normally, bright and breezy in nature, worry broke his voice. “How many men need be on the coasts below us? How many need be to stop these demons?”
“I don't know.” Astrid swallowed hard. She gazed at the people surrounding her and beyond them to the blend of cottages that graced the village of Guell.
If the Krystr soldiers destroyed Guell, it would be gone forever. Mandulane's men would transform it into an unrecognizable and unthinkable place. The Krystr soldiers would have to conquer all of the Northlands in order to reach Guell.
Suddenly, that threat seemed impossible to avert. “No one will know until our people reach the coasts and come together. We can't predict how many soldiers Mandulane controls or where he'll send them until it happens. All we know is they plan to invade the Northlands, and most likely it will happen soon.”
“I've heard tales of another world beyond the Western Islands and across the ocean,” Donel said. “What if we all pic
k up and set sail?”
Without realizing it, Astrid looked at Kikita, who kept an even temperament no matter what anyone said.
Astrid understood Donel's wish. Not long ago, she'd only wanted to be with the people of Guell and had no care for anyone who lived outside their village. But that was before she met Margreet.
“We could consider that,” Astrid said gently. “But what would happen to the people we'd leave behind? The Bog Landers in the Far North? Or the people in the port town of Gott in the Lower Northlands? Or Far Easterners like Kikita? Or the Midlanders or the Southlanders or the islanders?”
Donel hung his head in shame. “I was only thinking of us sticking together like we've done before.”
“No shame in that kind of thinking,” Trep said.
Randim sighed. “Is any man ready to leave his home for the sake of guarding the coasts beneath us?” Before anyone could answer, Randim released Lenore's hand and stood, soon followed by Trep and every other blacksmith, including Donel.
“No!” Lenore protested. “You can't leave Guell in need of a blacksmith. At the very least, we need someone to keep our plow blades and hoes in good repair.”
“Donel is the youngest,” Randim said. “He can stay.”
Donel failed to hide the relief on his face as he sat once more. “What about Mistress Dragonslayer?”
“I stand with the Iron Maidens,” Astrid said. “And if we take enough iron with us, I provide another set of hands for making dragonslayer swords.”
“Dragons?” Randim said, sinking to sit next to an increasingly worried Lenore.
Astrid felt hatred burn at the back of her throat. “It's the best type of sword to kill a dragon. It's less likely to bend or break. Why not forge them for Northlanders to use against the Krystrs?”
They talked into the evening, weighing options and making plans. Astrid found herself taking long looks at each blacksmith, drinking in his face and voice and manner so she could remember him in case he didn't survive the Krystr invasion.
When the evening grew late and the sun began its slow descent to skim along the horizon for the next several hours, she realized that she no longer saw Trep among the friendly faces surrounding her.
CHAPTER 69
Although Astrid invited Kikita to spend the night at her home, Lenore quickly insisted that she and Randim already had a spare mat for the Iron Maiden. Astrid thought Lenore's behavior odd and secretive, but she felt too tired to argue.
When the villagers dispersed to their homes in the pale evening light, Astrid walked through Guell toward the spit of land she called her own. She enjoyed the quiet stretch of land between the edge of Guell and her cottage and smithery, surrounded by a row of poplars and separated from the sea by Dragon's Teeth Field.
Here, she felt safe and sound.
She entered the smithery first, smiling to see all her blacksmithing tools lined up as neat and clean as she'd left them. She unhooked the sheath from her belt and hung Starlight up on the hooks Donel had forged and nailed to one wall, certain that no one would steal the sword from her again.
She lingered as she ran her hand across the cool surface of her anvil, the same one her master Temple had used the day he'd bought her from the child seller. That night, she'd slept in the smithery, finding comfort by embracing this same anvil.
For a moment, Astrid wished she could go back in time. If she'd never argued with DiStephan, he wouldn't have left Guell and would still be alive today. Maybe his disappearance had caused the first bloodstone to emerge from her foot, which had set in motion a chain of events.
If the stone had never come out of her foot, Drageen would have left her alone. Everyone in Guell would be oblivious to the impending Krystr invasion, and Drageen would most likely be gathering forces to protect the Northlands.
But if the stone had never come out of her foot, she never would have met Randim or Trep or the other blacksmiths. Lenore wouldn't have met Randim or found such happiness with him. Astrid never would have met Vinchi or Margreet or Kikita, because Vinchi would have had no cause to train women to use weapons. The Iron Maidens wouldn't exist. Thorda and Kikita and all the other women who knew how to defend themselves with weapons might already be dead.
Or worse than dead.
With a chill, Astrid remembered the women with blue skin who serviced Mandulane.
Astrid paused at the sound of a faint shuffle in the distance. Breathing softly, she cocked an ear toward the direction of the sound.
Silence.
She thought about the sound she'd just heard. It hadn't been the casual sound of a foraging animal or the skittering of an inquisitive bird or squirrel. It might have been a footstep. It might have come from inside her cottage.
She removed Starlight from its place on her smithery wall, reminding herself that an attack on Guell from the sea couldn't happen. There were no Krystr soldiers in Guell.
Not yet.
Keeping a solid grip on Starlight's hilt, she eased on quiet feet from the smithery to the door to her cottage, which stood slightly open. Hesitating, she kept listening but heard nothing. Placing Starlight's tip on the door, she used the sword to push it open.
She sensed someone's presence inside her home. She smelled the scent of potatoes and herbs on someone's breath, wafting through the air. She felt someone's chest rising and falling with every breath. She detected a slight heat from another body.
“Show yourself,” Astrid said, keeping a firm grip on her sword.
When she took a few cautious steps inside, she saw a dim figure move out of the twilight that seeped into her cottage from the open door. Pointing Starlight's sharp tip at the figure, she said, “Stop.”
“He's dead,” a familiar voice said.
Astrid worried as she lowered her weapon. “Who's dead?”
A familiar hand took Starlight away from her, closed the cottage door, and used the sword to lock the door shut. “DiStephan. Your dragonslayer. He's long dead.”
He placed his hands around her waist, letting them linger as if waiting for an answer. “I'm alive, Woman. And I'm here.”
Astrid waited until her eyes adjusted enough for her to recognize Trep's long braids of hair to make sure it was him. “I don't understand,” she said, lying to herself as well as him.
“Ain't nothing wrong with grief so long as it don't keep you from loving another.”
Astrid shuddered for a moment. Why hadn't DiStephan's ghost made himself known to her for such a long time? Had someone released DiStephan's spirit in the same way she had released Margreet?
“Let me stay or let me go.” His hands rested against her waist like ships ready to set sail.
He'd welcomed her into Randim's blacksmithing camp with delight when she'd first been sold to them. While some of the other blacksmiths had questioned her ability or Randim's judgment in buying her, Trep had always treated her like a fellow blacksmith. Trep believed she could escape Tower Island and find her way back to the blacksmiths.
And when she'd come back to Guell after Margreet's death, Trep had been the one to sit with her through the night, watching the moon change from pale yellow to blood red, telling her about his sister and the man who might have killed her had she not escaped.
Astrid realized she felt as safe and sound in his arms as she did in her own home. With a start, she also realized he'd likely leave with the rest of blacksmiths for the lower coasts of the Northlands. “Don't go,” she said, lifting her hands to cup his face.
When he kissed her, Astrid happily sank into his arms and let the rest of the world melt away, forgetting about Starlight, the sword that kept her cottage door shut and gave them safe harbor for the rest of the night.
CHAPTER 70
Astrid dreamed of a bright, clear day where the blazing sun hung high over a stretch of beach. She walked barefoot in the white, fine sand, as soft as lamb's wool against her skin. The briny scent of cod stank so much that she almost gagged. The ocean waves rolled strong in whitecaps for as far
as she could see, crashing loudly when they finally reached shore.
A patch of sand rose between Astrid and the incoming waves in the dream. When it stood up to her height, the sand took the shape of a man and pointed at her. Ignoring the strange sight, she rushed past it. But more men of sand bubbled up from the beach and surrounded her, their eye sockets empty and mouths filled with pebbles.
Astrid reached for Starlight, but she found only an empty sheath strapped to her belt. Without her sword, she instinctively held her hands up. She showed her empty palms to ward off the sand specters even though it appeared they couldn't move, like animals caught in a mud pit.
“Stay away,” Astrid said. “I mean no harm.”
The sand specters screamed, and the sun plummeted from high above and landed on the horizon. A wayward beam of sunlight caught the center of Astrid's hand, illuminating the stone of darkness embedded at the center of her palm. At first, the stone caught the sunlight and magnified it, sending sunlight beams radiating from her hand in all directions.
Bloodstones rained from the sky, seemingly out of nowhere. Each gem thudded on the sand in front of Astrid and formed a path leading her toward a stone mansion nestled in a nearby field. As she followed the path created by the bloodstones, they glowed from where they'd fallen among the grass and weeds. The sand men moaned when Astrid turned her back on them and walked away. She thought she could hear the heaviness of slow, thudding footsteps behind her and quickened her own pace.
Running through the field, Astrid slowed to a walk. She saw the path of bloodstones continue onto a cobbled walkway and up the stone steps to the mansion. For a moment she felt anxious because it looked deserted. In the distance, she heard the scraping sound of sandy footsteps against grass and hurried inside the mansion.
Astrid found herself inside a huge circular room. A pit had been built at its center, and she caught her breath when she recognized Mandulane standing inside it with only his shoulders and head showing. A crowd of brown-robed clerks huddled about fifteen feet from the edge of the pit, conversing as loudly as geese.
