by Resa Nelson
Before deciding to keep the boots, he strolled around his camp and gauged how everyone reacted to them. Pleased with the number of envious stares he counted, those boots had become his favorite.
“As ill advised as invading the eastern coast may be, the Southern Coast has its own set of problems,” Clerk Thomas continued. His voice warmed with enthusiasm. “The sea is shallow and rocky.”
Mandulane shook himself out of his admiration of his own boots for a moment. “Rocky? How can an ocean be rocky?”
Clerk Thomas blinked, seeming to not understand the question for a moment. Then he regained focus. “It isn’t the sea, it’s the seabed. It contains a plentitude of jagged rocks that lie just beneath the water’s surface. If you ignore them, those rocks will tear a ship in two.”
Mandulane groaned. “And the western coast is nothing but cliffs as high as the sky. Not to mention migrating dragons!”
“That is true,” Clerk Thomas said. He smiled and his eyes twinkled. “However, I spoke with a seasoned sailor who merchants in the Northlands. He told me it is possible to avoid the port towns and follow a narrow, winding route through the sea off the Southern Coast.”
For the first time, Mandulane gave his full attention to the clerk. “And have you learned that route?”
Clerk Thomas beamed and pointed to his bushy hair. “I know it so well I can see a map of it in my head.” He hesitated. “A handful of Northlanders are scattered along the Southern Coast, but not enough that your soldiers can’t handle them with ease. But there is one more thing. Our ships sail too deep in the water. It is impossible to use them. But I see one solution.”
Mandulane stared at him expectantly.
Clerk Thomas stood straighter, more proud. “We need a Northlander ship. And I know how you can obtain one. My idea calls for patience and time, but I believe it will be worth the wait.” Clerk Thomas explained everything he had learned while captive in Komdra’s camp.
Mandulane felt a gleam of excitement rise within.
With the flick of one hand, Mandulane shooed Clerk Thomas away. He reconsidered his boots and decided he could get one more wear out of them.
After all, once he’d conquered the Southern Coast of the Northlands, Mandulane would have time to wander among the dead bodies of its natives in search of new footwear he could take from their feet.
CHAPTER 32
A moment ago, Astrid had been kneeling next to Kikita only to watch her ghostly image dissolve into mist and blow away with the wind. Astrid stared into empty air.
The lizard Smoke nudged her again.
Astrid turned and looked into its eyes. “Did you know about this? Did you know she’s a dragon?”
Smoke huffed and then sneezed. He shook his flat reptilian head, and the drool hanging from his jaw landed on Astrid’s leg.
Grimacing, Astrid scooped up the drool and rubbed it off on Smoke’s back, not knowing what else to do with it. “I could fight by my brother’s side. Two Scaldings are better than one.”
She stared at the hand in which the stone of light had embedded itself. “Take me to Drageen! Now!”
No light appeared. The stone appeared dormant.
Trying a different tactic, Astrid said, “Fine! I will go to his side on my own.” She took several strong steps in one direction to see if a wall of light would appear to stop her.
The stone remained inactive.
Astrid changed her direction several times, certain the light would come to life and stand in her way.
Still, nothing happened.
Frustrated, Astrid realized she had no idea where to find Drageen. Since setting him free from Dragon’s Head, her brother might be anywhere in the Northlands, the Western Islands, the Midlands, or even Tower Island. She had no way to learn his location. In defeat, she sat next to a lizard.
Smoke’s sides expanded when he took a deep breath and sighed with a grunt.
Astrid drummed her fingertips lightly on the back of the lizard’s neck, shifting her thoughts. “If Taddeo and Norah can transform themselves into water, does that mean Kikita can transform herself into air? Is that what happened?”
Perhaps understanding Kikita could help her figure out how to find Drageen.
Smoke’s eyes closed, and he grunted again, softer this time.
A twig snapped and fallen leaves rustled. Looking up, Astrid saw Fire and Slag wind their way through a copse of nearby trees and trot toward her. Fire nudged her ear, flicking his yellow tongue across her skin. Slag plopped down next to Smoke’s twitching tail and trapped it beneath his paws.
When Kikita disappeared, she’d appeared to drift in one very clear direction. Kikita mentioned Drageen. Maybe that meant Kikita knew where to find him.
Astrid jumped to her feet, startling Smoke out of his slumber and making his brothers take a step back in caution. Determined to try one last time, she turned her palm up, making it easy for the light to come out of her hand. “Please,” she said to the stone, “tell me if I’m right about where Kikita went.”
A strong beam of white light shot from the stone’s center, pointing in the direction she expected.
“We have to get to the southern coast,” Astrid told Smoke, Fire, and Slag. “There’s no time to lose.”
CHAPTER 33
At Peat’s insistence, Trep joined the Boglanders for supper, even though most of them preferred to keep a good distance from him. He sat on a log by the common outdoor hearth, circled by dozens of Boglanders who kept a close eye on his pouch, where the hatchling dragon slept.
Peppa scooped a good portion of soup into a wooden bowl and brought it to Trep. After a moment’s hesitation, she sat on the opposite end of the log. She’d already filled up his flask from the nearby well.
A few large wooden buildings with high sloping rooftops surrounded them, smoke rising from the hearths inside. Trep appreciated the familiar scent of smoke, even if it didn’t match the smell of a good blacksmithing fire.
“See?” a male voice said. “I told you it’s him.”
Trep looked up to see two brigands approach, although like the other Boglanders they kept their distance. “I know you,” Trep said.
The brigand with a misshapen nose said, “You work for Randim. We traded the barbarian girl to him, the one who makes dragonish swords. The Scalding girl.”
Of course. Randim had traded with these two for years. And Astrid told Trep how she’d fought against the brigands and the names she’d made up for them, which made it impossible for him to remember their true names, if he’d ever known them.
Lumpy said, “But what be one of Randim’s blacksmiths doing here?” He crossed his arms in defiance. “And why you be toting a dragon around? Has everyone known to the Scalding girl gone mad with dragon fever?”
Broken Nose looked toward the sky, exasperated. “Ain’t no such thing as dragon fever.”
“It be a way of saying these blacksmiths take a peculiar liking to dragons,” Lumpy explained. “It be my way to take a liberty.”
“Some liberty!” Broken Nose said. “You make up such a thing as dragon fever and people soon believe it! They’ll be running hither and thither, complaining they have symptoms, moaning and groaning.” The brigand waved his hands in the air. “You might as well say the world’s coming to an end.”
“Maybe that’s what be happening!” Lumpy said, waving his hands, too. He snorted. “Blacksmiths making friends with dragons after spending all these years making swords to kill them. What sense do that make? You just heard the blacksmith tell his sister he be leaving the Northlands and that all the rest of us should, too. Don’t that mean he heard the portent?”
Perplexed, Trep frowned. “What portent?”
In unison, the brigands looked expectantly at Trep.
The blacksmith smiled sweetly. “These are good days to befriend a dragon that can protect you from Mandulane and his Krystr soldiers.”
The brigands stared at him for a few moments. Broken Nose said, “The man got a point.�
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“No,” Lumpy said. “No dragons. That’s what we always say.”
“We got a plan.” Broken Nose spoke quietly and sidled up close to Trep. “We came here to learn the trade of smelting and earn ourselves enough in the way of iron to buy us a ship and leave the Northlands. Ain’t it bad enough all the Boglanders are coming with us?”
Lumpy glared at Broken Nose. “Now you gone and done it.”
Funny how no one mentioned they were leaving the Boglands. Probably wanting to make sure no dragon came on board with them.
If Peppa and the Boglanders had plans to travel with these brigands, Trep had to go with them to ensure her safety. Odds were, they most likely planned to sail west, and wherever they went would get him closer to the Land of Vines, where Kikita had insisted he take his dragon child.
Trep patted the pouch gently. “Think of the advantage of having a dragon on board. Even now, its bite can kill any Krystr soldier.”
Lumpy groaned.
Broken Nose turned toward his fellow brigand. “Think of all the tales we heard tell of Mandulane and the Krystrs. Weapons ain’t enough if they attack our ship. They’d chop off our arms and legs and throw us into the sea before we knew what happened. But showing them the dragon could be enough to scare them away.”
Lumpy stared at the ground and dug a toe into it. “What if the dragon frightens the ponies?”
Trep fought back the urge to laugh. Drumming up his most solemn expression, Trep said, “It’s nothing more than a hatchling. It trusts only me. I wager it’ll be frightened of you.”
Lumpy looked up with new hope. “Of me?”
“Yes,” Trep said. “Terribly frightened of you. I will likely have to comfort it.”
“You should take a leather apron,” Peppa piped up.
The three men looked at her with the same quizzical expression.
Peppa shifted her sitting position. “The dragonslayer wore her smiting gloves when she faced the dragon and chained it up to guard our gate. She told us leather helps protect from a dragon’s bite.”
“That’s right!” Lumpy said, suddenly excited. “We could all wear leather aprons and gloves to protect us.”
Broken Nose shook his head in disbelief. Sarcasm lacing his voice, he said, “Why not take the aprons and make leather clothes and armor from them?”
“Yes!” Lumpy cried. “We’ll cover ourselves from head to toe in leather to save ourselves from the dragon!”
Broken Nose groaned again, and Trep stifled an urge to laugh out loud.
Peppa scooted closer to Trep, reached out with an extended foot, and nudged his leg. “It’s not such a bad idea. Truly, it isn’t. We’ve got plenty of leather aprons and all the iron and tools we need for making rivets and soldering them. Summer’s short here, and autumn’s coming soon. So being covered in leather would keep us warm at sea, especially considering we’ll sail to the Land of Snow.”
“The Land of Ice,” Lumpy said, correcting her and growing more cheerful by the moment. Lumpy gave a knowing look at Broken Nose. “Once again, I told you most folks never hear of it.”
Broken Nose continued to ignore his colleague. Turning to Peppa, he said, “We always thought it was a legend until we met men who been there. They said to go far north of the Northlands and west as well. They call it the Land of Ice because they saw ice on top of every mountain.”
“And because it be so close to the top of the world,” Lumpy added.
Trep watched his sister while the brigands talked to her. He thought back to the day he’d discovered a black eye given to her by her husband and the rage he’d felt toward the man.
He’d wanted to kill her husband, but Peppa begged Trep not to, partly because she said she loved her husband and partly because she knew Trep had never killed anyone and didn’t want him to live the rest of his life burdened by the act of murder.
Trep knew the true burden would fall on her, losing a man she thought she loved and torn between love and hate for a brother who actually knew how to recognize love once he saw it. And feeling like a failure for never realizing his sister lacked that ability until it was too late to convince her of the truth.
The back of Trep’s throat tightened. Gazing at Peppa now, he realized how much he’d missed her during the past several years, ever since the day her husband’s beating left her on the doorstep of death. She’d said her farewells and then found a guide to bring her here to the Boglands. She’d warned her loved ones they’d likely never see her again.
She’d gathered her family and friends at the foot of her marriage bed while her husband was occupied in the fields. Peppa declared herself divorced from him, but everyone knew the man would kill her if he found her. No one who knew of her plans ever spoke of them.
The last time Trep saw her, Peppa’s eyes were so swollen she could hardly see. He’d seen her nose broken and her face covered in blood. He’d barely recognized her.
Minutes ago, she’d given a bowl of soup to Trep, and he held the now-empty bowl in his hands as if it were a key to a lock. While Peppa and the brigands talked, Trep admired who she had become.
Although she acted skittish from time to time, she now sat straight and tall. Her skin glowed in the firelight, and her cheeks looked rosy from good health and good eating. Her eyes sparkled each time she smiled. Her laughter sounded light and musical. Her nose looked slightly misshapen, but he still saw beauty in it.
Trep’s eyes welled briefly, gratitude overwhelming him. The last time he’d seen Peppa, she looked so broken that he didn’t know if she would live. Later, he received word from her guide that she made it safely to the Boglands and these people welcomed her, more than willing to accept her as one of their own and teach her the ways of bogging and smelting.
All these years, whenever he thought of Peppa, he remembered a broken and beaten woman.
But here she was, beautiful and safe and sound. Perhaps not whole, but mostly mended from what he could tell.
“I thought you want to live in the Boglands,” Trep said.
Peppa wrung her hands. “I did until Astrid told us how far the Krystrs have traveled. I never thought they’d go beyond the Southlands. No one ever comes this far north, but what if they do?”
She looked up at Trep, clasped her hands to stop her fidgeting, and met his gaze. “And if we make leather clothes to protect us from the dragon, I’d feel safer on a ship with you than waiting here for the Krystrs to come.”
For the first time since leaving Guell, Trep silently thanked Kikita for sending him on this journey. He wondered if she could have known the happiness he’d find reuniting with his sister out here in the hinterlands of bogs and people who smelted lumps of iron into beautiful blooms.
“Besides,” Lumpy said, “the Scalding girl’s light showed us the way to safety.”
Confused, Trep said, “Her light?”
Peppa pointed at her own hand. “Astrid has a stone inside her hand. And light comes out of it!”
Lumpy nodded. “It showed us to go to the Land of Ice or the Land of Vines, although I say to take care of considering the latter, with its screeching demons with painted faces and wings in their hair.”
Astonished by this sudden good fortune, Trep said, “The Land of Vines?”
“Dreadful, dreadful place by all accounts,” Lumpy said. “Far on the other side of the Western Sea. Why the light says we can be safe there, I can’t imagine.”
CHAPTER 34
On the far side of the Western Sea in the part of the world that Northlanders called the Land of Vines, Killing Crow realized something had gone amiss the moment he woke up and caught a mindful whiff of air, crisp in the aftermath of last night’s rainstorm.
Something smelled wrong, although he didn’t know exactly what that “something” might be.
He stood from his sleeping pallet of straw inside the long house, letting his eyes adjust to the first light of dawn seeping through new cracks between its log walls. Before winter, those cracks needed to b
e mortared with clay. But that task could wait. For now, Killing Crow crept among the few dozen members of his slumbering tribe. Like him, their skin glowed healthy and brown, dark like their eyes. Men and women sported long black hair, parted in the center and woven into two braids. Most wore clothes fashioned from deerskin.
He paused to stir the glowing embers in the fire pit at the center of the long house, wisps of smoke rising through the small opening above. The woody scent of the smoke made his nose twitch, and he stifled the urge to sneeze while he pushed aside the bear hide hanging across the doorway and then stepped outside.
Woods surrounded the long house, the ground littered in leaves shaken loose from the trees by the storm that ended late in the night. Killing Crow sniffed the air again. It held a hint of the earthen, musky scent of animals. The tang of skunk drifted on a light breeze, but that scent came from a distance. Perhaps Brother Skunk encountered Sister Fox during the night and they quarreled. Killing Crow smiled, wondering which of them got the better of the fight.
The forest echoed with the empty hammering sound of a woodpecker at a hollow tree. A flash of bright yellow caught his eye, and Killing Crow nodded in reverence at a finch perched on a tree branch.
With a start, he recognized the branch to be the place where he’d hung his breeches last night. He’d hoped the storm would wash them clean from the blood of his last kill.
“Son?”
He turned to see his mother emerge from the long house. Although her face sagged slightly and bore wrinkles of wisdom and experience, she grew more beautiful with every passing year. Many years ago, his father died during a hunt. Killing Crow hoped one day to discover the same great love his father had found with his mother. “My breeches,” he said, pointing at the branch. “They’re gone.”
“Someone must have taken them inside.”
