Rhianon-6: Mistress of Magical Creatures. Natalie Yacobson
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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. That’s why they’re 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.
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 lord’s chosen one? That was one of the things Rhianon was banking on. They could not harm her. But they must obey her.
Well, there’s 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. That’s 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, that’s just what the sloth would have to cope with. Of course you can’t steal anything in a dragon’s 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 wasn’t Fate, and it wasn’t 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 magician’s gesture drew out a gold coin. The gold pieces were sticky to the silk fabric and didn’t 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 dwarf’s 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, ma’am.”
“As you wish,” Rhianon hid the coin back with mild disappointment. She couldn’t 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 Loretta’s 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 didn’t 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 nature’s 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. It’s part of him.
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