Graymore is a dragon hunter

Is it a young man or a lizard?

Graymore crouched in pain and grabbed her crossbow. As long as she wore a tight corset dress, she couldn’t swing a sword, but she could shoot. The bouffant sleeves and broad flared sleeves didn’t hinder an archer’s marksmanship. Graymore aimed for the thicket, expecting to see the dragon’s enormous snout emerge, but the beast never did. Perhaps it was flying high over the mountains, and she felt it. The fiery ache inside usually heralded the fact that the dragon was somewhere nearby, but not that it was planning to attack her at all.

«So dainty and frail a lady like you is going to hunt bears?» A mocking voice came through the thicket.

It was the sound of the velvety tenor that sent Graymore over the edge of her insides. Surely it must be an elf! No matter how hard she tried to avoid dealing with elves seducers, one of them seemed to have gotten on her trail on purpose.

A slender young man appeared beside the lake. His face seemed to be covered in golden scales. Graymore tried to get a better look. No, it was just a mask. It must have fallen off, because now the mask was gone. The stranger was so handsome. It took Graymore’s breath away. She had never seen anyone so beautiful in her life, and at her court had visited many foreign princes, sheikhs, shahs, caliphs, princes and all kinds of ambassadors.

«Do you want to kill me?» The handsome man arched his eyebrows mockingly.

Her cheeks flashed with shame as she realized she was aiming for his chest.

«I’m not a bear.»

«Are there bears around here?» She mumbled.

«There are centaurs, elves and dragons.»

«Well, that’s what I hunt!»

«You do?» He moved closer, throwing the vines aside with his hands. «A dragon hunted by such a little thing? Isn’t that funny?»

«You’ve got to be kidding me.» Graymore jammed the tip of her crossbow into the stranger’s chest. «You’ll see me catch a dragon.»

«Catch me,» the stranger jerked his arm across her throat.

«You’re the elf who wants the girl to catch him? Usually it’s the other way around. Elves catch and seduce girls.»

«It is not always! I once saw a beautiful, greedy queen come into the forest to perform a rite herself, in order to trap a rich elf or dragon as her husband.»

«Was she lucky?»

«Yes and no.»

«Why is that? Explain.»

«She caught a rich man in scales, but after her wedding night with him she turned into a dragon herself. You should have seen how she woke up in a witch’s circle and howled when she found scales sprouting in her delicate skin.»

«I have never heard the legend of such a queen.»

«It is not a legend, but the plain truth. The queen’s name was Ligeia. She ruled over an empty kingdom that used to be called the Marids.»

«There hasn’t been such a kingdom for over three hundred years. It was swept away by a flood. Allegedly the watermen appropriated the Marids for themselves.»

«And so it was. Queen Ligeia first robbed the lake’s king and then seduced the dragon. And then she turned into a dragon herself and scorched all the water in her sunken kingdom. Now instead of a lake there is a burnt-out swamp.»

«I’ve never heard of people turning into dragons.»

«Then you don’t know anything about dragons.»

«What do you mean, I know nothing?» Graymore was nearly taken aback. Does he know how many captive dragons there are in her dungeons? Was the stranger deliberately sassing her, or was it accidental? He should be prosecuted for insulting a noble! But what eyes he had! Graymore could not tear her eyes from his. She drowned in them.

«You look like Cupid aiming for my heart,» he remarked.

«I am not Cupid!»

«You’re right, you’re a dragon-hunter,» he said, his voice mirroring another sneer.

«Do you doubt me?»

«I am not!» He lifted her chin with his fingers and placed a long kiss on her lips.

She should have been outraged, she supposed, but Graymore was ecstatic. The kiss was as sweet as it had been in her dream. This stranger was as if he had come out of her dream. Only he wasn’t fiery, yet his proximity made everything erupt inside.

Graymore slid her fingers down his back. His back turned out to be too oblong. The handsome stranger’s body curved like a crooked mirror.

Graymore could hardly pull herself away from his lips. It’s not customary to kiss strangers, but don’t you tell your heart to. It is stronger than reason.

«Where are you from? Did you come from the lake?»

«I am down from the mountains,» he answered nonchalantly.

«Are you from the mountains? Only gryphons and dragons live in the mountains!» Graymore opened her eyes wide with amazement.

«Elves live in the mountains.»

Graymore knew what elves names sounded like.

«What is your name?» She asked. «My name is Graymore.»

«I know it.»

The stranger dumbfounded her with the answer.

«How do you know?»

Had the fame of her dragon exploits gone so far that even the mountain elves had heard of her?

Instead of answering, the stranger gently touched her locks and wound a long lock of her hair about his finger. Graymore noticed that he had scales growing on his finger. The lake reflected his back, unnaturally elongated and also overgrown with scales. And beneath his back, a green tail wriggled in rings. Graymore shuddered and backed away. The tail of a lizard! He must be a wizard. He was too beautiful for a normal human. Maybe he’s naked. There’s a kingdom of naga around here somewhere, beyond the mountains where the rain forests called jungles stretched out. He probably crawled in from there and immediately seduced a wandering princess.

«Don’t come any closer, or I’ll shoot!» Graymore took aim at him with her crossbow.

«You are so beautiful and so prickly!» The stranger looked at her with mild regret, and then suddenly handed her a scarlet rose. Where did he even get a rose in the hot forests, where roses did not grow? You look like this prickly flower. You look like a rose, but your character has thorns too.»

«And you have a serpent’s tail!»

He tossed the rose at Graymore’s feet and then suddenly disappeared, as if he had vanished into thin air. The stinging sensation in her chest was gone. The dragon must have flown over the mountains before it could pass.

Graymore bent down and picked up the rose. Was there poison on its thorns? The skeleton had warned her that some clever wizards could smear even rose thorns with poison.

It was a pity that the young man had disappeared so quickly. Though he turned out to be half lizard, Grayamore wanted to see him again. Why is it that the most beautiful young men turn out to be magical creatures!

Dancing in the Mountains

Graymore’s heart ached. Who to marry, if all suitable guys were either elves or naga? It couldn’t be that the future queen of Livellin would marry a naga! And why was she suddenly thinking about marriage? She didn’t seem to have any intention of getting married at all. To be the sole ruler of a country is far more pleasant than having to reckon with her husband in everything. Graymore liked being free.

Why was she so drawn to this naga? He might have the face of an angel, but he had the body of a snake! You don’t go to the ball with a lizard! She would have been better off falling in love with an elf.

Thoughts of mountain elves kept creeping into her head. Graymore tried to go around the mountains, but they wouldn’t end. She seemed to be riding around them in circles. She felt as if the mischievous elves had lured her into a witch’s ring. Everywhere she turned there were mountains and mountains, and lianas of tropical flowers stretched across them.

The rose the stranger had given her had almost withered away, but when she put it in the loop of her corsage, it bloomed again, as if it were powered by Graymore’s heart.

«My blood is fiery,» the Princess recalled. «Could it be that this rose draws its life force from fire?»

She could see indistinct silhouettes in the thicket. Maybe she should turn back into the forest. It was impossible to go around the mountains.

She put her palm to her forehead and peered at the mountains. The very top of the mountains seemed to have been chiseled into the shape of castle towers. Was this a joke of nature or the work of mountain fairies?

There was a noise from somewhere above. It sounded like the beating of wings! Were the dragons really coming? Instead of dragons, all that Graymore could make out was a large bird, diving down in a sudden dive.

A gryphon snatched her from her saddle and carried her into the mountains. There must be an eagle’s nest, and the gryphon’s cubs were long overdue for supper. Gryamore wanted to tell the griffon that princesses weren’t even meant to be eaten by eagles, but would he understand? Killing the gryphon was a pity, too. Graymore kept her hand on her dagger, but she hesitated. As long as nothing threatened her life, she would not kill the griffin.

As it turned out, up there was a mountain plateau, not an eagle’s nest. The griffin had brought her here and placed her on the edge of the plateau and then flew away. How strange!

Had the gryphon decided to make it difficult for her to go down the mountain? Is it in league with the dragons? Graymore wanted to swear at the entire avian race. Should they have thought of bringing her down here? Griffins must be like magpies, dragging all men adorned with glittering jewels up into the mountains. She should have taken off her wreath, her earrings and rings.

The sounds of chanting came to Graymore’s ears. So the plateau was not as empty as it seemed. It was hard to tell where the sounds were coming from. Graymore walked from corner to corner of the huge plateau for a long time before she came upon a cave-like hole. Strangely enough, it was curtained with a fringed velvet curtain. Pendants of gems stretched across the curtain. Could it be that mountain peri live here? Unlike fairies, they’re fond of opulence.

Graymore drew back the curtain and stepped inside. This is not a cave! It was a palace carved into the mountain.

The floor had been rough and stony to begin with, then replaced by smoothly hewn slabs and even mosaics. The walls of stone, though uneven, were decorated with tapestries and sconces. Graymore recoiled from one orange tapestry, which appeared to be woven of sparks and fire. Tiny fire fairies, no bigger than a cat, were crawling about, finishing the job. They wove fire around the very top of the tapestry. What a miracle!

Graymore clenched her dagger tighter. She could hear the harp and tambourine. Was there dancing nearby? She passed farther and entered a spacious hall, where couples were waltzing. All the dancers wore masks. She was the only one who came in with her face uncovered. Graymore noticed the vines on the walls. Could a semblance of a mask be woven from them? The vines were green, but as soon as she touched them, they burst into flames.

«The gryphon brought another girl into the tribute,» someone whispered.

A tall man in a green cloak and a scaly half-mask was walking across the hall toward Graymore. The crown in his curly hair was also made of green scales.

He was alone without a lady. Not surprisingly, he asked the first one who entered the hall alone to dance. Graymore didn’t suspect a trick. They’re just some kind of wizards, not dragons. They live in the mountains, and naturally they might try to bewitch her, but she seemed immune to spells. Otherwise she could not become a dragon-hunter.

The dance had barely begun when she felt dizzy. It was as if she’d been drugged or bewitched. She had to concentrate on something to drive away the mesmerism. That was the advice the wizard skeleton usually gave. The first remedy for someone else’s compulsion is to think of something you like. Graymore noticed a musician sitting at her harp. She had green leaves sprouting in her red hair. Her dress was green, too, with a fringe of leaves. She must be a forest nymph. Graymore had heard a lot about them, but hadn’t seen one yet. The sight of the nymph distracted her from her witching frenzy. The dance partner was angry.

«Look at me!» He demanded in a snarling tone.

«You have charming harpists,» Graymore avoided looking up at him in spite of his demand. «Are they nymphs from the forest?»

«Do not think of them, think of me.»

«But I like them better.»

It was an insult. The partner hissed. Graymore put the blade of her dagger to his throat, and burned herself. The stranger’s blood was fiery.

Could it be a dragon? Graymore tried to look into his eyes. Were they serpentine? She’d never seen a dragon turn into a human before, though legends had it that way.

«You are cheeky girl!» The man with the fire blood didn’t even apologize for burning Graymore’s hand, nor did she apologize for mutilating him with her dagger. The score is even! It is time to run away!

The vines that spanned the pillars burst into flames. The leaves were burning, but they were not consumed. Graymore dashed for the exit. No one tried to stop her. There was nowhere to run. She is in the mountains. She has no wings. She can’t fly. It’s all calculated. She cannot escape from here. Graymore is frozen on the mountain plateau, and a snide laugh can be heard behind her. She would have to go back. A gust of strong wind came. Some huge creature flapped its wings near the plateau. It was a dragon! Graymore was frightened. She usually killed dragons, but now it could easily take her down. One dagger would not be enough to overpower the monster. And behind her there was a chase.

«Come back, you wretch!» A familiar voice hissed behind him.

She had no choice but to fly away on her dragon. The dragon had just flapped its wings for her. Graymore took a chance and climbed on top of it. In a moment she was soaring over the mountains on her dragon, and below her, inhuman beings hissed and wailed. They couldn’t make it from the plateau to the dragon.

«Farewell!» Graymore waved to the creepy elves, in whose company she did not wish to remain.

Flying on a dragon was far more pleasant than dancing at a mountain ball. How could she have never thought of taming a captive dragon so she could fly on it? This dragon, however, she had not yet captured. On the contrary, it was he who had kidnapped her. What if he carried her into some creepy tract? She was unarmed at the moment.

Instead, the dragon lowered her to the ground just where the voracious Maverin was peacefully nibbling on the grass.

«Thank you!» Graymore never thought she would say such a thing to a dragon.

She should have grabbed her crossbow and aimed it. Surely this must be the dragon that terrorized the southern borders, but it was in no hurry to attack. Instead, it picked up a fallen rose with its claw and held it out to Graymore.

Strangely enough, she accepted the flower without expecting a catch. She did not think of fighting now. She stood as she did, not touching her weapon until the dragon flew away.

Stone City

After flying the dragon, a path past the mountains was found as if by magic. It was as if the dragon had managed to lift the spell cast by the mountain elves.

Graymore drove on. The whole day passed without adventure. The girl ate wild apples and pears without fear that they might be the enchanted fruits of the elves. Streams and springs also came across quite often along the way. One could not die of thirst in the forest. But one could stumble upon ruins in the forest. Graymore didn’t expect to see an expanse cleared of trees, where steles and obelisks whitened and tall arches rounded above them.

«Where are we, Maverin?» Graymore sensed the horse’s indecision. He didn’t want to go any farther, as if there were ghosts waiting ahead.

There was an overgrowth of ivy on the arches, and the sidewalk was so overgrown with grass that it had become a lawn. There were so many stone statues all around that it made one’s eyes glaze over. It was like a city of statues! Graymore took a closer look at the statues. They were neither man nor beast. They were somewhere between dragon and man. The figures are all human, but they all have dragon’s details. Some have a mask of scales growing on them. Some have their tails as a larger part of their bodies and claws instead of arms.

Graymore held the horse up beside a graceful female sculpture. The lady was beautiful, but her forehead bore branching dragon horns.

«It is your rival!» A voice whispered from above.

Graymore looked up. A tit was sitting on a tree branch. When it saw that Graymore was looking at it, the tit swooped down and settled on her shoulder, as if it were a gossipy whisperer.

«What’s happened here?» Graymore wasn’t surprised that the tit was chirping human words. What surprised her more were the statues. It was as if they were all magical. Surely some wizard must have put them there to perform a mysterious ritual in the thicket.

«They all became stone so that he wouldn’t burn them,» chirped the tit right in her ear. «But it’s a big secret! They are afraid of his fire!»

«Who could burn them?»

«It is the one who was supposed to rule them. He was the fairest of them all, and he has become the worst of them all. Everyone is afraid of him now.»

«You speak in riddles.»

«I’m not supposed to talk at all,» the tit pecked Graymore’s shoulder resentfully and sprang away. «If you’ve noticed, I’m just a bird.»

That’s all! The tit disappeared into the treetops, as if it hadn’t existed at all. It seemed as if she was only dreaming.

«You are cheeky little bird!» Graymore rubbed her aching shoulder. What else to call a tit? But the tit doesn’t care about insults. She was long gone, but the statues remained. They reeked of cold and heat at the same time. It seemed that everything around them was both on fire and covered with ice. Only the greenery of the thicket softened this impression.

«They could be revived by water from the well, but it was better not to do so.»

Who said that? Was it a tit? The voice seemed different, not so thin. It came from the center of the square, overgrown with grass and littered with sculptures. There was indeed a well with a log cabin covered with a thick layer of moss. The place was in disrepair! Grahamor would not have been surprised if moss had sprouted in the depths of the well, too. Out of curiosity, she jumped off her horse and approached the well. Could one drink from it? There was no bucket or pail to draw water from, but a green serpent hissed at her from the well.

It’s a well’s dragon! Graymore instantly drew her sword and swung it, but the serpent was in no hurry to attack. It only hissed furiously and looked Graymore straight in the eyes. Its gaze must have been hypnotizing. Why would she kill it if it wasn’t breathing fire and biting? Graymore put the sword away. It was the first time she had ever let a dragon go. Her advisors would not have approved of such mercy.

The dragon showed counter-solidarity and retreated back into the well. If he spat venom in her face, she would be ugly. How she hadn’t thought of that right away. After all, well’s dragons are known for their poisonous saliva. It made her flesh blister like a pustule.

Something creaked behind them. Graymore turned around. The sculpture of the beautiful horned lady seemed to have changed her pose. Probably it was just an imagination.

What did it mean, the statue was her rival? Graymore approached the lady again. Her stone eyes were blank, a ligature of dragon scales trailing across her lips and cheek. So is this lady a dragon or not? Do all statues depict people ready to turn into dragons? 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.