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«The gryphon brought another girl into the tribute,» someone whispered.
A tall man in a green cloak and a scaly half-mask was walking across the hall toward Graymore. The crown in his curly hair was also made of green scales.
He was alone without a lady. Not surprisingly, he asked the first one who entered the hall alone to dance. Graymore didn’t suspect a trick. They’re just some kind of wizards, not dragons. They live in the mountains, and naturally they might try to bewitch her, but she seemed immune to spells. Otherwise she could not become a dragon-hunter.
The dance had barely begun when she felt dizzy. It was as if she’d been drugged or bewitched. She had to concentrate on something to drive away the mesmerism. That was the advice the wizard skeleton usually gave. The first remedy for someone else’s compulsion is to think of something you like. Graymore noticed a musician sitting at her harp. She had green leaves sprouting in her red hair. Her dress was green, too, with a fringe of leaves. She must be a forest nymph. Graymore had heard a lot about them, but hadn’t seen one yet. The sight of the nymph distracted her from her witching frenzy. The dance partner was angry.
«Look at me!» He demanded in a snarling tone.
«You have charming harpists,» Graymore avoided looking up at him in spite of his demand. «Are they nymphs from the forest?»
«Do not think of them, think of me.»
«But I like them better.»
It was an insult. The partner hissed. Graymore put the blade of her dagger to his throat, and burned herself. The stranger’s blood was fiery.
Could it be a dragon? Graymore tried to look into his eyes. Were they serpentine? She’d never seen a dragon turn into a human before, though legends had it that way.
«You are cheeky girl!» The man with the fire blood didn’t even apologize for burning Graymore’s hand, nor did she apologize for mutilating him with her dagger. The score is even! It is time to run away!
The vines that spanned the pillars burst into flames. The leaves were burning, but they were not consumed. Graymore dashed for the exit. No one tried to stop her. There was nowhere to run. She is in the mountains. She has no wings. She can’t fly. It’s all calculated. She cannot escape from here. Graymore is frozen on the mountain plateau, and a snide laugh can be heard behind her. She would have to go back. A gust of strong wind came. Some huge creature flapped its wings near the plateau. It was a dragon! Graymore was frightened. She usually killed dragons, but now it could easily take her down. One dagger would not be enough to overpower the monster. And behind her there was a chase.
«Come back, you wretch!» A familiar voice hissed behind him.
She had no choice but to fly away on her dragon. The dragon had just flapped its wings for her. Graymore took a chance and climbed on top of it. In a moment she was soaring over the mountains on her dragon, and below her, inhuman beings hissed and wailed. They couldn’t make it from the plateau to the dragon.
«Farewell!» Graymore waved to the creepy elves, in whose company she did not wish to remain.
Flying on a dragon was far more pleasant than dancing at a mountain ball. How could she have never thought of taming a captive dragon so she could fly on it? This dragon, however, she had not yet captured. On the contrary, it was he who had kidnapped her. What if he carried her into some creepy tract? She was unarmed at the moment.
Instead, the dragon lowered her to the ground just where the voracious Maverin was peacefully nibbling on the grass.
«Thank you!» Graymore never thought she would say such a thing to a dragon.
She should have grabbed her crossbow and aimed it. Surely this must be the dragon that terrorized the southern borders, but it was in no hurry to attack. Instead, it picked up a fallen rose with its claw and held it out to Graymore.
Strangely enough, she accepted the flower without expecting a catch. She did not think of fighting now. She stood as she did, not touching her weapon until the dragon flew away.
Stone City
After flying the dragon, a path past the mountains was found as if by magic. It was as if the dragon had managed to lift the spell cast by the mountain elves.
Graymore drove on. The whole day passed without adventure. The girl ate wild apples and pears without fear that they might be the enchanted fruits of the elves. Streams and springs also came across quite often along the way. One could not die of thirst in the forest. But one could stumble upon ruins in the forest. Graymore didn’t expect to see an expanse cleared of trees, where steles and obelisks whitened and tall arches rounded above them.
«Where are we, Maverin?» Graymore sensed the horse’s indecision. He didn’t want to go any farther, as if there were ghosts waiting ahead.
There was an overgrowth of ivy on the arches, and the sidewalk was so overgrown with grass that it had become a lawn. There were so many stone statues all around that it made one’s eyes glaze over. It was like a city of statues! Graymore took a closer look at the statues. They were neither man nor beast. They were somewhere between dragon and man. The figures are all human, but they all have dragon’s details. Some have a mask of scales growing on them. Some have their tails as a larger part of their bodies and claws instead of arms.
Graymore held the horse up beside a graceful female sculpture. The lady was beautiful, but her forehead bore branching dragon horns.
«It is your rival!» A voice whispered from above.
Graymore looked up. A tit was sitting on a tree branch. When it saw that Graymore was looking at it, the tit swooped down and settled on her shoulder, as if it were a gossipy whisperer.
«What’s happened here?» Graymore wasn’t surprised that the tit was chirping human words. What surprised her more were the statues. It was as if they were all magical. Surely some wizard must have put them there to perform a mysterious ritual in the thicket.
«They all became stone so that he wouldn’t burn them,» chirped the tit right in her ear. «But it’s a big secret! They are afraid of his fire!»
«Who could burn them?»
«It is the one who was supposed to rule them. He was the fairest of them all, and he has become the worst of them all. Everyone is afraid of him now.»
«You speak in riddles.»
«I’m not supposed to talk at all,» the tit pecked Graymore’s shoulder resentfully and sprang away. «If you’ve noticed, I’m just a bird.»
That’s all! The tit disappeared into the treetops, as if it hadn’t existed at all. It seemed as if she was only dreaming.
«You are cheeky little bird!» Graymore rubbed her aching shoulder. What else to call a tit? But the tit doesn’t care about insults. She was long gone, but the statues remained. They reeked of cold and heat at the same time. It seemed that everything around them was both on fire and covered with ice. Only the greenery of the thicket softened this impression.
«They could be revived by water from the well, but it was better not to do so.»
Who said that? Was it a tit? The voice seemed different, not so thin. It came from the center of the square, overgrown with grass and littered with sculptures. There was indeed a well with a log cabin covered with a thick layer of moss. The place was in disrepair! Grahamor would not have been surprised if moss had sprouted in the depths of the well, too. Out of curiosity, she jumped off her horse and approached the well. Could one drink from it? There was no bucket or pail to draw water from, but a green serpent hissed at her from the well.
It’s a well’s dragon! Graymore instantly drew her sword and swung it, but the serpent was in no hurry to attack. It only hissed furiously and looked Graymore straight in the eyes. Its gaze must have been hypnotizing. Why would she kill it if it wasn’t breathing fire and biting? Graymore put the sword away. It was the first time she had ever let a dragon go. Her advisors would not have approved of such mercy.
The dragon showed counter-solidarity and retreated back into the well. If he spat venom in her face, she would be ugly. How she hadn’t thought of that right away. After all, well’s dragons are known for their poisonous saliva. It made her flesh blister like a pustule.
Something creaked behind them. Graymore turned around. The sculpture of the beautiful horned lady seemed to have changed her pose. Probably it was just an imagination.
What did it mean, the statue was her rival? Graymore approached the lady again. Her stone eyes were blank, a ligature of dragon scales trailing across her lips and cheek. So is this lady a dragon or not? Do all statues depict people ready to turn into dragons? What did the sculptor want to show? If only the sculptor sculpted them. What if they really are magical?
They said that victims of dragon fever were covered in scales and mutated. And to get such a fever, you have to be scratched, bitten, or poisoned by a dragon’s saliva. There was a time when whole villages died from dragon epidemics, but that was a long time ago. No such contagion had been heard of in recent centuries.
The stone lady looked at Graymore with disapproval.
«I’m sorry, but there’s no water in the well, so I won’t be able to see if you’ll come back to life from it,» Graymore apologized.
She must be losing her mind to talk to the statue.
The horse beat his hoof impatiently on the ground. For some reason he did not like the Stone City. Why is it not? It was so quiet and beautiful. Maybe the horse sensed the dragon’s closeness and was therefore worried.
Graymore remembered the stranger’s story about a certain Ligeia queen who turned into a dragon after marrying a dragon. Could this statue be a monument to her?
Another name was carved on the foot of the statue.
«Donata!» Graymore read it aloud.
What an unusual name!
At the sound of that name the arches shook all at once, as if a giant had stepped on them. The stone began to crumble. Small stones were thrown about in all directions.
What on earth had happened here? Graymore looked up. There was no giant above, of course. The arches were collapsing on their own.
She must get out of here before she was crushed. One large stone bounced off the arch and almost fell on Graymore’s head. The princess was one moment from death. The stone pressed against the hem of her dress. What bad timing! Graymore did not like the feeling of being held hostage. She could not free the hem from under the stone. She had to tear the fabric as hard as she could. A large flap remained under the stone. One could only hope that some wizard hadn’t picked it up to put a spell on the princess. Graymore knew that the small things of ladies are often used for charms and other abominations. It is unlikely that a dragon, even if he found the flap, would cast a spell on her.
It felt as if the stone city belonged to dragons. It seemed to Graymore that the statues came to life and moved. They were all depicting ladies and gentlemen, but they were all unnatural. All of them had their faces and arms partially in scales, or dragon tails were stretching out of their backs.
«There are inscriptions on the arches!» A thin voice whispered. «Read the writing on the arches, and the city will cease to fall.»
How can you read them if the arches are already partially crumbling? The unseen voice is a humorist!
Graymore was barely on her feet when the stone tail of one of the statues whipped at her feet.
The stone must have shattered and flung itself at her feet. There’s no way a statue could have come to life. The whole place collapsed like an earthquake.
Graymore was frightened. She wasn’t afraid to fight a dragon, but the prospect of being crushed by falling rocks terrified her. It was not a worthy death for a girl knight. It was better to die fighting.
The unknown gods heard her prayers. A dragon roared over the crumbling city. Graymore looked up. The most magnificent dragon she’d ever seen was flying across the sky. Its hide glittered like an emerald bordered by gilt. The dragon looked menacing and majestic at the same time.
«I never thought I would marvel at a creature that flew!» Graymore muttered.
She should have taken out her sword and crossbow, but they were still in the bales strapped to her saddle. The only thing she had with her was her dagger. Graymore drew it. At that moment a golden light flashed through one of the arches, as if beyond the archway was not a void but an entire hall. In the archway flashed either a dwarf or a boy, dressed in an emerald camisole.
«Run, you fool!» He hissed at Graymore. «This is a dragon’s country.»
Run from the dragon’s land! Oh, no! Graymore did not move. Meanwhile, the dragon had dwindled. He was now hovering just above the arches, but he seemed somehow unable to see the city below.
Strange that a dragon couldn’t see it, now that it was a dragon’s land. Perhaps the boy was referring to some other creature that was only symbolically called a dragon. Each sculpture had at least one dragon’s feature, but they were essentially people, not dragons. Maybe dragons were called, in layman’s terms, all those who had been stricken with dragon fever.
A monotonous chanting sounded over the ruins, as if a chorus of ghostly voices was singing. Graymore discerned the words:
«Donata, Ligeia, it is sacred hunt, it is tribute to the golden deity.»
The singing was mesmerizing. She wanted to stand and listen to it, even if the dragon was about to dive down and tear her apart.
Another large boulder bounced off the archway. By now Graymore knew it was time to run. But where could she run? The stone arches were crumbling all around, and the sculptures seemed alive and predatory. Graymore took her chances and sprinted forward. Small pebbles flew at her and hurt her arms and shoulders. The rock crumbs resembled shrapnel. One pebble cleaved Graymore’s forehead, spurting blood.
«Stop it! Come back here!» A chorus of voices called out to her. «The City of Sleepers awaits you.»
She wanted to turn back before a shout resounded in her ear:
«It is game!»
Had the voices of the unknown called game to her, Princess Livellin? Graymore felt fear mixed with rage. Even if all the sculptures came to life and went to war against her, she would not give up.
Someone clutched at her shoulders from behind.
«Turn around!» There was a hiss above her ear.
Graymore tried to break free. The fingers that held her were indeed stone, it seemed.
At that moment the dragon dipped in flight, circled above the arches, and suddenly burst into flames. Fire erupted in the circle. Graymore broke free and ran toward her horse, peacefully nibbling on the grass far away from the stone city.
Beneath her feet showed a line drawn on the ground. It seemed to consist of a ligature of signs scrawled between the grasses. As he crossed it, the clatter of falling stones and the hissing of flames ceased. Graymore looked back. The stone city stood untouched. Not a single arch in it had collapsed.
Was she imagining things? Graymore looked up at the sky. The dragon was no longer flying. How strange is it!
«It’s time for us to get out of here, Maverin!» Graymore took the reins and tried to climb into the saddle. She could not do it. Her legs felt as if they were cotton. The princess sank down on the grass.
«Let’s rest for a while, and then go on,» she said to the horse.
Naturally Maverin didn’t object. The grass by the abandoned city was fresh and lush. It was a pleasure to scratch. Let the mistress sleep and the horse have his lunch. Maverin continued to pluck the grass, while Graymore lay under the shade of a yew tree and fell asleep.
Lady in the Dragon Mask
Graymore woke up from the heat. It felt as if a red-hot brand had touched her cheek. It was, in fact, someone else’s hot breath. Was a dragon leaning over her?
Even before her eyelids fluttered open, Graymore reached for her crossbow.
«Don’t be frightened! You are not ready to fight yet!» A sweet, feminine voice whispered in her ear. «The fight of your life is yet to come. The dragon is waiting for you in the cursed mountains. You are to be a heroine! A great heroine! You will be honored as a dragon war goddess upon your return to Livellin, but first you must slay the dragon.»
What glorious promises! Graymore must have been pleased with such a prediction. Why did she feel that the fortuneteller’s voice oozed venom?
Graymore opened her eyes and immediately shut them again. A blinding glow was emanating from the stranger leaning over her.
«Do not fear me! I will lead you to the right place!» The woman in the golden mask leaned over and licked the blood from Graymore’s forehead.
«Do you know what this settlement was once?»
«Was it a city of elves?» Graymore guessed. She recalled the skeleton advisor’s tales of empty arches that were a passageway to the invisible realm of elves and fairies.
«It is not quite!» The woman in the golden mask gathered dew from the clover and anointed Graymore’s eyelids with it. After that it was no longer painful to look at her. The lady wore a mask that resembled the snout of a dragon. Is there really a masquerade going on in the forest? The intimidating mask was made of golden scales. It must have been made by a magical jeweler. Graymore was jealous.
«I want one for my next Livellin’s masquerade.»
«My dear,» the lady grinned indulgently. «If you get one, it will be quite difficult to take it off.»
«I don’t understand.»
The sun went behind a cloud. The mask suddenly disappeared from the lady’s face, as if golden scales had grown into her skin.
«Are you from the world of fairies?» Graymore looked in amazement at the lady’s blond curls and impossibly gorgeous dress. The bows on the sleeves and the corset were adorned with tiny sapphires. The lace of the lush skirts could only be woven by fairies. Mortal ladies have neither such outfits nor such delicate hair. Blond curls flowed below her waist. Somehow it reminded her of white snakes.
«I am Donata,» the lady introduced herself.
«You have a name like…» Graymore did not venture a suggestion, lest she should offend the lady. Like the statue!
