Rhianon-5. Along the way of deception

© N. Yacobson, 2026

ISBN 978-5-0056-9819-3 (т. 5)

ISBN 978-5-0056-8618-3

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

The Deal

Five demons circled over the forbidden hall. Rhianon found her way here easily now. And she was no longer intimidated by their company. She was even used to being surrounded by five disembodied, glowing knights, kissing her hands and taking turns honoring her as both their queen and their mistress. Their touches are as the movement of dew on a flower. Only sometimes she felt as if it were not air but prickly grains of sand running across her skin. The touch didn’t excite her, it made her sleepy, but she knew she shouldn’t fall asleep in that place. Maybe once she fell asleep here, she would never wake up again, and the consciousness that had escaped her captive body would hover over the ground forever.

Where is the sixth spirit? Rhianon had seen its vague silhouette looming in the passage, but it had never dared to cross the threshold. Perhaps there was something taboo about it. What if he simply could not? That was why he had brought her into the tower. Now she kept the five spirits company.

“Where would you like to be this time?” A low voice came over her ear, and before she knew it, a spirit had drifted toward her, almost nuzzling her cheek. It was weightless and nimble, like a cat. She was used to spirits creeping up on her silently and almost imperceptibly, but sometimes she still marveled at their speed and nimbleness. And now she couldn’t answer at once, only because she was startled.

“I don’t know.” Actually, she knew she wanted to get back to Loretta, but why? Rhianon stopped herself. Why would she want to poison her soul unnecessarily? There are plenty of other interesting places in the world for her to visit. The power of magic would take her anywhere she wanted to go in a jiffy.

“Do you doubt it?” A spirit whispered in her ear. “You don’t know where you’ll go this time. You could take a torch or a lantern and make us lead you down the dark road of dreams. Do you know what creatures are hiding there? The kind you’ve never seen before. And the road itself is endless. It’s easy to get lost and no one will find you.”

“What’s with the lantern?” She had the feeling that even a tiny light would draw Madael or Seti. And what is about the fire inside her? All those things could probably smell it from afar.

“Oh, you don’t need a lantern, do you? Fire and light are what keep the creatures of nightmares away. They’ll whimper and scurry away into the shadows. They won’t have to scare you anymore, because you can scare them with your fire. They’ll think you want to set them all on fire, and they’ll howl. The whole universe will hear it. That’ll be fun.”

“It is tempting,” Rhianon said, as she thought to herself, listing all the countries and cities she’d like to visit. Dozens, even hundreds of names passed through her mind, but so far she hadn’t settled on any. How strange, the strongest warrior in the world is her protector, and she is already trying to find other allies. She needs to choose a kingdom strong enough, or several that could provide her with an army. If she had even a few magical creatures under her command, she would easily intimidate any ruler. Rhianon looked with a sigh at the spirit whispering to her. If only she could convince a few spirits to accompany her, no one would refuse her an army.

“So will you visit the land of dreams? There, too, are ruled by former cohort leaders from your lover’s troops. You won’t know whether they’re seductive women, warriors, or monsters. You know those demons…”

“And they were the ones who sent me dreams?” Rhianon remembered the voices coming from heaven. They were somehow not quite associated with the black and gold visions of the land of dreams that the spirit had conveyed to her. There were only disembodied creatures woven of darkness and golden shackles, rocky slopes brushed like palaces and small creatures that could only exist and leap in darkness.

“Some other time.” “Rhianon turned her back on the speaker.

Considering that the reality around her was more like a startling fantasy, she wasn’t lying.

“Then what would you choose?”

Rhianon was reminded of a traveling theater. A fairground circus she’d only seen once, when she’d wandered through towns and cities with Orpheus. Then she had accidentally set fire to the tent. Were the actors hurt?

As soon as Rhianon thought of them, she suddenly imagined the deafening woods of chirping grasshoppers. They were now in those places where the winter chill had receded. She wondered where that was. It might be worth checking.

Rhianon decided to take a chance. She clutched the pendant in her fingers and thought of the ornate tent adorned with a cockade on top. Just a moment and she was already standing in front of it. The colorful strips of fabric were clearly distinguishable even in the semi-darkness. One of them, the one blocking the entrance, was slightly raised. A lamp burned peacefully inside. No one had gone to bed yet. Rhianon could tell by the sound of voices coming from inside the tent.

She bent down and peered through the gap in the aisle. What she saw stunned her. In the blink of an eye everything became clear. The wandering actors had not been harmed in the slightest by her fire. It was more likely that what she had scorched the square then they had not even noticed. They’d been burned, of course, but long before — years before Rhianon herself, or anyone else in the world, had been born.

Wandering faeries dressed as harlequins, pierros, and colombinae laughed merrily, drank, and played cards. How easily they fooled the audience. The mossy mustiness of the bright costumes could be mistaken for peculiar makeup. And who cares if tattered wings fluttered behind the red-haired colombina’s back and moss sprouted along her cheeks. She was still pretty enough, as a pretty little fallen angel should be. The combination of naivety, mischief, and vice was astounding. It seemed as if the seductive woman and the devil were merged into one.

“Come on, Gloria,” someone in a devil costume, which might not have been a costume at all, leaned over her shoulder, watching the game. The black wings trembled painfully at the proximity of the lamp. He stared at the cards in the pretty girl’s hands.

Well, there, thought Rhianon, the game went on. When Orpheus had invented cards for them as a joke, she had no idea that they would become so popular that even the whole of the devil would rush to play them. Apparently, the game was fascinating. Their keen ears didn’t even catch her steps in front of the tent. This was unusual for supernatural creatures. The likes of them would have smelled even a mosquito a hundred yards away, but they were only playing and didn’t want to be interrupted. Gradually the game was getting to the point. Rhianon, who was watching them, suddenly realized that the players were about to have a fight. The laughter and jokes ended and a heated argument began.

Apparently, Orpheus knew what he was doing when he created the cards. He wanted to bring discord to everything, after all. Rhianon just didn’t realize that he wanted to affect both mortal men and his former brethren. Or was it just an accident? Maybe he himself didn’t know how powerful a weapon he’d invented. Or maybe now he was making custom cards for paying customers himself, and laughing at them to himself. Rhianon hadn’t seen Orpheus or felt his presence near her for a long time. She couldn’t know where he was or what was wrong with him, but one thing was certain, he didn’t sit still. Without regular mischief he would cease to be himself.

The argument was heating up. Pretty Gloria was almost fighting with the harlequin already. One awkward movement and they could topple the lamp hanging in the air above the table. Their wings trembled from the proximity of the fire, but the argument did not stop. Rhianon backed away from the entrance to the tent. She didn’t want them to accidentally glance this way and notice her. It would have worked out very well if a dry branch had not crunched beneath her feet.

The crunch was loud and unexpectedly sharp. The faerie ears couldn’t help but pick it up. In an instant all eyes turned toward her, green and bright and unnaturally burning. They looked straight ahead and saw everything, but they reflected nothing but emptiness. Rhianon shuddered as she faced Gloria’s equally blank and magnetically glowing gaze. She hadn’t had time yet to snatch the trump cards from her partner’s hands, and already she was looking ahead as if she’d seen her rightful prey.

“Get back!” No one rushed toward her yet, but Rhianon had already picked up a dry branch from the ground and thrust it forward for protection, like a sword. Fear made fire rush to her blood. The branch erupted in her hands and took on a blinding flame. Of course, it was not enough. Rhianon knew that it would not cost them anything to break loose, to fly above the ground and surround her. Then a burning branch would do her no good. They would fly around her, like spirits, and someone would be sure to snatch her. She was already imagining Gloria’s long, webbed fingers, and how they would claw at her hair.

“Don’t you dare come near me!”

“Then you come with us,” Gloria beckoned her with a graceful gesture. Both she and her partner had already let the cards out of their hands, but they hadn’t scattered across the floor but remained hanging in the air.

“Go,” she waved her hand again. “We have a wonderful drink of blackberries and bat’s blood, and it helps you see things that aren’t there… You want to see that you have a kingdom, don’t you?”

She didn’t laugh. It wasn’t a joke. Perhaps they were fooling the audience with this very drink and the faint remnants of their own charms. Rhianon looked at the thick, viscous liquid in the unfinished glasses. A flask, strapped like a spider web, was lying beside it as well. She wouldn’t have been surprised if the flask had never run out of wine, but she didn’t want to taste it.

“Be resolute,” Gloria strode toward her, the hem of her colorful, diamond-striped dress never touching the ground. In a moment the fairy would be at her side. Her slimy hands would touch her shoulders, and her sharp-toothed lips would be close at hand.

Involuntarily Rhianon panicked. The burning branch could not keep her away from the evil one for long. Gloria was already very close. Her red lips, red as if lined with paint, were moving, but Rhianon heard no words. A wave of fear came over her. Her emotions were running high and her fire was growing stronger. A surge of energy shot through her, sending a shattering wave. Even Rianon herself did not realize that the flaming cloths of the tent were her doing. For the first time, it was as if the fire had sprung from her rather than ripped out of her, and now a sucking emptiness was gaping inside. She could hear a burnt Gloria screaming nearby. The fairy tried to tear the burnt crust from her face like a mask, but Rhianon was no longer concerned with that. She bent in half, trying to overcome the inner spasm of pain. Her stomach still stung. And the tent before her burned. It took on a lighter light than a luminary. Gloria wailed beside it, the others tried to put out the fire. Rhianon realized it was time to disappear. The pendant around her neck turned into a tiny model of an axe. What could that mean?”

“Any town near Loretta,” she riddled to herself, hoping that she would be there instantly. And so she was. A few minutes later there was not even a memory of the flaming tent. Rhianon was in a dark city. Despite the late hour, there were a lot of people around. People were shouting and chanting something. She began to make her way through the crowd. No one paid much attention to her. People were much more interested in something else, something that was in the square. Rhianon began to make her way there. Out of the corner of her eye she saw dwarves and harpies scampering through the forest of people’s feet, either cutting off purses from gawkers or poking holes in people’s boots and clothes for fun. Obviously, it was a familiar sight. Where there was a crowd, there were the bad guys. When people’s attention was diverted to something, there was room for mischief.

Preparations of some sort were underway in the square. Rhianon recognized the platform to the front door. It seemed there would be an execution. She wondered who would be taken to the scaffold. She still thought of the condemned man who had looked her over in the crowd. Would it be so now? Would she attract the gazes of all the people condemned to death? So far she had not seen the condemned. Only the executioner and some indistinct bluish silhouette resting at ease on the scaffold, as if in his personal chair. It was as if the others did not notice him. Rhianon wondered why rotten vegetables and taunts weren’t flying at the insolent man. She looked closely and exhaled indignantly when she recognized Orpheus. Surely others could not have noticed him. Her personal spirit was incorrigible. He sought amusement in the most unexpected places.

Is he here by accident or to tease her? Rhianon was afraid to bump into him with her eyes, but Orpheus obviously sensed something and looked into the crowd. His pupils gleamed joyfully, like two sparks.

“My dear Madam,” he took off his rather luxurious hat with a feather and bowed to her exquisitely without getting up. He had become a dandy since they had not seen each other. Rhianon couldn’t help noticing it. He should have been more of a buffoon. Of course, the people around him had not noticed his bow.

Rhianon remembered the bird she had let out of its cage. Had she not done harm to herself? She did not even know what kind of creature she was releasing. Nor did she know what kind of companion she had found when she first spoke to Orpheus. Now sitting on the scaffold he looked like a real demon in an expensive camisole. One glimpse of him was enough to realize how dangerous he was. Rhianon had a sudden urge to hide from him.

She tilted her head so that she could not see her face behind the brim of the hats of the people standing nearby, but still the feeling that Orpheus saw her remained. He could see her through the walls, too. Rhianon was already thinking about whether she should disappear from here, when suddenly she heard voices announcing the verdict. The condemned were being led to the platform. The sullen procession moved slowly forward under the watchful eye of the guards. Rhianon was surprised to see any familiar faces. Harold, Brome, Bob, William, Raven… It was like a dream. Despite the bruises and the strange rash on their skin, Rhianon recognized her former friends. To say that she was amazed was to say nothing. And she couldn’t have been shown anything more frightening in the realm of dreams. Of course, there was nothing to be surprised about. They were all outlaws, and sooner or later their path lay to the scaffold. They were aware that they were playing with death. They could get caught at any moment. And Rhianon was well aware of the risks in joining them. Nevertheless, seeing them now in front of the frontal seat hurt her intensely.

She pondered feverishly what she could do to save them. It was nothing. And not even the evil creatures scurrying through the crowd here would be powerless. All those little creatures could do was make a mess, or cut someone’s purse strings, and then scatter the coins across the square to watch the beggars fight over the gold. Such a maneuver might have delayed the execution by minutes, but not stopped it. If only there was a dragon to blow fire over the rooftops. Then everyone would scatter for sure. Rhianon looked wistfully up at the dark sky. Surely not one of Madael’s servants would come here to witness an execution, and certainly not one who would obey her orders. And she desperately needed such a servant to dictate her terms to the executioners. In her mind she focused on the valley of dragons, trying to summon one of them. She remembered one with a bright ruby crest, one that could sweep across the sky like an arrow, terrifying everyone and exhaling a jet of flame. Rhianon imagined him as clearly as if he were here, but the sky remained empty, no one heard her mental call. Only some winged, disembodied creatures swarmed over the rooftops and near the chimneys. They, too, were watching the execution, but not to intervene, but with mockery. There was no help to be had from them.

Rhianon looked once more to the heavens, waiting for a miracle. Perhaps one of the winged reptiles had heard her call. But there were only dark clouds in the sky. It was as gloomy as her soul.

Orpheus, who had once sat proudly on the scaffold, had now disappeared, but his quiet laughter still echoed through the crowd like the sound of jingle bells. Perhaps she was the only one to hear it, or perhaps the condemned too. Rhiannon pushed her way forward, trying to get a good look at each condemned man. There were many of them, and she met several unfamiliar faces. Apparently more thugs had joined the gang since she’d left them. Naturally the people rejoiced, the king’s guards had finally managed to disarm an entire nest of outlaws. Rhianon remembered the forest and the feeling that there was a den of outlaws somewhere nearby. Maybe she only thought she saw one blind man among the condemned. Could a man who once saw an angel without a helmet have survived? It seems not. Even if he had not lived much longer since he had been blind, his path was now inevitably to the scaffold. He would never have time to tell anyone what he had seen. His head, which retained the memory of the beautiful devil, was about to be severed by an axe. Rhianon squeezed her eyes shut when she saw the sharp blade. It was rather unusual. Outlaws were usually hanged or quartered, and this was suddenly an easy execution. It was the way aristocrats were executed, not outlaws. Ron had once been an aristocrat. Her gut twisted. She tried to look for his fair-haired head among the condemned men and could not. He was not among them. Did that mean he was the only one who was saved? Or was he already dead? She swallowed hard. There was no doubt that Ron was a good fighter. But he could have died in an unexpected confrontation, too. She wouldn’t want that to happen. She might have been cruel to him, but he still commanded her sympathy.

“Where are you?” She asked a mental question, imagining a pale, pleasant face with golden eyebrows and beautiful cheekbones. The answer to her question was a quick vision-the oak walls, the table, the lamp, the drunken scolding like an echoing sound behind and the knife. Fingers with skin scraped to blood were drawing something with the blade on the wooden table. And right next to it, some creepy little creatures were crawling across the tabletop. Disgusting, but Ron was alive after all. An inner voice told her so clearly.

Still, Rhianon pushed herself closer to the dais. She couldn’t wait to see the face of each condemned man to be sure. There she saw Harold, hurt and tired, Raven next to him, followed by Brom. All that was missing was the dwarf Shivo. He might have died too, or he might still be alive. His nasty looks and small stature would have helped him hide, even in the world of the dwarves. Rhianon sighed in relief. At least someone else had survived. She no longer expected miracles and help from heaven, but the dream of a dragon coming still lingered. She longed for the sound of wings whistling through the air, but the roof was littered with shingles. Madael’s neglected servants were playing cards at the chimneys and laughing venomously. No one noticed them, and they could have spat at passersby from on high if they’d wanted to, but for now they limited themselves to cursing. It was easy for people to mistake their words for echoes in the old house, but Rhianon could hear everything. She didn’t want to hear it, but all the sounds of the crowd reached her ears, the coughing, the laughter, the swearing, and even the thoughts, human and non-human. She became equally susceptible to people and things. She did not want to distract herself from the execution, but her mind distracted itself. Here is some gnome counts the proceeds from the cut purse, and people passing by take him for a child. They can’t see his wrinkled face hidden by his cap, and they even hand him change. There are pixies scattering buckwheat grains from a torn sack, griffins scratching at roofs with their claws, black faeries fiddling in spilled flour, dyeing their wings white, elves making jokes about drunks in the pub. She hears everything and the whole world is as if in her power. Human thoughts and the thoughts of magical beings are intertwined in her perception. Maybe it’s because there is as much ethereal in her as there is human. There were equal parts of both. It is as if she is divided into two halves, as if a day is divided into day and night. Both are at her mercy. She feels the vibrations of both worlds and can captivate them both. It felt that way, but if she is so powerful, then why can’t she save her friends.

Rianon intercepted Brom’s gaze fixed on her. He noticed her quite casually and opened his mouth in amazement. None of the bandits had ever seen her dressed as a noblewoman before. Rhianon realized it too late. Of course, no one would have counted on her help or intervention now. But she wanted to intervene. She could have saved them. Rhianon took one last look at the dark clouds streaking across the sky. There was no help in sight. No dragon could come, and even if he did, it would be too late.

“But you’re like a dragon,” the voice inside her reminded her playfully. “You’re even stronger than a dragon. You have a more powerful fire.”

Even if Orpheus had appeared behind her back now, he couldn’t have been that heartfelt.

She did feel stuffy. Her lungs were constricting. She was sure that if she could breathe in now, she would exhale not oxygen but a jet of flame. It was cold and damp in the night plaza, and it felt like heat all around. Rhianon felt as if she were in a furnace. She didn’t even notice the dragging of her friends toward the scaffold. She had to hold back somehow to keep from burning the whole town down, but the flames had already burst out. The rush of fire and explosion was as powerful as ever. Rhianon wouldn’t have thought it was bursting out of her own body if she hadn’t felt the burning inside. First the scaffold burst into flames. Then a trickle of flame ran all over the platform. No one knew what it was or how dangerous the fire was, so they did not hurry to put it out. Even the guards were stunned. The flames had appeared out of nowhere beneath their feet. The flames had affected the square as well as some of the nearby buildings. Out of the corner of her eye, Rhianon saw the creatures of Madael swiftly fly from the rooftops, and the leprechauns flee the crowd, dashing off toward their dens below ground. It’s nice and damp there, and the fire won’t touch them. But the people already felt its heat. It was as if hell was near. Some cried out in fright, knocking sparks from their clothes. The eaves of the houses were collapsing in flames. The guards looked around in bewilderment. No one could have imagined that the fire was caused by a girl standing in the crowd. She could not have been suspected. But Brom looked at her again. He knew that she was capable of igniting the world around her with her mere presence. He just didn’t know what she was capable of. Her talent had grown since the last time they had seen each other.

She had met the devil. His proximity had made her shattering gift even more powerful. Perhaps that was what made their meeting so dangerous. Rhianon wanted to become her beloved’s equal. She gave free rein to the fire and many more buildings were occupied. Flames burst from the windows themselves, erupting on the sidewalk beneath the feet of passersby. Those who stood near the dais could already feel the heat on the ground. It was hell. It was only fire and no escape. People cried out in fright, but Rhianon could not be appeased. Those who had watched so indifferently the execution of her friends deserved no mercy. Now fire was blazing everywhere, pillars of flame arising right beside her. The blowing wind could not put them out.