Graymore is a dragon hunter. Natalie Yacobson
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What did the sculptor want to show? If only the sculptor sculpted them. What if they really are magical?
They said that victims of dragon fever were covered in scales and mutated. And to get such a fever, you have to be scratched, bitten, or poisoned by a dragon’s saliva. There was a time when whole villages died from dragon epidemics, but that was a long time ago. No such contagion had been heard of in recent centuries.
The stone lady looked at Graymore with disapproval.
«I’m sorry, but there’s no water in the well, so I won’t be able to see if you’ll come back to life from it,» Graymore apologized.
She must be losing her mind to talk to the statue.
The horse beat his hoof impatiently on the ground. For some reason he did not like the Stone City. Why is it not? It was so quiet and beautiful. Maybe the horse sensed the dragon’s closeness and was therefore worried.
Graymore remembered the stranger’s story about a certain Ligeia queen who turned into a dragon after marrying a dragon. Could this statue be a monument to her?
Another name was carved on the foot of the statue.
«Donata!» Graymore read it aloud.
What an unusual name!
At the sound of that name the arches shook all at once, as if a giant had stepped on them. The stone began to crumble. Small stones were thrown about in all directions.
What on earth had happened here? Graymore looked up. There was no giant above, of course. The arches were collapsing on their own.
She must get out of here before she was crushed. One large stone bounced off the arch and almost fell on Graymore’s head. The princess was one moment from death. The stone pressed against the hem of her dress. What bad timing! Graymore did not like the feeling of being held hostage. She could not free the hem from under the stone. She had to tear the fabric as hard as she could. A large flap remained under the stone. One could only hope that some wizard hadn’t picked it up to put a spell on the princess. Graymore knew that the small things of ladies are often used for charms and other abominations. It is unlikely that a dragon, even if he found the flap, would cast a spell on her.
It felt as if the stone city belonged to dragons. It seemed to Graymore that the statues came to life and moved. They were all depicting ladies and gentlemen, but they were all unnatural. All of them had their faces and arms partially in scales, or dragon tails were stretching out of their backs.
«There are inscriptions on the arches!» A thin voice whispered. «Read the writing on the arches, and the city will cease to fall.»
How can you read them if the arches are already partially crumbling? The unseen voice is a humorist!
Graymore was barely on her feet when the stone tail of one of the statues whipped at her feet.
The stone must have shattered and flung itself at her feet. There’s no way a statue could have come to life. The whole place collapsed like an earthquake.
Graymore was frightened. She wasn’t afraid to fight a dragon, but the prospect of being crushed by falling rocks terrified her. It was not a worthy death for a girl knight. It was better to die fighting.
The unknown gods heard her prayers. A dragon roared over the crumbling city. Graymore looked up. The most magnificent dragon she’d ever seen was flying across the sky. Its hide glittered like an emerald bordered by gilt. The dragon looked menacing and majestic at the same time.
«I never thought I would marvel at a creature that flew!» Graymore muttered.
She should have taken out her sword and crossbow, but they were still in the bales strapped to her saddle. The only thing she had with her was her dagger. Graymore drew it. At that moment a golden light flashed through one of the arches, as if beyond the archway was not a void but an entire hall. In the archway flashed either a dwarf or a boy, dressed in an emerald camisole.
«Run, you fool!» He hissed at Graymore. «This is a dragon’s country.»
Run from the dragon’s land! Oh, no! Graymore did not move. Meanwhile, the dragon had dwindled. He was now hovering just above the arches, but he seemed somehow unable to see the city below.
Strange that a dragon couldn’t see it, now that it was a dragon’s land. Perhaps the boy was referring to some other creature that was only symbolically called a dragon. Each sculpture had at least one dragon’s feature, but they were essentially people, not dragons. Maybe dragons were called, in layman’s terms, all those who had been stricken with dragon fever.
A monotonous chanting sounded over the ruins, as if a chorus of ghostly voices was singing. Graymore discerned the words:
«Donata, Ligeia, it is sacred hunt, it is tribute to the golden deity.»
The singing was mesmerizing. She wanted to stand and listen to it, even if the dragon was about to dive down and tear her apart.
Another large boulder bounced off the archway. By now Graymore knew it was time to run. But where could she run? The stone arches were crumbling all around, and the sculptures seemed alive and predatory. Graymore took her chances and sprinted forward. Small pebbles flew at her and hurt her arms and shoulders. The rock crumbs resembled shrapnel. One pebble cleaved Graymore’s forehead, spurting blood.
«Stop it! Come back here!» A chorus of voices called out to her. «The City of Sleepers awaits you.»
She wanted to turn back before a shout resounded in her ear:
«It is game!»
Had the voices of the unknown called game to her, Princess Livellin? Graymore felt fear mixed with rage. Even if all the sculptures came to life and went to war against her, she would not give up.
Someone clutched at her shoulders from behind.
«Turn around!» There was a hiss above her ear.
Graymore tried to break free. The fingers that held her were indeed stone, it seemed.
At that moment the dragon dipped in flight, circled above the arches, and suddenly burst into flames. Fire erupted in the circle. Graymore broke free and ran toward her horse, peacefully nibbling on the grass far away from the stone city.
Beneath her feet showed a line drawn on the ground. It seemed to consist of a ligature of signs scrawled between the grasses. As he crossed it, the clatter of falling stones and the hissing of flames ceased. Graymore looked back. The stone city stood untouched. Not a single arch in it had collapsed.
Was she imagining things? Graymore looked up at the sky. The dragon was no longer flying. How strange is it!
«It’s time for us to get out of here, Maverin!» Graymore took the reins and tried to climb into the saddle. She could not do it. Her legs felt as if they were cotton. The princess sank down on the grass.
«Let’s rest for a while, and then go on,» she said to the horse.
Naturally Maverin didn’t object. The grass by the abandoned city was fresh and lush. It was a pleasure to scratch. Let the mistress sleep and the horse have his lunch. Maverin continued to pluck the grass, while Graymore lay under the shade of a yew tree and fell asleep.
Lady in the Dragon Mask
Graymore woke up from the heat. It felt as if a red-hot brand had touched her cheek. It was, in fact, someone else’s hot breath. Was a dragon leaning over her?
Even before her eyelids fluttered open, Graymore reached for her crossbow.
«Don’t be frightened! You are not ready to fight yet!» A sweet, feminine voice whispered in her ear. «The fight of your life is yet to come. The dragon is waiting for you in the cursed mountains. You are to be a heroine! A great heroine! You will be honored as a dragon war goddess upon your return to Livellin, but first you must slay the dragon.»
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