She was awakened by a terrifying noise. The walls of the castle seemed to be shaking, as if some force was destroying the sky and the earth beneath them. Rhianon opened her eyes and noticed how the crystal on the dressing tables trembled and the pendants of the chandelier shook. Everything from the bases of the earth, the piles and foundations to the uppermost spires on the towers was in motion. It felt as if some giant was destroying a grandiose structure with his mighty fist like a toy. What was it? Was it an earthquake, a hurricane of unbelievable strength? Was it a storm or a doomsday?

At the last guess, she jumped up and began dressing herself in a hurry, not waiting for the fairy maids. What if it was Madael who had come with all his hellish army? What if right now he was standing under the gates of the castle, demanding her surrender, and the noble Ferdinand, of course, would not agree to part with his imaginary spouse? If it were his will, he would not give her up to any demon. But Madael, even alone without his infernal army, is capable of crushing not only the entire royal castle, but Vinor as well. He could turn an entire country to rubble without a second thought. Once he walks through the streets of the city with his flaming sword without his helmet on, those who don’t have time to take his head off will go blind or mad at the sight of him. And if he were to summon a pack of his dragons, they’d have no trouble turning half the world to ash.

With horror, Rhianon could hardly think straight. She grabbed the most sumptuous of her dresses. The ceremonial garment had been the first to arrive. The ceremonial garment fastened at the front with dainty gold buttons, like a royal emblem. She kept the dragon comb in her hair until she went to bed. Surprisingly, it did not prevent her from resting her head comfortably on the pillow. But she had strange dreams, as if she were lying dead under a mountain of treasure in a dragon’s cave, not living in a castle. Maybe it wasn’t her, but some other girl. The dream seemed so real.

«Mistress!»

It was Domian already knocking on the door of the secret passage that he appeared to have known about long ago. Last night they had agreed that he would snitch on her about everything that was going on in the castle and help as much as he could. He respected the fallen angel’s friend in her so much that he was willing to forget all self-interest. He didn’t really have any hobbies. He was tired of power and the impossibility of delaying the impending infirmity and old age. All his dreams had long been to gather as much information about Lucifer’s army as possible and, if possible, to get closer to it. Rhianon had helped him get so close to his cherished dream that the poor man felt dizzy. He had realized from the first that had it not been for her arrival in Vinor he would never have found the angel’s wing feather. If Rhianon had not come, the winged knight that Domian had been able to see at the tournament would never have arrived. Rhianon had advised him not to look too closely in the future, lest he lose his sight. Only she did not know whether Domian would have the fortitude to heed her advice when temptation was near again.

All along it seemed to her that Madael would come here and his appearance would prove devastating not only to her, but to everything around her now. She just didn’t think it would happen so soon.

If Domian was knocking on her door this early, something incredible had happened. Yesterday, when he’d helped her carry and hide the sword, he’d acted surprisingly manly, today his voice was trembling. Then something terrible was about to happen. Rhianon did not immediately think of him bringing her news of another attack. What if war had already begun? Had Manfred found powerful new allies and attacked Vinor himself? It was unlikely to happen, and yet fear struck her.

For a minute she came to her senses, not even rushing to let the waiting Domian in. He must have thought something must have happened to her already, because he looked extremely frightened. The first thing he did was to look at the window, which was wide open.

«Close it!» He pleaded.

«But why is it?» Rhianon took her time. Her windows were too high above ground level. Even if a storm were to break out below the cliffs on which the fortress towered in the Royal Harbor, it was unlikely that the spray from the waves would reach that high up. «Is there a storm coming? Or are we being taken under siege? Should I be wary of enemy arrows?»

He shook his head in the negative.

«Very well,» Rhianon knew of only one kind of creature other than a bird that could fly in here. An unsettling suspicion stirred in her heart again. Could it be Madael?

«It is better for you not to be alone now. It will be safer in the throne room. The men are gathered there. The archers in the towers are ready to fire, too, if necessary. They’re good shots. But their arrowheads aren’t designed to penetrate such armor.»

«You intrigue me,» Rhianon took her hand mirror and gazed at her reflection. She hadn’t slept much tonight, but she looked beautiful. Behind her was the reflection of a misty dawn and an open window. Something seemed to gleam in the gray sky. Rhianon noticed that the curve of a wing was reflected in the mirror.

«Be careful!» Dominic warned her.

She stepped back from the window and peered beyond, where she could make out the shape of a dragon. She focused her sharpened vision. The dragon must be able to see her from this distance, but he didn’t need her. She really needed him, though. He was a bright copper-yellow hue, with incredible green eyes like emeralds and a golden crest across his back.

«Just don’t get Vivian here. He needs his dragon scales armor alone,» she grinned, took one last look in the mirror to fix her disheveled locks, and was off before Domian could stop her.

«Where are you going?» He clasped his hands in despair as he struggled to keep up with her. «The throne room, I told you, is where everyone is…»

But she was hurtling up the countless flights of steps and spiral staircases. The more swiftly the others flocked down into the warmth and safety of the throne room, the more she was drawn upward, to the very spires of the towers, to the parapet, to the gray overcast skies. She had been afraid of heights before, but now she longed to go up. Soon she was on the roof. It was cold up here. The archers, who had already prepared to shoot, didn’t even notice her. Some were drawing the bowstring, others were checking the sharpness of their arrows, and some were firing cannons and heavy cannonballs. The dragon was just approaching the castle. In another minute it would either fly swiftly over the spires or attack. If the second happened, there would be a battle that these people might not win. Rhianon imagined how pathetic they looked in the dragon’s eyes. They were small and frail, with their bows and toy sabers or swords. They would do him even less harm than needles would do a thick turtle shell.

Rhianon held her breath. Here was her chance to negotiate with the dragon. It is with another one. This one was much bigger than the one she had played with in the cave. It was prettier, stronger, and surely more powerful. Rhianon knew he could see her even from a great distance. She stood on the parapet. The excitement was so great that even the fear of falling down in front of him meant nothing.

«Notice me! Notice me!» She begged him mentally. «I need to negotiate with you.»

Her puffy azure dress fluttered in the wind, must have looked like a banner. In any case, the frail maiden figure must attract a dragon. He is drawn by beauty and innocence, something Dennitsa had before he fell. Dragons are magnetically attracted to anything that even remotely resembles him. And who is more like him than she? So she must be more precious to them than all the other innocent maidens, or gold, or jewels. They must all strive for her, and even fight over her if they must. It would be better if they fought at her side. Rhianon trembled with anticipation. Just a moment more and she could look into his eyes, reach out and touch the sharp teeth of the comb on his head, mentally start a conversation.

It was very cold on high ground. Even the archers, dressed warmly under their cuirasses, were freezing, their fingers straining the bowstring and laying arrows trembling, either from strain or from cold. She herself was warmed by the flames that beat beneath her skin instead of her blood. Her magical power was growing. Even if a dragon came at her with fire, she could summon her power into an invisible shield and fend off the blow. She didn’t want to burn the dragon herself. For him it was a bad time anyway. It was going to rain. Rhianon felt the first raindrops hit her face.

«I must speak to you, please!» She was whispering instead of speaking mentally. «Just look at me!»

Look at me! This is how the forest fairies beg the wayfarers to turn around at the seductive voice and be captured by them forever. In fact, she wanted the same thing. Rhianon expected that by recognizing in her the likeness of his first warlord, all the infernal creatures would serve her. With her own tame dragons, she could become the strongest ruler in the world. How to make them at least look at her and discern in her all the things they had long loved and lost.

If the dragon has already spotted the lonely figure standing on the parapet with her golden head and the stolen comb in her hair, what is he waiting for? It is, after all, his comb. Rhianon had already guessed. The dragon flew here to return what he had stolen. Naturally he would have returned it, along with his new victim. Surely, in his mind, any girl who wore his jewelry herself would also become his property. He could sense from afar that a living creature owned his thing. He planned to grab it along with the comb and carry it away with him. So what is he waiting for? Why doesn’t he pick it up and rain fire down on the castle while he still has the strength. And will he be able to spew jets of flame when the storm comes? Rhianon didn’t even know that.

She noticed how the dragon slowed its flight. It regarded her long and intently. Sharply glowing eyes glittered in his forehead. It looked as if it reflected a rainbow. The curved horns bent just above it. Its nostrils flared menacingly, but it kept its fire out, though that had been its intention just a moment ago – to explode the castle in flames. Rhianon suddenly realized that she could read his thoughts. She’d never been able to do that before. Could it be because of the comb?

In any case, a ridge would not have the power to make a dragon hover in the air above the tower and gaze at the young queen. The archers amicably lowered their arrows, but they bounced off the dragon’s armor in an instant. One of the arrows that ricocheted back struck the archer in the shoulder. Now his comrades were supporting him, and he was bleeding. Someone shouted that it was time to fire the cannons. Rhianon hoped the dragon would fly over the tower before the gunner lit the fuse. Or would a cannonball also do it no harm?

«Could we make a deal?» She turned to him mentally.

Maybe she thought the crowned head bowed slightly, as if to pay her respects. That’s how you bow to your mistress.

The clawed paw did not reach forward to take the comb out of her hair. The dragon stared at her carefully, almost appraisingly. And then suddenly it turned and flew away.

«No!» Rhianon was furious. She even clenched her fists. She would have loved to fire at him now, to scorch his impenetrable tail and wings and spine. But she was being watched. The tower was full of archers, squires bringing arrows and gunners. All these people must not know that their queen could breathe fire as well as a dragon.

Rhianon was furious. How many witnesses watched as the dragon turned and flew away from her? Now they all knew of her humiliation. Instead of serving her, or at least grabbing her and carrying her away to negotiate elsewhere, the dragon simply abandoned her and flew away.

Had she had strength enough, she would have torn it to pieces herself to make armor from its scales and wear it as a battle trophy. She knew such warlords who made cups for themselves out of the skull of a defeated enemy. Now she even understood them. She wanted the same thing. But a dragon that had flown away was beyond her reach.

And on top of that, there were so many onlookers watching her fail. They were the only ones who looked at her with admiration. Of course, they didn’t know that it wasn’t her victory, but her defeat.

Rhianon slid surprisingly easily off the parapet, careful not to look down. The height frightened her. The roof of the castle became wet with rain drops. Carefully avoiding the puddles, she wandered away into the warmth and comfort of the castle chambers. And just as she was leaving, a thunderstorm began.

«He wants to see you,» the spirit whispered in her ear, not even paying attention to the fact that she didn’t want to hear it. The quiet whisper merged with the crackling of the fire in the fireplace, and it was impossible to distinguish one from the other.

Rhianon rested her head on the back of the carved chair and watched the play of the flames in the fireplace’s yawning fireplace. Today it did not irritate, on the contrary, it sent a kind of pleasant current through her veins. After soaking in the rain, she didn’t feel hot from the flames inside her. This had happened to her for the first time. Had one mishap made the fire in her go out?

Rhianon was not even sure what the invisible interlocutor was talking about. And when she did, he was already breaking news.

«You didn’t see that the dragon didn’t fly back out to sea, did you?

«Well, yes,» she nodded apathetically.

«There are caves beyond the forest where no one lives yet, and he waits there…»

She nodded apathetically.

«Why is it?»

«You must tell him what you want from him?»

«What is it?» Rhianon turned her head in confusion. She couldn’t see the spirit behind her, of course, but she could distinguish his voice better.

«He knows you want something from him. Well, he’ll grant you anything you want. I can tell him.»

She didn’t know whether to be more surprised by the helpfulness of the spirit or by the dragon’s willingness to cooperate with her.

«Wouldn’t it be better if Vivian found him first?»

A dragon slayer! Rhianon grinned. It wasn’t the left and the cleansed world that he wanted, it was just impenetrable armor. Rhianon did not believe that Vivian had enough strength of his own to defeat a dragon alone, or even with an entire squad. If someone resorted to magic to drug the beast with a potion that deprived or trapped it, then Vivian with his sword could already prove to be a hero. But who would dare do such a thing?

Rhianon began to drum her nails against the armrest of her chair. Sparks shot out from under her fingernails, lightly marring the smooth, polished surface.

She didn’t know how to call out to the spirit, for it had no name, so she only asked quietly.

«Could you answer one question?»

«What is it?» He answered readily.

«Why do dragons turn their backs on me now? Am I so ugly that I frighten them? Or is it something else?»

He grinned quickly. The laugh was like a slap in the face. It was the same way she felt when the dragon turned away from her.

«They don’t like me for abandoning Madael?»

For the first time, the spirit did not find something to answer. His jaw must have dropped, or he was running out of words.

Rhianon stared sadly at the flames. It was as if she were right. For all her charm and resemblance to their fallen leader, they loved him more. They still did.

She clawed at the chair with her fingernails. What charm it takes to be worshipped by those you cast into hell.

«I want to be like him,» she muttered into the void.

«Well, then you must learn how to wield a sword,» the spirit inside her responded.

Rhianon was in complete agreement, except that she wished it wasn’t enough.

Rhianon made an appointment in the forest before the caves. The spirit insisted that she should not go there herself, because it would be easier to send him, but as always Rhianon insisted.

She could send no one else on such an important errand. Besides, how could she have known that the spirit would give the dragon exactly what she said, not her own embellished version.

She could only negotiate with someone in person. But the forest greeted her with a sullen silence. The large clearing in the thicket, where someone had uprooted and felled all the trees, was empty.

The place had been cleared, but the dragon was gone. Rhianon already regretted wearing the crest that was supposed to be the identifying mark.

She waited until she began to notice some movement behind the trees. She was immediately reminded of the nighttime treasure hunters. What if something similar was happening in this forest?

She listened to the silence to catch the clatter of shovels against the hard ground and scraps of conversation. Some voices were indeed conversing in the thicket, but it was not about stealing or digging up anything at all. Rhianon kept listening, though. She could not do anything else while she waited for the dragon. The speaker was not a woodcutter or a late traveler. Rhianon even ventured to step away from the clearing for the meeting to look at them.

«Don’t go!» The spirit warned her as she made her way along the moss. «I can eavesdrop and tell you later.»

«Don’t,» she said in a whisper. «I can hear everything. But I want to see.»

It was unnecessary to explain to him that the conversation had already intrigued her, and only that she wanted to spy on the talkers. Who are they? That was what was most intriguing to her. It would have been difficult for a human to see in this darkness, but she had long ago noticed in herself the peculiarity of seeing well in the dark.

«One of them is Vivian,» the spirit warned her at once. «He’s here to hunt dragons, you understand. He has a nose for them.»

«And who is the other one?» She’d guessed that from the hoarse tone, but felt obliged to ask again.

«It is the pretender to your hand,» the spirit said, hesitating for a moment.

Rhianon understood him at first. She’d seen countless suitors for the hand before, and the furthest thing from her mind might have been that he was the least likely to succeed.

But it was hard not to recognize the husky voice. It sounded like it had dropped a few octaves since she’d last heard it. It used to be a little pleasant, but soon it would be a bass. It was as if Prince Rothbert’s throat had been cut. She even chuckled at the thought that one of the dragons he had never tamed might have stepped on his neck. The prince had escaped, but he was hoarse. Such a scenario seemed amusing to her. Rhianon even managed to get a glimpse into Rothbert’s thoughts. He did not sense that he was being spied upon. Rothbert was spying on someone else, and his mind was elsewhere. Rhianon, on the other hand, had learned many interesting things. For example, as a child, this sneaky little magician, who had already detected the rudiments of evil in himself, put frogs in the laundry of washerwomen, and sent locusts on plowmen. He poured his potions into the ladies’ linens to cause a festering rash, and he bewitched the men’s weapons so that they would break during battle. He destroyed his own as well as others without remorse. He also grew unusual reptiles in his flasks and released them into rivers, wells, or sewers. Then the harmful boy began to wait to see if his pets would grow into bloodthirsty dragons. Sometimes these experiments succeeded. Here was one time he managed to raise a dragon right in the well of his home castle. The night it was discovered, there was a commotion in the yard, his father’s dukedom was crumbling because the dragon demanded tribute, and the nasty boy was laughing in his room. That’s when someone came to him… Rhianon couldn’t make out a face in his mind, as if that fragment of Rothbert’s memory were completely absent. She could only wonder if it was someone from the School of Witchcraft, or someone even more dangerous. She could see little else about the night visitor, but she did see a tower in Rothbert’s mind, a tower of books from the ground floor to the ceiling beams, and a girl who lived in that tower. There was nothing there but twigs braiding the walls and books. There were no entrances or exits. Nevertheless, the prince had his eye on the mistress of the tower named Diana. She had already turned him down, but it didn’t matter to him.

«You said there was another,» Vivian’s pleasant baritone was hard not to recognize.

«All you have to do is to wait. I’ll make sure he loses his strength.»

«Very well, then, I must get some help.»

«You can’t do it alone?» Rothbert even snickered. «That would be fair.»

«But you said it yourself,» Vivian seemed unabashed at being accused of a lack of valor. «By the way, if I hadn’t taken men with me to the borders of Menuel, you would have left me alone.»

«Don’t be silly. There was no one there to fight. Everyone was already drugged by the fog I’d put on them.»

«And I thought those black things had ravaged their land. They were feasting on the battlefields, too. On dead bodies,» Vivian put his hand up to his dull, young head. «Yes, I remembered, you said you had some sort of condition before you let me kill the dragon.»

«Yes, there is,» Rothbert rubbed his palms together, rolling out a glowing lump. «You’ll leave me his carcass, all of it. No tongue, no eyes, no spilled blood. Do you understand?»

«But why is it?» Vivian obviously didn’t understand.

«You idiot, I have to prepare the next potion.»

«But you said you could only make useful substances and miracle cures out of the organs of these monsters.»

«Why shouldn’t poison be useful if it can be applied to whoever needs it?»

«Well…» Vivian was clearly hesitant.

«By the way,» Rothbert interrupted him. «You won’t touch the scales this time, either. I’ll need my armor soon, too.»

Rhianon turned back, sensing someone approaching the appointed spot. It could only be him, the dragon who must serve her. She knew that Rothbert’s trick would not go away already as she made her way resolutely toward the clearing. The trees, fallen and uprooted from the ground, were a chaotic sight. It looked as if a hurricane had passed through here, but Rhianon knew that a living thing was the cause of it. She would have to negotiate with the dragon herself, and they would figure out with the spirit how to steal Rothbert’s potions and rob him of his powers later.

To steal the flasks with his lizards and ingredients for magic solutions, she will send a spirit to his principality. The dragon will have to fly over the sea again and wait until she summons him. This will be soon, the war has almost begun. The messengers with her announcement have already been sent, and the place of the first battle has been set. The dragon will have to fly to her on that day and no later, and only if she needs his help. That is her only wish. When they met on the cleared ground in the thicket, he bowed his head again in reverence, as if he hadn’t noticed the glint of a comb in her hair that had been stolen from his treasure.

«You will go to his castle,» Rhianon insisted. It was difficult to get anything out of the spirit, but she demanded, pleaded, threatened with clenched fists until he began moaning.

«I don’t want to go there,» he squeaked.

«And what you want is of no concern to anyone.»

«Maybe I’d better follow Vivian.»

«He’ll be out in the woods all night. We’ll have to keep an eye on him later, not now.»

«I would rather follow other dragon. He lives in the caves near the Duchy of Rothbert. He is the one who keeps the prince in fear. He is a wise man. He has a tower of books carved there in the mountain. He keeps the scrolls of an angel who called himself Mastema. You are not interested in that.»

She almost dropped the brush she was running through her hair. Mastema! Madael! He was the same under every name. Only his character was different for everyone.

«With his runes, his coils, his annals, and so much more, I learned in his own tower,» she cut out. «There is not much the dragon can teach me. He is only a follower, not an innovator. Madael was the first to rise, and the others only followed.»

«And now they’re all biting their claws in frustration. Take me, for example…»

«I don’t care about your complaints. If you wish to be with me, serve me, but if you will not do as I command, I swear I will find a spell that will banish you once and for all.»

For a moment the room was silent. She could even hear the fire crackling on the logs. Any sound would have seemed loud now.

«Well, all right,» the spirit agreed reluctantly and in such a mournful tone as if she were sending him to his own execution.

Rhianon wasn’t going to feel sorry for him.

«While you look around the castle and steal anything of value, I’ll have a word with the dragon you told me about.»

«You’ll have an easier time with him,» the spirit cheered up. «He could be called a scholar. At least he has more of his memory than most. Or rather, he’s forgotten almost nothing. You know what I mean?»

She nodded. The sight of the angels, who retained memories of their former glory only in their dreams, depressed her. To her mind they were magnificent even now, looking like the living contents of a jewel box in their dragon armor. But they had been different before, truly beautiful, wise and seductive. Now, when they looked at their own reflection, they could feel only pain. So they preferred to gaze at the jewels and gold as a reminder of their former brilliance.

Some dragons still retained their former minds, they also collected books. Madael said that the greatest punishment for most of them was the loss of their sanity. It is hardest for those who have lost all or part of their memory, because the mind tries to return to something former, but runs into a wall of timelessness. It’s painful to know that you have to remember something that’s slipping away. But from here on earth, the creators of poetry, music, and verse emerged. Their partial memory pours out only as fantasy, and their path lies toward the Cathedral of Thunder and the ritual knife. At the thought of the blood sacrifice, Rhianon shuddered. Those renegades of Madael’s army, condemned as punishment to feel like mere humans, sacrifice their mortal bodies to gain their lost wings. But at least they can do so by becoming their former selves, albeit extremely angry, while magical beings have no such option. It is only for those who have suffered most. Rhianon imagined how crushed an angel felt, retaining scrappy memories of brilliance but forced to consider himself a mere mortal. People do not accept him, heaven rejects him. Hell puts a choice before him. And then there is the Cathedral of Thunder and the bloody path to it. Sometimes she dreamed that she was walking down this path lined with roses. Her feet are already wounded and bloody from their thorns, and there is still no end to the path. Madael said that this path appears only during an eclipse of the sun, when one of the chosen ones is ready to take it. No man would ever walk this path, only those who belonged to his army. Rhianon was not one of them. By tearing her own guts out during the ritual, she could only die. Or did the fact that she had slept with a fallen angel make her equal to his host?

She had many difficult questions. Perhaps the wise dragon could answer them all. Of course, only if he retained all of his former mind, not just the remnants of it.

Though if he collected the scrolls that held the symbols and secrets of the angels, then Rhianon could read them herself. She understood their language, so the mysterious writings would be comprehensible to her as well. She knew that the important thing was not to trouble oneself with trying to read or decipher something, if she was strong enough to do so, and if she got close enough to the forbidden, the mysteries would reveal themselves to her. That was how she first understood the magical symbols, just by looking at them. That was how she began to understand the language of beasts and birds. That’s how she learned to read minds.

And that wasn’t all she could do. She could see more clearly than dragons. She could sense the presence of supernatural beings from afar. And she could hear everything for miles around. She could hear everything, down to the smallest of sounds. Sometimes it seemed to her that not a cacophony of voices, but a whole cobweb wove the world, and in this cobweb she could distinguish any sound.

Thus she knew that the dragon was awake even before she approached his cave. It was hard to call it a cave, to be exact. From a distance the magnificent tower, with its many staircases and branching passages, might have looked like a real building, but only up close did she realize that it was carved entirely out of the mountain. It had once been a mountain range, but now it took the shape of a bastion. It would have passed for a fairy joke if the light in the distant windows had not been burning.

As they approached, another oddity became apparent. The tower had no gates or doors, only arched windows, disproportionately huge and devoid of glass or any visible barrier. They seemed to beckon birds to fly in.

Rianon could not fly. It was the one ability that Madael had never given her. But she had her pegasus. He could easily carry her to one of the huge windows. This time, though, he hesitated for a long time. She reassured him in a quiet whisper, explaining that she would be fine. Just in case, he would have to stay close to one of the windows to help her out. They had been traveling together a lot lately and had become very close. Rhianon could easily read his mind because he let her do it herself. So she learned that before, that is, when he was still an elf, his name was Noreus, and there was a time when he sought advice from this very wise dragon, under whose tower they were now. All members of the magical race who could not remember something themselves turned to him for advice or help. The fairy slipped out of one window in tears seemed to be no exception, and apparently the dragon had refused to help her or told her something that upset her greatly. Rhianon glanced at a figure in greenish attire hovering overhead. She resembled someone strongly. Rhianon had seen a peaked cap with a veil over her red curls before, but what was the name of the fairy who wore it? Certainly she was not one of the fairies who had met Rhianon at the ball. Who was she, then? She looked a little like a spinster, but they were tiny, and she was tall and statuesque. Rhianon followed the figure until it disappeared into the darkness. The transparent wings fluttering behind her reminded her of those of a dragonfly.

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Rhianon-8. War and Magic

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