The beautiful curve of its eyebrows, though marbled, and the carelessly haughty flutter of its wing were so characteristic of him. It was amazing how, from this distance, she could even see the expression on his face. It was truly a dragons eyesight. She was afraid to look up at the statue again. It was better to look at the passersby and the people crowding the port. Their gray, expressionless faces and diminutive figures were much safer than watching a statue come to life. Thats when she spotted him, the giant in the cloak. The familiar figure was moving nimbly through the crowded lines as if there was a tunnel between them. And there was nowhere to go but through them. Now Rhianon shuddered. Even beneath the billowing cloak she could see the shape of wings. And the figure itself was familiar. Those shoulders, the curved chest, the height, the hands, the handsome thin fingers that held the curtains, the golden threads streaming out from under the hood all so familiar, so near and yet so indescribably distant. Now the stranger would raise his face, and she would see the burning blue eyes of Dennitsa.
Run while theres still time, the same voice whispered.
Run? Is it from him? How could she flee from him? If only he would let her. Rhianon was torn between the desire to stay and to hide in the crowd. Was it him, or was she just imagining it. But the little voice above her ear was already screaming again that she must run, and she obeyed. Soon the port and the city itself were behind her. Rhianon held the reins of her horse as it carried her through the valley, past thickets of heather and small hills. The mountain ranges in the distance beckoned. What if there was a dragon there? She could not see steam or flames rising over the mountains, nor could she sense the proximity of treasure or magic, and then she rode on. She needed to negotiate an alliance with at least one of the dragons. What if none of Madaels servants wanted to talk to her? The dragon packs only obey him. That she had already seen for herself. But there had to be one exception. She wondered if any dragon might be seduced by her beauty and serve her, betraying their first master? It is improbable, but one of them might be tempted by Dennitsas repetition of her face. If it is so dear to them, then what is it. Rhianon bet primarily on her charms. Well, maybe some cards, too. Shed even forgotten that one deck was still with her. It was the very first card deck in the world that Orpheus had made especially for her. It could be used in case of an emergency. After all, that was how she had gotten Athenais to agree. She simply had no choice but to gather helpers for Rhianon. Then she would have to be fitted to gather the rvil spirits as quickly as possible. Rhianon wasnt going to procrastinate with the war. Except that for a first offensive, she wouldnt need Ferdinands troops and small, flattering imp, shed need someone more intimidating.
Give me a sign when you sense a dragon near, Rhianon whispered to the harpy sleeping in her saddle. The creature, sensing the opportunity to rest, curled up snugly as a salamander in a crucible, cooing for gold. The harpy was of no use to her asleep in the saddle, and Rhianon tried to shake her awake.
Do you think I can do it?
She heard nothing but a sleepy, indistinct mumbling in reply. The harpy was obviously unhappy about being poked and prodded. She used to run at the first call. Thats how Ferdinand makes supernatural creatures unhappy with his excessive attention. If he treats his subjects the same way, he will be lost. Rhianon involuntarily thought of the conspiracy. Yes, he needed the queens firm hand and her urgent advice. The blond fellow doesnt know how to run a business himself. Hes gone to fight a dragon, thinking his armor will protect him. What a fool. Better on your own? One searches for a dragon in the mountains and woodlands.
If her plan fails, she will be in trouble. However, unlike the simple-minded Ferdinand, who can only count on himself, she always has one option. Call for Madael, and he will fly in. Even if he decides to abandon her, he wont abandon his supernatural child. Does he even know about him? Rhianon wondered. She did not say. But he could sense everything. How someone who knows every movement of sinners or impurity in the universe, both on earth and under the earth, may not know that his seed has sprouted and now an unearthly creation will be born. Dennitsa will become a father. Is he ready to be one? And what will his child be like? If he combines his beauty with his strength, it will truly be a disaster. How not to fall in love with him and how not to be hurt by him? The sun burns. Rhianon was not burned by her closeness to her beloved only because she herself was like the sizzling sun. Would the dragon appreciate her strength, and her beauty? Would he agree to an alliance, or at least a treaty, with her?
She looked once more at the valley and the mountain ranges. At last she sensed something. It was the nearness of something supernatural. Fire, dreams filled with magical memory, ingots and things of gold. It was all around her somewhere.
She frowned. What if she rode at random? The horse beneath her began to fidget. Rhianon felt him shudder and startle. The only thing that prevented him from jumping and fleeing was her strong hand clutching the reins. So she hadnt been wrong in her calculations after all. The animals reaction was evidence of that. Horses can sense a threat approaching, just as she herself senses anothers fire. The harpy in her saddle woke up, too, and perked her ears. Clearly the proximity of gold spears, precious deposits, and her former companion had attracted her, too. Rhianon had noticed that it was the jewelry that most attracted the supernatural creature here on earth. It was still different in the heavenly castle, but Dennitsa lived there, and away from him the harpys greedy claws reached for anything that even remotely reminded her of her former owner. She tried to tear a large sapphire from Rhianons dress until her claws scraped it off. She felt pity for the beast, and gave it a single gold coin. She was glad to see it. The feeling that the gold was Dennitsas glow was so strange. It reminded her of him, too. It was all the more clear why dragons were so fond of hoarding gold. With them they are closer to their dreams. Even the reminder of the warlord who led them to this days doom was so sweet that they would not let it out of their claws, would not let it out of their sight, and even would attack any man who saw a gem that caught their eye. In part, Rhianon understood them. If even here on earth her lover was such that it was impossible to resist him, then how was he to lead his heavenly armies into battle. It must have been a sight that burned them all as much as the punishing fire. Thats why theyre hoarding gold now. It was for the memory of the past and their idol.
Rhianon heard the gold coins clinking in the distance. The dragon himself was asleep, but the pixies were counting his gold, riding his pearls, climbing into gold goblets, and feasting there. When the sleeping monster awoke, Rhianon involuntarily shuddered. He was there in the mountains, in a deep cave, she on a stake in the wasteland, and still, when he opened his eyes, she felt it.
It was as if he were calling to her, and she drove forward, imagining rough, keratinized skin, scales like emerald armor, shiny yellow eyes. Eyelids covered with skin like a dense crust. The sharpest dagger could penetrate it, and not a scratch would remain. The weapon might break, but it would not wound a dragon. Rhianon had no reason to arm herself. No blade would line up in front of such armor. All she could rely on was her latent abilities. But if you do the math, they are just as reliable as any earthly weapon. She would achieve more with sorcery than she would with a sword.
It was as if he were calling to her, and she drove forward, imagining rough, keratinized skin, scales like emerald armor, shiny yellow eyes. Eyelids covered with skin like a dense crust. The sharpest dagger could penetrate it, and not a scratch would remain. The weapon might break, but it would not wound a dragon. Rhianon had no reason to arm herself. No blade would line up in front of such armor. All she could rely on was her latent abilities. But if you do the math, they are just as reliable as any earthly weapon. She would achieve more with sorcery than she would with a sword.
Be brave! Whether the same haunting voice whispered it to her, or whether she thought it up herself. It was no longer important. Rhianon had entered dangerous territory. There was no turning back. Now she would indeed have to be brave and uncommonly clever. She would have to negotiate, not fight. Who dares to offend his lords chosen one? That was one of the things Rhianon was banking on. They could not harm her. But they must obey her.
Well, theres nothing but trouble. She pouted, like a hurt child, and unintentionally released tiny rings of fire into the air. The horse beneath her roared in fright at the flames, but Rhianon pulled the reins tighter. The strength of her hand forced the animal to obey. And the strength of her will. Leading beasts was easy. One mental effort and they obeyed you. If only it were that easy with supernatural beings.
But if she could do the first, she could do the second. In the end she would succeed. After all, she is the queen of demons. Thats what Madael said. He wanted her to be his queen.
At the foot of a small hill, Rhianon dismounted and told the harpy to stall the horse. The sleepy beast became lazy. Rhianon pondered feverishly who she should leave to watch the horse. Not a harpy. She might need her nimble claws for anything. Stealing something, planting it, or fetching it on time, thats just what the sloth would have to cope with. Of course you cant steal anything in a dragons cave, but Rhianon was suddenly excited.
Hey, you, she called out to the tiny dwarf who had appeared suddenly at the foot of the hill. It wasnt Fate, and it wasnt one of her longtime acquaintances. Dressed all in red, the little man bore little resemblance to those she had met so far.
Rhianon rummaged through the folds of her dress and with a magicians gesture drew out a gold coin. The gold pieces were sticky to the silk fabric and didnt even need to be put into the little purse she wore on the lanyard at her waist.
Take it as a reward for your hard work, she held out a dwarfs coin. I want you to look after my horse.
The dwarf cautiously approached the horse. Rhianon heard him whisper a few sweet words before he took the reins. The horse did not seem to be frightened of him. That was a good thing. Except that the dwarf shook his head negatively at the glinting coin.
No payment, maam.
As you wish, Rhianon hid the coin back with mild disappointment. She couldnt wait to get rid of all the gold. It was as if it were weighing her down. She felt lightness every time she parted with a piece of gold. She wanted to dance right on the spot, as if it was not the empty purse that lightened, but her soul. Could it be that by parting with that enchanted money, any man could say goodbye to most of his misery and even disease. It would seem so. Rhianon hoped that by spending the last coin she would be rid of all her problems at once. And the main problem was Loretta. Or rather, the fact that she did not own it yet. Well, that was exactly what she was going to fix.
Rhianon cast a long glance at the mountain range. Rather instinctively she knew where the cave should be located. She could not see it from afar. Perhaps the entrance was enchanted. The girl sighed in frustration. No, she could not retreat. The harpy, already bustling around the hem of her dress, seemed to agree.
Already crossing the meadow separating her from the mountains and rocky spurs, Rhianon thought that the dwarf was right not to accept a coin from her hands. All those to whom the gold had fallen into the hands had died in strange ways. She thought of Leon and his conspirators, for example. It turned out to be simple, ridiculous, and quick. She wanted to buy off their evil with these coins, and she gave them death herself. It was a wonderful reward for their evil. Everyone gets what they deserve. If it is true, and the coins have such power, she will reward Lorettas advisors with them. But will she have enough coins for everyone. Rhianon could hardly keep herself from reaching into her purse right now to count the coins. She probably would have done so, had there not been an unsettling snore somewhere in the stony depths. Rhianon felt the proximity of steam and flame. Such sounds as reached her could only be made by a single creature. It was a dragon. Then she was almost there.
She took a deep breath in her chest and stepped forward. There must be a cave nearby. The sounds and sensations of something dangerous but desirable grew stronger. She held her breath. If anything, she might well breathe out fire now, and fire so strong that it would consume half of these mountains. There was a real elemental bubbling inside her, and something was slumbering in the depths of the cave.
The harpy lurking behind her train suddenly fell silent. Rhianon realized that she had to step into the darkness first. She found the entrance to the cave easily. As she drew nearer, the view of the mountain hollow opened up to her. If the path was enchanted for others, it was not for her. All doors in the magical world seemed to be open to her as of late. Along the way, she wondered if this was the same dragon cave where Madael had led her once. It didnt seem to be. It was much more spacious, and there was no hilly terrain or heather fields in front of the ridge. And there were shimmering stalactites and stalagmites, but here it smelled of slime and mold and stale blood. Rhianon saw a pile of tarnished weapons in front of the entrance. The blades were rusted with dried blood and something else. Green slime trickled across the stony floor, like dragon poison. It was the same kind that the creatures at the bottom of the well usually exuded. The glitter of the jewels in the distance also seemed too dim. What attracted Rhianon was something else: the books. The precious folio covers must have cost a fortune. One such book, with its gold clasps studded with carbuncles and sapphires, could buy its own fortress or estate. They were decorated with large emeralds, topazes, opals. One ruby, like a large tear, twinkled against the gold binding, and looked as if a heart had been taken out of her chest from afar. She wanted to open the books and see what was inside. Whether she could read the intricate symbols, the whole ligature of ancient witchcraft spells? Rhianon let her hands free and reached for the precious settings. The clasps clicked lightly, and immediately she pressed them with her finger and the pages, made of calfskin or maybe even human, rustled. The dry parchment resembled the rustling of autumn leaves. Autumn! Rhianon sighed softly. Soon it would be summer, the heat, the sultry days, the season of bright sunshine. But after all, the sun is associated with Madael, and thus with luxurious autumn. She met him in autumn, and autumn is a time of fading. The last flash of natures exuberant luxury paves the way for a harsh winter. What else could be more symbolic of the fallen angel? Autumn seems to characterize him his rise and his fall. Those brightly colored gems on the covers of witch books also remind us of autumn, colored with unusually variegated colors before the fading. Can the coloring of a gemstone also fade? Probably yes, but only with the demise of Dennitsa. As long as he is, the jewels will not lose their value, nor will they fade or crack like simpler, short-lived materials. It is as if he feeds his gold with his own life. Its part of him.