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A creature called out to her from a branch. Was it a leprechaun or a dwarf? Graymore couldn’t see exactly what kind of creature it was. Its size was tiny, its skin green and leafy, and its body unusual, like a reanimated bough.
«You’re a lady knight, just like Brunhilde!» The woodland creature whistled.
«I know no such lady,» Grahamor admitted frankly. «None of my court ladies have such a name.»
«She comes from the realms of the Nibelungs,» the creature readily clarified. «Everyone there knows of two famous ladies, Brunhilde, the mightiest of the knights, and Kremhilde, the most cunning of all the witches who cast spells.»
«And I don’t know any such lands either.»
«What an ignoramus you are!»
A lump flew into Graymore. Inside the cone were small emeralds instead of nuts. Well, well, well! Graymore hid it behind her bosom. She might need it, in case it came in handy.
Anything heavy on the trail could be a hindrance, but Graymore had amassed so many weapons that the horse could barely move. Perhaps she should dismount and walk beside it. Long walks on foot were not something Graymore was afraid of. Unlike other ladies, she adored walking. It was such a pleasure just to step along the road and walk mile after mile! What would it be like to fly?
Suddenly Graymore was jealous of dragons. They have wings, don’t they?
«Don’t you think it would be wonderful to dance in flight over the forest path and breathe fire at anyone who dares to attack me?» The princess asked the horse. «Eh, Maverin?»
Meverin, the thoroughbred snow-white horse, was silently pinching the grass and did not respond to its mistress’s chatter. It was a lousy conversationalist, and does not know the human language. But the skeleton in the tower knew the languages of birds and animals. He could translate what tits and skylarks were twittering about, and he could interpret a dog’s bark. He was an excellent interpreter, except that his attempts to teach Graymore the language of animals had failed. Perhaps it takes a magical talent to learn the speech of animals. Diligence alone is not enough.
«You could fly,» someone suddenly answered, «and breathe fire, like a fire fairy. And even grow scales like jewels. Dragon ladies can be found, too.»
Graymore looked back in horror. Had someone said dragon ladies, or did she just hear them? A woodpecker was tapping behind her, and a gazelle had jogged through the thicket and turned onto the path beyond which something dazzlingly golden glittered. Could it be the statue the skeleton had mentioned? Graymore was frightened.
She was frightened. She wasn’t afraid of dragons, but she was afraid of some statue.
«Let’s get out of here, Maverin!» She gave the horse a jerk, and it galloped forward strangely enough. Even a heavy load of rapiers, maces, and short axes did not deter him.
Ashamed to admit it, but Graymore followed the skeleton’s advice and took her luxurious ball gown with her. It might come in handy! The dress was rolled up in a knot, along with a pearl hairnet and elegant slippers.
«Was this a ball or a hunt?» reproached she herself, noticing that the knot attached to the saddle was untied and there was a bright emerald cloth glittering inside. She wanted to take off her armor and put on her dress right now. After all, it wasn’t the armor that protected her from the dragons, but her inner strength.
The farther the horse rode, the narrower the path became. Behind the tree cover was something rough and flat, like a monument.
«I think we’ve reached the mountains, Maverin,» Graymore held the horse back.
No one was chasing them. Just in case, Graymore listened. There was no sound of hoof stomping or footsteps behind them. She could rest now.
The Southern woods were near. The thicket was beginning to look more like a tropical jungle. It was as it should be on the southern frontier where it was always warm. Vines of lush flowers stretched across the mountains.
Graymore dismounted, took off her heavy cuirass, and tightened her disheveled braid. The small mountain lake was like a smooth mirror. The princess was reflected in it to her full height.
«It is no dragons nearby,» Graymore concluded, because she felt no internal heat at the moment. «Then we can play dress-up. Not that I want to go to the ball… But you’d know how hot those armors are, Maverin.»
The horse roared monotonously in response and looked for grass to pluck. Graymore found wild berries, too. They are raspberries and physalis. They are enough to satisfy hunger, and there is fresh water, too. Graymore scooped it up from the lake.
Skeleton would not advise her to drink water from oncoming springs. What if the water was bewitched by deep-sea mermaids? But Graymore had no choice. She could not carry a barrel of water with her. You can’t go far with such a burden, and the water would run out quickly anyway. If you want to travel without an escort, you must travel light.
Graymore preferred to manage everything herself. She even chose a dress with lacing in the front to do without the help of a lady’s maid. It was easy to put on.
«Now we can go to an elves ball,» Graymore joked. Or was it a dragon’s ball? The woods are more likely to be inhabited by elves.
Strangely enough, there was music in the distance. A breeze carried it. Graymore wanted to go to the sounds, but changed her mind. She didn’t feel like dancing with the elves right now. Besides, there was a rumor that those who fell into the circle of elves could not go back to humans afterwards. And she needed to get back to Livellin for her own coronation. So you can’t meet elves. It’s not like she wants to be an elves concubine, she wants to be queen of Livellin. Such a lofty goal requires self-concentration. No elves!
Graymore covered her ears, and when she uncovered them, the music had stopped. This is it! If there had been an elves procession here, it had already passed.
But the flowers were still there, and they had grown bigger. Graymore snipped one of the vines and wove a wreath of lush pink and white flowers.
It made her look like a May queen, and Maverin munched blissfully on the grass by the lake.
The idyll did not last long. A tight fiery spring of pain twisted inside Graymore. A dragon was somewhere near.
Is it a young man or a lizard?
Graymore crouched in pain and grabbed her crossbow. As long as she wore a tight corset dress, she couldn’t swing a sword, but she could shoot. The bouffant sleeves and broad flared sleeves didn’t hinder an archer’s marksmanship. Graymore aimed for the thicket, expecting to see the dragon’s enormous snout emerge, but the beast never did. Perhaps it was flying high over the mountains, and she felt it. The fiery ache inside usually heralded the fact that the dragon was somewhere nearby, but not that it was planning to attack her at all.
«So dainty and frail a lady like you is going to hunt bears?» A mocking voice came through the thicket.
It was the sound of the velvety tenor that sent Graymore over the edge of her insides. Surely it must be an elf! No matter how hard she tried to avoid dealing with elves seducers, one of them seemed to have gotten on her trail on purpose.
A slender young man appeared beside the lake. His face seemed to be covered in golden scales. Graymore tried to get a better look. No, it was just a mask. It must have fallen off, because now the mask was gone. The stranger was so handsome. It took Graymore’s breath away. She had never seen anyone so beautiful in her life, and at her court had visited many foreign princes, sheikhs, shahs, caliphs, princes and all kinds of ambassadors.
«Do you want to kill me?» The handsome man arched his eyebrows mockingly.
Her cheeks flashed with shame as she realized she was aiming for his chest.
«I’m not a bear.»
«Are there bears around here?» She mumbled.
«There are centaurs, elves and dragons.»
«Well, that’s what I hunt!»
«You do?» He moved closer, throwing the vines aside with his hands. «A dragon hunted by such a little thing? Isn’t that funny?»
«You’ve got to be kidding me.» Graymore jammed the tip of her crossbow into the stranger’s chest. «You’ll see me catch a dragon.»
«Catch me,» the stranger jerked his arm across her throat.
«You’re the elf who wants the girl to catch him? Usually it’s the other way around. Elves catch and seduce girls.»
«It is not always! I once saw a beautiful, greedy queen come into the forest to perform a rite herself, in order to trap a rich elf or dragon as her husband.»
«Was she lucky?»
«Yes and no.»
«Why is that? Explain.»
«She caught a rich man in scales, but after her wedding night with him she turned into a dragon herself. You should have seen how she woke up in a witch’s circle and howled when she found scales sprouting in her delicate skin.»
«I have never heard the legend of such a queen.»
«It is not a legend, but the plain truth. The queen’s name was Ligeia. She ruled over an empty kingdom that used to be called the Marids.»
«There hasn’t been such a kingdom for over three hundred years. It was swept away by a flood. Allegedly the watermen appropriated the Marids for themselves.»
«And so it was. Queen Ligeia first robbed the lake’s king and then seduced the dragon. And then she turned into a dragon herself and scorched all the water in her sunken kingdom. Now instead of a lake there is a burnt-out swamp.»
«I’ve never heard of people turning into dragons.»
«Then you don’t know anything about dragons.»
«What do you mean, I know nothing?» Graymore was nearly taken aback. Does he know how many captive dragons there are in her dungeons? Was the stranger deliberately sassing her, or was it accidental? He should be prosecuted for insulting a noble! But what eyes he had! Graymore could not tear her eyes from his. She drowned in them.
«You look like Cupid aiming for my heart,» he remarked.
«I am not Cupid!»
«You’re right, you’re a dragon-hunter,» he said, his voice mirroring another sneer.
«Do you doubt me?»
«I am not!» He lifted her chin with his fingers and placed a long kiss on her lips.
She should have been outraged, she supposed, but Graymore was ecstatic. The kiss was as sweet as it had been in her dream. This stranger was as if he had come out of her dream. Only he wasn’t fiery, yet his proximity made everything erupt inside.
Graymore slid her fingers down his back. His back turned out to be too oblong. The handsome stranger’s body curved like a crooked mirror.
Graymore could hardly pull herself away from his lips. It’s not customary to kiss strangers, but don’t you tell your heart to. It is stronger than reason.
«Where are you from? Did you come from the lake?»
«I am down from the mountains,» he answered nonchalantly.
«Are you from the mountains? Only gryphons and dragons live in the mountains!» Graymore opened her eyes wide with amazement.
«Elves live in the mountains.»
Graymore knew what elves names sounded like.
«What is your name?» She asked. «My name is Graymore.»
«I know it.»
The stranger dumbfounded her with the answer.
«How do you know?»
Had the fame of her dragon exploits gone so far that even the mountain elves had heard of her?
Instead of answering, the stranger gently touched her locks and wound a long lock of her hair about his finger. Graymore noticed that he had scales growing on his finger. The lake reflected his back, unnaturally elongated and also overgrown with scales. And beneath his back, a green tail wriggled in rings. Graymore shuddered and backed away. The tail of a lizard! He must be a wizard. He was too beautiful for a normal human. Maybe he’s naked. There’s a kingdom of naga around here somewhere, beyond the mountains where the rain forests called jungles stretched out. He probably crawled in from there and immediately seduced a wandering princess.
«Don’t come any closer, or I’ll shoot!» Graymore took aim at him with her crossbow.
«You are so beautiful and so prickly!» The stranger looked at her with mild regret, and then suddenly handed her a scarlet rose. Where did he even get a rose in the hot forests, where roses did not grow? You look like this prickly flower. You look like a rose, but your character has thorns too.»
«And you have a serpent’s tail!»
He tossed the rose at Graymore’s feet and then suddenly disappeared, as if he had vanished into thin air. The stinging sensation in her chest was gone. The dragon must have flown over the mountains before it could pass.
Graymore bent down and picked up the rose. Was there poison on its thorns? The skeleton had warned her that some clever wizards could smear even rose thorns with poison.
It was a pity that the young man had disappeared so quickly. Though he turned out to be half lizard, Grayamore wanted to see him again. Why is it that the most beautiful young men turn out to be magical creatures!
Dancing in the Mountains
Graymore’s heart ached. Who to marry, if all suitable guys were either elves or naga? It couldn’t be that the future queen of Livellin would marry a naga! And why was she suddenly thinking about marriage? She didn’t seem to have any intention of getting married at all. To be the sole ruler of a country is far more pleasant than having to reckon with her husband in everything. Graymore liked being free.
Why was she so drawn to this naga? He might have the face of an angel, but he had the body of a snake! You don’t go to the ball with a lizard! She would have been better off falling in love with an elf.
Thoughts of mountain elves kept creeping into her head. Graymore tried to go around the mountains, but they wouldn’t end. She seemed to be riding around them in circles. She felt as if the mischievous elves had lured her into a witch’s ring. Everywhere she turned there were mountains and mountains, and lianas of tropical flowers stretched across them.
The rose the stranger had given her had almost withered away, but when she put it in the loop of her corsage, it bloomed again, as if it were powered by Graymore’s heart.
«My blood is fiery,» the Princess recalled. «Could it be that this rose draws its life force from fire?»
She could see indistinct silhouettes in the thicket. Maybe she should turn back into the forest. It was impossible to go around the mountains.
She put her palm to her forehead and peered at the mountains. The very top of the mountains seemed to have been chiseled into the shape of castle towers. Was this a joke of nature or the work of mountain fairies?
There was a noise from somewhere above. It sounded like the beating of wings! Were the dragons really coming? Instead of dragons, all that Graymore could make out was a large bird, diving down in a sudden dive.
A gryphon snatched her from her saddle and carried her into the mountains. There must be an eagle’s nest, and the gryphon’s cubs were long overdue for supper. Gryamore wanted to tell the griffon that princesses weren’t even meant to be eaten by eagles, but would he understand? Killing the gryphon was a pity, too. Graymore kept her hand on her dagger, but she hesitated. As long as nothing threatened her life, she would not kill the griffin.
As it turned out, up there was a mountain plateau, not an eagle’s nest. The griffin had brought her here and placed her on the edge of the plateau and then flew away. How strange!
Had the gryphon decided to make it difficult for her to go down the mountain? Is it in league with the dragons? Graymore wanted to swear at the entire avian race. Should they have thought of bringing her down here? Griffins must be like magpies, dragging all men adorned with glittering jewels up into the mountains. She should have taken off her wreath, her earrings and rings.
The sounds of chanting came to Graymore’s ears. So the plateau was not as empty as it seemed. It was hard to tell where the sounds were coming from. Graymore walked from corner to corner of the huge plateau for a long time before she came upon a cave-like hole. Strangely enough, it was curtained with a fringed velvet curtain. Pendants of gems stretched across the curtain. Could it be that mountain peri live here? Unlike fairies, they’re fond of opulence.
Graymore drew back the curtain and stepped inside. This is not a cave! It was a palace carved into the mountain.
The floor had been rough and stony to begin with, then replaced by smoothly hewn slabs and even mosaics. The walls of stone, though uneven, were decorated with tapestries and sconces. Graymore recoiled from one orange tapestry, which appeared to be woven of sparks and fire. Tiny fire fairies, no bigger than a cat, were crawling about, finishing the job. They wove fire around the very top of the tapestry. What a miracle!
Graymore clenched her dagger tighter. She could hear the harp and tambourine. Was there dancing nearby? She passed farther and entered a spacious hall, where couples were waltzing. All the dancers wore masks. She was the only one who came in with her face uncovered. Graymore noticed the vines on the walls. Could a semblance of a mask be woven from them? The vines were green, but as soon as she touched them, they burst into flames.
