The Dragonslayer's Curse

by Resa Nelson

  Skallagrim felt betrayed by all of them. Now that he’d left Tower Island, he wanted nothing to do with any of the Scaldings again.

  Except for Frandulane.

  Skallagrim picked up his dragonslayer sword from the floor and strapped it to his back.

  “Your folks must have told you about this village,” Harald continued. “This is what’s left of Bubblebrook. It’s where Benzel came after his own village of Heatherbloom was destroyed. It’s where he found your mother.”

  Skallagrim pushed away his feelings of hurt at the mention of the woman who had raised him and the distaste of learning he stood in the village where all her people had been harmed by the Scaldings so many years ago. “I see no reason to linger. You said you can take me to Hidden Glen?”

  Kitel and Harald looked at Skallagrim with curiosity in their eyes but asked no questions.

  “Yes,” Kitel said. “A dragonslayer is always welcome in Hidden Glen, and you’ll be the most special one we’ve ever met. Having ties to Hidden Glen and all. You’re one of us!”

  Skallagrim followed them out of the house and into the deserted village.

  Harald pointed toward the opposite end of the village. “There’s the path leading to Hidden Glen. Unless you’d like to spend more time here.”

  Skallagrim took a quick look at his surroundings. Other than the house where he’d slept, all other structures were in shambles. The entire village looked like a handful of kindling dropped by a giant. “No need. Not even ghosts would waste their time here.”

  “The alchemist said never to mind looking for ghosts,” Kitel piped up. “She says you’re not prepared to see them.”

  Skallagrim gave a sharp look in Kitel’s direction. “What?”

  “Nothing,” Harald said. “Pay the boy no mind.” Harald glared at his son.

  They walked across the empty village toward the path to Hidden Glen.

  “I’m grateful to accept your hospitality,” Skallagrim said. “But there’s no need for me to see an alchemist. I have no need of one.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” Kitel said.

  Harald elbowed his son into silence and then said, “All he means is it won’t do any harm. The alchemist wants to meet you, and it wouldn’t hurt to indulge her.”

  “Meet me?” Skallagrim said. It dawned on Skallagrim that a larger question loomed. Harald had admitted the alchemist told them where to find Skallagrim but had brushed away his questions. He decided to try again. “How did she know I was here?”

  Kitel laughed.

  With a smile, Harald said, “She’s an alchemist. Knowing where anyone is at a given time is one of the things they do.”

  The chill that Skallagrim had felt earlier returned and settled into his bones.

  In that moment, he forgot the desperate promises he’d made to change his ways when the ocean waves between Tower Island and the Northlands threatened to drown him.

  If an alchemist can know where I am, will she be able to tell where I intend to go?

  Will she know by meeting me that I plan to hunt Frandulane down and kill him?

  Skallagrim worried that the alchemist might try to stop him. He worried more about what he might have to do in response.

  CHAPTER 8

  Harald and Kitel first took Skallagrim to their home, where he was greeted with a hearty meal and given a roomy bench where he could sleep that night. After visiting with what seemed to be every villager who had ever known Snip or Benzel, Skallagrim excused himself for a walk around the edge of the village to catch his breath. If he’d left Tower Island on good terms with his family, this would have been a joyful conversation. Instead, it wore down his spirits.

  Skallagrim walked toward the edge of a harvested field, now containing nothing more than scattered husks and dried-out stalks. He sat on the hardened earth and tried to clear his mind.

  Several minutes later, a young Northlander woman with long blond hair perched next to him. “It doesn’t have to be that way, you know.”

  Skallagrim stared at her. Something about her face seemed familiar, but he couldn’t recall having met her before. “What doesn’t have to be what way?”

  She turned to meet his gaze with light blue eyes that sparkled like ice crystals on a bright winter day. “The rest of your life. You don’t have to do what you think you have to do.”

  Skallagrim cocked his head to one side, taking in the sight of her. She looked like a normal girl but didn’t sound like one. He could think of only one explanation. “You’re the alchemist.”

  She smiled. “I’m Bee. You might remember my parents. My father Claude is a weapon merchant, and my mother Thurid is an alchemist. I take after her.”

  “Of course.” Hearing those names made Skallagrim feel more at ease, as if they had reason to be friends. “I know them.” He leaned on his memory. “Aren’t you one of three?”

  “Triplets,” Bee said with a giggle. “My sisters Fee and Glee are off somewhere in the Southlands. Their path is different than mine.”

  “You already know your path? You’re lucky.”

  “No. I’m an alchemist. Finding one’s path in life is the first thing of importance that an alchemist must decipher.”

  “Your path is here? In Hidden Glen?”

  “No,” Bee said. Still looking at Skallagrim, she propped her chin up with folded hands. “My path leads me to Tower Island. To help you and your family.”

  Skallagrim chortled. “If you want to help me, you’re headed in the wrong direction. I left Tower Island yesterday. I have no plans to go back. Ever.”

  “You could change your mind.” Bee’s voice softened. “If you go back to Tower Island and raise your children there, you can have a long and happy life. Your children will be happy. You can make amends with the people who raised you as their child.”

  She knows what happened on Tower Island. But how can she know?

  A logical explanation dawned on Skallagrim. Bee’s parents—Claude and Thurid—were longtime friends of his family. Claude and Thurid would certainly have known most everything that happened on Tower Island. Maybe they told their daughters. Maybe that’s how Bee knew.

  Skallagrim turned his attention to the dry, harvested field, its ground cracked apart and devoid of life.

  “You can let Frandulane go,” Bee continued. “He will cause harm to some, but nothing that can’t be remedied over time. There’s no need to protect your children or anyone else from him.”

  Still staring at the barren field, Skallagrim said, “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Frandulane is dangerous.”

  “You’re the one who’s dangerous.” Compassion filled Bee’s voice. “If you insist on keeping your present path, your death waits around the corner.”

  Skallagrim remembered his last conversation with Sven.

  He said an alchemist predicted my death. It must have been Bee. She must have gone to Tower Island before I did. She came here to stop me from leaving the Northlands.

  Bee continued. “Worse, pursuing Frandulane will put the entire world at risk.” She paused and spoke in a halting voice. “The details are unclear, but I see a danger. A danger that begins in the Midlands or perhaps the Southlands. If left unchecked, it will spread to the Northlands and then to all countries all over the world.”

  “That danger is Frandulane. I’ll protect the world by stopping him.”

  “That’s not what I see. If you fail to leave Frandulane alone, your death is certain. You will put the safety of your children at risk. You will put the safety of the entire world at risk.”

  When Skallagrim spoke, his voice shook with anger. “He murdered my wife.”

  “He didn’t know she was your wife.”

  “He knew he was killing an innocent woman. A pregnant one at that!”

  “He didn’t even know she was mortal.”

  The young alchemist’s words made no sense to Skallagrim. “Of course, he did. He knew when he saw her.”

  “She wasn’t in her morta
l form when Frandulane saw her. Lumara had taken her dragon shape, and Frandulane thought that dragon was attacking him.”

  For the first time, Skallagrim realized he’d assumed Frandulane had recognized and killed Lumara on purpose. Skallagrim had assumed Frandulane’s intent had been to slaughter his wife in an effort to destroy him.

  The hard wall surrounding his heart softened for a moment. But Skallagrim’s anger refused to ebb.

  Frandulane murdered my wife, whether he knew what he did or not. That’s all that matters.

  “Frandulane is no dragonslayer,” Skallagrim said. “He had no right to slay Lumara, no matter how she appeared to him.”

  “He might not have harmed your wife if he’d recognized her.”

  “But he did harm her.” Skallagrim firmed his resolve. “He killed the mother of my children. How are they supposed to grow up without her? He’s lucky I’m not hunting down his wife.”

  Bee placed a light hand on Skallagrim’s shoulder.

  Her actual touch didn’t startle him, but the resulting effect of it did. Skallagrim felt something powerful and calming flow through his body like a mighty river. The sensation began at Bee’s fingertips and spread throughout his entire body. For the first time in days, Skallagrim had no cares or worries.

  Skallagrim felt as if he were wrapped in a blanket of peace.

  His thoughts snapped to attention.

  It’s a trick. Some kind of alchemy magic. She’s trying to control me.

  Skallagrim jerked free of Bee’s touch. “Don’t ever do that again.”

  The young alchemist’s brow crinkled with sorrow. “I only meant to help you. Your suffering is palpable.”

  Skallagrim stood up and brushed his palms together, even though there was nothing to brush away. He thought about all the years he’d known Benzel of the Wolf as his teacher who trained Skallagrim in using swords and other weapons. If only he’d known Benzel was his father. If only he could go back in time and ask his father for advice. “Keep your help to yourself. I have things to do that don’t concern you.”

  Bee stood to face him. When he tried to walk back to the village, she blocked his path. “What about your children? What’s to become of them after you die? What do you think will happen to Drageen and Astrid?”

  Her question startled him. “Astrid?”

  “Your new daughter.”

  “She has no name yet.”

  Bee’s tone became insistent. “It’s what Drageen will name her by the time you see them again.” She paused. “What do you think will happen to them on Tower Island?”

  Skallagrim brushed past her and walked back toward the village. “They’ll never be on Tower Island again. Bruni has them. I trust her.”

  Bee hurried to keep pace with him. “I know who Bruni is. She’s a dragonslayer like you. But she has no claim to your children. Think of Northlander law. Do you think the Scaldings will let a dragonslayer keep children that belong to their clan?”

  Skallagrim kept walking. “My children don’t belong to the Scalding clan because I don’t belong. I don’t have any Scalding blood.”

  “I know your bloodline,” Bee said. “I know Benzel of the Wolf was your father by blood. But the people who raised you as if you were their own son are Scaldings. That’s enough proof for the Northlander law to uphold.”

  Although the alchemist’s argument frustrated Skallagrim, he couldn’t deny her logic.

  Sven and Snip kept the truth about my bloodline from me all my life. If any other Scaldings know, they’ve decided to take me into the clan as a proper Scalding. Otherwise, I would have been thrown off the island years ago. And the clan never would have agreed to let Sven and Snip send me to Bellesguard to learn how to be a dragonslayer.

  She’s right. If I die, the Scaldings have legal claim to my children. There’s nothing Bruni could do to keep them in her care.

  If I die, my children will end up on Tower Island.

  They’d be safe in the care of Sven and Snip—but how much longer can they live? Long enough for my children to become adults who can fend for themselves?

  “Then I won’t die,” Skallagrim said. “That’s how I’ll protect my children from the Scaldings.”

  Bee shook her head in dismay.

  Skallagrim reconsidered.

  It never hurts to have a plan in case things go wrong.

  He faced Bee. “But no man can control everything that happens in the world. I know that. If I should die, is there anything that can be done to help my children?”

  “I’ve spent the past year preparing potions and reading all the signs that have been presented to me,” Bee said. “One sign is sure: If I go to Tower Island and become the alchemist who serves whatever Scalding is in charge, I will know all that happens. I can help your children.”

  Skallagrim considered her words. “Can you guarantee their safety at all times?”

  Bee shook her head. “No one can do that. But I promise to help your children to the best of my ability.”

  Once more, Skallagrim considered her words.

  If she’s right about my death, I can trust her. I know her parents, and they helped me make the shift between my life at Tower Island and my years at Bellesguard.

  “When you get to Tower Island,” Skallagrim said, “tell Sven what you told me.”

  “I’ve made arrangements to spend the winter here in Hidden Glen. I’ll go to Tower Island when the seas are safe to cross. You and your children could go with me.”

  Skallagrim shook his head and resumed his pace toward the village again. “I’ve got the Midlands to search.”

  Bee released a careworn sigh as she followed him. “It’s too late in the season. No ship will leave the Northlands until spring. I wish you’d spend the winter in Hidden Glen and then go to Tower Island with me.”

  “I know.” For a moment, Skallagrim considered it. But the idea of living among the Scaldings again made his stomach turn. He’d found a way to protect his children by securing them with his dragonslayer friend Bruni, and that freed him to do what he believed to be necessary. “Someone has to teach Frandulane that he can’t murder others.” Before the alchemist could protest, Skallagrim added, “He can’t murder others even when they take the shape of a dragon.”

  CHAPTER 9

  With the help of her ship’s crew, Madam Pingzi Po sailed back to the Far East with the body of her husband Hsu Mao. Following her direction, the crew had bound her husband’s body in sailcloth. Once home, Pingzi oversaw his cremation.

  Her most trusted friend, the merchant TeaTree, changed his plans to take his bolts of cloth to the Southlands for trade and instead agreed to stay with Pingzi in Zangcheen throughout the winter.

  Since childhood, Pingzi had been blessed with the gift of portents, although she now questioned what good that gift could be because it hadn’t warned of her husband’s death.

  If she’d been shown the death that befell him before it happened, Pingzi could have told him. She could have prevented his death in many ways, such as telling him to stay behind in the city of Zangcheen when she left for the Northlands.

  If the portents refuse to help me when I need help, why should I use them to help others?

  Up until now, Pingzi had considered the work she did on behalf of others to be the greatest calling anyone could have. She thanked the dragon gods every day for her ability to see portents and the good that came from it when she told others what she saw.

  But nothing made sense anymore.

  Pingzi saw no reason to remain in Zangcheen, the largest city in Wulong, which was the largest province in all of the Far East. She’d helped others with her portents since childhood, and felt she’d done enough.

  She needed to go somewhere new.

  With that in mind, she went to bed one night with a sense of peace. Pingzi didn’t know where she would go or what she would do but knowing that she would soon leave Zangcheen behind made her feel better.

  She didn’t anticipate having a portent whil
e she slept that night.

  While Pingzi dreamed of walking through the streets of Zangcheen, shimmering walls of rosy light surrounded her on all sides, blocking her vision of the houses and people nearby. At this point in her life, most of Pingzi’s portents came in her dreams instead of her waking life, so she recognized the portent at once.

  She crossed her arms. “What now?” Pingzi said to the portent.

  The shimmering walls of rosy light turned into flames. Fiera, the dragon goddess of fire, stepped through those flames. “You’re needed,” Fiera said without reserve. “There’s a new demon to be quelled.”

  Pingzi stared at the goddess without fear. Fiera had been a trusted guide for many years, but that changed in the port city of Gott. “You let my husband die.”

  Fiera continued as if she hadn’t heard Pingzi. “Time is of the essence. You can’t waste any time. The moment you’re awake, you must leave.”

  “I asked you for help,” Pingzi said. “I asked you to help my husband live. You ignored me.”

  “Didn’t you hear what I said? You’ve said farewell to your husband. Now is the time to quell a demon.”

  “No,” Pingzi said. She stood fast and kept a steady gaze on the goddess. “My demon quelling days are over. Find someone else to do it.”

  Fiera snorted angry steam from her nose, and smoke curled out of her hair.

  “You could have given me a portent about my husband,” Pingzi said. “If you weren’t willing to make the effort to save him yourself, you could have given me a portent so that I could save him.”

  When Fiera spoke, her words hissed. “I don’t create portents. I only know when they come into existence and help you see them. I didn’t know your husband would be killed by that Northlander.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Fiera’s anger churned into rage. “You dare to doubt a goddess?”

  “Yes. I do.” Pingzi felt so distraught that she believed she had nothing to lose by telling the truth. “You could have done something to save his life. You did nothing.”

  “My sister sacrificed her life to protect all of you!” Fiera huffed so hard that smoke rings came out of her mouth. “Those Northlanders murdered my sister as well as your husband. What more do you want?”