Graymore is a dragon hunter. Natalie Yacobson
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running.
«Can you read?» Graymore asked him.
«Yes, my lady.»
«What do you see here? Read it!» Graymore pointed with her index finger at the wall.
«There is nothing at the wall, my lady,» the guard admitted frankly.
«What do you mean? Do you at least see the scribbles that look like letters?»
The guard shook his head in the negative. Maybe he lied that he was literate and simply could not read it?
«Forget it! Keep a better eye on the dragons!» Graymore decided it would be more useful to pay the skeleton one more visit before she set out on her journey.
The skeleton advisor was more benign today than usual.
«Are you leaving, then?» He glanced questioningly at the princess’s puffy pink muslin dress for the morning. «Shouldn’t you be wearing something more practical, like blazers and breeches and a helmet and boots?»
«Of course I should. That is what I intend to do, but just before the road, not now.»
«Still, don’t forget to bring at least one luxurious dress.»
«What do I need it for when I go to battle? Do you want me to seduce the dragon?»
The skeleton chuckled slyly.
«You never know who you will meet on the road. Is it an elf, perhaps? Or is it a sylph? Or is it even an elf king?»
«A dragon-king is it more likely,» said Graymore jokingly. «The dragon in the Southern woods is a peculiar one, I can sense it.»
«Do you sense it alone or in flocks?»
«Alone, but it’s as if he’s stronger than the whole flock. Isn’t that strange?»
«Yes, it is,» Graymore said. The skeleton gladly accepted another of the royal treasury rings that Graymore had brought him as a gift. The skeleton liked the large carbuncle set with small diamonds.
«Good luck, madam.» he said, wishing the princess good luck.
«Am I madam?» Graymore felt more like a dependant viceroy of a state, but the skeleton let her displeasure pass his ears, of which only knuckles remained.
«Take it for the road! It will come in handy!»
The skeleton gave her a hand mirror ornamented with silver runes to communicate with it. Graymore was already familiar with such magical objects. Through them one could talk and even see someone who was far away. All you have to do is look in the mirror and call out his name.
«Next time bring me a sharp scythe as a gift,» wished the skeleton.
«Like the mower in the fields?»
«It is exactly!»
«What do you need it for? The scythe is not made of precious metals, but of iron.»
«I know, but I want it anyway. It makes me look like death with a scythe.»
Well, a scythe is cheaper than jewels. Graymore said a courteous goodbye to the skeleton. After her conversation with him, the usual drowsiness struck her. The princess fall asleep right on the sofa near the old tower. She dreamed that the ballroom was full of dragons. They hadn’t come to dance at all, but to tear her apart, but one was on her side. Or is it just what it seems?
Forbidden Forest
Early in the morning, Graymore set out on her journey. The laurel fairies flew in a flock over the towers of the castle, whispering animatedly about something. She wondered if they were cheering the princess on her journey to fight the dragon, or laughing at her.
The townsfolk cheered, tossing their caps in honor of the heroine. It never occurred to the petty thieves and bandits, who made it dangerous to ride outside the city walls, that the princess could be attacked. After all, if she could handle dragons easily, what’s worth tearing apart a whole gang of outlaws?
Graymore could ride alone without a retinue or bodyguards. The bandits feared her. No one would dare fight a girl who could defeat a dragon all by herself.
The fame of Graymore’s exploits flew ahead of her. Dragons were angry and trembling, and knights and bandits took note that it was better not to mess with the reckless princess. After all, in a battle with her you might lose.
All in all, a safe journey through the forest was assured for Graymore. Her reputation as a dragon-hunter worked wonders. All manner of shady characters would flee at the first sign of her. Well done! Greymore enjoyed the solitude, the peace, the quiet.
The squirrel who threw an empty nut shell at the back of her head didn’t count. Graymore wasn’t going to shoot an arrow at her. Let her go ahead and play around.
«I could have killed you!» She shushed the squirrel, but it was already running away, clinging nimbly to the branches of a sprawling oak tree. All that was visible was its fluffy red tail.
«Squirrels had grown braver than dragons!» Graymore looked around. No golden statues could be seen in the thicket. Perhaps the skeleton had frightened her for nothing. This is a forbidden forest, after all. Where else would statues of the ominous deity be found if not here?
Graymore had long since crossed the line that separated the normal forests from the forbidden forest. Even the most daredevil cutthroats were afraid to enter this forest. But she came here, and nothing happened to her. Well, a cheeky squirrel threw a nutshell at her, but no demons surrounded her. And they say demons are like that in the forbidden forest.
Who would have thought that the forbidden forest is actually the most peaceful and picturesque corner of the wilderness?
According to legends, the forest was inhabited by evil spirits, so people tried not to go there. The forests, left by loggers, struck with beauty and fresh air. There are neither poachers, nor pickers of berries and mushrooms here. It was idyllic!
A creature called out to her from a branch. Was it a leprechaun or a dwarf? Graymore couldn’t see exactly what kind of creature it was. Its size was tiny, its skin green and leafy, and its body unusual, like a reanimated bough.
«You’re a lady knight, just like Brunhilde!» The woodland creature whistled.
«I know no such lady,» Grahamor admitted frankly. «None of my court ladies have such a name.»
«She comes from the realms of the Nibelungs,» the creature readily clarified. «Everyone there knows of two famous ladies, Brunhilde, the mightiest of the knights, and Kremhilde, the most cunning of all the witches who cast spells.»
«And I don’t know any such lands either.»
«What an ignoramus you are!»
A lump flew into Graymore. Inside the cone were small emeralds instead of nuts. Well, well, well! Graymore hid it behind her bosom. She might need it, in case it came in handy.
Anything heavy on the trail could be a hindrance, but Graymore had amassed so many weapons that the horse could barely move. Perhaps she should dismount and walk beside it. Long walks on foot were not something Graymore was afraid of. Unlike other ladies, she adored walking. It was such a pleasure just to step along the road and walk mile after mile! What would it be like to fly?
Suddenly Graymore was jealous of dragons. They have wings, don’t they?
«Don’t you think it would be wonderful to dance in flight over the forest path and breathe fire at anyone who dares to attack me?» The princess asked the horse. «Eh, Maverin?»
Meverin, the thoroughbred snow-white horse, was silently pinching the grass and did not respond to its mistress’s chatter. It was a lousy conversationalist, and does not know the human language. But the skeleton in the tower knew the languages of birds and animals. He could translate what tits and skylarks were twittering about, and he could interpret a dog’s bark. He was