Kitabı oku: «Rhianon-5. Along the way of deception», sayfa 11

And how cleverly he did? Rhianon thought of the hunting lodge and Leon’s plot. Well, it all worked itself out, and beautiful naive Ferdinand did not even notice that he was on the verge of death. The arrow with the king’s name carved on its shaft went up in flames. Ferdinand survived and his enemies died in contrast. How to expose an ill-wisher in the guise of a friend, relative or associate? For someone who is diligent in his work, but simple in his family relations, it is difficult. Everything could have turned to his detriment.

Rhianon could have told him many things, but she held her tongue. It was too soon. Much more troubling to her was the fact that once again the people to whom she had handed the dwarf’s coins had died. This was not the first time this had happened, and she was seriously beginning to wonder about the effects of the gold she was carrying. She had very few coins left, but what power they had. It was the power to take someone’s life. Though in the latter case, she had disposed of the gold correctly. She would rather let Ferdinand live. She liked the open and honest man much better than the proud and hypocritical Leon.

“I am sorry for your loss,” she said. “But what could you have done against fate?”

“Only what you’ve done for me now,” he nodded toward the marsh, recognizing that her intervention had been fateful. Beneath the mire, there was nothing to ripple anymore. The threat had disappeared into the swamp.”

“I am fate itself,” Rhianon said boldly, though he could not yet grasp the meaning of her confession.

Within an hour they had become friends. As she was given a horse and the most comfortable saddle, Rhianon pondered how fate was whimsical. It did not take her a lifetime to win the sympathy of the councilors in Loretta, but it was enough to win Ferdinand’s affection in just a few seconds. His favor, his friendship, his support, if needed — everything was now available. No more racking one’s brains and making plans to get an audience with the king. There was no magic tricks, no flattery or lies, no intimidation, no pendant to help you move from one point in the world to another in an instant. Fate decided everything just like that. Rhianon didn’t have to make any effort. She just stepped on the right road at the right moment, and as Orpheus would say, all the cards fell into her hands.

Tiny pixies scattered under her horse’s cautiously stepping hooves. Whether she wanted to or not, Rhianon noticed them. Her unstoppable companions, spirits coursing through the atmosphere, whispered insidiously what she might have thought to be her thoughts.

“He is one of the most powerful rulers in the world, this sweet, charming boy. And perhaps now, with the strength of Loretta, his allies, and his adversaries undermined by the long war, Vinor will become the most powerful nation in the world. Guess your chances? You could get your kingdom back for one kiss.”

That’s the kind of thing only skilled tempters can say. They almost convinced her. And yet Rhianon frowned. She felt uncomfortable with her new acquaintance, too honest, too open to make him her plaything. Of course, her own plans came first, but right now, in the first minutes of acquaintance, she didn’t want to use Ferdinand. Then someday she would remind him of his duty. She herself had no recollection of saving anyone, but the dragon had cleared out when she appeared, which meant Ferdinand thought she had saved his life. It’s a strange conclusion. He was going to fight, wasn’t he? But a gentleman is always in a hurry to flatter a lady he likes. She will not fail to take advantage of it later. In the meantime, Rhianon only shushed the spirits.

“It is enough!”

“What, my lady?” Ferdinand was riding his white horse nearby.

“Nothing,” Rhianon pretended to stroke the harpy’s dark, protruding ears, which looked more like pointed axes. She herself would have gladly let the black companion run after her horse, but she was embarrassed to have Ferdinand watching. She had to take the harpy in her saddle and treat it like a tame monkey. Rhianon pondered intensely how the strange creature had managed to follow her at all. The harpy followed her mistress everywhere in the castle, but she could not sneak into the tower with Rhianon to the spirits, nor did she have a pendant to move in space. So how was she able to leave the clouded space? Who let her out of the castle? Hadn’t Madael sent her own servants to spy on her? Who knows, for servants could easily be bribed, and besides, they had originally sworn an oath only to him, not to her, and certainly preferred to stick to the strongest of masters. If only Rhianon could understand the language of the creatures, in addition to that of the birds, she could ask the harpy how she had come to be here. That she was looking for her mistress was certain. But what would it have taken for her to get to earth with Rhianon? She looked a little frightened. It was unusual for such an impudent creature.

Rhianon pretended to scratch and stroke her pet, but really only ran her fingertips over the black, charred skin. Were there supposed to be ash marks on her fingers after contact with the beast? Rhianon only grinned. There was no need to fear, she had the power to turn everything into fire and ash herself. She need not fear those who were the first on earth to be burned. And yet the fear was there, barely perceptible, but eerie and awe-inspiring at the same time. There were ashes from the wings of Lucifer and his subjects. All those who had suffered the wrath of the god and his injustice… they were burned, and the ash that remained of their beauty also held some mystery in it.

Rhianon trembled at the thought of seeing another dragon soon. Perhaps it would be easier for her to come to terms with. She had heard from Ferdinand before he had even opened his mouth about his little failed quest. It was easy to read about it, not only in his thoughts, but also in the unguided heads of all his attendants. They decided that with a small squad of crossbowmen and archers they could overpower the dragon that dwelt in the village. Alarming rumors reached the courtyard. Rather than ignore the complaints or send a few doomed men to the perilous place, as Loretta surely would have done, honest Ferdinand decided to fight the beast himself and chose his most dependable and valiant companions. His knights were good fighters, well armed and skilled, but they knew nothing of sorcery, and little of the power they would face. They were doomed. Had Leon known for nothing how hard he’d worked to find the enchanted arrow and pave the way for the palace’s coup d’etat? Or did he think his brave king would be safe from any danger?

And so it turned out. A fairy appeared from the forest and led the travelers to salvation. Rhianon did not consider herself a heaven-sent angel or goddess, but she could certainly save Ferdinand and his men. The handful of knights who had survived the first encounter with the swamp dragon could not stand up to the monster that lodged in the village. But Rhianon was not only going to tame it, she was going to draw it to her side.

Rhianon wondered if she could use the power of persuasion or hypnosis to persuade her faithful companion to wait a while and let the lady go first. If Ferdinand had been in his right mind, he would have been stubborn. Why, indeed, would a lady need a knight to protect her rather than accept protection from her? He had already failed the first time, and now he was eager to fight. He was eager to prove his superiority. His gauntleted hand clenched on the hilt of his sword. He checked the chain strapped to his saddle to see if it was still in place, and reminded his men that they’d do well to enlist the support of Heaven and say a prayer before they fought the evil one.

Heaven! Rhianon looked up at the gray clouds in the height.

Of course, the celestial creatures have enough power, but they all go only to continue the old war and the jealousy of the vanquished. No one cares about the world below. Thunder and lightning can rain down on it, make people miserable, scorch supernatural beings, but not give a moment of bliss.

Rhianon almost laughed. She had already snatched her moment in paradise. In the tent of his former lover, now cursed, was paradise. It was paradise for a moment. And now the fires of hell burned her from within.

But to burn in it was far more pleasant than to bow before a merciless deity who could hurt but was in no hurry to help. Now Rhianon understood Madael, his rage, and his pain.

Here is the village. They reached it on horseback much later than Rhianon would have had time to reach it on foot. Only she was in no hurry to show the knights the shortcut. She needed to think and prepare. Now she must find the dragon and negotiate with him, and do so before the knights could reach him. She did not want any of them to die. The dragon himself would leave these places if she could negotiate with him. Well, here was another difficulty, how she would explain herself to him. Would he understand her words? Somehow she had no doubt he would.

She would be speaking not to a mere creature, but to a hoarder of treasure, and perhaps even of witchcraft books. Not everyone has lost their mind since the fall. Some are still powerful. She remembered the wise eyes and the smooth movement of the manifold and multicolored iridescent bodies. Resembling mother-of-pearl, a copse of emeralds, rubies, or diamonds, the wonderfully beautiful skins of dragons still stood before her eyes. She would have wished she could have all of Madael’s army. And dragons, for all their fearsome power, are simply incomparable. Adoring gold for its proximity to the sun, and thus to the creature that had led them all to defeat, they themselves resembled something as precious as their treasures. As fallen angels they may be disfigured, but as newborn beings they are matchless.

Her dreams were interrupted by the bleak picture of an empty village. Slivers of rubble knocked out of walls, empty buckets, and torn off wagon wheels lay here and there in the empty roads. Somewhere walls and yards were scorched, rubble flew off, and poisonous fumes streamed over the well. The water must have been poisoned. And Ferdinand’s warriors were just now getting thirsty. They had not taken their own convoy with them, for the road was not very far. The knights intended to make short work of it. They were naive fools. They would never get back from here. Their few flasks of wine rested at the bottom of that swamp. Rhianon shuddered when she heard a low hiss and some strange noises, like pebbles rolling across the boardwalk to the recitation of spells.

The others didn’t hear it. Ferdinand didn’t even bother. For them, there was a terrifying silence over the empty village, no rustling of grass, no singing of birds, not even a mouse would have snuck by. There were no rodents or insects left. The dragon, with his spells and his obsessive devotion to Dennitsa, had frightened them all away. Is there something wrong with him? Rhianon sensed evil, magic, and an almost fanatical desire to avenge his master.

Rhianon tried to search her inner vision to see in which particular house or basement the beast might be lurking. She almost succeeded. The house with the red outhouse, the steep basement steps, the fluted basement pillars… she saw everything, but not with her eyes. Only the empty roads of the village branched out before her gaze. There were no people, no songbirds, no traffic in the road dirt and no signs of life at all. Only at one of the boardwalks a bright orange hem suddenly flashed. A woman emerged from the shadows. Her hair, as orange as her brocade, looked like flames. Her face was either a mask or a cluster of tiny burns. Rhianon shuddered when she saw her.

“Who is it?” She yanked on Ferdinand’s horse to draw his attention.

“I can’t see anything.” He looked ahead at her, distracted, toward where Rhiannon had pointed.

“Is that so?”

She couldn’t see anything now either. There was a pang of shadow and a pang of fear. The woman had frightened her for some reason. But was she? After all, no one else had seen her. Maybe it was just an imagination.

No, it wasn’t. Rhianon shook her head stubbornly. “How can it be something that makes your blood run cold? The vision may fade, melt away, laugh at you, but the fear it created remains.”

The ghost that had appeared more than once had shattered her self-confidence a little. After all, she had seen a similar bright flaming silhouette near the barn before, and later, when she had fallen asleep in the cellar near the barrels of miracle wine. She could not mistake or mistake the fantasy created by the potion for reality. Eve’s ghost was real, too. Just because he hadn’t bothered her lately didn’t mean the boy had rested in peace. He was wandering somewhere between worlds, and not a man because of his genius, merely the victim of a fallen angel, the object of his passion and his rage. Rhianon could only sympathize with Eves. She knew his story, but the barn ghosts remained a mystery to her. Sometimes she felt them trying to make their way to her through the thickness of non-existence. It was most often in dreams. Only they hadn’t succeeded yet. And suddenly she had such a clear vision. Even if it only lasted a moment, but the woman in the orange dress looked so real and alive, as if the truth stood very close at arm’s length and could be touched. This is the nearness of the grave. Rhianon was frightened by even the thought of touching something like that.

“Maybe we should split up,” she suggested. “It would be easier that way.”

“Okay,” Ferdinand immediately assessed the positives. “You stay here and someone to protect you. We’ll look around the village.”

“No,” Rhianon touched his elbow with her hand. “I will go ahead. You must trust me.”

He stared at her for a moment, as if he were gazing into her soul. Then he reluctantly nodded. Rhianon knew that he had many questions, but he was too shy to say them out loud. He’d seen the dragon crawl away into the marsh at her mere sight, watched the harpy obey her, and suspected that the beast was unusual. What else could his naive, superstitious head suppose? And yet if he had been so superstitious he would have been afraid of intimacy with the fairy. Who does not know that the beauty that came out of the forest can take the knight’s soul captive and leave his body to die? The black longing for elves is a parable in tongues. Who is not afraid to face the evil one and surrender his mind to it? Ferdinand was not afraid. So he must be respected, or at least admired. Rhianon smiled weakly.

“That dragon wasn’t the only one,” he muttered.

“Not the only one…”

“It will run from you.”

“We shall see,” Rhianon said, not that she wanted a repeat of the situation, but of course she couldn’t explain his reasons. “I’ll have to check it out. That’s what I’m supposed to do.”

He couldn’t understand her, but he nodded. How nice when someone always agrees with you and takes the time to pry the truth out of you. Rhianon was grateful for that, and also for the fact that he spoke in half a voice for fear that the attendants might overhear them. They did not possess the ability to read minds, so they had to be content with guesswork. Rhianon was glad of that. She had no intention of explaining herself, nor did she wish to. She had a feat in store for her, an opportunity to negotiate with a dragon. Or perhaps defeat, quarrel, and war. The second was undesirable, if only because of the vulnerability of Ferdinand and his companions. If he and the dragon began shooting fire and magic at each other, there would be only a handful of ashes left of the people hanging around. It was much easier and more comfortable to understand each other. That was what Rhianon was going to achieve. She was almost certain their lord’s chosen dragon would not be harmed in any way. But to serve her, would any of them agree to it? They already had a lord. Who needs her? Rhianon decides to take the risk after all.

Bravo, Orpheus would tell her, and would push her forward with jokes and warlike appeals. She could almost hear his mocking voice teasing her as she entered the village. Rubble crunched under her horse’s hooves. Rhianon dismounted and led him. The animal would sense danger and be sure to buck and then she would have to hold him back.

She could handle it. Rhianon felt a rush of strength. Calming a rampaging horse was no problem for her now. In addition, the beasts can feel the fire within her, and reluctantly have a certain awe of its owner. The beasts have always been obedient to her, both her father’s falcons and hounds and burrowing racehorses. It is easy to tame those who recognize your power. Only it was not enough for her to achieve, she attempted more. To lead those who conquered the heights of the heavens was what she wanted more than anything else.

A few more steps and she caught the sound of quiet snoring and the clinking of coins and a child’s crying. It was all happening somewhere nearby. No, more likely on the surface. She could hear the coins roll across the boardwalk and stiffen in front of the trapdoor leading down. It was worth using her clandestine vision to look more closely, but Rhianon was now concentrating all her energies on locating herself. Where, which way did she have to go to reach the right door or hatch?

She went at random, trying not to get too far away from the enticing sounds. The gold tinkled so invitingly, and with it a hissing, mocking-like sound and the almost unintelligible words of an unearthly language.

Rhianon stopped, noticing the fiery symbols scorched on the oak walls. It was a wonder the houses hadn’t crumbled from them. The charred marks, made either by a dragon’s claw or fiery breath, were folded into ancient and frightening signs. Rhianon held her breath. She remembered these symbols. She had seen them before… no, not her, and not in the books in Madael’s castle, though they must have been there. She had seen them through his eyes, there in the celestial war, marks drawn with the tips of fiery swords on the still pristine white skin of the defeated angels. Those marks were on him, too-his scars. Rhianon remembered his pain. He was used to pain and endured it as people endure life, full of complications, but so commonplace. Those who fell with him were akin to him. They, too, knew it.

Oh, Madael! Rhianon reached forward to touch the scorched symbol. Then she heard a hiss behind her. Her hand froze halfway. The dragon was very near.

Rhianon turned swiftly. So she had chosen the right house after all. Only it was not right in front of her, but behind her. She might have walked right past it. Now she was standing just at the end of the right building, and she could hear what was going on inside. The hissing was more audible here, and the proximity of the flames more palpable. Droplets of hot sweat appeared on her forehead, almost burning her skin. Rhianon brushed them away with her hand and walked around the house. Better to go through the door. Her appearance would be unexpected either way. She could feel the fear of the captive children, still alive but beating like birds in the force, and she could also feel someone else’s malevolent enjoyment of their fear. It was just coming from the creature she was looking for. God, she would have to negotiate with him, too. It would swat her with one paw, and do so with gusto.

Rhianon hefted her chest full of air, so that she had something to puff on her attacker in case of danger. She, too, can create fire. She was bubbling inside. It would be easy to turn her emotions into flames, if need be. Awe, anticipation, fear, rage, the nearness of triumph-she experienced it all at once. It made the pressure inside her sharpen, too. She herself was like a red-hot furnace. She wondered if the dragon would notice and respect someone who was his equal.

It would be to her advantage.

“Well, wish me luck, Orpheus,” she laughed mentally at her fears. Of course, her mocking spirit was not there, but the memory of him, perpetually cheerful and as if drunk, allowed her to look at everything with a sense of humor.

That was what she lacked now, and also faith in her own strength. If Orpheus were there and he would certainly help with advice or a joke. In the meantime she would have to rely only on herself.

Rhianon pushed open the door, wobbling on half-torn hinges, entered and was stunned. The coins themselves rolled across the floorboards and jingled at her feet, clinging to the hem of her dress. They were as if they were alive. Rhianon tried to shake them off and couldn’t. She noticed the children in the corner, huddled together, and the creature beside the hearth, drawing fiery symbols with its claw. They hovered above the red-hot brazier, forming clots of flame in the height.

“Circle, circle, each in turn shall die…” she repeated in a whisper like a rhyming rhyme what was probably being said here more than once. Her head was spinning. Rhianon struggled against the doorframe to keep herself from falling. Her eyes went black. All she could see were symbols of fire against the pitch blackness, and voices tearing through the silence.

“It is enough!” She whispered. And the dragon’s head suddenly turned toward her. She could see through the gloom its eyes, gleaming and piercing. They really looked into her soul. Rhianon suddenly realized that the old rags, lying like snakeskin on the floor, were his cloak. He could pretend to be human and pretend to be a wanderer, like the angel of death. He was very tall, disproportionately built, with claws on his hands and scaly rough skin on his body. He was even mistaken for a pilgrim. So he would come to the villages and then become a dragon. That’s a neat trick.

It was only with this that she realized that he was not the only one. Others, too, are capable of becoming human. Some only on full moons or days of special rituals performed in a ring of boulders they had herded together. These are moments of redemption. For some they are like a gift. Those beautiful dragons with ruby or emerald scales can even become beautiful suitors and fool the ladies. But it doesn’t last long. And how many hearts are left broken. Is all this for a dragon? Some are as ugly as the gentleman in black who nearly kidnapped her. Some are even handsome. Some pretend to be wanderers in tattered cloaks, or poor wanderers, they beg for shelter, but when it is too late to cast them out, they take on a hideous appearance. Others seduce people and then drag them into the abyss. Oh, yes, they are truly fallen angels. They know how to use their moments of perfection. Perhaps one day she will even meet a learned lord sitting behind books. He is actually an all-knowing monster and with the chiming of the clock he will turn into a dragon guarding precious folios like a gold mine. Everything is so simple and yet so confusing at the same time.

Rhianon came to her senses from the terrible noise. People were already standing here, someone’s hands were lowering arrows from crossbows, pulling up stakes, reaching for swords. Ferdinand put his arm around her waist, trying to pull her away. Rhianon, on the other hand, stared only at the scaly brown tail, which was swiftly slipping up the broad steps. It would fly away faster from the roof. Rhianon was relieved to see he was in no danger. Arrows bounced off the dragon’s scales with a ricochet. Shooting him was dangerous, but he himself was not. His jewel-like hide provided more protection than any eyebrow.

But then why was he running away? If he was not afraid of knights, why did he not burn them all, reclaiming his territory? A hunch burned her like fire. He is running from her. This is the second dragon to turn its back on her. What is happening? Why does she frighten them so? Why does the mere sight of her drive them from their occupied territory? She’s stronger than them, so much so that they can’t compete with her. But this is nonsense, isn’t it?

Rhianon didn’t feel so strong. But how else to explain the monsters fleeing? They shunned her as humans shun danger. How could she find common ground with them if she couldn’t even get close to them? Rhianon pondered feverishly.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded mechanically at Ferdinand’s concerned question. She wasn’t hurt, if that’s what he wanted to know, but she seemed to be starting to become impaired in her sanity. She sees things that shouldn’t be there. But so do the others.

The dragon has disappeared, leaving the invaded territories and sobbing children in hysterics. This means that her plans to negotiate with him and subdue him are ruined. No, it is not that simple. Rhianon wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. No one understood why she was crying, attributing it to the ordeal she had endured, but that was all right. She would find another dragon for sure. She would find another dragon and she would not miss it.

One of the knights came up to free the children. It proved difficult. The ropes and some strange curved chains did not budge. He broke the blade of his stele on them.

Ferdinand looked around in amazement.

“Look at these signs,” he said, pointing to the symbols above the hearth. The fire was no longer in the air, but the charred marks looked ominous. As burned as the bodies of once beautiful angels.

“No, don’t look,” Rhianon warned. She grabbed Ferdinand’s arm impetuously. “You must not look at it.

She wanted to tell him, but she could not say it. Would he understand her?

He understood and nodded.

“Come, let’s get out of here!” He ordered his men, who reluctantly, but forced themselves to obey. A circle scorched on the floor, gold coins rolling on the boards and strange ornate symbols grabbed everyone’s attention. They were like a magnet, only drinking away the soul. Rhianon could still sense the sweeps of black charred wings taking the shape of these symbols as she stepped outside.

The fresh air cheered her up a little, and yet she had to lean her forehead against Ferdinand’s shoulder to avoid falling. He timidly touched her disheveled hair. The touch of steel felt pleasantly cold. Rhianon could feel the heat of the metal on her forehead, but it felt good. Ferdinand’s presence was soothing in itself. He was like a good old friend, one memory of which immediately lifted her spirits. Like a nice summer day.

“You have nothing to fear.”

“I know,” she wasn’t sure, but his voice was pleasant. It was a deep baritone, low but not husky. It was a grown man’s voice and a boy’s face. Ron was the same way. The memory of him made her heart ache for some reason. Was he with someone else? Or maybe something else had happened.

Just thinking about him sent a thousand daggers through her body. It was blood, pain, a thorn in her heart. Rhianon felt something strange and extremely painful.

To distract herself she looked at the freed children. They were still very young. The oldest is about seven years old at most. All covered in ashes and even blood. They looked at her with startled, frightened eyes. Maybe she thought she saw something in those eyes, something other than childlike awe. What could the dragon have had time to show them? If she was to believe what she saw, he was preparing to sacrifice each of them. But he didn’t have time to kill them. Rhianon tried to push the thought from her mind.

“We should go back,” she turned to Ferdinand.

He didn’t care how familiar she sounded when she said the word “we,” as if they had always lived together under the same roof and she was not some random stranger who now imposed herself as his guest. At the royal court, such guests become guests for life. Who doesn’t like to be at the court? Even for jesters and servants there is a hearty table and a complete lack of concern. And the courtiers, who are in the king’s esteem, become the object of envy of many.

Rhianon was imposing. Or he invited her.

It was both.

He even seemed to fear that now she would leave him and go her own way and then disappear forever. She would have to be searched for, but who would find a forest fairy? She had emerged from the magical world just for a moment to help a handful of mortals. Her duty is done and she herself will be gone. It is forever and ever.

That was what was on his mind. He was afraid beforehand. Rhianon wanted to reassure him. But then she would dispel the spell. It was better not to say anything for the time being.

She turned her attention back to the children. There was something odd about them. There was something strange about the frozen expression on their faces. She turned away from them. She didn’t even want to look at them. But they seemed excessively interested in her, and not just as a richly dressed lady, there was something more to it.

All the onlookers were gaping at the princess, her stature, her costumes, her jewelry, and her entourage. Only not all gawkers are able to consider the fire or the magical power within her. And now it seemed to her that someone had seen it. Someone had invaded her mind and was gently probing it. Nonsense, it’s just kids. She consoled herself and tried to forget about them.

It was hard enough with the fact that now they would be hanging around until someone else had to take care of them. But it was all right not to look at them. But you would have to endure their stares all the way. Is it a long way to Vinor? Rhiannon suggested that Ferdinand should ride ahead, and he agreed, so they soon broke away from the group. Now they could not even see the men who were escorting them. They were alone. Well, good. The vassals must keep a respectful distance, not too small, but not too large either, so as to come to their aid in time if need be.