It was cold and scary. It was as if gryphon had figured he had every right to her, for she was the one who had first started chasing him. She was mistaken! What could he do? If hed known her to speak human, shed have apologized. There they would have parted ways. But a gryphon didnt know human speech. It was useless to ask him to go down and let her go free, so Fiona cried and kept silent.
You have played the game! Curious fool! Goes looking for an adventure on her head! She had her eye on a golden bird! It would have been better to find a dragons treasure. A bird of prey doesnt have golden feathers. And theyre hardly made of pure gold. It is just the color of gold. Fiona scolded herself. She should have been more circumspect.
Ornellas annoyed cries came from somewhere downstairs. She was not happy to have a toy taken away from her. Fiona was tired of feeling like a toy. Now it was scrapes and scratches, now it was flying in a birds claw! Its an outrage! And the annoying shouts of the arrogant lady are cutting to the ear. How can she even hear the voices of people left far below? Not even the mountain tops can be seen anymore. They have disappeared below under the clouds.
The gryphon hugged her tighter. He was agitated for some reason and even looked back. Fiona screamed now. Its sharp claws pierced the fabric of her dress and then sank into her skin. Somewhere behind her there was a sound. It was an overhead echo that picked up her cries. No, there is no echo in the clouds! Someone was flying behind them. Fiona tried to look back. There were many griffins there. A whole flock! They are catching up.
The gryphon carrying her stirred and flew faster than the wind. Had he decided to take her only for himself, without sharing her with the others? Is she his dinner? What else would a large bird of prey need her for?
The flapping of wings behind him grew louder and louder. There was no escape now. One gryphon had already separated from the flock and was gaining on them. Fiona was frightened. If they fought over their prey right in the air, she would not escape the fall and death. She suddenly realized that her greatest fear was to crash to her death. Once she and a friend were taking sacks of flour to a feudal castle, and she saw a noblewoman there who killed herself by throwing herself from the castle wall. Everyone said she had been driven mad by a coastal witch who had wandered into the castle, but that was not what struck Fiona, but the condition of the fancy-dressed body, which had turned into a bloody puddle. Bundles of feathers protruded from the torn flesh. So the griffin feathers tickling her cheeks at the moment reminded her involuntarily of the shock she had experienced in the past. Was it a bad omen that she would end up like the lady who smashed her forehead on the blocks beneath the fortress wall?
Now the two griffins would collide in the sky, and there would be no fighting. But the griffin carrying her suddenly released one claw and golden lightning flashed through the clouds. The bird that had been chasing her screamed in frustration. The lightning struck it and ignited the plumage on its chest. The flock behind it also let out agitated shrieks. The lightning must have struck them, too.
Fiona suspected something. The lightning was as golden as the gryphons claws. Could it be magic? And griffins themselves are widely regarded as magical birds. Fortune is said to smile on whoever sees one, at least from a distance. Fiona, on the other hand, has only grinned at the grim tragedy. Apparently she is a rare loser.
The gryphon broke away from the chase and began to descend. A green plain appeared below. Now he would land and feast. On Fionas flesh and bones! He wondered if there would even be bones left of her when he was sated. Though why bother? She hasnt any kin whod look for her. If she goes missing, no one will even notice. Except the farm boys who liked her would miss her. And it is not for long. After all, there were plenty of pretty girls in the village.
The valley below was not strewn with skeletons left over from the griffins meals, but Fiona was still worried. The gryphon carried her over the plain, the woods, and the marshy lowlands where the reeds rippled. The land approached menacingly. Now the gryphon would wire its prey over the great boulders. Fiona squinted in fear. Suddenly the claws around her waist loosened.
The gryphon threw her down onto a rough, moss-covered mound like a thick carpet. Fiona fumbled for the stones beneath her these were steps! They were scratched and old. They looked like the carcass of a ladder.
Fiona looked around. Gryphon had carried her into the ruins. He had disappeared somewhere. She hadnt even heard him fly away. The clapping of its enormous wings was like the sound of a whip. She could not help but hear them.
«She is one of ours! Shes definitely one of ours!» The voices echoed from everywhere, but who had said so?
Fiona looked around.
«She is one of us! She was just lost!» The echoes in the ruins sounded like recitatives or prayerful chants. It was as if witchcraft had been wrought in the place. Echoes of laughter and hymns to the darkness were heard.
It was getting dark. Fiona struggled to her feet and walked a little. Her whole body ached. Scratches and abrasions could not be counted. Yes, the griffins had taken their toll on her. She really did feel like a big rag doll, played with and discarded. Right on the road! Or rather, it was in the ruins.
Even to be in the ruins is dangerous. Everything here is fragile, already partially destroyed and ready to collapse again. The remains of walls and towers reminded her of the castles of feudal lords. Apparently it had once been a castle, but now there was moss between the stones. The ruins of the walls themselves were gnarled and crooked. What had happened here? Was it a earthquake or a war? Could cannons and battering ram have done such damage? In the village, theyd say witches and fairies had had a hand in it. But the village was so far away that no locals would get here. The ruins were in a deserted area.
«Dont worry, they wont get in here!»
Fiona turned around at the voice. Something motley was looming in the shadows of the ruins. The figure of a jester! What was the jester doing in the ruins of the castle? Is he a remnant of the old masters? The castle had been destroyed, the owners slaughtered, and somehow the jester survived. He must be a friend of the fairies, if thats what happened. He has the face of an inhuman, like an elf or a nix. His cheekbones are pointed, and so are his ears. Silver bells were dangling from the horns of a jesters cap.
«Who are you?» Fiona moved toward him and found that there were already several jester figures on the ruins. They were multiplying, like reflections in shards of mirror.
Was this a mockery or some kind of trick? Everywhere Fiona went, all she found was a void instead of a jester. And the jester figures themselves were already multiplying in other places: on the walls, on the carcasses of towers, on the scratched staircases. In general, it was away from her.
«I dont like jokes!» Fiona pouted angrily, stomping her foot. «If thats the way you are, Im going.»
Her stomping caused the ground to sink in, creating a hole. Inside the hole something sparkled enticingly. It looked like a jar of gold pieces! Was it a fairy joke? Fiona was afraid to bend down and check. It might be some kind of trap.
But a clear voice commanded:
«Take it now that youve found it!»
What was she to do? Fiona opened the hole with her bare hands and pulled out a pile of gold coins mixed with colored stones and jewelry. It looked like real gems! What luck! And theres no one to thank. The jester figures had all disappeared, as if they had never existed.
Fiona was intrigued by one pendant in the shape of a sickle. It was certainly gold. A peasant girl would draw unnecessary attention to herself if she wore it around her neck, but Fiona couldnt resist. The thing drew her like a magnet. She hated to part with the pendant now. Pity the chain was too short to hide it behind her corsage. The glitter of gold on a deserted road can only attract burglars.
«Youd be better off hiding in the ruins. No one will find you there,» the voices whispered in chorus. But since the voices were out of sight, Fiona decided they were not to be trusted. She could not trust the voices! To be alone in the ruins was frightening. She wondered if there were bandits nesting there at night. The jester costumes might be a good disguise for them. Theres a reason theres gold hidden here. It could only come from the old owners of the castle or from the bandits who buried the treasure. But it was buried too shallow. But who knows, maybe if one dug a little deeper, one might find an entire gold mine under the ruins.
It was time to get out of here. The ruins stretched like a labyrinth. It took some time to find the way out of them. They were not too far from the road, as it turned out. If you look at them more closely, the ruins resembled a spiral with many twisted staircases, leading into the void and ending, as if they had been built on purpose into the sky. How convenient for those who want to land on the ruins from above. For the birds!
She shouldnt have turned around before she left. Fiona noticed the brightly colored robes and bells again. There was a jester standing by the ruins, and in the ruins themselves there were many figures in motley jester outfits: both male and female. Are there women jesters and what are they called? If the jesters outfit is the same cut as these, they could also be mistaken for colombina. She was not in the legendary Sickle of Mockingbirds, was she? Its not in ruins, but in a closed ring of mountain ridge, and the way there can be found only at the full moon, and not everyone, but only those who are attracted to the spirits.
Motley figures soared over the ruins like a flock of colorful ghosts. How silent they were! They were bright but ominous. It was time to run away from here. No one tried to detain or catch Fiona. Only an echo of many voices echoed everything in her wake:
«She is lost!»
It was not until morning that she reached the road that led past the mountains to familiar places. Fiona was tired and out of breath. Her disheveled red hair was like flaming yarn, tangled with twigs and dry leaves. Her dress was torn, her skin scratched by bird claws. She looks like a beggar! But she had a pile of real gold coins with her! Fiona didnt even know what she was going to spend them on. She had to put the coins in her pockets and throw the pile away. Carrying it was inconvenient.
At night Fiona snoozed by the side of the road and had a dream. The jesters spirit assured her that the sickle around her neck and the month were almost the same thing, that it would always lead her to buried treasure. With the money she finds, she can buy an entire estate, not just a new mill or farm. And if she keeps looking for treasure, she could become queen herself.
«There is so much treasure hidden in the earth! Only spirits can see them, but they cant use them, and you can! You have a special gift! We need you! But many others, alas, need you too!» The jester whispered. His face had a chalky hue, but his features were beautiful. It was only the laughing, snide eyes that spoiled the whole impression. They made it seem like he was mocking her.
The dream did not last long. Waking up, Fiona set off again. The road was dark, but she walked at random. Strangely, the pendant around her neck glowed like a yellow fire, helping her to navigate. Did gold have the property of glowing in pitch-black darkness?
They say that in the big cities at night they fasten torches in brackets on the walls so that the noblemen can walk in peace. But on the country road at night, you cant see anything further. You cant see further than your nose. So Fiona didnt walk at night. This was an exception, and it was only the fault of the griffin that had led her nowhere. Fortunately, at least the direction in which to go, she guessed correctly, or else she would go to another village or even in another country.
Seeing the luxurious carriage left by the mountains with no servants, no coachman, and even no horses, Fiona was wary. She even rubbed her eyes, just in case. The carriage had not disappeared. So she had not imagined it!
Such fancy carriages she had only seen from afar. And here she could even touch it. Coats of arms gleam on the sides and top of the carriage. The frames of the doors and windows are gilded. The velvet curtains are purple to match the velvet upholstery of the carriage. On the fenders and inside the carriage were piled sacks of costly fabrics, or Fiona was dumbfounded. Corpses! They were corpses! Brutally mutilated and even dismembered. From a distance they looked like large rag dolls, covered in red paint. Horse carcasses were lying in the mud on the road near the carriage. The human remains, judging by their clothing, belonged to noble and wealthy gentlemen, as well as their groomsmen.
One corpse appeared to be female. It was a girl. She was a redhead just like Fiona herself. Only, unlike Fiona, she was dressed in an expensive velvet gown. She could not be mistaken for a peasant girl. She was an aristocrat. Only her high position did not save her. Someone had strung her up like a puppet, placing her palms on sharp staples on the ceiling of the carriage. Her dainty hands were torn in places where there appeared to be jewelry. Her fingers were missing. They must have had rings on them, which could only be removed with the fingers themselves at the same time. If they were torn off by birds, those birds have the instincts of magpies. Except the magpies werent so big and their claws werent sharp enough to disfigure a corpse like that. It looked like it had been run through a grater. The eyes had been pecked out of the pretty maidens head. A necklace of scratches was left on her neck. There was a mark on her forehead, placed by a birds paw. Apparently it had been played with, too. The victim had simply been blinded.
Fiona shuddered involuntarily. The same thing could have been done to her, after all.
No doubt the griffins had killed everyone in the carriage, and the bodies all bore the marks of birds claws. The bodies had been ripped to shreds. One mans body was crucified at the milepost. Feathers had been thrust into the deep wounds. Fiona walked over and touched them with her fingertips. There was no golden feather among them. But the corpse bore a striking resemblance to the body of Lady Eveline de Joel, smashed against the castle walls. That was the name of the noblewoman who had jumped from the castle roof. Fiona already doubted that she had jumped by herself, not without the help of birds.
Her touch made the body on the pole twitch. The dead mans eyes fluttered open. They were rotten, but not torn out.
«You are the redheaded spirit!» The dead lips whispered.
«So you are not dead?»
«How could you tell?» The empty eyes, without pupils, were dead for sure.
She wondered if the corpse had come back to life and spoke to her. More like another dream.
«What happened to you all?» She asked. It was foolish to speak to a dead man. She wondered what kind of trouble it would lead to. That it would drag her back to the other world. But she was used to getting into trouble.
«The birds have flown in!» whispered the crucified corpse, whose hands and feet were pinned to the pole with what looked like shards of claws. «They were crowned birds! Run from them! And no, its too late to run! You have a mark on your forehead! Theyll find you anyway!»