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

  Astrid needed to breathe. Looking up to the ocean's surface, she knew she couldn't get there in time. It was too far away, and she needed air now.

  But the depths below her churned and rumbled, as if a sea monster had just been disturbed from its sleep. An overwhelming force gushed up, sweeping Astrid up, breaking through the water's surface, and suspending her on top of a wave.

  Astrid's jaw slackened in wonder when a dragon's head emerged, a river of molten fire exploding from its mouth.

  The chilly ocean hissed and steamed as the fire river poured into it, slowly building into a tall structure, forming—

  Tower Island.

  Astrid was no longer in the ocean but back in her own smithery yard in Guell.

  Taddeo stood before her, holding the sword with a pebble set into its hilt. "Where is the Magenta's stone?"

  The young dragon that had torn through the birch trees in Astrid's yard nuzzled Taddeo from behind like a familiar horse. Its scales were mottled and its growing muscles fairly burst through its skin.

  Taddeo scratched the dragon behind its ear.

  Astrid felt naked and vulnerable without a sword. Casting a quick gaze around the smithery, she hoped to find the Magenta. Taddeo was holding the sword she'd forged to make her point with him—the real Magenta had to be here somewhere.

  The dragon snorted, regaining Astrid's full attention.

  Astrid's nostrils flared. The air was thick with the scent of dragons.

  The dragon changed, shifting shape into a tall woman with long red hair.

  Astrid had never seen anyone like her.

  "I am Gundrid.” Her eyes were large and yellow. "I was a test," she said. "To learn what you're made of."

  Before Astrid could question them, she found herself leading them through Guell, after the brigands had left. Dead bodies littered the village while dozens of dragons and carrion birds fed.

  Astrid looked back. Taddeo and Gundrid walked close behind. Taddeo kept his sword drawn and ready.

  Astrid took a deep breath, realizing they were downwind of the feeding beasts.

  This time, she smelled nothing but death.

  Disgust laced Taddeo's voice. "Barbarians!"

  Confused, Astrid said, "The people or the dragons?"

  Taddeo slipped his arm protectively around Gundrid. "They're not dragons. They're lizards, just as I've always told you."

  One of them hissed, charging.

  Taddeo met its charge, pointing his blade toward the beast's open mouth. When it tried to evade the sword, Taddeo sprang onto its squat leg, onto its back, and thrust the sword through the back of its neck.

  "They're animals," Taddeo said. "True dragons have soul and spirit. These animals do not. We look like them, but we are not like them."

  The creature shuddered violently. It sank to the ground.

  Pulling his sword free, Taddeo used it to cut a hunk of raw, bloody meat from its shoulder. Jumping off its back, he strode toward Astrid, extending the meat to her. "We do not eat our poor cousins," Taddeo said, "but you do."

  Reluctantly, Astrid accepted the meat and nibbled at it.

  It was as fragrant and delicious as if freshly roasted.

  The scars crisscrossing her entire body faded away. Astrid's skin was smooth and dark, just the way she liked it.

  When she looked up to question Taddeo, he and Gundrid had vanished.

  Norah stood before her, wearing a long black gown, barefoot, brushing her shining, long black hair away from her scrubbed face.

  For the first time, Norah looked peaceful.

  She was beautiful.

  The Magenta materialized in Norah's hand. She used it to slice off the tip of her smallest finger. Norah held out the dismembered fingertip to Astrid, walking toward her. "We need each other," Norah said. "To become what we're destined to be."

  Before Astrid could protest, Norah slipped the fingertip into Astrid's mouth.

  Astrid wanted to spit it out, but it tasted even better than the raw meat that Taddeo had given to her. It was sweet and rich with smoky flavor.

  Astrid ate it whole.

  It warmed her skin, radiating a fiery flush throughout her entire body. The warmth felt good, like building a fire in the smithery on a chilly day.

  Astrid gazed at Norah, and it was like looking at herself. Norah had been in the cage with Astrid. Norah understood. They'd been there together, even though the Scaldings had pitted them against each other from the beginning.

  Now warm, Astrid realized how cold she'd felt, all her life.

  And how cold her world had become.

  She'd watched the brigands destroy Guell.

  She'd pleaded to stay with Randim and the blacksmiths, but they left her on Tower Island.

  She'd watched Mauri die, only to be ripped apart later by the carrion birds.

  Cold. All of it leaving her feeling cold and lost and alone in the world.

  Until now.

  In her dream, standing among the lizards and carrion birds and bodies littering Guell, Astrid saw a figure walking toward her from the distance.

  She recognized Trep, the blacksmith. He held his head high and proud, brushing past the feeding lizards as if they were nothing more than sea birds fighting over a dead fish.

  But Trep changed, shifting until he looked like Mauri, still walking toward Astrid.

  Astrid reached for Norah's hand, seeking reassurance.

  Norah took Astrid's hand in hers, raising it to her mouth, eyeing it hungrily.

  "What's happening?” Astrid said. Blood from Norah's dismembered fingertip trickled across Astrid's skin. "Who is it?"

  Still approaching, Mauri shifted into a carrion bird, hopping among its brothers and sisters. "Astrid," the bird said, spreading its wings and flapping them for emphasis. "Wake up!"

  Astrid jolted awake, holding her breath as her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the cave. The light looked stronger but still diffused. The lapping sound of water echoed far away, as if far below her.

  Taddeo knelt beside Astrid as she found herself lying in a nest of dry seaweed. He held a stone bowl, steaming with fragrant broth, to her lips.

  Astrid recognized its heady aroma as dragonslayer's broth, thick with herbs to promote fast healing.

  She became aware of a deep ache in her shoulder. Astrid shifted position, reaching out to push herself up to sit...

  But she couldn't do it. Her body wasn't working right.

  Taddeo put the bowl down for a moment. He wrapped his arms around Astrid, helping her sit up. But he didn't let go. Instead, he held her close. "She needed more from you than any of us imagined," he said.

  Astrid tried to push him away, but she didn’t have the strength. She'd lost her balance, her ability to maneuver. She felt like a fish flopping on the beach.

  Taddeo let go, resting his hand on her shoulders.

  It was then that Astrid understood what had happened.

  Her left arm—her blacksmithing arm—was gone.

  CHAPTER 27

  Weeks after Norah devoured Astrid's arm, the morning began like every other morning. Once awake, Astrid crept down the narrow winding passageway, where it spiraled down through the dragons' cavern like the inside of a seashell, intertwined with other passageways and bridges spanning the large, empty space.

  She stripped, piling her clothes on dry ground. She always brought a cloak to leave, folded, on top.

  She smoothed the cloak with her hand. Taddeo had given it to her. The fabric was smoother and softer than anything she'd ever known.

  Whenever she looked at the cloak, she remembered how Taddeo had held Norah in his arms atop Tower Island.

  Whenever Astrid wrapped the cloak around her, it felt like being held in Taddeo's arms. It was as if he'd come for her on Tower Island, as well as for Norah.

  As if he'd protect her the same way he'd protect Norah.

  Astrid slipped into the chilly water, holding her breath as she dove underwater.

  The dappled cavern
light twisted and turned in the clear water. With long, slow kicks, Astrid closed in on her target: a fish trap. She snagged the small trap with her hand. She shifted direction, aiming straight up for the surface.

  Astrid had come to think of Taddeo and the others as sea dragons. They'd swim underwater in their dragon bodies, playful as otters. Astrid could never have their speed or grace, but she liked swimming with them. She'd been timid at first, standing at the cavern pool edge or hopping onto one of the small rock islands to watch the dragons from above. Taddeo had suggested she help take care of Norah to earn her place until she recovered enough to return to her own world.

  When Astrid awakened weeks ago after Norah had sunk her teeth through Astrid's palm, Taddeo explained Norah had torn apart and eaten Astrid's arm. It had revived Norah, saving her life.

  While Astrid was unconscious, Taddeo had used the Magenta, first to cut off the remains of her mangled, useless arm at the shoulder. He heated the Magenta's blade in a fire and pressed it against the wound to seal it.

  Astrid had been stunned for days, feeling adrift and sick at heart. Without her arm—without her smithery and fire and hammers and anvil—she didn't know what to do with herself or her days.

  She didn't know who or what she was anymore.

  Slowly, things changed. While the dragons didn't embrace her, they watched over her.

  Astrid shoved the fish trap, a woven net bag, onto the rocky surface at the water's edge. She hauled herself onto shore. She wrapped herself in Taddeo's cloak, letting it absorb the water from her skin, letting the fabric warm her before getting dressed. With practice, she'd learned to fling the bag of small, flopping fish over her shoulder before standing. It was easier to manage that way.

  Walking up a different passageway, Astrid carried the fish trap to a room carved deep into the cavern wall. As always, Gundrid met her, accepting the fish.

  "Have you eaten yet?” Gundrid paused, waiting for Astrid's answer.

  Astrid shook her head.

  Gundrid took two struggling fish from the trap and handed them to Astrid.

  Astrid pulled the cloak, now draped over her other shoulder, and cradled it in her arm, making a nest for the fish. She watched as Gundrid walked away and into the room, toward the small gray dragon curled up on the floor, sleeping.

  Norah liked fish. She preferred them raw, especially if they still had a little kick.

  Astrid walked back to her niche inside the cavern. Someone had left fresh kindling for her. Astrid gathered it up, striking the flint against the floor. Moments later a spark caught, and Astrid poked the kindling until she raised a decent flame, the smoke spiraling on an updraft toward the twisting passageways.

  Making a fire with wood was simpler than making it with coal, requiring less skill and finesse. It smelled different, more like the woods and less like the earth. The smoke curled wild and untamed. The flames lacked the color and character of a good smithery fire.

  It might not be a beautiful fire, but it was good enough to cook fish.

  "I believe you have healed enough."

  Astrid looked up as Taddeo knelt next to her. "Enough?"

  Taddeo looked into the fire. "Enough to return to your world."

  Astrid had forgotten she couldn't stay forever. Part of her hoped the dragons had forgotten, too. "I can't go back to Tower Island."

  "I agree. You must never contact the Scaldings again. You must never tell the Scaldings what you've learned about us."

  "Of course," Astrid said.

  Still, it was as if he'd reached inside and twisted her guts. Something felt out of kilter, but Astrid didn't want to find out any more. Without realizing it, she'd slipped into assuming she'd always be here with the dragons. She'd imagined they might come to love her the same way they loved Norah.

  "It is time for you to return."

  "I have no place to go."

  Taddeo untied a small leather pouch from his belt. "There is a gorge a day's journey north of Guell."

  Astrid gave her full attention to the cooking fish, which she'd placed on flat stones in the fire. "I know the place. No one lives there. It's wilderness."

  Taddeo's tone softened. "A river runs through the gorge. Look for an island on which two enormous trees stand. Their branches weave together, and from a distance they look like a single tree with two legs."

  He placed the small leather pouch on the ground next to Astrid. "Growing between these trees is an herb called night's bane. Stuff this pouch full with it—you can ingest that much and no more. Be careful to chew it and take no more than a pinch on any given day, for it is poisonous and will kill anyone who has not eaten it steadily all his life."

  Forgetting the fish, Astrid turned to Taddeo in surprise. "Then why would you have me eat any at all?"

  "Because it will lead you to DiStephan."

  * * *

  "I don't want to go," Astrid said. She removed the crackling fish from the fire, even though she'd lost her appetite.

  Being with DiStephan made the rest of the world melt away. It made her forget about pain and sorrow, about the dangers of the world, the brigands and the Scaldings who had sacrificed her to a dragon. Being with him made everything she'd ever suffered in life bearable.

  But they'd parted on bad terms. She'd accused him of being a cold-hearted killer, and she'd made no attempt to hide her fear of him. As much as she wanted to be with him again, Astrid wondered if he hated her now.

  "It is time for you to leave," Taddeo said. "You have given to Norah, and I am grateful. We have let you stay to heal, but that time has ended. We can harbor you no more.” Taddeo turned away. "You are not a dragon. You do not belong here."

  His words stung Astrid like the sound of hot metal against sizzling skin. It was enough to make Astrid ask the question that had haunted her for months. She'd been afraid to ask. Now that she had nothing to lose, the words spilled out of her mouth before she had time to think. "Where were you when Drageen raided Guell?"

  Taddeo looked at Astrid, his gaze as cool and steady as his voice. "Watching," he said. "And waiting."

  Astrid went light-headed with surprise. "You knew?"

  "It was necessary."

  His words sparked a flame of anger deep inside Astrid.

  At the same time, she understood her precarious position: she sat deep within a cavern of dragons, and she was the blacksmith who had spent her life forging the swords used to kill them.

  Astrid struggled to match Taddeo's cool demeanor. "Why?"

  The look in Taddeo's eyes lost its edge. "Norah."

  Astrid remembered what Taddeo had told her long ago: everything he did, he did for Norah. "What exactly did you do for her?"

  "Decades ago, the Scaldings captured many of us. First, they caught my brother's mate—the eggs she carried made her slow and vulnerable and easier to capture. Once imprisoned, she laid those eggs and hatched them. Out of 17 hatchlings, one survived."

  "Norah," Astrid said, understanding.

  "We tried to rescue them, but the Scaldings set traps, capturing more of us every time."

  An old memory flashed through Astrid's mind. A memory of wandering inside the tower as strange, deep-throated moans echoed from its walls. "I remember," she said. "They locked dragons inside the tower."

  "It was ours once," Taddeo said.

  Astrid frowned. "What?"

  "Tower Island. It was our home. We carved out the tower from molten rock.” Taddeo raised a questioning eyebrow. "Did you not know?"

  Astrid's frown deepened. It was impossible.

  Taddeo smiled as he studied her face. In response, he gestured toward the open cavern behind him.

  For the first time, Astrid saw the similarities between the dragons' cavern and the Scaldings' tower. The spaces looked as if they'd been carved out with the same sensibilities, the same aesthetics. As if they'd been created by the same hands.

  Or the same claws.

  "That's impossible," Astrid said. "My grandfather killed the dragons th
at attacked Tower Island. He was hired to help the clan living there. He was their dragonslayer, and he protected them."

  Taddeo spoke with slow and considered compassion. "Then what happened to them? Why is it your clan—not theirs—lives on Tower Island now?"

  "Tower Island was payment for my grandfather's services."

  "Your grandfather was a true dragonslayer, and he died a good death in battle. Your father was also a true dragonslayer, but without your grandfather's guidance, your father lost his way. He claimed Tower Island as payment for his father's death. Your father led a battle, slaughtering the clan who lived there. He killed the people who hired your grandfather to be their protector."

  "No," Astrid said. "How could that be?"

  "It was your father who captured my brother, trying to rescue his mate and their hatchlings from the Scaldings' hands. Once inside the tower, my brother broke free. He killed your father. That was the day when leading the clan fell on Drageen's shoulders."

  Astrid remembered how, when she was little, Drageen, 10 years her senior, had towered above her like the birch trees behind her smithery yard in Guell. She remembered the hatred etched on his face, and how often blood had stained his face and hands.

  "Tower Island is a strong fortress," Taddeo said. "My kind made it that way. Anyone who recognizes the value of Tower Island will do anything to control it. But once we lost it to your clan, all we wanted was to reclaim our rightful home."

  Taddeo's claims were overwhelming, yet believable.

  All the while, Astrid had been tending her anger the same way she'd tend any good fire in her smithery. She was aware he hadn't answered her question yet. "Why did you do nothing when Drageen killed everyone in Guell?"

  "Every dragon who stormed Tower Island failed," Taddeo said. "They were captured and killed, except for Norah. I had to find a different way to get into Tower Island and take her back before Drageen killed her, too."

  His words chilled Astrid. "What did you do?"

  "I came to Guell to find out if the legend was true. If the girl given to the child seller had blood strong enough to produce bloodstones. If so, I knew she'd be lured back to Tower Island. I knew Drageen would keep Norah alive only long enough to scare the bloodstones out of you. And if I could follow—if I could blend in—I could get close enough to Norah to free her."