Бесплатный фрагмент - Graymore is a dragon hunter

Dragons’ Attack

The dragons swooped down on the city again. Graymore sensed them at a distance. Before, their approach had aroused her excitement and she reached for her sword, but today she was angry. The dragon’s swoop ripped her from her magical dream.

She was dreaming about the most beautiful young man in the world. Or was he an elf? It was impossible to tell in the dream. It was as if he was composed of golden fire. Making love to him in the royal bed was like floating in the sky. Except that his kisses burned her lips, and his breath set the canopy on fire. Why is his breath fiery? He himself exudes golden light, but his sighs are full of the usual orange fire. Do elves breathe fire? The young man is definitely an elf! After all, his wings of light are folded behind him. But why are there scales sprouting in his skin?

«Who are you?» she asked. Her voice sounded in her sleep like an echo in a witch’s maze.

The young man did not answer, but a new wave of passion burst forth like dragon’s fire. A mischievous thought flashed through Graymore’s mind: What if he were a dragon-wizard himself, who’d taken on a seductive form and decided to seduce her for revenge? After all, she had defeated so many dragons in fair combat, or lured them into a trap! Could love for a dragon be subtle revenge on a princess who was born with the magical gift of a dragon-hunter?

If it weren’t for the scales and the fire, the young man of the dream could have been called an elf or a spirit of sunlight, about which so many stories were told. His kisses were magic!

The dragons had already taken their revenge on her by pulling her out of paradise. She had to wake up and come down to earth. In the figurative sense, of course! Waking up in the tallest tower of the castle was hardly what she had come to expect. The clouds were a stone’s throw away. Sometimes at night, Graymore could hear the songs of the spirits of the clouds. Perhaps the young man in the dream was one of them.

The sentries on the castle walls sounded the alarm. The sound of the alarm could not be ignored. Another ruler would have called a militia, but Graymore reached for the shirt of mail and weapons stacked in the corner of the bedroom. She always kept her weapons and warrior gear with her.

The dragons usually struck unexpectedly. Now their pelted skins gleamed in the sun like gemstone armor. How beautiful! Graymore had no time to marvel at the beauty of the monsters that attacked her capital. Suddenly the girl was twisted with pain. It was as if fire had swept through all her veins. This is normal! For a sorceress! The princess was considered a sorceress by everyone since she was a teenager because she reacted so sensitively to dragons. No sooner had they reached the borders of her country than she was on fire from within and ready to fight. The dragons’ proximity started a fire in her blood. So why did she oversleep today!

Silver, gold, copper, ruby red, emerald-green, and amber-yellow dragons flew over the city skyline like rainbow shards. They were all enormous flying monsters. The dragon swarms did not approach the city silently at all. The sky trembled with the flapping of their wings. And that thunderous roar was worth it!

«We shall avenge you, bewitched princess, who uses her magic to slay dragons like tin soldiers!» As if they wanted to shout, all they let out was a low growl.

A pack of them! Swords won’t help! Graymore could count more than a dozen mighty dragons in the sky, and she couldn’t see them all. The tower overlooked only the main square.

She must change her strategy! Instead of her chain-mail, Graymore donned a fur-trimmed pelerine and buttoned it up on her way to the fortress walls, where her best archers and cannoneers had gathered.

«Only don’t fire the cannons!» She warned. «Cannonballs will damage the capital, and a dragon is not so easy to hit on the fly.»

Most arrows missed their targets, and when they hit them they bounce off the scales of the dragons with ricochets.

«How could you defeat them if you couldn’t even penetrate their hide with a spear?» The archery commander asked.

«Well, I am enchanted!»

«And they?»

«It would seem that they are too!»

The spear thrown by one of the guards at the green dragon didn’t really do any damage to the dragon’s hide, but it boomeranged back and pierced through the guard who had thrown it.

The smell of blood and guts made everyone sick. This is worse than war! A single dragon attack could take an entire kingdom in an hour. The dragons were already beginning to breathe fire. The town hall and several palaces were ablaze. And dragons are treacherous! They want to smoke out all the humans or burn them. Graymore got the feeling that they wanted to lure her out of the castle alone, so the first thing they did was torch the buildings that were most valuable to her. One amber dragon squinted at her slyly, as if he’d been expecting her.

«I must get you to my lord!» As if he was informing her. «That’s who’ll take care of you!»

The yellow dragon charged toward the towers. Its claws almost caught Graymore, but she dodged them. The dragon grabbed one of the guards, realized his mistake, and threw his burden against the fortress wall. The unfortunate man crumbled. The shattered body was left a hideous mass of shards of bone and bloody bits of flesh. Dragons killed men with ease, but men could do no harm to dragons. The cannon fuses were lit again and again. The cannonballs fired from their embrasures couldn’t even muffle a dragon’s tail.

«We’ll never make it!» Graymore watched as an arrow from an apt archer ricocheted off the dragon’s hide, whistled back, and pierced the archer’s own eye.

Dragons are magical creatures. They can be dealt with not by force, but by magic. Graymore remembered the wonderful net she had woven from special threads and her own hair on the advice of an ancient wizard.

«Give me my net!» She shouted when she saw the commander-in-chief of her armies below, who was standing at the castle gate, unsure of what order to give to the assembled warriors. — Send a soldier on horseback to each end of the city, and have them climb the watchtowers at the corners of the city walls and stretch over the city the net I have woven for defense.»

The commander-in-chief did not want to believe in such a dubious undertaking, but what else could be done. The dragons flew too low, disoriented by the fact that no one could overpower them. They were catching and eating people alive, clawing through the windows of palaces and pulling young ladies out, then crushing their bodies like nuts. Graymore was their target. She could feel it.

The three dragons: red, green, and yellow conspired about something on the fly, rubbed their paws together contentedly, and dashed toward the wall where Graymore stood. It would have taken a minute for them to drag her away, but the net over the city had been stretched earlier. The dragons were caught. All of them!

They were beating at the bottom of the magical net, like caught fish. The net wouldn’t let them fly up, and it wouldn’t let them get away either. The dragons threatened Graymore with clawed paws.

«Cunning is my strategy!» She praised herself. Who else would praise you for your courage? The knights and archers were gloomily silent, until someone clever asked:

«What shall we do with them now?»

«Put them in the cellars,» Graymore commanded.

The cellar was already shaking from the aggression of the dragons they had captured. It was unlikely they would fight for her. She could brainwash them with enchantments. So far, that has not worked. Dragon scolding and cursing could be heard from the cellars.

«My lady, your dungeons are hell with dragon sparks! It’s as hot as an oven!»

Graymore brushed the harsh warrior aside. She knew her cellars were like a cauldron of fire, but the flames didn’t go up the walls. Magic doesn’t.

«Everything will be all right! Trust me! Who else would have saved everyone if it weren’t for me?» Graymore snatched a crossbow from one archer and took aim at the supposed dragon that was flying in from the west. It must have fallen behind the pack. But the target vanished from sight. Where had the dragon gone? Graymore looked up at the skies, which were suddenly overcast. A storm was coming.

«You have angered the dragon gods,» she heard the distant thunder.

She imagines it! Graymore snorted. Where are the gods? The only other knights bustling around were the knights in armor, who had long since become fearful of her. They could not do with an army what she alone could.

For a moment Graymore thought she saw in the towers among the archers the very elf boy she had dreamed of. He looked at her sternly and sadly, as if judging her for something. At the sight of him everything turned over inside her. But he vanished as soon as the storm began. And the fragrant rose on the parapet of the tower remained. Where had it come from? And why did the sight of it conjure up thoughts of dragon claws? What can a lush scarlet rose and sharp dragon’s claws have to do with it?

Ball of Fire

Victory over dragons is celebrated with a noisy celebration. Firecrackers exploded over the city, and Graymore’s heart ached.

She had done something wrong. But what is it? She had forgotten to bind the dungeons with dragon-locked enchantments, or to mutter a magic mantra before she caught dragons. Or had the trapped dragons managed to cast spells on her and arouse her conscience?

The townsfolk put on a dance, and there was a ball going on in the castle. The well-dressed courtiers danced. Graymore sat on her throne and watched the festivities as etiquette dictated.

No fair! The dragons were defeated by her, and others danced. By the unwritten rule of the ancient wizards, the dragon conqueror had to spend the evening of the feast alone. You could watch the ball, but you could not interfere with the entertainment. Stupid rule! Graymore was bored. Before her, only men had been dragon hunters. They could ponder their exploits for twenty-four hours, but she wanted to dance. She excelled as much at dancing as she did at fighting. Her grace was the envy of all.

Graymore paced the curly strands of her long auburn hair that fell from beneath her ruby crown and contemplated the fanciful ceremonial. It had occurred to some long-dead council of wizards to force a dragon fighter into a day’s solitude. A vow of silence for the day was attached. Otherwise the defeated dragon would speak to you and try to enchant you.

Nonsense! How can a captured dragon speak to her? It doesn’t even understand human speech. Or does it? Graymore had the impression this morning that dragons could speak human. Not with their mouths, but with their eyes. Their gazes haunted her: azure, red, orange, emerald. A firework of glittering eyes watched her from every corner of the ballroom.

«A dragon can become your master if you let its charms enter your mind,» the ancient council of wizards dictated. According to their beliefs, dragon’s charms are strongest on the day of capture. After a day they are weakened. Therefore it is necessary to isolate oneself for the whole day. But you can’t put off the feast for 24 hours, alas. Victory over the dragon must necessarily be celebrated on the same day to cement your superiority over the monster.

Her forced vow of silence sent Graymore’s imagination into overdrive. It seemed to her that dragon voices were calling to her from all sides, and that dragon heads hung like masks on every wall.

The pairs twirled in a waltz. The winding music made it difficult to sit still. Graymore nervously unfolded the folds of the sumptuous golden-yellow dress she had planned to wear on Coronation Day, but wore today.

«Oh, my! She’s managed a whole flock!» The ministers whispered excitedly in a corner of the hall and drank to her health. They did not dance either, but they could make toasts, and she would have to sit all evening without parting her lips. It did make her feel enchanted.

«I’m like a statue! I sit there to decorate the throne, and I cannot move or speak!» Graymore thought, and suddenly there were sparks on the wall. They ran down the lambrequin. Only Graymore saw them. For some reason the others didn’t notice. The sparks formed a sort of face or mask on the wall. Its lips moved, but no words could be made out.

«Don’t answer them!» A peculiar bird, with a purple tail as big as a peacock’s, perched on the armrest of the throne. Where did it come from? Was it from the king’s garden or from the park? But there are no such birds there. There are peacocks, swans, ibises, herons, cranes and flamingos, even talking parrots, but there are no small sapphires growing in their feathers. This bird, on the other hand, has precious stones scattered in its feathers, and a violet blooms on its head instead of a crest. What a wonder of a bird! Graymore wanted to stroke it, but the bird dodged.

Human speech came out of the bird’s beak again. It was a warning:

«They will burn everything if you answer them and carry you away from the fire to be sacrificed to the dragon deity. There is only one man who can help you, but he has been forced to take the dragon’s side ever since he himself became covered in scales.»

«Who is he?»

Graymore opened her mouth, and the violet bird squeaked with consternation. Instead of a favor, she pouted. Had it not been for her warning, Graymore would not have broken her daily vow of silence.

«I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! Now the garden fairies will be furious with me,» the bird hastily took off, while Graymore was left in a state of heavy contemplation.

She wasn’t bored, though. Fire hissed from the walls. Was the whole castle on fire? Graymore nearly screamed:

«Run for your lives! It is fire!»

For some reason the dancing couples were stubbornly oblivious. The musicians continued to play, the footmen carried trays of champagne, the ministers chattered. No one felt the heat from the blazing walls, but Graymore felt and saw faces in the flames. They were saying something, but their speech was like an echo.

«Damnation! Vengeance! Redemption! Love the one you hunted,» it came to Graymore’s ears.

She was just tapping his scepter on the armrest of the throne, and the obsession vanished. The walls were no longer ablaze, but something strange began to happen to the guests. The dancing silhouettes became fiery. It was a dance of fire, not people. Graymore was even frightened. The dancing flaming figures looked aggressive. They were on fire, but they didn’t burn. No ash fell from them.

Perhaps it’s just imagination again, Graymore judiciously decided.

Indeed, the obsession had passed again. It was already the second in the evening. Perhaps the captured dragons are tempting her. She suddenly felt an unbearable urge to take the keys to the cellars and go free all the dragons. The desire hurt like passion. Graymore could barely contain her impulse.

She needed to breathe steady and think of pleasant things. It is about the next dragon hunt, for example. There! She’s calmed down. Nothing seems to be happening anymore. Her mind is free from foreign spells.

An unfamiliar face flashed into the hall. A slender stranger in a cloak of improvised scales and claw clasps was strolling between the dancing couples. Is he choosing a partner? For some reason Graymore’s heart sank at the sight of him. He wore a mask that mimicked a dragon. But there were many who wore such masks now. After all, the skinned dragons are not available to all, but only to the victors. So others order dragon masks for themselves. It is also a kind of luxury.

The stranger wore expensive jewelry. Even ministers would have admired his rings. Perhaps he was some kind of overseas king. Graymore herself had not yet been crowned. She is tacitly recognized as ruler, since she alone can protect the state from dragons, but her brothers are still alive and settled in foreign lands. Before the coronation, their renunciation of rights to the throne in favor of his sister must be settled.

The stranger who attracted Graymore’s attention may be their messenger. The princess has decided to ignore principles and violate etiquette. Why can’t the winner be allowed to have one dance? It was as if the stranger was waiting and looking for just her.

He said nothing, but it seemed to her that he called out to her.

The few candelabras in the hall and the chandelier went out. A gust of wind that blew in through the window must have extinguished them. The ball continued in the shaded surroundings. No one would even notice that she had broken the rules. Graymore stepped toward the stranger. There was no invitation to dance, but he eagerly put his arm around her waist and spun her around in a dance. This was a dance that Graymore did not know. The steps were too complicated. Sometimes she had to fly above the floor in her partner’s arms. Maybe he was an elf with his wings hidden under his cloak.

«Are you from the northern woods?» Graymore broke the prohibition against talking. It is unlikely that the spirit of a captive dragon had come for her to speak to her on purpose. Most likely she was a winter elf, as the northern woods are full of them. The thickets there are teeming with the harsh but beautiful elves of winter. Since they themselves for their stubborn temperament are not invited anywhere, what could he do but sneak into the ball.

Her partner said nothing. And his hands were not cold at all. Maybe it was the velvet gloves. The gloves threatened to turn into mittens, because sharp golden fingernails protruded from his fingers. They were red-hot to the touch. Graymore even burned herself on them. She guessed her partner wasn’t a winter elf after all. Otherwise he would have brought the cold with him to the castle. But then again, if he were a dragon-agent, the candelabra wouldn’t be extinguished by his approach. As soon as dragon ambassadors arrive or fly in, all the candles are ablaze. Graymore knew this for a fact, for once a dragon-worshipped minstrel was sent to her to declare dragon war. There was fire in the dragon-slave’s eyes. As he spoke, sparks spewed. As he entered the throne room, all the fireplaces and candles flickered, even the pillars. But once Graymore had defeated the dragons and unmasked the minstrel, he was just a shy boy who claimed to have been grabbed by a clawed paw at a dusty crossroads and dragged off into the heavens. That was all he could recall. Before his captivity, he had heard a voice calling to the crossroads, telling him to obey. But dragons can’t talk, can they?

Could her dancing partner speak?

He just picked her up and almost flew above the floor with her.

«You are not one of my courtiers!» She looked closely at the eyes beneath his mask. They were golden as sparks. «You are not a knight, nor an advisor, nor an ambassador! I do not know you.»

«You know me!» The voice beneath the mask resembled a hiss, but it caressed the ear nonetheless.

«And who are you?»

«Suppose I am your conscience.»

«How interesting is it!» Graymore snorted, suspecting something fishy. It is time to call for the guards, for she is unarmed now. Even the dagger she usually wore behind her corsage she had left in her bedroom. She should have known that even on the day of her victory over the dragons there would be danger! Today is her triumph, after all, and an attractive and dangerous stranger leans toward her and whispers as if she has lost.

«I am your conscience! I am your destiny!»

Graymore tore off his mask and screamed. Beneath the mask blazed solid fire. The stranger had no face at all. Only flickers of flame burst from the exquisite jabot, forming a head. The dancer turned into a pillar of fire, hovering above the hall. Graymore fell to the floor as soon as he let her out. There were no burns on her, but it was as hot as the inside of a furnace.

Graymore screamed for so long until the column of fire, formerly a stranger, dissolved into darkness. The candelabra in the hall were lit at a very bad time. Everyone could see that the dragon-winner was screaming in terror. The crowd stared at Graymore in bewilderment.

«Perhaps she’s had too much to drink,» the guests whispered.

«It’s bad luck to scare a dragon maiden on her moment of triumph,» the ministers murmured.

Graymore could hear every rustle and understand the words of any who stood far away. Her hearing was sharpened. It sounded like someone’s magical interference.

The situation was uncomfortable. Graymore jumped up from the floor and hurried out of the ballroom. Outside the windows, the motley lights of the fireworks were still blooming. They resembled heavenly bouquets.

How marvelous that after the deadly dragon fire, the skies above the city were lit with multicolored flames of joy. Graymore did not immediately see the dark dragon’s silhouette, which almost merged with the darkness of the night. The dragon hovered above the towers, displaying its spiky tail as if taunting:

«You won’t catch me!»

Before Graymore could raise the alarm, the dragon vanished into the night.

Enchanted Princess

The events of the feast were delicately silenced. Compromising the future queen was not an option. Well, if it’s not too much to drink! It happens to everyone! Graymore had never had more than a glass of wine in an evening, but who would believe her. She acted like a madwoman or bewitched at the ball.

You can’t blame magicians you don’t even know. Such accusations had been made before. Back in her childhood days, when healers had failed to cure a strange ailment that caused her whole body to burn as if she were being burned at the stake.

Some sorcerer had bewitched her. So it was said, at any rate. Was it rumor or truth? Where did the frail girl get her strength when it came to fighting dragons? Where did her magical instinct for approaching dragons come from? If she is not enchanted, then there is no explanation.

She was probably enchanted out of goodwill. The internal fever that heralded the approaching dragons could be considered a curse. But the gift of defeating monsters was itself a blessing. It was probably the gift of some good fairy who had decided to protect the whole country. Livellin had been besieged by dragon packs for centuries. The kingdom bordered the mountains on all sides, where in all likelihood, there were dragon nests. Somehow the neighboring countries suffered less from dragon’s raids. Dragon’s raids happened to them once or twice a year. But to Livellin, dragons were drawn like a magnet. What do they all want here?

«They want you!» A small voice inside Graymore’s mind prompted.

Probably some joking spirit spoke to her. Graymore brushed the voice aside.

She could also have been summoned in this way by a court wizard. Though the Council of Magicians had long since been banished, and there was still one powerful wizard in the castle, Gryamore would not consult him now. He would appear before him, and in a mentor-like tone he would begin to instruct her in the right thing to do. All his advice took the form of orders.

Once she was officially crowned queen, Graymore would not let anyone else tell her what to do. She would change the rules at Livellin’s court as she saw fit, too. There will be no more days of stupor after defeating a dragon.

She proved at the ball that it is possible to break a condition and still not be caught by captive dragons. She wasn’t being guided by any of them right now.

«You’re so sure of that?» The cryptic voices sounded as if they were coming from the cellar, but dragons can’t talk.

Graymore knocked the goblet of wine to the floor. She must not drink another drop of spirits! It’s time to switch to milk and fruit nectar. Milk and fruit nectar would never get you drunk. The wine poured out red on the marble floor, a reminder of blood.

A dragon’s face was in the pool. Graymore flinched, glancing toward the window. There was no dragon hovering outside. She shuddered as if a dragon had gotten cocky enough to peek through the window and reflect in the spilled wine.

Those dragons! They drew Graymore to themselves like a magnet.

The blood of dragons drew her from a distance. And now she felt a dragon at her side. Well, not exactly near. It was somewhere on the edge of the kingdom. Graymore’s secret vision immediately awoke, and she stopped listening to the ambassador, who had arrived with some sort of report and was now reading it out. The dragon is near, and she sits idle. It is time to grab her bow and sword.

The dragon’s fiery blood drew her like a magnet. Its distant scent served as a stimulant. Not because the dragon was hurt, but because everything in Graymore flashed at the feeling of having a dragon near. And its veins flowed with spontaneous blood.

There was a prophecy that the mountain dragon would be her destiny. Probably it was because from its scales she would make a perfect chain-mail for herself and become a great knight. Everyone knows that armor made of dragon scales cannot be penetrated by arrows or blades and does not burn. She needs such armor, which means she must capture the dragon. With dragon armor, she will become a great knight who can fight not only dragons but armies of men alone, and only such a knight can rule a kingdom.

That is how Graymore interpreted the prophecy. She would have to marry one of her cousins who would become king. And she wanted to rule herself. She didn’t want a husband who would limit her power at all. To be an autocrat-that is the main goal! And for that she would have to try and prove herself a true heroine.

It was a pity that not all dragons were suited to be skinned and fitted with ideal armor. She needed a special dragon whose scales would not fade after they were flayed from the skin. Graymore had already checked all the dragons she had captured. Once she peeled back the colorful scales, they faded and became colorless. So these dragons are no good. She would have to look for a special one. She wondered if there was a dragon like that nestled on the fringes of her domain. He was in a province somewhere, just outside the southern ridge of the mountains. Graymore was trying to pinpoint its exact location when heralds announced an urgent messenger.

It is a dragon! It is on the southern border of Livellin! It has burned the vineyards and wineries of your subjects, dried with its breath several rivers, destroyed the frontier fort, and neighbors say that before it flew to us, it incinerated a small country by the sea.»

Graymore wondered:

«Did the dragon make demands? Had he bewitched someone to deliver an ultimatum through his lips? Did he demand that cattle or innocent girls be sacrificed to him?»

Usually dragons demanded a dozen sheep a week and a few virgins for a snack. The scholars were certain that dragons needed virgins to perform witchcraft rituals.

Whether dragons knew how to conjure by performing rituals, Graymore did not know. But they did possess a certain ability to perform enchantments. Usually all of their witchcraft talents were limited to suggestion. They could hypnotize a man with one look. But when Graymore looked the dragons in the eye, they had no power over her. It was the further proof that she was bewitched.

«The dragon has not yet made any demands, Your Highness… I mean, majesty,» the messenger did not know how to address her. The formalities were of no concern to Graymore. She will be crowned in due course. She will prove to all that she is capable of reigning alone.

But why did the boundary dragon have power over her? She burned with the feeling that he was close. She was drawn to him as if he was a lover, and yet he was a rival. With every dragon Graymore fought as if she were fighting for power. If she lost once, she would lose her chance to rule the kingdom. But she cannot lose, for she is enchanted.

«I promise to solve the dragon problem,» she waved graciously at the messenger. «Go back to your own land, and tell the people have nothing to fear.»

«But there are none left, my lady. They are all burnt!»

So they are! Graymore tapped the armrests of the throne with annoyance.

The mesmerizing voice in her brain sounded more insistent.

«Come to me!»

Graymore felt her body being caressed by streams of flame. They were no longer burning, but pleasurable. She basked in them as in a warm, fragrant bath.

The fire around her body was invisible, or the messenger and the ambassador, whose report had been indelicately interrupted, would have run away screaming.

«It’s dangerous, my lady!» muttered the messenger. «All those who went to scout have not returned. Many of the glorious knights were left with only burned armor.»

«Mountain dragons are usually full of treasure,» said Graymore dreamily. She was not afraid of being burned. When has a single dragon ever been able to fight her? She alone is stronger than all of them.

«There was probably an exception waiting ahead.»

There was that intrusive voice in her brain again!

Graymore focused her attention on the messenger. He was shabby and frightened.

«Have you come to ask for help?»

«Yes, my lady!»

«Well, I assure you of it.»

«But you’re not going to fight him yourself, are you, my lady?» The messenger blushed to his ears and shrank back. «I hear you are a great champion of dragons.»

«And you doubt I can defeat a dragon?»

«Well,» the messenger blushed even more. «You are not the giantess I was told you were. You’re just a pretty lady.»

«Go on, scram!» Graymore was furious. «You’ll find out how fearsome pretty ladies can be!»

The ambassador thought it best to go away. Immediately Graymore regretted her overreaction. She should have had the poor man fed in the palace kitchen and given him a bed for the night. It was clear from his emaciated appearance that he had been running for days.

And why did one dragon seem more dangerous to him than a pack? He should have seen the recent dragon raid on the capital of Livellin! He must have slept through every dragon attack. There’d been a few in recent years. If this was the first dragon he’d ever seen in his life, then no wonder he’d be so startled.

She’d seen enough dragons herself. They don’t scare her. Though there was something peculiar about this dragon. Graymore could feel him at a distance, and fire coursed through her veins.

«Come to me, Princess!»

The voice was in her mind’s throat, sticky as honey. It made it impossible to think of anything else but one dragon in particular. Graymore did not hear the ambassador’s speech continue. She dreamed of the monster in scales waiting for her in the mountains. Their battle would probably resemble a love match. This dragon smells her at a distance, as she does him.

So why has he not come to attack the capital if he needs her so much?

Skeleton Advisor

The skeleton was waiting for her in the tower. It was dressed in a sumptuous purple robe and crown, as if it were the ruler of a kingdom. The great wizard’s body had long since rotted away, but the skeleton remained. Sometimes he came back to life and even spoke, but no one knew about it except Graymore.

If she needed advice, she went to the skeleton. So today she went up to the tower for advice. The skeleton, which had been sitting motionless, immediately came to life as soon as Graymore crossed the threshold of the old tower. The jewels glittered enticingly in his bony hands, as if beckoning: try to rip them off me, and then the skeleton’s hand will strangle you.

Graymore had no use for the dead wizard’s jewels. But a footman who once tried quietly to remove a heavy gold chain with a medal from the skeleton’s neck was found strangled. No one had cleaned the tower since. Cobwebs stretched across the walls in festoons. Even the murky gold-framed mirror, thought to be magical, was covered in a thick layer of dust and draped in cobwebs.

The magician’s skeleton itself, barely alive and moving, began hastily shaking the cobwebs from his hands and crushing the spiders. Graymore turned away. The sight of a living skeleton catching the insects that crawled into the tower was not pleasant.

The skeleton already knew why she had come, and smirked defiantly with a lipless mouth. How not to gloat! The ruler of Livellin could not do without his advice. Graymore wasted no time in long formulas of politeness and asked at once:

«Tell me, should I go on the hunt for the dragon that lodges in the provinces near the mountains?»

«Do you have a choice?» The skeleton was already aware of the unusual dragon. Though the magical observation mirror was covered in cobwebs, and the dead man knew exactly what it could show.

«No, I don’t!» Graymore felt herself burning from within. If she did not set out to catch the dragon, she would go mad with searing pain.

«Then why do you ask, when you already know the answer?»

The skeleton’s squeaky voice was very insolent. Graymore didn’t like the dead wizard’s self-confidence. She wanted to challenge him, and she didn’t dare. To behave boldly with him was to call trouble on the whole kingdom.

«Perhaps the dragon would come here instead of settling near the mountains.»

«I don’t think so. It would wait there.»

«Is he waiting? But for whom is he waiting?»

«What if it’s you, Princess?»

«Don’t joke!»

The skeleton fell silent.

«Why do I suffer pains of fire when dragons approach?»

«It is because you are a true dragon hunter.»

«No, I’ve been bewitched, so I can’t stand the pain of being near raptors. You probably did it. And the goal was to turn me into a dragon myself, but it didn’t work. Instead of being attracted to their nature, I feel the excitement of war with them.»

«Or perhaps you burn from their proximity, waiting for one of the dragons to become your lover?»

«Will he be my lover? Don’t joke! They are monsters!» She remembered the dream — an elf with fiery breath.

«What if it’s destiny!» insisted the dead wizard.

«It is better death in battle with dragons than such a fate.»

«Then kill the next of them! Perhaps this way you will change your fate. Lover or corpse, the choice is yours. After all, you are the ruler of these lands.»

«But I feel I am under a spell, as if they’re throwing me into a fire to make me fight the dragons,» Graymore complained again.

The skeleton hummed. There was something he wasn’t telling her.

«Would you like me to wipe the mirror so it can show us what’s going on in my domain? Perhaps it could show us the future, too, if you ask it?»

«Ask it yourself. I don’t have to,» the skeleton protested.

«You mean you won’t help?»

Graymore was angry. In his lifetime, this wizard must have been insolent and cowardly. Even her father had worshipped his skeleton as a deity to ask for advice. Now it was her turn to beg. It’s awkward for a princess to beg the advice of a dead man, but what can you do!

Graymore took a precious hoop of emeralds, rubies, and sapphires from the folds of her cloak. It resembled a royal crown. A skeleton needs an offering, or he will lie and twist rather than give a straight answer. Such is the wicked nature of every soothsayer. You don’t bring the gift, you don’t get the right prophecy.

«Is that enough to make you kinder?»

Graymore handed the dead mage a crown, which he promptly snatched from her hand and placed on his bald skull.

«Perfect! I am like a king of wizards!» The skeleton gazed in rapt fascination in the mirror, where the cobwebs slid off and the dust vanished. «I am a beauty! I look like death with a scythe! That’s what I always wanted to be!»

How can you be glad to be a skeleton! Graymore did not understand it. The only creatures she liked were those that were pleasing to look at. It was except perhaps for dragons. Though they looked as magnificent as jewels, they were not to be admired. They had to be hunted before they crushed her entire kingdom with their raids.

«I was born in a bad country,» Grahamor complained, rubbing her long dark curls. «There are predators everywhere! There are dragon nests on every border! In the south of Livellin, no one has ever heard of dragons. An envoy from the Southern Kingdom last year reported they had never been raided.»

«Perhaps his king has a pact with dragons,» the skeleton said thoughtfully.

«Is that possible?»

«It is if you pay tribute.»

«Are there goats, sheep, buffalo, cows, partridges, and young virgins?» Graymore exhaled noisily. This was a trap she had fallen into before, as had her father. «Once they’d had enough, they’d still fly to scorch the cities they’d sent tribute from. Dragons are dishonorable!»

«But there is one thing they do respect.»

«And what is that?»

«It is treasure!» The skeleton’s eyes gleamed with the empty eyes that held two tiny diamonds. «Offer them gold and jewels, and you will buy their favor.»

«For how long is it?»

«It all depends on the portion of the jewels.»

«And once they decide there’s not enough treasure, how will they break the agreement and attack again? Better to fight them with steel than to offer them gold.»

«An agreement built on gold they will not break.»

«Are they that greedy?»

«When it comes to precious metals, it’s not just their greed that becomes excessive. A hypnotic attraction to gold and jewels awakens in them. Give them more and more precious trinkets, and they go into ecstasy, poring over them and counting to infinity.»

«So they’re attracted to Livellin’s coffers!» Gryamore guessed. «That’s why they come here all the time.»

«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.

«She is a poor girl!» The fairies whispered. «She doesn’t even know what awaits her.»

«If she stays here!» interrupted the chorus of fairies one fairy who was sitting on the branches of a laurel tree, which was turning golden by her presence. The gilding slowly ran down from the top of the tree.

Graymore gasped. These are real fairies who can work miracles. If you ask them about her future, unlike the phlegmatic skeleton, they will answer exactly what awaits her. After all, everyone knows that fairies are the most talented soothsayers.

And about whom they are now talking? Who is in trouble?

«If she knew the secrets of her kind,» the fairies whispered. «She would not have been so careless. She would not have made so many mistakes. She is wasting her great gifts. She looks for enemies in the wrong places. And they are right at her side. They are almost in her heart.»

«They are not in her heart!» The tree fairy objected again. «She doesn’t like them. Blood does not mean much. Often love in a family is only a formality, not a feeling. We know little of those who are kindred to us.»

«Her kin are dragons.»

«It is not yet.»

«And what about his kin? The most beautiful king in the world wears scales instead of jewelry. He burned his own kingdom because he couldn’t control his temper. Can he be bewitched?»

«He can! But is it worth it?» The fairy on the laurel yawned. «I’m going to sleep here,» she declared.

«Don’t you dare! Or the whole grove will be gold.»

«So be it! The princess deserved it. She fought gloriously for the laurel wreath of victory. Let the laurel here be golden in her honor.»

The fairy fell asleep, and the crown of the tree covered her with leaves as if she never existed. The other fairies whispered together.

«She is a poor princess!»

Is this any way to honor a winner? Graymore was hiding behind the laurel tree and eavesdropping on them. Did they know she was watching them? The fairies flew past her in a slew of glittering figures. One even whipped her on the shoulder with a wing and didn’t notice. Graymore looked in their wake and groaned. The laurel beneath her hands turned golden. The fairy had fulfilled her promise.

Flames in dreams

Graymore was thrashing about on the king’s bed. She dreamed of a dragon. They were either fighting or making love with him. Suddenly, instead of a dragon, there was a young man. Handsome as an elf, but his breath was fiery.

«Your blood is fiery,» said Graymore, «but you are not a dragon. How could that be?»

He kissed her, breathing fire on her lips. She was to burn. That was the end of the dream.

She was to burn with love in the literal sense, not in the poetic sense. It was a fiery romance!

Graymore could have indulged in dreams of the hero of her dreams all day, but business was urgent. She must pack for the road. If she did not defeat the dragon on the southern border, no one would.

The squires looked at the princess with reverence, as if she were a heroine.

«You are not coming with me,» Graymore informed them.

There was an answering gasp and a gasp of amazement.

«You can’t really go to the dragon’s lair alone, can you?»

«Of course I can!» Graymore was picking out the weapons she would take with her.

She had correctly calculated that if there was only one dragon, she wouldn’t need any helpers. She would be doubly unhappy if she were mistaken and the dragon had flocks of winged helpers in the bushes. Then she’d be walking into a trap. Graymore weighed the pros and cons, and decided that a dragon could have no helpers. She’d swallowed up all the dragons in her area long ago. So she had nothing to fear. No one will come to the dragon’s rescue.

«Won’t you even take us with you?» The squires lamented. They were all young and pretty. Everyone liked the princess, without exception.

«I will not need you or any of my knights to fight the dragon. I ride alone,» Graymore repeated in a peremptory tone.

«Do you need someone to help you hunt a dragon? How could you not take us with you?» The prettiest, most daring of the squires insisted.

«I am bewitched by the dragon’s fire, but you are not,» Graymore replied. «I can’t risk you all on a whim. A dragon would burn you in a single breath.»

The squires grimaced. Everyone knew that dragon fire does not burn an enchanted princess. But about the fire that rages within her when a dragon approaches, Graymore preferred not to tell anyone. Outwardly she remained invulnerable, her body unburned by dragon fire, but her soul burned.

The memory of her dream lover made her soul burn. Graymore struggled to concentrate on her choice of weapons. She would need an axe, a chain, throwing daggers, a mace, darts, a spare quiver of arrows, and, of course, a huge, sturdy bag to put the severed dragon’s head in. Graymore had no doubt that she would overpower and kill the beast.

«Don’t be so sure of yourself,» the laurel fairy whispered as she flew past the window of the royal castle.

«Did she really tell me that?» Graymore frowned.

«You are jealous!» One of the squires scolded the fairy and immediately cried out. He’d accidentally bitten his tongue. Swearing at fairies was dangerous.

Graymore was not angry at the fairy. After all the laurel trees in the avenue had turned gold, fairies could be forgiven for idle chatter. Let them snicker. Everyone knows fairies are sharp-tongued and love to banter with mortals.

«I wish I could catch a fairy and ask her for a fortune!» Graymore sighed wistfully. «It’s a pity fairies aren’t dragons, you can’t catch them.»

«You can beat a dragon,» the elder squire announced with aplomb.

Graymore patted him on the top of his head.

«I know you’re a fan. One day I’ll teach you how to hunt dragons.»

The squire flushed to his ears.

«If there are dragons left when I return from the Southern Woods. I’m probably overconfident, but I think I’m going to catch the last one.»

«Maybe after the dragons you’ll hunt griffins, basilisks or Naga? I hear there’s a whole nest of Nagas in the next kingdom.»

«Nagas, Gryphons, and Basilisks have done nothing to annoy me, but the dragons seem to have declared war on me. Why would they do that?»

«It is because you’re the Chosen One,» the squire suggested.

«I think there’s a deeper reason,» Graymore said, choosing her weapon. «I’ll need a little more provisions, but I don’t want to overload the horse. The saddlebags are already full of crafty dragon-catching implements. I must eat the wild apples that grow along the road. The forests of Livellin are full of wild apples and plums. And I can drink pure spring water.»

Graymore ordered the squires to sharpen their swords, and she herself went down to the cellars where the captive dragons were kept.

«Will you explain to me why you are hunting me? Has your dragon tribe declared war on me or on my realm? What do you want with me? Why do I disturb you so much?»

The dragons only wheezed and snarled in response. They must not know human speech. And their gleaming eyes said they understood. Their eyes are wise, but embittered. The skeleton adviser could translate for her, but he would never insinuate himself into the vaults. He is forbidden to leave the tower. If they put him in a horse-drawn carriage and drag him down to the cellar, he’d probably crumble to dust on the way. Life after death is a risky business. A dead wizard is haunted by various conventions and restrictions.

Graymore stared at the captive dragons for a moment. Her ringed fingers slid over the thick bars of the bars. Usually jewels attract dragons. Graymore was laden with it, but the dragons looked at her with disdain. One even spit fire in her direction. Not surprising, since she was the one who had captured them. If it hadn’t been for her, they’d be free in the sky, not locked up in a dungeon.

The fire spit did not burn Graymore. Dragon fire could not harm her.

«You are so beautiful and so vicious!» rebuked the princess.

The many-colored dragon eyes gazed at her from the darkness like a cluster of jewels. It was as if the dungeon held not dragons but sapphires and rubies and emeralds, as if they were alive inside them. Dragon scales shimmered in every hue of the rainbow.

«How could such beautiful creatures be so vicious and cruel?» Graymore thought aloud and turned to leave. She would get nothing from the silent dragons.

«How can you be so vicious and cruel to cage dragons?» A hoarse voice asked.

Graymore turned around. The voice was definitely not that of a dragon. None of the dragons in the dungeon had spoken to her. So who spoke? Graymore took a torch from a bracket on the wall and looked around. There was no one in the dungeons but the dragons. The guards on duty outside didn’t count. None of them had the audacity to address the would-be queen.

«The Invisible One speaks to me!» Graymore sighed and pushed the torch back into its bracket. Ripples rippled across the smoked wall, as if it were not a wall but the surface of a lake. The soot folded into letters, and the letters into an inscription:

«I am waiting for you in the southern woods.»

Graymore gasped and tried to blindly grab the invisible man, but there was no one in the void. But the head of security came running.

«Can you read?» Graymore asked him.

«Yes, my lady.»

«What do you see here? Read it!» Graymore pointed with her index finger at the wall.

«There is nothing at the wall, my lady,» the guard admitted frankly.

«What do you mean? Do you at least see the scribbles that look like letters?»

The guard shook his head in the negative. Maybe he lied that he was literate and simply could not read it?

«Forget it! Keep a better eye on the dragons!» Graymore decided it would be more useful to pay the skeleton one more visit before she set out on her journey.

The skeleton advisor was more benign today than usual.

«Are you leaving, then?» He glanced questioningly at the princess’s puffy pink muslin dress for the morning. «Shouldn’t you be wearing something more practical, like blazers and breeches and a helmet and boots?»

«Of course I should. That is what I intend to do, but just before the road, not now.»

«Still, don’t forget to bring at least one luxurious dress.»

«What do I need it for when I go to battle? Do you want me to seduce the dragon?»

The skeleton chuckled slyly.

«You never know who you will meet on the road. Is it an elf, perhaps? Or is it a sylph? Or is it even an elf king?»

«A dragon-king is it more likely,» said Graymore jokingly. «The dragon in the Southern woods is a peculiar one, I can sense it.»

«Do you sense it alone or in flocks?»

«Alone, but it’s as if he’s stronger than the whole flock. Isn’t that strange?»

«Yes, it is,» Graymore said. The skeleton gladly accepted another of the royal treasury rings that Graymore had brought him as a gift. The skeleton liked the large carbuncle set with small diamonds.

«Good luck, madam.» he said, wishing the princess good luck.

«Am I madam?» Graymore felt more like a dependant viceroy of a state, but the skeleton let her displeasure pass his ears, of which only knuckles remained.

«Take it for the road! It will come in handy!»

The skeleton gave her a hand mirror ornamented with silver runes to communicate with it. Graymore was already familiar with such magical objects. Through them one could talk and even see someone who was far away. All you have to do is look in the mirror and call out his name.

«Next time bring me a sharp scythe as a gift,» wished the skeleton.

«Like the mower in the fields?»

«It is exactly!»

«What do you need it for? The scythe is not made of precious metals, but of iron.»

«I know, but I want it anyway. It makes me look like death with a scythe.»

Well, a scythe is cheaper than jewels. Graymore said a courteous goodbye to the skeleton. After her conversation with him, the usual drowsiness struck her. The princess fall asleep right on the sofa near the old tower. She dreamed that the ballroom was full of dragons. They hadn’t come to dance at all, but to tear her apart, but one was on her side. Or is it just what it seems?

Forbidden Forest

Early in the morning, Graymore set out on her journey. The laurel fairies flew in a flock over the towers of the castle, whispering animatedly about something. She wondered if they were cheering the princess on her journey to fight the dragon, or laughing at her.

The townsfolk cheered, tossing their caps in honor of the heroine. It never occurred to the petty thieves and bandits, who made it dangerous to ride outside the city walls, that the princess could be attacked. After all, if she could handle dragons easily, what’s worth tearing apart a whole gang of outlaws?

Graymore could ride alone without a retinue or bodyguards. The bandits feared her. No one would dare fight a girl who could defeat a dragon all by herself.

The fame of Graymore’s exploits flew ahead of her. Dragons were angry and trembling, and knights and bandits took note that it was better not to mess with the reckless princess. After all, in a battle with her you might lose.

All in all, a safe journey through the forest was assured for Graymore. Her reputation as a dragon-hunter worked wonders. All manner of shady characters would flee at the first sign of her. Well done! Greymore enjoyed the solitude, the peace, the quiet.

The squirrel who threw an empty nut shell at the back of her head didn’t count. Graymore wasn’t going to shoot an arrow at her. Let her go ahead and play around.

«I could have killed you!» She shushed the squirrel, but it was already running away, clinging nimbly to the branches of a sprawling oak tree. All that was visible was its fluffy red tail.

«Squirrels had grown braver than dragons!» Graymore looked around. No golden statues could be seen in the thicket. Perhaps the skeleton had frightened her for nothing. This is a forbidden forest, after all. Where else would statues of the ominous deity be found if not here?

Graymore had long since crossed the line that separated the normal forests from the forbidden forest. Even the most daredevil cutthroats were afraid to enter this forest. But she came here, and nothing happened to her. Well, a cheeky squirrel threw a nutshell at her, but no demons surrounded her. And they say demons are like that in the forbidden forest.

Who would have thought that the forbidden forest is actually the most peaceful and picturesque corner of the wilderness?

According to legends, the forest was inhabited by evil spirits, so people tried not to go there. The forests, left by loggers, struck with beauty and fresh air. There are neither poachers, nor pickers of berries and mushrooms here. It was idyllic!

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.

«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!

Graymore glanced over Donata’s shoulder. By the way, she couldn’t see the statue from here.

«What are you? Are you a fairy?»

«It is not exactly, but sort of,» Donata spread her skirts, which looked suspiciously like a lizard’s tail.

«What kind of settlement is this?»

«It used to be human, but now everything human has fallen asleep.»

«You’re waiting for a chosen one to awaken everyone here.»

«There’s no need to wake anyone up. Everyone will wake up as soon as the usurper is dead.»

«The usurper? What do you mean» Graymore was astonished. «Where is he? Who is he?»

«The usurper is a dragon.»

«Good, because I thought it was a relative of mine. The thing is, this kingdom is ruled by the Livellin’s dynasty.»

«What do you mean?» The blonde was astonished.

«It’s Livellin’s territory here.»

«Livellin wasn’t even here when we were.»

«Were you? And who are you?»

«We were people of Marida.»

«I’ve never heard that name.»

«There are so many illiterate girls these days,» Donata touched Grayamore’s head gently. «But your usefulness to us is not in literacy. You are valuable in other ways. You can slay a dragon, can’t you?»

«I will,» Griamor promised.

«Are you sure?» Donata raised her ashy eyebrows questioningly. They curved in a cartwheel over her expressive blue eyes.

«I’ve killed so many dragons already. I can’t even count exactly how many.»

«That’s why your blood doesn’t taste good to me! It has the protections of a huntress in it! You’re nice, but you’re not tasty,» Donata stroked Graymore gently on the cheek. «When guests come to our house, I usually feel elation. The feast is coming.»

Grahamor closed her eyelids and saw the ring of dragon statues surrounding a stranded traveler. The man can’t get out of their circle. What happens next? Could it be that Donata is sending her such visions?

The mirror in Meverin’s saddlebag vibrated nervously, as if it were about to explode. The skeleton advisor seemed to want to have a conversation with the princess. Graymore didn’t want Donata to notice the magical object in her bag. Some gut feeling told her that Donata could not be trusted. Or could she? Donata resembled a beautiful fairy. She seemed about to turn the leaves fallen from the yew tree into gems.

«I can do it!» Donata read Graymore’s thoughts, and picked up the fallen leaves from the ground. In her hands the leaves turned into nuggets. «Take them if you want them. It’s payment for killing the dragon.»

«I only want the treasure from the dragon’s cave, not yours,» Graymore blurted confidently, and immediately regretted it. Honestly, she didn’t want the dragon’s treasure at all. Livellin’s treasury is piled high enough as it is. What she needs is the thrill of the hunt.

«Then I can heal you in gratitude,» Donata promised.

«From what is it?» Graymore wondered. «I am not ill of anything.»

«You are bewitched! Your blood seems to sprout whenever you smell a dragon.»

«That’s right.»

«And you like that?»

«It is not so much. It’s like I’m on fire inside. It’s very unpleasant.»

«Oh, I know what it’s like to burn at the stake.»

«But you’re not a witch.»

«What makes you think that?»

«Only witches burn at the stake.»

«It’s not just witches! You, for instance, feel like you’re burning at the stake as soon as a dragon flies close to your kingdom. It’s so excruciating!»

«Yes! You know what I mean.»

«I can see into people’s hearts,» Donata said smugly. «Fairies and elves are my clients too.»

«Are they your clients?»

«They are my debtors, actually.»

«You’re mysterious.»

«That’s right!» Donata smiled in a way that sent a chill down her spine.

«Who are you?» said Grahamor, curious.

«You know my name. That is more than enough.»

Donata leaned over and kissed her forehead.

«You have my blessing on the dragon.»

«So far I’ve managed without fairy blessings.»

«Your reaction to dragons is already a blessing.»

«I wouldn’t say that. It makes me uncomfortable.»

From the arches, the silent song poured out again. Donata looked wary.

«I must go,» she said. «You are so fresh and smell like a rose. When it begins to rain, you will be surrounded. It rains magically in these parts. Try not to stay out in the open when it starts raining. Otherwise, the ghosts of the rain will drag you into their world, and no one will be able to tame the dragon anymore.»

«What has the dragon done to you?»

«It is nothing in particular!» Donata shrugged her shoulders.

«Did it burn you? Are you a ghost?»

«I am not!»

«Then what harm has he done to you?» She asked.

«It is practically nothing.»

«Then why do you want him dead so badly?»

«I will be fair!»

The conversation came to a standstill. Graymore was tormented by suspicion, but there was nothing more to ask. Donata avoided a direct answer. Her words sounded like echoes. Nothing could be understood.

Graymore noticed a strange enamel locket on a gold chain around Donata’s neck. On the lid of the medallion hung symbols like those scrawled on the ground.

«Will I see you again?» Graymore asked as Donata stood up and walked out of the arches into the city at the sound of singing. The singers were out of sight, but the song was pouring forth.

«It is quite likely!» Donata lifted her green hem, stepped over the line on the ground, and disappeared as if she had never been there.

Ghosts of Rain

The rain began suddenly. Graymore hadn’t expected the downpour to catch her on her way. Her clothes and hair immediately got wet, and it was raining cats and dogs. At home, the princess was accustomed to travel in carriages or palanquins, but now she had not even brought a walking tent. She would have to do without it.

«A little more, and the trip to the dragon will cost me a cold,» the princess dismounted and left the horse under a sprawling oak tree. «Hold it right there, Maverin!»

The stone city was still visible in the distance. One could go back to it and hide there under the archway. Only it was scary to go back. The arches would start collapsing again, and the stone statues would come to life. The half-human, half-dragon figures had an ominous look.

The skeleton counselor advised Graymore to bring along a sort of fringed awning, stretched on long spokes. The contraption resembled a ladies’ sun umbrella. Now Graymore tried to unfold it and could not. Apparently, the spokes were rusted from the moisture. And the rain kept getting heavier.

Now would be the time to find the dragon’s cave and finally defeat the proverbial dragon. Graymore was already hissing at him with anger. Dragons were usually quick to fall for her summons. As soon as the fiery beasts sensed her aggression, they burst out of hiding. Another dragon was cunning. He hid. To challenge it to open combat would seem next to impossible. She wished she could find his lair! He must have a cave or grotto, or even a swamp, somewhere. Most dragons made their nests in the mountains, but there were also some at the bottom of large lakes, in peat bogs, in mounds, in gorges, and even in the sea. Graymore has captured dozens of dragons, maybe even hundreds. Thanks to her excitement as a dragon hunter, Livellin’s coffers have been enriched by tons of gold and precious stones. Even if the last dragon she did not capture was not the richest, she would not be disappointed. She has already brought fame and fortune to her kingdom. She is a heroine! Should she fear the rain?

Suddenly voices called out from the thick rain:

«Graymore! Graymore! Graymore!»

The princess was alarmed. Had they called her by name? Or had Donata conjured it.

In the rain ghosts Graymore did not believe, although frightening stories were told about them. Allegedly, people who encountered them were found strangled on the road. The impression was that the unfortunate people had drowned, even though the bodies of water were far from the place where the corpse lay. The last time some peasant woman was found on the road many miles from the well. She looked like a drowned woman, though it was dry land.

Graymore knew that drowned people could be found in a deep river or in the sea, but not in the middle of a stone city or a drought-stricken field. It is hard to believe that rain that has passed, could leave behind the bodies of drowned men. But eyewitnesses who have watched from their windows assure us that the ghosts of rain cause everyone who happens to be outside to drown in the downpour.

Somehow that sounds too fantastic! To be on the safe side, Graymore fumbled for her dagger on her belt.

«Do you believe in rain ghosts, Maverin?»

The horse roared longingly, as if sensing trouble.

Graymore was more self-assured. She’s the kind of heroine who can ride around without an entourage, being the princess of the richest kingdom. Everyone knows it is impossible to kidnap or kill her. After all, her self-igniting blood will ignite if cut and burn her attackers. So no conspirators wishing to deprive her of her throne would surely send a regiment of assassins after her. They know that such tactics will not work. If Graymore smells danger and cuts herself with a dagger, a drop of her blood will set the whole squad ablaze. After all, her blood is enchanted.

Perhaps it is no surprise that a girl whose destiny is to hunt dragons has blood of fire. Flaming blood can serve as a weapon of self-defense. Now, if the rain ghosts appear, Graymore will cut her finger with a dagger, and a drop of her blood will cause a flame to burst into flames. The rain ghosts will dry up.

«That is my tactic!» Graymore brings the blade of her dagger over her little finger with a triumphant look. «Come out of the rain!»

No one responded. For a while all that could be heard was the rustling of the rain’s trickles. It resembled the murmuring of water in a fountain. There did seem to be a fountain in the stone city. Where had it come from? When she had entered the city of arches, there had been no fountain. What a miracle!

Graymore gazed out at the distant arches, and didn’t notice the transparent hand running through her hair.

«Graymore! Your name means — the test of love!» A voice whispered excitedly through the rain.

A translucent face appeared in the streams of water, then several more faces. They laughed. Their laughter sounded like the rustling of water in a fountain.

«Come to us, princess!» The translucent figures surrounded Graymore. Their hands reached for her. They touched her clothes and stroked her hair.

«What a beautiful princess!» They whispered. «Let us take her to our king.»

«Get back!» Graymore pointed her dagger defiantly at her left hand. «Or you will all burn! My blood is fiery!»

The rain spirits laughed in unison. Their laughter resembled the sound of a torrent of water running over rocks.

«The water doesn’t burn!» They chanted together.

«Water is stronger than fire,» one particularly attractive spirit explained. He was translucent but seductive. «Fire goes out in water. Any dragon that doesn’t swim in the sea will drown.»

«Well, I’m no dragon!» Graymore swung her dagger.

«You are a dragon princess!» The rain spirits have determined.

«You are a slander!» Grahamore blushed at the suggestion. «I have nothing to do with these arsonists. On the contrary, I protect the whole realm from dragons. And you slander me for being in league with them!»

The Rain Spirits whispered for a long moment, and then one of them spoke up smartly:

«Being a dragon princess is not equal to being one with the dragons.»

«What does it mean?» Graymore was alarmed.

«It means having power over them.»

«To capture and destroy is my influence!» With aplomb Graymore declared, but she thought to herself that it was more likely that the dragons had leverage over her. She thought to herself that dragons had more of an influence on her than anything else, because if they ever got near her, her blood would burst into flames. The torment the princess endured was unbearable. The inner fire could only be compared to burning a witch at the stake. Perhaps she should ask the rain spirits why she burns inwardly as if she were a witch, barely smelling the dragons near her. The rain spirits seem all-knowing. They must know the answer. But what if for that she must first go to their king? Graymore weighed whether to ask them for interpretation, and the rain spirits kept whispering.

«Is it to hunt dragons or to love dragons? Which do you want more, fair princess?»

«Are you mocking me?» Graymore looked helplessly around at the translucent figures that surrounded her. More and more of them protruded from the rain. There seemed to be a legion of them.

«You could make a dragon army of your own, instead of exterminating them,» the spirits advised.

«There’s no way dragons would obey me,» Graymore could prove by advising the rain spirits to look into the dungeons of Livellin’s castle. Along with the drip, they could probably get there. The dragons she has trapped there are uncontrollable. She’s already checked that, but how do you explain to the rain ghosts that dragons are not chain bears.

«Don’t be a damsel in distress! What if the hunt turns into friendship?» One of the rain ghosts laughed.

«It is not a chance!» Graymore struck a pose.

«Let’s make a bet! If that happens, you’ll be our king’s bride. He’s looking for a bride, but all the girls who want to be his are drowning in the rain. And you have fiery blood, in the midst of magical rain you will not get wet to death.»

Graymore found such a suggestion dubious, but the spirit had already advised others:

«Get our suzerain here! I think we’ve found what we need! It’s a special maiden! A noble one, too! Not some milkmaid or reaper! She is a real princess. It is a perfect match!»

Graymore was frightened. She didn’t want to get married at all. She didn’t like the rain king. He must be made up of water.

«I’m going to rule my country alone,» she warned the pesky spirits. «If I am ever to have a husband, it will only be as a consort prince. As a heroine who has slain many dragons, I have the right to rule Livellin as a matriarch.»

«That’s good! The Rain King will flood Livellin and become your consort,» the spirits laughed.

Graymore imagined her native kingdom flooded with rain. Such a thing must not be allowed to happen. The spirits must be chased away somehow. The rain would probably stop soon. For now, the sky above the forest did not lighten, and the spirits surrounded Graymore and bellowed with myriad voices.

«The Rain King is coming!» One of the spirits proclaimed.

There was indeed a glimpse of something like a waterway in the thick rain, and a translucent figure wearing a crown was floating along it. The empty watery eyes peered at the princess.

It was time to get out of here. Graymore began to make her way through the ring of spirits. She must get back to Maverin. If the spirits try to stop her, she’ll cut herself, and her fiery blood will do them all no good.

The Rain King was already reaching out his hands to her.

«Here is she, your majesty!» The spirits nudged her forward. «Put the water crown on her before the rain stops, and she will stay with us forever.»

Someone’s transparent fingers brushed wet curls away from Graymore’s forehead, exposing clear skin. Immediately there was a startled shriek.

«It is Donata’s seal!» The rain spirits shrieked in chorus.

They screeched apart. Graymore touched her forehead. Where do they see the seal? There was no trace of Donata’s kiss long ago.

The Rain King was gone, too. His sigh of regret hovered over the forest.

It was a good thing he had come to his senses and was no longer trying to get a bride like the dragon-hunter. Graymore imagined the rain flooding the towers and spires of her home kingdom. In the midst of perpetual rain, dragons can no longer be hunted.

Suddenly the jets of rain burst into bright orange sparks. For a moment it looked like the rain was on fire. Graymore dodged the sparks and grabbed her crossbow. A dragon was flying across the sky. The same dragon she had been hunting. He was the one who breathed fire downward. Apparently it had a score to settle with the Rain King.

As soon as the dragon noticed the rain was ending, he flew away.

«What an elusive dragon he is!» Graymore stamped her foot in frustration. «I have to chase him all over the forest again! He was only just outside! If only I’d had time to aim! Does he fly away from me on purpose? He feels I can defeat him!»

A loud dragon howl in the distance would have startled anyone, but not Graymore. She was used to that kind of dragon sympathy. A dragon’s roar would have made even the mountains tremble.

«That’s right. The dragon is hiding in those mountains!» Graymore took a spyglass out of her saddlebag to spy the dragon’s flight. «I’ll wager he’s got a cave there, full of bones and gold. We’re going in that direction, Maverin!»

The horse showed no enthusiasm at having to hit the road again. If it were Maverin’s will, it would have grazed for hours in one place, but its mistress would not let it.

«The poor horse could burn if you find a dragon!» The rain had barely stopped, and a gnome had crawled up from behind a stump. There was a rainbow in the sky.

«Do you know exactly where the dragon is hiding?» Graymore sat down in the saddle and looked down at the dwarf.

«He is not hiding, we are all hiding from him,» muttered the dwarf.

«All of you? Who is that? You’re the only one I see.»

«It is the forest folk. They’re shy. But I noticed you, pretty lady, and thought you would do no harm to the woodland tramp. And your horse is absolutely adorable! Would you like to keep it with me while you hunt the dragon? I’ll keep it safe. And a dragon can burn it with one breath,» he said.

«You’re not one of the gypsies the dragon burnt in these parts, are you?» Graymore joked. It would be logical if the whole tabor burned down, and one runt escaped and survived.

The dwarf shook his head seriously.

«The gypsies aren’t here, but the evil elves are,» he warned her.

«I didn’t know elves were evil. Everyone talks of their beauty and goodness,» Graymore gripped Maverin’s bridle more comfortably.

«Elves are all kinds, and there’s plenty more where that came from. By the way, you’ve been a nuisance to one of them. Sheret swore he’d teach you a lesson.»

«Who’s Sheret?» Graymore glanced behind him, but there was no sign of the dwarf.

«How timid he is! Isn’t he, Maverin?»

The horse cautiously roared. It certainly didn’t like the local evil spirits.

«And now, let’s go!» Graymore spurred her horse slightly, and Maverin staggered reluctantly toward the mountains beyond the treetops of the distant pines. That’s where the dragon had flown, by Graymore’s reckoning.

Rose in the Dragon’s Claws

A rainbow spread across the sky. It resembled a fairy bridge of seven colors.

«I have heard that fairies and elves travel over bridges made of rainbows,» Graymore whispered in Maverin’s ear. «They have wings, so it’s safe for them to walk across bridges, because they can’t fall down. People aren’t allowed on them without a fairies’ guide or an elf steward. The trick is that only the chosen fairies and elves can get on the bridge of the rainbow. Really, it’s curious! If some elf fell in love with me, I could travel over rainbow bridges. It would be more convenient to hunt dragons from them. By the way, do dragons have the ability to fly onto rainbow bridges?»

There were no winged figures in the rainbow. The air was pleasantly fresh after the rain. A sweet scent of roses wafted in from somewhere. Why were there roses in the middle of nowhere? There are probably rosebushes somewhere in the thickets that bloom in the spring. Roses smell especially strong after a rain. The smell of roses followed Graymore all the way, but no roses could be seen.

«A dragon can’t live in a garden of roses,» Graymore thought aloud, «unless it’s guarding some fairy’s garden. Then it would be harder to kill it, since its mistress would stand up for it.»

She didn’t want to argue with fairies. Once she had already argued with a capricious water fairy over a well dragon. The fairy would never let her shoot the dragon that guarded her well. Graymore both swore and bargained with her, and in the end she blew up the entire well. The vengeful fairy nearly drowned her in the river for it. Only Graymore’s fiery blood saved her from revenge. The princess cut herself on a sharp rod by the shore, the blood on the scratch burst into flames, and the water fairy was frightened. She flew away, and Grayamore forever remembered that it is better not to argue with water fairies, even over dragons. The wisest thing is not to hunt dragons in the water, but to wait until they crawl out on dry land.

But what is about the garden fairy? You kill her dragon-keeper, and the rose garden will grow so large that the kingdom will not be left. Graymore heard from the ambassadors the story of how the rose garden fairy got revenge on some prince who refused to marry her. Her roses grew everywhere, even in the bodies of the prince’s subjects. Sharp thorns pierced the prince’s heart, and the triumphant fairy settled next to his skeleton. It seems that that principality was called Shali, and only a mountain pass separated it from Livellin.

Graymore didn’t want to deal at all with the aggressive rose fairy. She killed her lover just for refusing to marry her. The smell of roses is probably coming from over there. If roses are witchy, they can smell for miles around.

«What a pleasant fragrance is it! Isn’t it, Maverin?» Graymore inhaled the fragrance of the roses and suddenly felt dizzy. The roses seem to be witchy. Their scent can make you fall asleep for centuries, or even die. There are stories about people who get lost in the woods, smell the scent of magical flowers or taste the fruit offered by fairies, and then turn into half monsters. Fairies and elves trap their slaves in this way. They can come out of the forest, give you a magical fruit or a wonderful flower, but once you smell the flower or eat the fruit, your body will change, scales will grow, your legs will become tails, and you will have to crawl like a lizard and serve the fairies. There were many legends about prisoners of the magic kingdom.

Graymore was somehow certain that this time it wasn’t the fairies and elves who were conjuring, but the dragon.

«He wants to lull my guard with the magical scent of roses!» Graymore complained to Maverin.

The horse did not care for her assumptions. While the mistress was tormented in doubts, it stopped happily to chew the grass-weed again. Maverin is such a glutton!

«Come on, let’s get a move on! Don’t be lazy!» Graymore slightly spurred the horse.

The mountains were not far away. They loomed ahead as if they were within arm’s reach, but as soon as they had traveled most of the way, they receded. It seemed to be some kind of magic trick.

Someone doesn’t want her to get to the mountains. Probably it was the dragon itself. He probably keeps his treasures up there in the mountain caves. People enchanted by dragon magic could walk in circles around a place and never get to it.