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«It is not only that! There are more treasures in other realms than yours. There is another treasure,» the skeleton became tense and clutched at the armrests of the chair he sat on. «It is you!»
He pointed his bony hand toward Graymore.
«Why is it me?» the princess struggled feverishly to remove her precious rings and bracelets. «Is it because of the abundance of jewelry on me? It is etiquette to wear them, so that all the ambassadors can see how rich Livellin is by my example.»
«Leave the trinkets! Whether you take it off or not won’t make any difference. Dragons will still be drawn to you. It’s as if there’s a vein of gold inside you. Even I can feel the gold shining through your skin. There are creatures with gold blood, you might be one of them.»
Graymore wasn’t about to take a dagger and slash herself to find out.
«And what explains the dragon’s fondness for gold and gems?»
«It is an ancient legend. Legend has it that dragons are servants of a solar deity who rebelled in the heavens. As soon as it fell, the light of the sun fell to earth with it and turned into gold-bearing veins and deposits of precious stones. So gold reminds the dragons of their period of greatness. They were not yet monsters then.»
«It is interesting!» Graymore looked at the magical mirror. It was trying to show something. In it glimpsed dense forests and strange creatures galloping through the thicket. It seemed to be fairies. Graymore had never yet communicated with magical creatures. She ruled the land of humen. Only rarely did she get to see fairies, nymphs, and mermaids from afar. In the old days, there had been more of them in Livellin than there had been people, but now almost the entire population was human.
«If you see a golden statue of a dragon god in the forest or mountains, flee from it! It’s probably alive and bloodthirsty, though very beautiful,» warned the skeleton in an admonishing tone.
«Is it a statue of a dragon? Or of a man covered in scales?»
«It’s a statue of an angel.»
Graymore exhaled in amazement.
«So the appearance of a deity is a trick to trap?»
«You could say that. It is her original form.»
«Did you say hers and not his?»
«Yes, their deity wears a maiden face, but it is deceptive.»
«Does she turn into a dragon?»
«No, but she breathes fire. Her worshippers use the sickle as an instrument of murder and sprinkle the blood of their victims over the withered fields to summon her. Once the blood is spilled over them, black rye will grow in the fields, producing monsters that will point to where her living statue stands.»
«What is all this for?»
«To bring the apocalypse closer and the arrival of her full power over a ruined world. There are many of her admirers in your country.»
«I don’t know about her. They honor the queen of the fairies, whom no one has ever seen, the elf king, who only came to visit my father, and the horned goddess of the looking glass, the sparkling goddess of the moon and stars, the goddess of the rainbow, and the gods of war. I revere the latter the most. War is my calling.»
«It is only with dragons!» stressed the skeleton.
«Only dragons attack in more recent times.»
Many hunters for easy money went to war against Livellin. It’s a rich country. Why do you think there aren’t as many people conquering the country?»
«I don’t know!»
«There’s something evil in the country. It’s black and dark. Even I feel bad about it, though I’m almost a black wizard myself. It is almost… Sometimes I can do good things. I give advice to you. You’re sweet and young and unspoiled. You could easily be seduced by bad advice, but I refrain from it.»
«I carry presents for you.»
«Gifts are worthless. They are only a courtesy. There are many sorcerers who would cheat you and kill you for your own gifts.»
«Are not one of them?» Graymore teased him.
«You are still alive and well and unaffected by evil spells.»
«I feel like I burn alive when a dragon flies near my borders. Many would say that is the spell. I have been bewitched! I have been thrust into a quest to fight monsters in which I may die.»
«You can’t!» The skeleton’s eye was the judge of that. «You have special blood. Golden blood is the symbol of chosen one.»
«Should I go after the special dragon, or should I sit in my castle and wait until he gets here?»
«I told you he’s not coming here.»
«Why is it not? Is that what the mirror says?» Graymore, no matter how hard she looked, all she saw in the mirror was wild woods. There was no writing on the glass which told her fate. Apparently, the skeleton wizard saw more.
«I’m drawn to this strange dragon,» Graymore admitted.
«Is it more than to other dragons?»
«It is much more! Could he be the death to me?»
«You are nineteen years old! It is not yet time to die!»
«There was a queen in my family who drowned when she was nineteen. They say she became a mermaid.»
«More like a mistress of watermen.»
Graymore was embarrassed. The skeleton knew something compromising about her ancestors. He himself had lived nearly a hundred years before he took poison in that tower and became a dead counselor to the kings of the Livellin dynasty.
«Will you not help me make my decision?»
«You must make it yourself.»
«But I brought you a hoop. You took it, so you must pay for it,» she reminded him.
For a moment the skeleton stared into the mirror, silently, and surely he saw something there that Graymore herself did not see.
«If you go, you solve all your doubts, if you stay, you betray yourself and scold yourself,» he admonished.
«You are a slacker! I knew that.»
«But it’s the only sensible advice I can give you.»
Graymore stomped her foot. She felt like yelling at the dead advisor, but that wasn’t wise. Fighting with a wizard, even a dead one, was too dangerous.
«Well, thank you!» She said. «I hope your advice will be more meaningful next time.»
«There won’t be a next time,» the skeleton called out to her at the exit.
«Why is it not?» Graymore looked around with interest.
«This dragon is your destiny.»
«What do you mean by that?»
The skeleton made no reply, but in the mirror she flashed a glimpse of the most beautiful dragon Graymore had ever seen in her life. He had burned an entire horde of goblins. They were coming to sort things out with him over territories. One dragon’s breath was enough to take them all out. And with such a dragon she would have to fight! Admiration and martial spirit struggled within Graymore.
«He burned a kingdom the other day,» the skeleton reminded her.
«I know.»
«If you don’t go to him, next time he might burn the whole of Livellin. He’s got the strength for it.»
Now, that was an ultimatum, coming from a skeleton. Graymore is sick and tired of the dead wizard speaking in riddles.
«I’ll go!» She made up her mind.
Graymore unfastened the ruby belt around her hips, threw a cascade of dark serpentine curls behind her back, and showed her tongue to the sleepy magic mirror, which stubbornly refused to show her dragon a second time.
«Remember the golden statues of the dragon deity,» the skeleton warned her as she grasped the doorjamb. «It sleeps in the thicket, but you cannot go near it. If you go near it, you might not survive. It is unless your blood is indeed golden. Then you are a chosen one.»
Graymore nodded dryly.
«I have noted all the instructions. Is there anything else?»
But the skeleton was already asleep. He looked dead and motionless. She could no longer believe that he had been alive and talking, even arguing with the ruler a moment ago.
The magical mirror showed a picture of a dragon massacre of some village that did not belong to Livellin’s domain. Graymore could see the stranger’s banner. Knights tried to defend the village, but they failed. One dragon was stronger than all of them. Had they known that one girl could be stronger than an entire army! But they did not have her support, so they died in dragon fire.
«Someday dragons will do to you what you did to them,» the mirror whispered.
The horned fairy of the looking-glass must be joking with her. Though is she capable of speaking through a magic mirror? She usually lives in ordinary mirrors, not magic mirrors.
«You do not know how to distinguish friend from foe,» whispered the ghostly lips, traced on the amalgam.
The skeleton adviser did not respond to the whispers, so Graymore decided to ignore them as well. Everyone knows that the spirits of the looking-glasses deliberately mess with the heads of people who stare in the mirror. That’s why you can’t look in mirrors for long, or the ghosts will drive you crazy.
Graymore slammed the tower door as she went, and dozens of spiders spilled from the jamb to the hem of her dress. The tower had long resembled a tomb. And no wonder! After all, the skeleton counselor sat there.
It was time to learn to live without his advice. Her only real friend and advisor was her battle sword. In anticipation of the dragon hunt, Graymore remembered it. The sword had never failed her, and magicians and magic mirrors could lie.
Golden Laurel
The spring archery contest was held according to all the rules. The winner of it would be proclaimed a hero for the day. A wreath of golden laurel would adorn the winner’s head.
Graymore had won the archery contest for many years in a row. Regular practice with marksmanship and concentration had helped her win.
The hunt for the dragon was postponed for exactly one day only because of the contest. If she did not win it, she would not be allowed to go into the woods. How can you hunt a monster of prey if you can’t even win a shooting tournament?
She won the first rounds, but there are more difficult tests ahead. One target succeeds another. The competitors are as talented as she is. She has to beat them all. Graymore was as nervous as a needle. And you can’t get nervous or you’ll miss. Anyone who gets nervous loses their aim. You have to be cool and calculating so your hand doesn’t shake when you shoot.
«Look! She wins again!» Some ladies gathered by the grove, pointing their hands at her. Their manners were a little too plain. They must have come from the country. Graymore almost dropped her bow and arrow when she noticed, from the corner of her eye, that the ladies were true fairies. They were huddled in the shade of laurel trees. They were wearing wreaths of thyme and eucalyptus leaves. All winged! Their bare feet did not touch the ground, and their dresses were woven of grass and leaves.
What a sight! Fairies flew in from the fields to look at her. Apparently she was becoming a legend.
Graymore took aim at the apple, which she wanted to knock down in a swoop so that it would break into even halves. The squire was already tossing it in the air. The arrow, released from the bowstring, split the apple in a fraction of a second. In the next round it would be necessary to knock down several apples at once with a single shot. And then you have to shoot blindfolded. Graymore only had one minute of breathing room.
Someone strange in a cloak embroidered with dragon symbols flashed through the crowd. Could it be a sorcerer? Graymore squinted at the bright sun that peeked out from behind the clouds, blocking her view. The bizarre mask of gold and green dragon scales might have been just a gimmick. Many young men wore one as a sign of their fearlessness of dragons. There was nothing to fear from the flying reptiles. After all, the ruler of Livellin was capable of defeating them all.
The young man in the dragon mask looked directly at Graymore. What bottomless eyes he had! She drowned in those eyes for a second, and then the herald trumpets announced the start of the next round.
Graymore tried to concentrate on the target thrown in the air, but the stranger in the crowd was in her way. It was as if he spoke to her without words:
«Follow me!»
She could not respond. The tournament was more important than fads. Graymore tried to forget about the enticing stranger. She had strong opponents tonight. There was no point in being distracted by trivialities. There are many handsome young men wandering around Livellin. There is always someone to meet here. And you can’t even see this stranger’s face under the mask. What if he’s disfigured or branded? You never know. Criminals were branded in Livellin. He could well be a thief or a rogue who deliberately lures the princess into a trap.
But what eyes he has! They are not eyes, but two bottomless pools the color of heaven. Graymore kept thinking of his eyes as she blindly aimed at the snapped pheasant, and then at the clay jug with the copper coin inside to make it jingle while the jug was tossed in the air. Before it fell, it had to be broken into shards with an arrow. Graymore managed and removed the blindfold from her eyes.
The young man in the dragon mask disappeared from the crowd somewhere, and it felt like he was still around.
The last round was to pass an arrow through a narrow ring of fire so that the arrow would not catch fire. It was something that Graymore had managed many times before. She had done it now. The arrow flew through the blazing ring and didn’t catch fire, but the square suddenly burst into flames. A barrel of gunpowder must have exploded in one of the city’s armories.
«Put out the fire!» Graymore commanded her servants and squires. She herself was left alone. One noble was attacked. A man cut off his purse and fled across the blazing square. The flames did not burn him. But he himself had time to take down the flag and throw it into the fire. It is an insult to Livellin. Graymore drew an arrow from her quiver, took aim, and struck the runner down. The shot must not have put him to death, otherwise how could he be questioned later.
The fire was partially extinguished, but the flags that were flying in the square were burnt out. Bad omen! Graymore, without waiting for the guards, went to the thief. He appeared to have dropped dead, pierced by her arrow, but as she turned the corpse over he was breathing. He was either covered in pockmarks and warts, or not even human, but some kind of troll.
The guards came up, but Graymore wanted to interrogate the captured man herself. He laughed dryly before she even asked the first question.
«There is but one of a dynasty of rulers left in Livellin, and soon it will be gone too,» he hissed. «They will come for you, and you will change.»
She did not have time to ask what he meant by that, for he had gone out of breath, but just as he was being presumed dead, the dead man suddenly came to life, plucked an arrow from his chest, sprang to his feet, and crawled away down the gutter of the nearest building. It looked like a troll, but not a human. He was moving so fast that his lightning-fast movements could scarcely be traced by sight.
«Go after him!» Graymore ordered the guards.
The fire went out. Strangely enough, it appeared where the statuesque stranger in the dragon mask had passed. Graymore looked around for him. He could not have burned in the fire. She didn’t want to believe that outcome. She wished she could see him again. But she wouldn’t even recognize him without his mask.
The thief’s words lingered in her brain. Who would come for her? Are they dragons? But they usually fly, not walk. So he didn’t mean dragons.
Graymore, of course, won the archery contest again. The tournament director put a laurel wreath on her head. The laurel has long been awarded to heroes. She is a hero to her country! She would surely be chosen queen, not her brothers.
Something rang in the wind. A single golden laurel appeared among the laurel trees in the grove! It was its leaves tinkling in the wind. Can a laurel be golden? The wreath for the victor is made of gold by jewelers. But the golden tree, with its golden roots in the ground, seemed like a miracle. The fairies were gathered around them, whispering excitedly. Graymore was too shy to approach them.
Though she was wearing her wreath of victory today, it did not give her the right to communicate with magical creatures.
