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

by Resa Nelson

  Pain flooded her senses, but she jumped to her feet and hobbled with all the speed she could muster toward the small trail branching off the path surrounding the lake.

  The lake! These flies live by water. I can outrun them!

  She teetered toward the muddy edge of the lake. Thinking quickly, Astrid scooped up a handful of mud and used her other hand to swat flies while she ran hard and fast onto the trail leading away from the water, never slowing down until she reached the forest. Astrid found a large rock and sat down on it.

  A buzz swept past her ears, and a few stubborn flies attacked her face.

  “No!” Astrid shrieked. With her empty hand, she slapped her own face until her success left her hand dotted with the flies’ blood and mangled bodies.

  She slathered the cool, soothing mud on every bit of exposed skin. Her skin itched from the insect bites, but Astrid resisted the urge to scratch. She knew if she waited long enough the mud would pull the itch out of her skin.

  The sensation of an insect landing on the back of Astrid’s hand startled her. Instinctively, she raised her other hand, ready to slap it.

  But when she looked at the back of her hand, still slathered in mud, she froze.

  A dainty dragonfly perched on a spot where the mud had dried. Its long, thin body was the color of bloodstones, a sharp, bright red. Its sheer white wings shimmered in the dim forest light and lowered slowly to rest on Astrid’s skin. The dragonfly’s round eyes darted in all directions before appearing to look directly at her.

  Astrid held her breath. Everyone knew dragonflies brought good luck, but their numbers were few in the Northlands. She’d seen them more often traveling through the Midlands and Southlands. One had never dared to land on her skin before.

  She lowered the hand she’d raised to strike, wanting to make sure the dragonfly knew she meant it no harm. The dragonfly cocked its head and continued to observe her.

  Although feeling compelled to speak, Astrid didn’t know what to say to a dragonfly.

  People said that when hatchling dragons were killed and eaten by adult dragons, the hatchlings’ spirits would fly to the closest tree and hide inside a leaf. In time, like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly, the little dragon’s spirit would transform the leaf into a new form that would give it the wings it had so desperately needed to escape. That’s why there were called dragonflies. Of course, people were really talking about lizards, not dragons. Even so, neither dragons nor lizards had wings.

  Only dragonflies had wings.

  Astrid had never believed the story about how dragonflies came to be. It was just a story someone had made up and people liked to believe. A way to explain the skittish and shy nature of the pretty insect that posed no harm to people.

  In fact, dragonflies were known to feed on black flies.

  The dainty insect shifted its weight and rearranged its legs. Even through the layer of dried mud, Astrid marveled at the gentle touch of the dragonfly. Seeming to have all the time in the world and no particular place to go, the dragonfly raised and lowered its wings a few times.

  It flew away as suddenly as it had appeared.

  Astrid released her breath. Her skin no longer stung or itched, and she felt new hope.

  * * *

  Later that day, she stopped to rest at the sight of the small island where she'd first met DiStephan's ghost. Sinking to perch on the edge of a cliff overlooking the river, Astrid breathed in the heavy scent of grass. Its soft touch brushed against her skin. Clear water gurgled, rushing over stones embedded in the river bottom. She thought of everyone she’d met after DiStephan died.

  I've been lucky to know so many good people and have the chance to love them.

  Astrid straightened her back and let her hands fall to her sides, placing her palms against the ground to steady herself.

  I've been lucky that such good people loved me back.

  She held that thought like a piece of treasure and buried it inside herself. She may have placed her friends in danger when Mandulane's spy infiltrated Guell, but it wasn't too late to make amends. Apparently, Taddeo or some other dragon wanted her to do something up in the Far Northlands. She’d figure it out and then find her friends and fight by their sides.

  Astrid stood and made her way down to the river below.

  CHAPTER 13

  Unlike the gentle slopes and flat farmland of the southern Northlands, mountains bolted straight up in the upper region, separated by jagged valleys. Enormous cliffs lined the shores, making it difficult for ships to land and impossible to go anywhere if they did.

  As she'd done during the past few years, Astrid followed narrow paths that wound between the mountains, pausing every so often to yawn and relieve the pressure in her ears. Occasionally she'd spot a bear or a wolf on the other side of a stream, but animals tended to acknowledge her presence without acting threatened or interested.

  Astrid knew the uppermost regions of the Northlands because the route she traveled in her dragonslayer days had brought her here before. She knew where lizards preferred to hunt in these upper regions and that they didn't seem to mind the slightly cooler weather. Even so, every so often she'd discovered one sunning itself on a rock or in a clearing. She'd seen no lizards or dragons since leaving Smoke, Fire, and Slag guarding the gates of Guell.

  The nights were crisp and cool with the heady scent of pine. Happily, Astrid noticed the absence of biting bugs.

  After days of walking and being shown where to walk by beams of light streaming from her hand, she crossed the last mountain and continued through a forest.

  She arrived at the edge of the iron bogs, a swampy stretch of land surrounded by narrow paths of flat black stones, smooth and polished from hundreds of years of foot traffic. Stout trees dotted the Boglands, dividing the swamp into patches. The air hung heavy with a brackish smell, thick enough to cut. Even the sky seemed to reflect the impact of the bogs. Moments ago, the sun had warmed Astrid's skin but now thick clouds blocked its rays. Despite the lack of sunlight, the air felt warm and sticky.

  A steady stream of smoke rose above the tree line to her left. The smelters. After the boggers harvested hunks of iron from the swamp, the next step was to smelt them into blooms of iron.

  “Astrid?”

  Startled, she closed her fist around the stone embedded in her palm, which thankfully showed no light at the moment. Astrid relaxed, recognizing the familiar voice of Peat, a short mushroom of a middle-aged man. He stood as stout as an apple and wore his ever-present wide-brimmed straw hat. His chubby cheeks dimpled with every smile. “What's our dragonslayer doing in these parts so early in the year?”

  Astrid hesitated, struggling to think of a good excuse. She couldn’t tell him that dragons were manipulating her by using the light from the stone in her hand to force the path she walked.

  Dragons are invading earlier this year.

  Nonsense. She'd seen no lizards other than the friendly ones she'd left behind to guard the gates of Guell.

  All my weapons have broken, and I need more blooms of iron to make new ones.

  Ridiculous. She'd seen a good supply of iron in the large smithery in Guell, which meant Peat had sent a new batch recently.

  Worry creased Peat's forehead. “Why do you not have Starlight with you? All you've got is a dagger? What kind of dragonslayer—”

  “I'm not a dragonslayer any more,” Astrid blurted, angry with herself for having left Starlight behind in Guell even though it would have made no sense to take it with her to Dragon’s Head. “Those days are gone.”

  Peat stared into empty space, attempting to make sense of her words. “Why?”

  “There is a new god, and the men spreading his word will do anything to force it on us and ruin our lives.”

  Peat's nose scrunched in disgust, and he spat into the bog lying next to his feet. “The White Krystr.”

  Astrid paused, not knowing how to respond.

  Normally even-tempered and jovial, Peat allowed himself the
luxury of a rant. “Cowards, all of them! Their god's a coward and so is everyone that believes in him.”

  Peat spoke louder and waved his arms as if speaking to a crowd. “Do they come and face us like true men? No! They use secrecy like some kind of woman's sorcery to attack good villagers and force them to accept the Krystr god. They aren't weak like women, but they act like women!”

  Peat spat again. “The White Krystr is as distasteful as any woman practicing sorcery, and his soldiers are likewise White!”

  Astrid shifted her weight from one foot to the other, suddenly uncomfortable and trying to figure out how not to be offended by Peat's words.

  Most men she knew held contempt for women who practiced sorcery, believing that a woman should either be direct and forthright like a man or stay quiet. On one hand, Astrid agreed with the men because she'd heard of women who used sorcery as an underhanded way to control others instead of simply asking for what they wanted. On the other hand, she couldn't help but feel Peat's attack aimed at her, even though she felt like an innocent onlooker.

  Her feelings must have shown on her face because the next time Peat glanced her way, he hesitated. “Not you, Astrid,” he sputtered, taking a step back from her. “You haven't a streak of whiteness in you. Any man who'd call you a coward would be calling himself a fool.”

  Astrid remembered her decision to set Drageen free from Dragon’s Head. Looking back, it now struck her as a cowardly decision. Wouldn’t it have been better to trust herself and her bloodstones to fight Mandulane? Hadn’t deciding to free Drageen and allowing Dragon’s Head to imprison her been a way of hiding from the dark days ahead? The stone inside her hand warmed, seemingly in agreement.

  Thank the gods she’d come to her senses.

  Peat sighed but stood fast and gazed into her eyes. “I meant no harm. I’ve heard merchants talk about the Krystr soldiers, but I’ve said little about it to the others. I see no need in scaring anyone else here in the bogs. I'd be at a loss if the Krystr soldiers ever came into the Northlands.”

  He gestured to himself, aging and rotund. “I may have the heart to stand up against them but how much good would I be? And you know about the Boglanders. We all came here for our own reasons.”

  Astrid nodded. “Of course.” When she'd first come to the Boglands as a dragonslayer, Peat had taken her under his wing and explained why she would likely see him and no one else.

  He described the Boglanders as broken people. Men who had lost the ability to provide for themselves or their families. Women who had been widowed or deserted. People who had summoned up the courage to desert those that harmed them. Orphaned children rejected or abused by the people in their villages.

  Boglanders kept to themselves, preferring to slog through swampy grounds in search of iron instead of finding a new village and a new life. It was easier to get lost in the bogs, away from Northlanders, away from taunts, away from ridicule.

  But could the bogs protect them from Mandulane?

  She didn’t know why the light forced her to come to the Boglands, but she saw an opportunity to do something of value for however long the light would allow her to stay.

  Astrid promised herself to take whatever steps necessary to convince the Boglanders to leave their home and find a safer place. She remembered the map of the world she’d once seen in Mandulane’s camp.

  I want to convince the Boglanders to go to a foreign land. If Mandulane someday conquers the entire world, the Boglanders will have more time to enjoy their freedom by leaving the Northlands now and finding a safer place to live.

  CHAPTER 14

  Despite the warmth of the sun on her face and bare arms, Astrid shivered. Following Peat's suggestion, she agreed to participate by working in a Boglander’s shoes before being allowed to meet its people. Secretly, she relished the opportunity to get her hands dirty.

  Boglanders valued their privacy far more than she ever realized. Peat acted as their sole trader and liaison. He served like a locked gate, keeping them safe and sound within their own community. Astrid and Peat agreed she should speak directly to the Boglanders about Mandulane, but they would have to become used to her presence before they’d be willing to listen to her. And the best way to gain their trust was to be useful and work in the Boglands.

  Astrid hadn't anticipated how thick and uncompromising the bogs could be. She set the basket on top of the shoulder-height stone path that encircled the bog to which Peat had led her. The bog covered an area the size of Guell. The swamp trees grew high enough to block her vision of the adjacent bogs, and so far she hadn't spotted another Boglander other than Peat.

  He gave a rake-like tool to her and demonstrated how to use it to drag the bottom of the bog. Following the steps he taught her, Astrid placed the iron tines of the tool under the knee-deep water until she heard them scrape against the stone wall and then dragged them down to meet the ground. She winced at the scraping sound but then felt relief at the sensation of the tines sinking into the soft mud. The murkiness of the bog water made it impossible to see into it. Peat told her to rely on what she could hear and feel through the touch of the tool's long wooden handle.

  Astrid took her time walking backwards while she dredged the swamp. Every time something tugged at the tines, she stopped, reached with her bare arm into the dark water, searched for the potential lump of iron, and pulled it out of the swamp to examine it.

  Most times she'd found nothing more than plain rock, which she tossed onto the path. Peat explained the importance of removing rocks. Doing so meant no one would ever have to duplicate Astrid's work. And the Boglanders knew plenty of ways to use the rocks they found while searching for iron.

  Astrid paused, leaning her head back and looking up toward the sky. She drew a shallow breath. The bogs had a rich, earthy scent that she liked, but they also stank with a smell that reminded her of decay and rot. After reaching into the bog all day, her skin reeked with that stench. She could barely stand to be inside her own skin.

  A woman's scream pierced the thick, humid air.

  Bogging rake in hand, Astrid slogged her way as fast as she could toward the stone path and hauled herself on top of it.

  The unseen woman screamed again, and Astrid's skin prickled at the sound of urgency and terror in that scream. She hesitated with the realization that the putrid scent of the bog masked any other smells that might be drifting on the wind. She'd have to figure out where to go based on the sound alone.

  There!

  Still holding onto her bogging rake, Astrid raced along the stone path, forgetting Peat's warning to stay within her own area. The path led to a maze of other stone paths that wound around other pockets of bogs. She caught glimpses of other boggers but kept her focus on the path, which forked again and again. Panicked voices echoed in the distance behind her.

  Astrid turned a corner to discover a young lizard poised on the path with its back to her. No longer than the length of Astrid's arm, the lizard crouched and thrashed its little tail back and forth, looking ready to spring and attack the prey it faced, a young woman standing in the bog.

  Creeping up behind the creature, Astrid angled her bogging rake and then slammed it so that its tines straddled the lizard's legs and shoulders, pinning it against the rock.

  Startled, the lizard gazed up at her and hissed ferociously.

  “Bad lizard,” Astrid said. She straddled it and held the rake firmly in place.

  “Dragon!” the woman cried out from the bog. She stood tall and slim, her long blond hair plaited in dozens of tiny braids. She pointed with a shaking finger at Astrid. “Dragon!”

  Astrid looked down at the lizard.

  Well, it’s difficult to tell what it is. It might be a lizard. Or it might be a dragon.

  Only Astrid knew the difference between a ferocious animal and something that had the power to shift shape between mortal and animal form. In the eyes of everyone else, a dragon was a dragon. Something not to be messed with.

  Astrid’s eyes na
rrowed in suspicion.

  What if this is one of the dragons controlling me with the light from my stone?

  “I've got it,” Astrid called out. “It's not going anywhere. It's safe to come out, if you want.” The young animal thrashed, nearly knocking itself loose. Astrid kept her weight on the bog rake. “None of that,” she said to the lizard, which glared at her with contempt.

  The tall blond woman stood her ground in the bog water. Pointing a shaking finger, she said, “It's still alive. That dragon could get loose. It could kill you ... and then me!”

  “I won't let it.” Astrid met the lizard's angry glare. “It's a bad, bad dragon, isn't it? But it won't be hurting people as long as I'm around.”

  Squinting at Astrid, the young lizard turned its head, refusing to look at her. It lay still, most likely pretending to be sleeping. Or dead.

  “That won't work,” Astrid told the lizard. “I'm on to your tricks.”

  The lizard snorted in disdain.

  During the next several minutes a smattering of men and women arrived, each panting from having run along the stone walk. Each startled to see Astrid pinning a young dragon to the walk and the blond woman, frightened but safe, in her bog.

  Huffing and puffing, Peat ran up to join the rest. “What happened here?” he said, his face taut with worry. Peat noticed Astrid pinning the young lizard with a bog rake, and his expression slackened in confusion. “You brought a dragon to the bogs?”

  “No!” Astrid said. “I heard that woman scream, and when I came it was just me and the dragon. Someone had to do something about it.”

  Peat surveyed the scene for a moment: the blond woman standing in the bog, the men and women clustered on the stone walk, Astrid leaning on her bog rake, and the small but deadly animal pinned between its tines.

  Peat laughed heartily and pointed at Astrid. “What a fine time for a dragonslayer to join our ranks! Everyone, meet Astrid, the woman who followed in the footsteps of DiStephan and has been protecting us these past few years!”

  “Is that why a dragon infiltrated our camp?” the woman in the bog said, her voice underlined by a trace of bitterness. “Because she's here and not outside looking for dragons?”