Читать книгу Graymore is a dragon hunter - Natalie Yacobson - Страница 8

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.