Swan and Dragon. Dragon Empire

However, the ballroom was not much like a trap. Its high vaulted ceilings looked up into the sky. Stained glass was inserted into the bizarre windows. The light was crushed in crystal chandeliers. Music was playing. Dressed up couples flirted. The high society was entertained by jugglers and acrobats. At the edges of the hall were festive tables with food and wine.

Only the overwhelming size of the hall and the crooked reflections in the wall mirrors made an unpleasant impression on Rosa.

As soon as she entered, the musicians stopped playing. An ominous silence hung over the hall. Ladies and gentlemen now looked like suddenly put to sleep. Everyone froze in their former position and did not dare to move. For a moment, Rose thought she was standing among a forest of wax figures. Then a single admiring sigh broke the deathly silence that reigned in the hall, and all the ladies present sat down in a low curtsy to Rose. After them the gentlemen bowed.

Each of the guests tried to portray the highest courtesy, but no one dared to approach the princess. All their bows and curtsies resembled a well-rehearsed performance.

As the dance began, the guests’ colorful robes swirled like a whirlwind of autumn leaves. Rose walked around the hall, holding her gaze for a long time at women’s hairstyles and outfits. She has not seen such a variety of fashions and colors anywhere else. There were no knights or guards here, but dandies in tunics trimmed with colored piping feasted. Jewels glittered on the foreheads of young maidens. The older ladies had elaborate nets covering their hair. The crooked mirrors revealed fake smiles. Their distorted reflection illuminated the soul.

Suddenly, in the distance, a dull and clear beat of a clock was heard. An invisible pendulum whistled in time with them. Terrible, monotonous sounds seemed to come from everywhere: from every wall, from the floor and even from the ceiling, so that it was impossible to determine exactly where the clock itself was.

The fun stopped instantly. The guests backed away to the edges of the room, and only Rose stood in the very center, listening to every beat of midnight.

For the tenth, eleventh beat, and finally the last one sounded. It was like thunder. Echoing it, the walls hummed, the stained-glass windows rattled, the ceiling cracked. It seemed to Rose that the masonry was about to fall right on her head. She had to run, but a mysterious force bound her whole body, not allowing even to move.

The crowd of guests surrounded Rose in a ring. There was another crack in the ceiling. And suddenly, behind Rose, something hit the floor. A bass grunt, occasionally interrupted by a chest cough, filled the silence.

Rose felt that she could move again. She looked up and saw that there was a hole in the very middle of the ceiling. And behind someone’s back, someone continued to sniff and quack like an animal.

The princess scanned the crowd with pleading eyes. The guests’ faces were frozen in impenetrable expressions. Rose was afraid to turn around, afraid to see the one who was fumbling behind her. And suddenly gnarled fingers gripped the wrist of her hand. An eerie face with beady eyes and an aquiline nose peeped over Rose’s shoulder.

The huge, crooked mouth contorted into a grin. Rose tucked her skirts up with her free hand and wanted to dash away, but the black bird claws dug into her wrist so that she screamed. The circle of guests closed even closer around them. There was no exit.

Rose freed her hand and pulled back a little. Next to her stood a hunchback in a black cloak. He could barely reach the shoulder of an ordinary person, but in his dumpy, dense physique, remarkable strength was felt. The back was crowned with a lumpy, pointed hump. Long arms almost reached the knees. The vicious, ugly face broke into a grin every minute. A toothed crown with a ruby was pulled over his forehead.

“Here, I caught you, killer whale!” almost happily he bit back, but his eyes remained so ferocious that Rose involuntarily backed away.

The hunchback grabbed her wrist again, not allowing her to take another step.

“What do you want from me?” Rose almost cried.

“Don’t you yourself know?” laughing and coughing, he asked a counter question. “Forgot about the signed contract? The deadline has expired, I’m taking you with me.”

There was nowhere to wait for help. Rose was at the mercy of a vile monster, and the crowd looked at them indifferently. The air from the floor to the gap in the ceiling was now surrounded by an icy shimmer. Shiny molecules moved, joined, curved in lines. And so they outlined the transparent steps of a spiral staircase, resting against a gaping hole in the ceiling.

“Help!” Rose shouted, hoping that at least someone would save her. For a moment it seemed to her that Mara was standing in the very corner of the room and squinting as if she was nearsighted, but she didn’t think to go for help.

Rose tried to pull her hand out of her tenacious fingers, but the hunchback squeezed her wrist even tighter and stepped onto the first step. To the girl’s surprise, the staircase was not an illusion. The steps were hard and as slippery as ice. The ominous guide dragged the prisoner with him. Rose stumbled and fell right on the steps, but the hunchback pulled her hand so hard that she had to get up and keep up with him.

“I don’t know anything about the contract. I am not who you are looking for,” Rose pleaded, but he didn’t even deign to answer her.

It was a mistake. A terrible mistake. The princess was confused with someone else. She wanted to explain it, but the hunchback did not listen to her. And in the depths of Rose’s consciousness, another incredible guess emerged. It all happened to her because of the dress. Someone specially tried to get it into her hands. It was an identification mark for the sorcerer who dragged her along. His mysterious and intricate magic proved to be stronger than anything other wizards did.

He climbed through the hole and the stairs began to dissolve in the surging air masses. The steps melted in an instant, like ice floes in water. Rose made another desperate attempt to free herself, but a strong, hooked hand pulled her through the hole just before the last step vanished into thin air.

SINGER OF THE WIND

Rose looked around in amazement. Everything disappeared somewhere. There were no more intricate chateau cornices, no ornate facades, and no huge gardens. Instead of taking his captive to the roof, the gloomy villain took her to another space. It was a cleft between two worlds.

Behind the girl’s back were kingdoms, principalities and empires inhabited by people, and in front of them towered blue rocks, blocking mortals from entering the forbidden world.

Blue smoke snaked around the rocks, enveloped the abyss, almost touched the bubbling foam of the river. An aqueduct was thrown across it. A string of patterned, sturdy supports held his stone platform.

The blue rock ahead was shaped like a bastion erected by a shadow architect. Below, the river seethed and twisted in foamy waves around the pillars of the aqueduct, but could not reach the desired height. Rose looked down and felt dizzy. There, as in the palm of your hand, lay the ribbon of the river, entwining the whole country of sorcerers. It was not even a country, but a rocky island, fenced off by a fast, icy current. People called this river Silver because in the darkness its smooth surface shone with silver. It was impossible to wade or swim. It was enough to plunge into the water with just one foot, and it pulled the person like a funnel. Then the body melted into a frothy, liquid silver.

Where its water basins narrowed, arched bridges were thrown, but they were far from safe. Even the halo around the moon here took on an ominous red color.

Having dragged the girl across the bridge, the hunchback pulled out a copper cane from under his cloak, hit it on a flat rock, and immediately a crack formed in the smooth surface. She crawled up, then to the side, drawing some kind of triangular pattern. This drawing turned out to be a door. Someone opened it from the inside. Giant ugly hands grabbed Rose like a toy and threw her into the darkness. The door in the rock closed with a screech, leaving no slit for light.

The princess did not know how long she had to lie face down on the cold floor. But suddenly a torch flashed in the darkness. The flames whipped out dirty, iron bars and padlocks. Some figures moved next to them like shadows, smoothly and silently. Hands, unlike human hands, hugged iron bars. The rustle of long robes was heard.

Several more torches joined the first. They seemed to move through the air by themselves. One of them flew up to Rose’s face. There was no heat coming from it, and the wooden handle was free of any support.

Rose recoiled, and the torch flew past her, illuminating the slippery, slab of floor. Two pairs of hands grabbed Rose by the elbows, forced her to her feet and quickly dragged her along. Rosa made out figures in long robes, their heads hidden by masks with bird beaks.

A torch flew ahead and illuminated the gloomy corridors. From time to time he stopped and drew fire signs right in the air. Rose did not understand their meaning, but the figures in masks read the fiery letters in a whisper, and they immediately extinguished, leaving behind streaks of black smoke.

This hellish corridor will never end, the princess thought. “I will stay here underground and never see the sun again. I am a hostage, I am a victim of betrayal. Thoughts swarmed in her head. Assumptions, one more terrible than the other, hit the brain. The road into darkness had no end. I wanted to forget and fall asleep, but two gloomy guards dragged the captive forward, not allowing her to linger for a moment.

Rose was tired and weak, her eyelids were heavy and sticky, but it was impossible to sleep. Ahead, she saw massive, cast-iron doors covered with intricate ornamentation and bordered by an arc of glowing rot.

“What kind of place is it? What’s waiting for me outside the door?” Rose thought as she walked. Before she had time to cry out or whisper the saving word of prayer, steel hands pushed her into a spacious room that closed in a ring. It was a courtroom.

Wooden stands rose in rows one above the other. Above, under the very dome of the ceiling, there are several latticed windows. This means that Rose was no longer underground or in the rock, but in the very heart of the island of sorcerers.

In the middle of the courtroom was a low, iron stool. The figures who dragged her by force forced the princess on it, and they themselves stood behind her.

All around were people in long robes and cocked hats, motionless and speechless. Each of them seemed to be rooted in its place behind the wooden platform. Fierce eyes looked from pale, haggard faces. Spider fingers fiddled with yellowed parchment scrolls or simply tapped drum rolls on the table top.

Oil lamps filled the room with dim, orange light. The judge’s desk remained free, and the defendant was already sitting in her place. Rose looked around in horror.

Dozens of vile, embittered pairs of eyes stared at her. The size of the hall was overwhelming and oppressive. Here, the fragile figure of the princess in a golden dress seemed tiny. Disheveled hair covered her wounded shoulders. Suddenly a bright beam of light fell on her face. Rose perked up. There were shuffling steps behind her. She saw the crowned hunchback take the place of the judge on the platform. Its heavy, gnarled shadow covered Rose. An angry gaze rested on her face.

“Let’s start!” said the hunchback. His voice sounded like a thunderclap in the deathly silence.

At that moment, the cone-shaped window under the ceiling swung open and an eagle flew into it, flapping its wings. The window sash slammed shut. The bird sat down on an empty chair and screeched. Proudly folded behind the back, the wings no longer concealed the scarlet seam on the eagle’s chest. Rose recognized the trail from her own bullet and was dumbfounded. What was happening was like a nightmare. The bird’s wings began to grow and stretch. The beak was getting smaller. Feathers thickened, turning into black clothes. And now it was no longer an eagle, but another silent jury bore Rose with his angry eyes.

“Do you all recognize the convict?” The judge asked loudly, and many heads in black cocked hats nodded affirmatively.

“What can you say in your defense?” The hunchback’s menacing, accusing voice rang out again.

Rose involuntarily shuddered. A vibe of hatred and contempt emanated from everyone who judged her. They wanted to see someone else in the place of the accused, but at the whim of a mock-fate she found herself here.

The girl tried to mobilize all her courage.

“You are mistaken!” She said. Her own voice seemed weak and strange to her. “I’m not who you want.”

“Who are you?” The hunchback laughed deeply and disgustingly. “What are the names of your parents?”

“My father is King Christian, and my mother is Queen Odile,” Rose said. She wanted to add something else, but her tongue did not obey her.

Hearing her words, the hunchback jumped up from his bench, leaned over the podium and croaked:

“It’ a lie!

He flung down the judge’s gavel, rummaged through the papers heaped on the table, and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper with torn edges.

“You knew what fate awaited you,” he said, turning to Rose, “your lies will not soften the sentence.”

“Bring her closer!” ordered the judge.

The guards immediately grabbed Rose by the elbows and dragged her to the dais. The hunchback took out a quill from an inkwell and wrote a few more lines at the bottom of the torn sheet. Then he put it down and laid a long, heavy hand on Rosa’s shoulder.

The princess knew that now he was preparing to perform some ancient, witchcraft rite. She wanted to break free, but the guards held her tightly, not even allowing her to move.

“For a long time I have chosen punishment for you from the list of permissible, but none of them will pay off the sins you have committed,” the judge spoke again in a sparkling crown. “By agreement of our council, I have the right to resort to the hitherto forbidden punishment. The execution is canceled. Instead, I put the Swan Curse on you.”

Rose stared at him in disbelief. She didn’t understand anything. A triumphant guffaw echoed through the hall. Rose managed to turn around, but did not see a single juror. All the places were empty, only a screaming flock of gyrfalcons, hawks and other birds flew through the opened doors and disappeared into the pitch darkness.

“Let them fly away!” The hunchback grunted imperiously. “The ritual must be performed without unnecessary witnesses.”

He stared at his captive and began to whisper quietly some incomprehensible, meaningless words for a common man. The hypnosis emanated from him with a dark, strong thread and twisted around Rose. Rose looked into the burning eyes of the wizard, and it seemed to her that she was standing on the edge of a raging, fiery abyss. The princess was seized with a fever. Fainting approached her like a stranger wrapped in a dark cloak.

The hunchback drew a sharp, instructed dagger from his belt and cut one strand of hair from Rose’s head. A strand of black snake curled around the sharpened blade before the sorcerer lowered the dagger into a bowl filled with hissing, silvery liquid. Upon contact with the strand and metal, it immediately turned into a deep, black color.

Rosa watched the sorcerer’s actions in fascination. His words and gestures were incomprehensible to her. Here he covers the bowl with a piece of purple satin with bird heads embroidered on it. Then he pulls out a box filled with shimmering, silver pollen.

The girl made another desperate attempt to escape, but it was too late. The sorcerer poured the contents of the ominous box directly onto Rose’s head. Sugar dust covered her face. Thorny grains fell on the dress, tangled in her hair. Nausea rose in her throat. The eyes grew dim. A sharp pain shot through her left arm, as if someone had slashed a knife across the wrist.

At that moment, the guards released their prisoner. Loud laughter echoed through the gloomy void. Rose held out her hand. It was no longer a hand. The fingers extended into long swan feathers, the wrist extended to the size of a bird’s wing. Dizziness close to fainting did not allow horror to take over the mind during the transformation. The girl disappeared, instead of her a beautiful, black swan circled under the ceiling, trying to break free from the stuffy dungeon. The windows and doors were closed. The bird in vain rushed from corner to corner in search of a way out.

“And you will be a swan until the end of the century,” the end of the spell sounded gloating and solemn.

The hunchback removed all the ritual accessories. He reread the contract for the last time and hid it in a drawer. The swan, beating in despair against the glass of the high window, brought a smug smile to his face.

Meanwhile, sparkling feathers fell from the black wings. The swan slowly descended. The plumage disappeared, but the eye could not see the entire sequence of transformations.

The sorcerer stared doubtfully at the strange scene before him. Had he misread the spell? The condemned woman was supposed to become a bird forever, but a few minutes passed and she lost her swan appearance. On the floor, barely breathing, lay no longer a bird, but the old beauty in gold.

Rose propped herself up on her elbows. Her whole body ached after the transformation. The heart beat a frantic rhythm. The arms, which had been wings a moment ago, ached and bled. Overcoming the pain, the girl got to her feet. Bending under the weight of his hump, the sorcerer rushed towards her. Something flashed in his hand like a purple star. He didn’t say a word, but his gaze thundered with rage.

In the blink of an eye, he grabbed the victim’s wrist, preventing her from moving her hand and put a ring with a huge amethyst on her thin finger. Cold metal gripped the finger, almost burnt into the skin. Rose tried to remove the ring, but it seemed to adhere to her hand.

Meanwhile, the doors of the hall opened, releasing the head of the gloomy congregation and his servants, and slammed again. Wandering lights danced on the walls. Rose was left alone, among the empty benches and stands. Dark evil dwelt here. A quiet, barely audible whisper came from the silence.

“Let the dragon come for you!” someone whispered very close. Rose looked at her hand and realized in horror that the voice was coming from the glowing stone on the ring. All its facets shimmered, and in the dull violet depth a pale, tiny face flashed and disappeared.

The silence echoed with a hellish roar. It seemed to Rose that all the sunlight was concentrated behind a huge high window and eclipsed the night stars. But the sun couldn’t shine so brightly. It was not a fiery disk that lit up the skies, but a majestic, huge silhouette of a winged dragon, like magic, that appeared in the distance. The dragon was approaching. Fire burst from its mouth.

Rose couldn’t believe she was seeing him. Here he is, the heavenly ruler, the kidnapper of young virgins. From his roar the earth cracked and the heavenly heights tore apart. The rumble made Rosea bleed from her ears. The dragon’s fiery breath scorched the air. The walls were hot from the heat. It seemed to Rose that she was in hell.

Metal wings flapped continuously, and the girl thought that it was a hammer knocking on an anvil. An intolerable golden glow dazzled the eyes. A clawed paw scratched the glass on the window. But the dragon is too big for such a narrow opening. He can’t get in here. Rose began to faint. The ring squeezed her finger even tighter.

For a moment there was a saving silence, then a strong blow followed. The window and part of the wall shattered from his force. A waterfall of chips and stones gushed down. A powerful gust of wind tore at the girl’s hair. She lifted her head to meet the stern, flickering gaze of the dragon flying towards her.

Golden wings whistled through the air and caught the wind. These sounds were like a song.

Strong paws with long claws grabbed Rosa and easily, like a feather, tore her off the floor. A moment later, the dragon with its prey was already hovering high in the sky.

The island was left far behind, the Silver River from the height of the clouds seemed like a narrow, trembling thread, and the villages were scattered on the ground in cubes. Nothing could slow down the frantic flight in the sky. The dragon soared even higher, not releasing its prey from its claws.

Gusts of icy wind whipped Rose across the face. The earth was already out of sight. The cold light of the stars reflected in the dragon scales.

An arrow dropped from a bowstring does not fly as fast as this glittering monster. The dragon raced forward, flapping golden wings incessantly. The whistling wind enveloped them. Then he slowed down and began to descend, slowly and smoothly. Rose saw the land, like one airy snowball.

The dragon sank even lower, so that the sloping roofs of the village houses became visible. Residents poured out into the street and pointed their hands up. Some were shouting something, others rushed into the loose. Flakes of snow swirled in the icy air, blocking the look of fear on their faces.

The dragon sank very low and suddenly breathed fire. Rose covered her face with her free hand. The heat from the fire scorched her cheeks, but the flame itself did not touch her. But the roofs of the houses flared up like dry rods. Orange sparks spread to the fragile, thatched roofs of barns and dovecotes.

The peasants fled, but the flame overtook them like a living creature, hissed and grabbed at their clothes. The dragon turned sharply and erupted from his mouth another column of fire.

Rose was numb with fear. What will happen to her? Will the dragon throw her into this huge fire and fly away? But he did not even think about releasing his captive. Golden wings flapped gracefully and the dragon flew towards the forest, blackened in the distance. Rose gripped a polished, smooth claw larger than hers with a hand. She was afraid to fall and break, afraid to turn around and see the village engulfed in tongues of poisonous flame.

A round dance of patterned snowflakes circled outside the window. Hungry wolves howled in the thicket. The trees stood in a ghostly line. Their trunks were buried in the snow.

The small hut was warm and cozy. Smoke poured from the chimney. A fire crackled in the stove. The aroma of delicious food was in the air.

Rose woke up, and slowly her eyes began to get used to the semi-darkness. She lay on a round bunk, shaped like a deep-bottomed bowl. It looked like a fairy crib made from a nutshell. Rose warmed up and calmed down. There are only vague memories of the fear experienced.

Someone covered her with a soft blanket and put a pillow under her head. For a long time no one cared about her like that. The Queen would rather scold her than help her.

Rose tried to get a better look at the meager furnishings of the hut. She noticed the skin of a dead bear on the floor, a crudely hammered table and a couple of chairs.

A graceful, strong hand placed the lantern on the table. Rose closed her eyes against the blinding light. When she opened her eyes, she saw a beautiful, white face bending over her. For a moment she thought she was seeing an angel.

“Everything will be fine, dear girl,” came a quiet, male voice. “No one will offend you here.”

Rose could not take her eyes off the innocent, youthful face, from the cold, blue eyes. After all, the eyes are the mirror of the soul. And in those sad eyes, she noticed a strange reflection, a mystery hanging over them.

She wanted to ask the stranger who he was. She had seen him before in some kind of ghostly, terrible dream, and now he was there. A phosphoric glow seemed to emanate from his face. A pair of curls fell over his smooth forehead. Oh yes, those curls. They are so reminiscent of… Rose tried to shake off the unpleasant sensation, but could not. The obvious cannot be denied. This young man has hair exactly the same color as dragon scales. Even in the dark, they shine with pure gold.

“Am I sleeping?” Rose asked.

He shook his head silently. The wolf howl outside the window now resembled a lullaby. A faint, wavering light fell like a filamentous veil on the walls.