Translator Наталья Николаевна Лилиенталь

© Natalie Yacobson, 2021

© Наталья Николаевна Лилиенталь, translation, 2021

ISBN 978-5-0051-4413-3

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

PROLOGUE

Quiet, calm night. The silver moon shimmers. A dark river sleeps under a stone bridge. Small islands of stars scattered across the dark canvas of the sky.

The young traveler dimly sensed a threat in the cool air. He got out of the carriage. Ahead lay a gloomy bridge. Torches blazed on either side, illuminating the road. Suddenly, in the silence, they heard quick, echoing steps. Heels pounded on the cobblestones of the bridge. An echo echoed them.

The stranger groped for the cleaver in his belt. The steps approached. The girl ran headlong across the torch-lined bridge. Her long, black hair fluttered behind her back. A grimace of fear froze on her gentle, white face.

“Please help me!” She shouted. “Help…”

Her voice broke. She rushed forward, tangled in her own skirts and stumbling. The traveler managed to notice on her hand a gold ring with an amethyst.

The girl looked around fearfully. She was afraid to look at the sky. She wanted to run on, but then a huge black shadow covered the moon. There was a wild roar. A winged shadow fell on the bridge and part of the river. An unexpected gust of wind stirred the fallen leaves along the shore.

The frightened, pale beauty froze halfway, like a statue. The silhouette of a huge golden dragon stood out high against the black sky. Scales gleamed on powerful wings, a tail wriggling behind a sparkling hump. The monster’s aquamarine eyes sparkled with anger and fury.

And suddenly the dragon rushed down. Its strong clawed paws wrapped around the girl’s waist. In the next moment, he was already hovering high in the sky with his burden. All that could be seen was the relentless, smoothly flapping wings, the pure gold of the torso and head, and a tiny cloud of the dragon’s prey’s scarlet dress.

The young traveler lowered his eyes sadly. The coachman, sitting silently on the box, seems to have become accustomed to such incidents. And the young man could not help thinking. He did not have time to use the weapon. It wouldn’t have helped anyway. How good she is – a dragon sacrifice. But this time the dragon was wrong. Fate haunts everyone.

RANDOMITY

A tent of green foliage swirled overhead. The earth around it was blooming and fragrant. Pansies and primrose covered the meadows. The golden sea of buttercups stretched deep into the forest. The rising sun dazzled the eyes and transformed the magical flora. It is dangerous to enter here, but for the daredevils there are no barriers and laws.

Rose looked over with an admiring glance at the elderberry bushes and lush crowns of trees. Wild raspberries sparkled with dew drops. A piece of blue sky peeked between the tops of the pines. Elves usually live in such forests, but not everyone is destined to see them.

Rosa slung the gun over her shoulder. She shot great. The king himself taught her. And if he allowed her to carry weapons, then he would allow her to hunt in the reserved forest at the same time. It was not for the princess to wander unaccompanied in unfamiliar places, to communicate with commoners, and even more so to wear men’s clothes. But Rose did not care that the courtiers and masters would condemn her. Now she was thinking about her father’s ban. No one should step over the line and enter the forest.

This was the only prohibition for violation of which there was no special punishment. But people kept it. After all, the elves who lived in the forest should have punished the violator. And this is more terrible than dungeons and casemates. Until Rose met not a single magical creature on her way. Maybe the people themselves invented all these legends.

Rose walked quickly along the narrow, uneven path. Her long black hair fell over the red velvet of her caftan. Tall, leather boots were much more comfortable than women’s shoes. Trousers and a sling with a dagger made her look like one of those idlers who drop out of military service and rush in search of adventure, but more often find their own death.

The deeper Rosa went into the forest, the hotter and more suffocating it became. Such a change is against the laws of nature, which means that other forces rule more often. Perhaps a magician settled here, who dictates his conditions to the weather. Anyone who knows how to conjure has the right to subjugate rain, hail, and lightning, what can we say about the heat.

Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, and the larynx was dry. The air became hot as in a pottery oven. And there is no brook or reservoir nearby. Rosa was about to turn off the path when she suddenly heard a broken cry. Someone desperately called for help.

Rose listened. The cry rang out again, now it was clear that it was coming from the thorny, bare bushes blocking one of the paths. What if this is just a joke of the invisible inhabitants of the forest? However, Rose, without hesitation, rushed there. The thorns scratched painfully. Rose skinned her hands, tore the sleeve of her caftan, and a red rag from it hung on a branch of a bush.

A strange picture opened before the girl’s eyes. At the top of the mountain there was a fierce struggle. The eagle attacked a helpless, crying child. The child screeched shrilly, but for some reason it seemed to Rose that his voice was not childish at all.

Shooting a bird from this distance is almost impossible, but Rosa was a well-aimed marksman. She had loaded the gun an hour ago, and she had no doubts about her abilities either. The girl concentrated, took aim and pulled the trigger. A shot rang out, an angry bird’s squeak spread across the skies. Rose missed. How can this be, with her dexterity. She pointed at the heart of the eagle, and instead only interrupted the wing.

Rose fired again. Now right on target. The eagle fell heavily down. Good game! But the princess was more worried about the child. Had she not been around, the predator would have ripped him apart.

Climbing the mountain, Rose ran to the rescued person, and she froze in place. It turned out to be not a child at all, but an ugly little troll.

At that very moment, a dark figure stepped onto the path. The tall gentleman’s white, beautiful hand carefully removed the red patch from the bush. A scrap of princess clothing is a valuable trophy. Especially if another cunning plan is brewing in an insidious head.

Meanwhile, the dumbfounded princess stood on the top of the mountain, rooted to the spot, and looked with surprise at the rescued. How could she take this brat for a child, because the skin of the troll is gray, earthy, and not at all pinkish, as is the case with human children. Instead of a child’s, a lace shirt on a shaggy little body hung, as if on a hanger, a fancy, silvery robe. Furious, sparkling eyes stared at Rose.

“Eagle!” suddenly croaked the troll, waving his hand in the direction where the dead bird was supposed to lie under the mountain.

At first, Rose did not understand what he was trying to explain to her. In addition, the troll uttered several phrases in a language that people did not understand.

In vain she only ruined the eagle, thought the princess, because everyone knows how harmful these trolls are. The most valorous knight would not have saved them for any price, but she fell for the bait, believed that she was doing a good deed.

“He’s alive,” the troll yelled, gesticulating hard at every word. He did not recover from fright, but did not forget how a huge bird of prey circled over his head.

“I swear I killed him,” Rose said, her tongue tangled with emotion. She looked down to be sure she was right, but another disappointment awaited her. There was no eagle at the foot of the mountain. True, the nettles were crumpled in that place, as if recently there was something large and heavy in it.

“Couldn’t he take and fly away with a hole in his heart and a bullet in the wing?” Rose looked inquiringly at the troll, who struggled to get to his feet and spat from the mud. The eagle gave him a good thrashing.

“I think I should thank you,” said the furry, hunched dwarf without much sign of joy. Trolls are said to have neither generosity nor thankfulness. Why did one of them suddenly decide to excel?

Rose never ceased to amaze him with his appearance and manner. Trolls look different. And this one is so weird. On another occasion, the girl would just laugh, but one must be careful when dealing with such creatures. Just expect a catch from them. Rose feared that the troll was about to throw a ball of hot sparks or lightning at her. But the undersized friend behaved with restraint. Straightening to his full height, he barely reached Rose’s knee.

“Come on!” He commanded and trotted down the mountain with such ease, as if stepping on a flat road. Rose barely kept up with him.

“You probably want to ask why I didn’t use a spell to slay the eagle?” the troll guessed Rosa’s thoughts.

The princess nodded.

“Alas,” replied the troll, “I have no right to conjure against vassals…”

“Whose vassals?” Rose asked immediately.

“You’d better not know about this,” the troll cut her off. “By the way, I’m really grateful to you. Do not think that I don’t value my life.”

His voice became kinder. Now they were walking through the poppy field. The forest was left behind, cliffs towered in front.

“Lucky for you,” the troll announced, stopping at the entrance to the gloomy cave. “If not for me, the forest dwellers would not have let you live.”

He spoke all the time in human language, but carefully selected each word, as if afraid to make a mistake. In addition, in his speech, Rose caught an accent that was not found in any of the languages she knew.

The troll entered the cave. The girl followed him unquestioningly, but kept her gun at the ready. What if it’s a trap?

It took a long time to wander in the dark before Rose found herself in the cave treasury. So the troll hadn’t deceived her.

“Choose what you want!” He suggested.

Rose looked around. Bars of gold, nuggets, colored stones lay all around. So this is where the trolls live. Rose touched a pile of silver coins, passed gold dust between her fingers.

The troll himself offered her to take whatever she wanted. Poor people dream of getting rich this way. But Rose was not one of the lovers of easy money. It is also dangerous to accept gifts from a dubious person.

“Thank you, but I wasn’t hiring you and you don’t have to pay me,” Rose said. However, a mischievous light appeared in her emerald eyes. She cannot admit to the owner of the cave that she is afraid to accept his gifts.

The troll was silent, dumbfounded by the honesty of a mere mortal. Even kings are waging wars over different precious glass. But so that a beautiful, human girl does not have any selfish thoughts? This news seemed incredible even to a magical creature.

“Wait!” shouted the troll, noticing that Rose backs away to the exit. “Take what you find at the cave entrance. Otherwise, the forest will not let you go.”

Rose remembered his words only when she got out of the semi-darkness into the sunlight. What can we talk about if there is nothing around, except for grass and a bush of wolf berries. The princess was about to walk past, when she suddenly saw that a wreath of blue forget-me-nots was hanging right on the bush. A charming little thing. The only pity is that by the end of the day the flowers will fade.

The girl took the wreath and put it on her head. Although it did not match Rosa’s attire, it was the perfect adornment for her long, silky hair.

Rose found her way back easily. The sun was at its zenith. The scent of flowers and herbs enveloped the forest. At times, Rose thought that someone was watching her. She felt the gaze on her back. Someone’s hot breath burned the back of her head. Someone’s hands reached out to grab her. But when she turned around, she saw only a deserted path and birds of paradise flying from branch to branch. The wreath will guard its mistress until the last forget-me-not fades in its wonderful weaving.