Rhianon-6: Mistress of Magical Creatures

Ferdinand would have been shocked by this dwarf alone. But luckily he wasn’t around at the moment. That’s who really follows her around like an evil fate. She wished he’d just left her the pendant and disappeared on his own. But no, he had to torment her with vile remarks. Now she had to live with the constant tension of knowing that an unwelcome companion might appear out of nowhere at any moment. Considering that she now had companions, it was very uncomfortable.

“You are unusual.”

Rhianon shuddered at these quiet words addressed to her. Ferdinand must have blurted it out spontaneously, not wanting to hurt her at all, but everything stirred inside her.

“As unusual as those burned at the fires of the Inquisition?” She even laughed, short and bitter. The laughter echoed dryly through the leaves. “I can burn anyone myself, and you can see that. Are you afraid of me?”

She looked directly into his eyes, even in the darkness they were dazzling blue and clear. What an open look for a man who has to hide his political games. Does he look at everyone or just at her? Involuntarily she thought about it. Just one effort and she could read all his thoughts. Even an open book is not as accessible and easy to read as the human mind had become to her. And yet she was in no hurry to look into his mind. Perhaps it was because she herself was frightened to discover such insincerity?

“I admire you,” he leaned so close to her that he must have felt the heat of the fire emanating from the ball in her hands. His brow furrowed painfully, but he tried not to suppress the look of pain. Rhianon noticed the beads of sweat protruding on his smooth forehead. He wasn’t just hot around her, he felt threatened, but he didn’t pull away.

“You could be adored.”

“In spite of the fire?” She looked at him feignedly – innocently, and meanwhile the ball of fire above her palms began to grow in size and even hotter. Just as easily she could squeeze the solar core in her fist, just as she had once held in her hands the heart of Dennitsa, once in love, but still like a red-hot fire. What is it to her to crush the soul of a mortal king? It is a simple game, not an effort. Only she didn’t want to hurt Ferdinand at all. She felt that he was already hurting – his whole life before he met her.

“The women in Vinor are afraid of fire themselves,” he frowned. “I tried to tame the Inquisition. But my father always said it was necessary. It is necessary to keep the people in fear, and the unholy are far beyond the borders of the kingdoms. For this there is religion and its monstrous spawn: dogmas, rites, witch trials.”

“And yet in the king’s palaces the astrologers take refuge. They’re as important to you as your advisers.” Oh, how easy it was to read his mind. Ferdinand didn’t even catch her at it, didn’t ask her how she knew that. But he tried to justify himself.

“They are useful, the Inquisition almost not. The fires of the mortal martyrs don’t shut the magical creatures out of the forest…” he paused and looked expressively at her.

Rhianon understood and nodded. Meanwhile, the fireball in her hands had grown to the size of a child’s ball. If she hurled it forward, the flame would be enough to burn down a house or start a forest fire.

The fire was hot, but it didn’t burn her palms. Ferdinand, on the other hand, felt hot, almost to the point of pain. Let him know what it was like to be in a furnace. Rhianon grinned wryly.

“I am fire,” she whispered confidentially. “The element of fire is in me. Sometimes I think so. But I’m not going to turn innocent people into martyrs, only my enemies.”

“I’ve seen how those diabolical creatures, the dragons, react to you.”

She nodded.

“You don’t think I could burn them more, do you?”

He only shrugged.

“Maybe there’s something different about you.”

“Not looking for a halo over my head or hooves and a tail under my dress. I don’t have a martyr’s crown or devil’s horns under my hair. And I hope I never will.”

“So who are you?”

Now she shrugged her shoulders. To confess would be to break the fragile trust that had developed between them.

“Better tell me about the Inquisition. How long ago it appeared. Is it as long ago as religion itself. Or much later, people began to notice that there were those among them who tried to summon spirits at a time when faith and God should ward them off. Even in villages there are illiterate maidens who learn and draw witchcraft symbols on the road to summon and tame evil spirits, and then set them on the villagers. How to fight such witches, if not by lynching and bonfires? The Inquisition absolves others of guilt by exterminating witches or abusing their duties by dragging to the stake those who are in the clergy’s desire.”

“Sometimes,” he admitted honestly, “but…”

“But I would be executed for such speeches in Vinor,” she chuckled shortly. “It’s a simple power mechanism, to execute all those who displease you before they revolt against you. If I were the ruler of an earthly country, I could easily decide everything without executioners, without sentences, without advisers, with just one fire.”

She lowered her palms, and the fireball hung in the air, shining like the sun. Now it would explode with a million glittering sparks, or fly to ignite a dry fallen tree, her choice. Rhianon stared at the fire and wondered what she should do with it. Ferdinand beside her held his breath.

“I try to be fair,” he whispered softly, but it did not sound very convincing.

“There can be no justice where you want to keep power,” Rhianon remembered Manfred, and all the traitors in Loretta. If she hadn’t been so soft and weak and prone to justice, she could have defeated them all. All it took was a little cunning, to seduce Conrad, to get him to kill his father, and then to condemn him himself. A thousand cunning plans could have been devised, and she had simply decided to escape. Nothing more elaborate than that occurred to her. It was a pity…

No, there was nothing to be sorry about. She had met Madael, after all. If things had gone differently, she wouldn’t have recognized him. She’d come to know Dennitsa himself, and the consequences didn’t matter. Fire and eternity united. It was worth everything.

“I really try to make sure that at least others don’t break the laws.”

“Your established laws, and are they all just,” she interrupted defiantly. She wasn’t at all afraid that he might want to blow her head off, or at least intimidate her with his power. She was sure he wouldn’t do that.

When you hold someone in your arms, like this ball of fire that now hung in the darkness in front of her, you don’t worry about anything anymore. Tame fire is your element; there can be no rebellion in it. The ghost of the School of Witchcraft knew what he taught her. All you need is to know how to control fire, and it will not frighten you.

“I want justice, Rhianon, I want no unhappy people in my realm.”

“And I don’t want outside threats either. It is not only from men, but also from the evil of the forests. For this you are even ready to conclude a new political marriage, this time not with a mortal princess, but with a fairy queen out of the woods? You believe that an alliance with her would make the borders secure and the wicked obedient.”

Rhianon saw the blush on his cheeks. It pleased her. It was nice to see someone’s embarrassment.

Now she even understood why Orpheus so often joked and mocked others, he liked to feel like a winner. The joker is always on top, and the one who believes the joke is his plaything. That’s how jesters rule over kings. She laughed involuntarily. If Orpheus appeared to her now, she would not allow him any more such liberties. She must hold him in her hands.

“Don’t take everything so seriously. You, the ruler, are responsible for the people, for the nobles and for your own head. Just one conspiracy you didn’t watch out, and it’ll be off your shoulders. One mistake, one oversight, one failure to follow through, and you are no longer a king. Politics is a perpetual balance, life is black and white, there is no wholly white and wholly black even in heaven. God is also a ruler, sometimes very cruel, and the Devil is only his servant. The devil does evil only when he does God’s will, not when he wants to. We humans, ordinary and crowned alike, resort to belief in God only in order to protect ourselves from the devil. All is hypocrisy, and we live with it. So why should we, mere mortals, strive to be nobler than deity. After all, we are his creatures and we think in his image.

He looked at her and didn’t even dare raise his hand to wipe the burning sweat from his forehead.

“Are you excusing me or condemning me?”

“People are just trying to survive in an unjust world. And you also have great responsibilities. But I condemn all those who, instead of doing the work, indulge their own ego – the Inquisition and men of the rank among them. I despise them. And the evil one is not afraid of them. Think about it, can those who themselves stood in the ranks of the angels of God be afraid of divine symbols. Besides, these symbols were invented not by God, but by people. There is a belief-the serpent and the cross. I often imagine a crucifix wrapped around a serpent. It is said that such symbols are stamped on the covers of witchcraft books. But does the dragon run from the cross. Show him the cruciform shape of your sword and he will disappear. When you went into battle, you counted on it.”

“Not quite! More like a sword blade,” he admitted honestly. “Not really,” he admitted honestly. “We had archers, a lot of men who died in the swamp, cannon on a gun carriage, chains, maces…”

“Not even a catapult would have done you any good. Not many cannons, – dragons are invulnerable.”

“It’s their scales. They’re like jewels, aren’t they?”

Rhianon gave him a hard look.

“You are very observant. You noticed that too, didn’t you?” She stared at his face for a long moment, the straight, graceful nose, the seductive lips, the thoughtful, big eyes. He’s smarter than she first thought, yet he can be so sincere.

The ball of flame was still hovering in the air, but it had already begun to cast sparks. One of them fell on Rhianon’s dress, but it did not burn the thin silk. The cloth woven by fairies’ hands was not flammable, nor could it be damaged. Rhianon smoothed the ruffles with her fingers. It was as if sparks hadn’t touched them. The air around the balloon grew hot. She could feel the heat, but it didn’t hurt, and it was harder for Ferdinand, who was sitting beside her, to bear it. He was tense, but he wasn’t about to leave. He liked to sacrifice his own comfort to be near her. Rhianon leaned back and leaned her head against the trunk of a beech tree. Her golden hair laced the bark. She could feel the roughness of the wood in the back of her head, hear the woodworms crawling up and down the trunk, and hear the superhuman life bubbling up and down the leaves and the roots. Oh, she suspected it was there. There were supernatural beings everywhere, even if they remained completely invisible to mortals. No Inquisition could help against them. Ferdinand is somewhat ridiculous. But he could be so loyal and understanding. Just the kind of friend she had always dreamed of.

Madael hid his secrets. With him, understatement was acceptable. He was an angel, he was a mystery himself. Humans are simpler. Someone mortal could get closer and even say goodbye to life because of you. But a beloved demon is still no substitute for him. The handsome young man beside her dreamed of shared love, of mutual warmth, of trust. She could only offer him scalding fire.

She purposely loosened her grip for a moment, and the fireball burst into a myriad of sparkling sparks. Some of them burned Ferdinand. Other sleeping warriors, now reluctant to wake, muttered a curse and hurried to extinguish the items that had begun to ignite, or even the dry branches beneath them. A torrent of sparks fell into the grass and the driftwood, and even touched the trees, but there was no fire. Rhianon now knew how to neutralize the destructive force. Tiny sparks of fire reluctantly subdued her and went out, flying away harmlessly.

So she knew how to do some things without needing the advice of her mentor. Both Rothbert and Clive were right. They each said, in their own way, that he who has a priceless gift must learn everything on his own. So Rhianon was learning. She liked to master her talents the way others mastered the arts. To control the power that dormant in you is wonderful.

Ferdinand was impressed, but she knew he would not say a word to his entourage. No one would know that the little nighttime fireworks display was no accident. It had been set off by a lady who had come out of the woods. Now someone was reciting prayers, someone was inspecting the gaps in their cloaks, Ferdinand, for example, was holding back from blowing on his burned palms. He had taken off his gauntlets at such bad timing. Large red spots were now spreading across his fingers and down to his wrist. Such severe burns could not have occurred after the nettles. In her mind Rhianon sympathized with him, but she didn’t know how to help. It was unlikely her touch would be healing, and she was not yet versed in medicinal herbs. She was not Hildegard, she had no need to fumble with poisons and potions. Even if such ability came to her in time, she had no use for it. Her power lies elsewhere.

“Angry that I burned you?” She asked in a casual tone as the others went back to sleep after some grumbling. No supernatural foe threatened them from the darkness, and yet many knights clung to their swords even in their sleep. Ferdinand, unlike them, was calm, though he already knew what the source of the danger was.

He only shook his head in the negative and a coy smile bloomed on his lips. He had beautiful lips, Rhianon noted to herself, his mouth wide and sensual, his lower lip a little full, the color of his skin pale and still reminiscent of a juicy fruit. What would it be like to kiss a human rather than an angel? For the first time she thought about something like that. Aloud, however, she spoke on a very different subject.

“No one is allowed to insult the king. A wrongdoer, even an accidental one, can’t stay alive after he’s harmed you.”

She wanted to tease him, but it didn’t work with Ferdinand.

“But after all, fairies are supposed to have special privileges.”

How seriously he takes everything. Rhianon almost laughed in his face. So in his charming blond head there is still a plan to tie himself in a dynastic marriage to a fairy and thus protect his kingdom from invasion by evil spirits. She didn’t dare tease him about it. He was honest with her, and therefore did not take jokes.

Rhianon touched his palms gingerly and noticed the ugly red burn spots lightening. The decisive moment seemed to have arrived. Ferdinand believed her.

“If I ask you for something, so, as a fairy, you won’t deny me any request.”

He nodded. His consent she secured. Rhianon gave him a mysterious smile.

In the morning, promising that she would return soon and join the tiny cavalcade before she even entered Vinor, she turned the horse onto another road. The animal did not budge, though she felt her trembling. The danger of what she had conceived was weighing on her; the road was becoming perilous. There was also the risk of losing Ferdinand, whose support she had already secured, but Rhianon was betting first that her new talent for covering any distance quickly would help her catch up with him before the city gates, and second that she needed to find support still on the side. Mortal troops alone were not enough. She needed help from supernatural forces. The powers that interested her at the moment dwelt in the mountains and in the water. Very conveniently she remembered that Vinor was also a major maritime power. There are many ports here, where merchant ships from various lands arrive. There is a large flotilla, an armada of royal galleons. Rhianon involuntarily stared at them at the first port she saw on the way. She did not know whether this small piece of land in front of the endless expanses of water belonged to Vinor or to a neighboring country. The small port seemed ghostly. The little port town next to it was full of caryatids and sandstone statues. They were images of supernatural beings. And the port itself is called “Angelo.” Isn’t that a little eloquent. She would have thought that only the servants of Madael lived here. They might have taken over the city, pretended to be statues, or lurked in the shadows of the poor houses, which for some reason were decorated too lavishly with stucco and flowers. It was an amazing luxury for a port city. And the statues of supernatural beings are striking, as if they were the work of an unearthly sculptor. And the architecture of the town is strange. At first the streets seem empty, but then you notice the people and the perpetual accumulation of people in the port. On the way, she was told that even on the cloudiest day, Angelo’s harbor is always full of people. “They’re waiting for those who never come back,” a strange passerby told her. That is, mermaids and drowned men, she wanted to joke, but she kept silent. Wasn’t it the same creatures she was looking for herself now?

Now it was beginning to rain, and the crowd on the wharf was still thickening. Rhianon could see the forest of masts, the ships anchored or sailed away. In the noise of the rain there was no sound of work, no shouting of sailors and no creaking of rigging. Barges, galleys, schooners, small boats and dinghies, as well as huge ships with carved figures over the stem – there was a lot here. There was plenty to see. She was impressed only by the ships where the stern figure looked like a dragon. She wondered if the real dragons would decide to attack their wooden counterparts on the high seas. That would be fun. She flashed before her the names embossed in gilt letters on the hulls “Luck”, “Fast Wind”, “King of the Seas”, “Unicorn”, “Golden Apple”, so much fiction and ingenuity, somehow no one occurred to call their vessel a mermaid or an undine. Bad omens were feared by all. No one wants to go to the bottom. Not surprisingly, one ship, the largest and most intricate, caught her attention. “The dragon is a winner.” Who would dare shout such a motto? Rhianon squinted. And indeed if she looked closely the ship had the shape of a dragon, its head replacing the figure in the bow, the hull taking the shape of carved wings, if not for the masts, sails, and rigging, the illusion would probably be complete.

Rhianon stared at the unusual vessel, then she scolded herself for her own curiosity. That was not why she had come here. It was not the ship she was after; it was something else, hidden in the depths. But how would she get to it? She needed to find a deserted spot: a rocky shore, a lonely lagoon, an empty pier, where there were no crowds. Then she can summon those who live on the bottom.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to steal someone’s boat and swim into the deep water? Sometimes fishermen get caught in the nets of sea creatures instead of catching them. Swim deep and see for yourself,” someone whispered in her ear.

Rhianon turned, expecting to see a fairy or a playful elf standing nearby, but all around were mortals, lifeless and tired. And who spoke to her was not human, she thought, for it was too heartfelt and rich in different tones. People didn’t talk like that. Rhianon looked around and almost shuddered. It seemed to her that the carved figure of a sitting angel on one of the rooftops had come to life. Illusion, it was only an illusion, she repeated to herself, squeezing back through the crowd to get out of the port. A wild imagination might have painted that picture for her. And yet a strange suspicion lingered in her mind. Maybe it was Setius.

The beautiful curve of its eyebrows, though marbled, and the carelessly haughty flutter of its wing were so characteristic of him. It was amazing how, from this distance, she could even see the expression on his face. It was truly a dragon’s eyesight. She was afraid to look up at the statue again. It was better to look at the passersby and the people crowding the port. Their gray, expressionless faces and diminutive figures were much safer than watching a statue come to life. That’s when she spotted him, the giant in the cloak. The familiar figure was moving nimbly through the crowded lines as if there was a tunnel between them. And there was nowhere to go but through them. Now Rhianon shuddered. Even beneath the billowing cloak she could see the shape of wings. And the figure itself was familiar. Those shoulders, the curved chest, the height, the hands, the handsome thin fingers that held the curtains, the golden threads streaming out from under the hood – all so familiar, so near and yet so indescribably distant. Now the stranger would raise his face, and she would see the burning blue eyes of Dennitsa.

“Run while there’s still time,” the same voice whispered.

Run? Is it from him? How could she flee from him? If only he would let her. Rhianon was torn between the desire to stay and to hide in the crowd. Was it him, or was she just imagining it. But the little voice above her ear was already screaming again that she must run, and she obeyed. Soon the port and the city itself were behind her. Rhianon held the reins of her horse as it carried her through the valley, past thickets of heather and small hills. The mountain ranges in the distance beckoned. What if there was a dragon there? She could not see steam or flames rising over the mountains, nor could she sense the proximity of treasure or magic, and then she rode on. She needed to negotiate an alliance with at least one of the dragons. What if none of Madael’s servants wanted to talk to her? The dragon packs only obey him. That she had already seen for herself. But there had to be one exception. She wondered if any dragon might be seduced by her beauty and serve her, betraying their first master? It is improbable, but one of them might be tempted by Dennitsa’s repetition of her face. If it is so dear to them, then what is it. Rhianon bet primarily on her charms. Well, maybe some cards, too. She’d even forgotten that one deck was still with her. It was the very first card deck in the world that Orpheus had made especially for her. It could be used in case of an emergency. After all, that was how she had gotten Athenais to agree. She simply had no choice but to gather helpers for Rhianon. Then she would have to be fitted to gather the rvil spirits as quickly as possible. Rhianon wasn’t going to procrastinate with the war. Except that for a first offensive, she wouldn’t need Ferdinand’s troops and small, flattering imp, she’d need someone more intimidating.

“Give me a sign when you sense a dragon near,” Rhianon whispered to the harpy sleeping in her saddle. The creature, sensing the opportunity to rest, curled up snugly as a salamander in a crucible, cooing for gold. The harpy was of no use to her asleep in the saddle, and Rhianon tried to shake her awake.

“Do you think I can do it?”

She heard nothing but a sleepy, indistinct mumbling in reply. The harpy was obviously unhappy about being poked and prodded. She used to run at the first call. That’s how Ferdinand makes supernatural creatures unhappy with his excessive attention. If he treats his subjects the same way, he will be lost. Rhianon involuntarily thought of the conspiracy. Yes, he needed the queen’s firm hand and her urgent advice. The blond fellow doesn’t know how to run a business himself. He’s gone to fight a dragon, thinking his armor will protect him. What a fool. Better on your own? One searches for a dragon in the mountains and woodlands.

If her plan fails, she will be in trouble. However, unlike the simple-minded Ferdinand, who can only count on himself, she always has one option. Call for Madael, and he will fly in. Even if he decides to abandon her, he won’t abandon his supernatural child. Does he even know about him? Rhianon wondered. She did not say. But he could sense everything. How someone who knows every movement of sinners or impurity in the universe, both on earth and under the earth, may not know that his seed has sprouted and now an unearthly creation will be born. Dennitsa will become a father. Is he ready to be one? And what will his child be like? If he combines his beauty with his strength, it will truly be a disaster. How not to fall in love with him and how not to be hurt by him? The sun burns. Rhianon was not burned by her closeness to her beloved only because she herself was like the sizzling sun. Would the dragon appreciate her strength, and her beauty? Would he agree to an alliance, or at least a treaty, with her?