Golden Laurel

The spring archery contest was held according to all the rules. The winner of it would be proclaimed a hero for the day. A wreath of golden laurel would adorn the winner’s head.

Graymore had won the archery contest for many years in a row. Regular practice with marksmanship and concentration had helped her win.

The hunt for the dragon was postponed for exactly one day only because of the contest. If she did not win it, she would not be allowed to go into the woods. How can you hunt a monster of prey if you can’t even win a shooting tournament?

She won the first rounds, but there are more difficult tests ahead. One target succeeds another. The competitors are as talented as she is. She has to beat them all. Graymore was as nervous as a needle. And you can’t get nervous or you’ll miss. Anyone who gets nervous loses their aim. You have to be cool and calculating so your hand doesn’t shake when you shoot.

«Look! She wins again!» Some ladies gathered by the grove, pointing their hands at her. Their manners were a little too plain. They must have come from the country. Graymore almost dropped her bow and arrow when she noticed, from the corner of her eye, that the ladies were true fairies. They were huddled in the shade of laurel trees. They were wearing wreaths of thyme and eucalyptus leaves. All winged! Their bare feet did not touch the ground, and their dresses were woven of grass and leaves.

What a sight! Fairies flew in from the fields to look at her. Apparently she was becoming a legend.

Graymore took aim at the apple, which she wanted to knock down in a swoop so that it would break into even halves. The squire was already tossing it in the air. The arrow, released from the bowstring, split the apple in a fraction of a second. In the next round it would be necessary to knock down several apples at once with a single shot. And then you have to shoot blindfolded. Graymore only had one minute of breathing room.

Someone strange in a cloak embroidered with dragon symbols flashed through the crowd. Could it be a sorcerer? Graymore squinted at the bright sun that peeked out from behind the clouds, blocking her view. The bizarre mask of gold and green dragon scales might have been just a gimmick. Many young men wore one as a sign of their fearlessness of dragons. There was nothing to fear from the flying reptiles. After all, the ruler of Livellin was capable of defeating them all.

The young man in the dragon mask looked directly at Graymore. What bottomless eyes he had! She drowned in those eyes for a second, and then the herald trumpets announced the start of the next round.

Graymore tried to concentrate on the target thrown in the air, but the stranger in the crowd was in her way. It was as if he spoke to her without words:

«Follow me!»

She could not respond. The tournament was more important than fads. Graymore tried to forget about the enticing stranger. She had strong opponents tonight. There was no point in being distracted by trivialities. There are many handsome young men wandering around Livellin. There is always someone to meet here. And you can’t even see this stranger’s face under the mask. What if he’s disfigured or branded? You never know. Criminals were branded in Livellin. He could well be a thief or a rogue who deliberately lures the princess into a trap.

But what eyes he has! They are not eyes, but two bottomless pools the color of heaven. Graymore kept thinking of his eyes as she blindly aimed at the snapped pheasant, and then at the clay jug with the copper coin inside to make it jingle while the jug was tossed in the air. Before it fell, it had to be broken into shards with an arrow. Graymore managed and removed the blindfold from her eyes.

The young man in the dragon mask disappeared from the crowd somewhere, and it felt like he was still around.

The last round was to pass an arrow through a narrow ring of fire so that the arrow would not catch fire. It was something that Graymore had managed many times before. She had done it now. The arrow flew through the blazing ring and didn’t catch fire, but the square suddenly burst into flames. A barrel of gunpowder must have exploded in one of the city’s armories.

«Put out the fire!» Graymore commanded her servants and squires. She herself was left alone. One noble was attacked. A man cut off his purse and fled across the blazing square. The flames did not burn him. But he himself had time to take down the flag and throw it into the fire. It is an insult to Livellin. Graymore drew an arrow from her quiver, took aim, and struck the runner down. The shot must not have put him to death, otherwise how could he be questioned later.

The fire was partially extinguished, but the flags that were flying in the square were burnt out. Bad omen! Graymore, without waiting for the guards, went to the thief. He appeared to have dropped dead, pierced by her arrow, but as she turned the corpse over he was breathing. He was either covered in pockmarks and warts, or not even human, but some kind of troll.

The guards came up, but Graymore wanted to interrogate the captured man herself. He laughed dryly before she even asked the first question.

«There is but one of a dynasty of rulers left in Livellin, and soon it will be gone too,» he hissed. «They will come for you, and you will change.»

She did not have time to ask what he meant by that, for he had gone out of breath, but just as he was being presumed dead, the dead man suddenly came to life, plucked an arrow from his chest, sprang to his feet, and crawled away down the gutter of the nearest building. It looked like a troll, but not a human. He was moving so fast that his lightning-fast movements could scarcely be traced by sight.

«Go after him!» Graymore ordered the guards.

The fire went out. Strangely enough, it appeared where the statuesque stranger in the dragon mask had passed. Graymore looked around for him. He could not have burned in the fire. She didn’t want to believe that outcome. She wished she could see him again. But she wouldn’t even recognize him without his mask.

The thief’s words lingered in her brain. Who would come for her? Are they dragons? But they usually fly, not walk. So he didn’t mean dragons.

Graymore, of course, won the archery contest again. The tournament director put a laurel wreath on her head. The laurel has long been awarded to heroes. She is a hero to her country! She would surely be chosen queen, not her brothers.

Something rang in the wind. A single golden laurel appeared among the laurel trees in the grove! It was its leaves tinkling in the wind. Can a laurel be golden? The wreath for the victor is made of gold by jewelers. But the golden tree, with its golden roots in the ground, seemed like a miracle. The fairies were gathered around them, whispering excitedly. Graymore was too shy to approach them.

Though she was wearing her wreath of victory today, it did not give her the right to communicate with magical creatures.

«She is a poor girl!» The fairies whispered. «She doesn’t even know what awaits her.»

«If she stays here!» interrupted the chorus of fairies one fairy who was sitting on the branches of a laurel tree, which was turning golden by her presence. The gilding slowly ran down from the top of the tree.

Graymore gasped. These are real fairies who can work miracles. If you ask them about her future, unlike the phlegmatic skeleton, they will answer exactly what awaits her. After all, everyone knows that fairies are the most talented soothsayers.

And about whom they are now talking? Who is in trouble?

«If she knew the secrets of her kind,» the fairies whispered. «She would not have been so careless. She would not have made so many mistakes. She is wasting her great gifts. She looks for enemies in the wrong places. And they are right at her side. They are almost in her heart.»

«They are not in her heart!» The tree fairy objected again. «She doesn’t like them. Blood does not mean much. Often love in a family is only a formality, not a feeling. We know little of those who are kindred to us.»

«Her kin are dragons.»

«It is not yet.»

«And what about his kin? The most beautiful king in the world wears scales instead of jewelry. He burned his own kingdom because he couldn’t control his temper. Can he be bewitched?»

«He can! But is it worth it?» The fairy on the laurel yawned. «I’m going to sleep here,» she declared.

«Don’t you dare! Or the whole grove will be gold.»

«So be it! The princess deserved it. She fought gloriously for the laurel wreath of victory. Let the laurel here be golden in her honor.»

The fairy fell asleep, and the crown of the tree covered her with leaves as if she never existed. The other fairies whispered together.

«She is a poor princess!»

Is this any way to honor a winner? Graymore was hiding behind the laurel tree and eavesdropping on them. Did they know she was watching them? The fairies flew past her in a slew of glittering figures. One even whipped her on the shoulder with a wing and didn’t notice. Graymore looked in their wake and groaned. The laurel beneath her hands turned golden. The fairy had fulfilled her promise.

Flames in dreams

Graymore was thrashing about on the king’s bed. She dreamed of a dragon. They were either fighting or making love with him. Suddenly, instead of a dragon, there was a young man. Handsome as an elf, but his breath was fiery.

«Your blood is fiery,» said Graymore, «but you are not a dragon. How could that be?»

He kissed her, breathing fire on her lips. She was to burn. That was the end of the dream.

She was to burn with love in the literal sense, not in the poetic sense. It was a fiery romance!

Graymore could have indulged in dreams of the hero of her dreams all day, but business was urgent. She must pack for the road. If she did not defeat the dragon on the southern border, no one would.

The squires looked at the princess with reverence, as if she were a heroine.

«You are not coming with me,» Graymore informed them.

There was an answering gasp and a gasp of amazement.

«You can’t really go to the dragon’s lair alone, can you?»

«Of course I can!» Graymore was picking out the weapons she would take with her.

She had correctly calculated that if there was only one dragon, she wouldn’t need any helpers. She would be doubly unhappy if she were mistaken and the dragon had flocks of winged helpers in the bushes. Then she’d be walking into a trap. Graymore weighed the pros and cons, and decided that a dragon could have no helpers. She’d swallowed up all the dragons in her area long ago. So she had nothing to fear. No one will come to the dragon’s rescue.

«Won’t you even take us with you?» The squires lamented. They were all young and pretty. Everyone liked the princess, without exception.

«I will not need you or any of my knights to fight the dragon. I ride alone,» Graymore repeated in a peremptory tone.

«Do you need someone to help you hunt a dragon? How could you not take us with you?» The prettiest, most daring of the squires insisted.

«I am bewitched by the dragon’s fire, but you are not,» Graymore replied. «I can’t risk you all on a whim. A dragon would burn you in a single breath.»

The squires grimaced. Everyone knew that dragon fire does not burn an enchanted princess. But about the fire that rages within her when a dragon approaches, Graymore preferred not to tell anyone. Outwardly she remained invulnerable, her body unburned by dragon fire, but her soul burned.

The memory of her dream lover made her soul burn. Graymore struggled to concentrate on her choice of weapons. She would need an axe, a chain, throwing daggers, a mace, darts, a spare quiver of arrows, and, of course, a huge, sturdy bag to put the severed dragon’s head in. Graymore had no doubt that she would overpower and kill the beast.

«Don’t be so sure of yourself,» the laurel fairy whispered as she flew past the window of the royal castle.

«Did she really tell me that?» Graymore frowned.

«You are jealous!» One of the squires scolded the fairy and immediately cried out. He’d accidentally bitten his tongue. Swearing at fairies was dangerous.

Graymore was not angry at the fairy. After all the laurel trees in the avenue had turned gold, fairies could be forgiven for idle chatter. Let them snicker. Everyone knows fairies are sharp-tongued and love to banter with mortals.

«I wish I could catch a fairy and ask her for a fortune!» Graymore sighed wistfully. «It’s a pity fairies aren’t dragons, you can’t catch them.»

«You can beat a dragon,» the elder squire announced with aplomb.

Graymore patted him on the top of his head.

«I know you’re a fan. One day I’ll teach you how to hunt dragons.»

The squire flushed to his ears.

«If there are dragons left when I return from the Southern Woods. I’m probably overconfident, but I think I’m going to catch the last one.»

«Maybe after the dragons you’ll hunt griffins, basilisks or Naga? I hear there’s a whole nest of Nagas in the next kingdom.»

«Nagas, Gryphons, and Basilisks have done nothing to annoy me, but the dragons seem to have declared war on me. Why would they do that?»

«It is because you’re the Chosen One,» the squire suggested.

«I think there’s a deeper reason,» Graymore said, choosing her weapon. «I’ll need a little more provisions, but I don’t want to overload the horse. The saddlebags are already full of crafty dragon-catching implements. I must eat the wild apples that grow along the road. The forests of Livellin are full of wild apples and plums. And I can drink pure spring water.»

Graymore ordered the squires to sharpen their swords, and she herself went down to the cellars where the captive dragons were kept.

«Will you explain to me why you are hunting me? Has your dragon tribe declared war on me or on my realm? What do you want with me? Why do I disturb you so much?»

The dragons only wheezed and snarled in response. They must not know human speech. And their gleaming eyes said they understood. Their eyes are wise, but embittered. The skeleton adviser could translate for her, but he would never insinuate himself into the vaults. He is forbidden to leave the tower. If they put him in a horse-drawn carriage and drag him down to the cellar, he’d probably crumble to dust on the way. Life after death is a risky business. A dead wizard is haunted by various conventions and restrictions.

Graymore stared at the captive dragons for a moment. Her ringed fingers slid over the thick bars of the bars. Usually jewels attract dragons. Graymore was laden with it, but the dragons looked at her with disdain. One even spit fire in her direction. Not surprising, since she was the one who had captured them. If it hadn’t been for her, they’d be free in the sky, not locked up in a dungeon.

The fire spit did not burn Graymore. Dragon fire could not harm her.

«You are so beautiful and so vicious!» rebuked the princess.

The many-colored dragon eyes gazed at her from the darkness like a cluster of jewels. It was as if the dungeon held not dragons but sapphires and rubies and emeralds, as if they were alive inside them. Dragon scales shimmered in every hue of the rainbow.

«How could such beautiful creatures be so vicious and cruel?» Graymore thought aloud and turned to leave. She would get nothing from the silent dragons.

«How can you be so vicious and cruel to cage dragons?» A hoarse voice asked.

Graymore turned around. The voice was definitely not that of a dragon. None of the dragons in the dungeon had spoken to her. So who spoke? Graymore took a torch from a bracket on the wall and looked around. There was no one in the dungeons but the dragons. The guards on duty outside didn’t count. None of them had the audacity to address the would-be queen.

«The Invisible One speaks to me!» Graymore sighed and pushed the torch back into its bracket. Ripples rippled across the smoked wall, as if it were not a wall but the surface of a lake. The soot folded into letters, and the letters into an inscription:

«I am waiting for you in the southern woods.»

Graymore gasped and tried to blindly grab the invisible man, but there was no one in the void. But the head of security came 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?