Читать книгу Graymore is a dragon hunter - Natalie Yacobson - Страница 3

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.