Dame Dragon

With nothing to do, I decided to follow the gnome. His footprints were still clearly visible in the road dust, and where the chain of footprints broke, I resorted to magic. It showed me by a golden thread the way to the very depths of the forest where the rogue had evidently lived before he met me.

There was indeed a tiny door in the trunk of an oak tree. It had been locked with magic before, like any such dwelling, but now it stood open. The dwelling had an abandoned look. There was a strong smell of fumes. There was some kind of experimentation going on here that had led to an explosion in an underground mine that was most definitely located deep beneath these grounds. I peered through the open door. Inside everything was coal-black. The stairway down was almost all burned out. The oak tree itself, scorched from the inside, had not collapsed only because of a spell cast on it long ago. No wonder why the owner of the house was in such a hurry to leave the place.

I should have helped the poor man and repaired the place with magic. I prepared to do so, but the smell of burnt grass reached my nostrils. I looked around and found that the trees nearby were standing with burnt branches. Curious, who would allow a forest fire on my property?

I walked a little farther and there were dozens of fallen, scorched trees. The dryads must have died in them! Would I be able to bring them back to life? I touched the scorched bark lightly, and it crumbled to ash beneath my fingers. The smell of burning was no less alarming than the noxious black vapors over the soil. Only dragon fire could smell like that! But I wasn’t burning anything here. Was I drunk and didn’t realize what I was doing. No, I immediately dismissed that notion. When I drink, I don’t usually get tipsy. It’s a peculiarity of mine. Still, the flattering ashes were very reminiscent of the aftermath of a quick dragon raid. The many burned trees looked like the houses of a ravaged settlement, with at least one spirit living in each trunk. What kind of scoundrel could have released a spell that caused such damage? Besides, the wretch was so strong and reckless that he dared to ride into my territory. The suspicion of Vincent was very strong. He must have found some way to break down all the magical barriers to the Empire from his return and seek revenge on me for sending him away. The idiot didn’t realize how easily I could snap his neck. He’d gained at the School of Witchcraft the meager experience, of which he was quite proud. He was quickly kicked out of the school, but he was easily the bane of anyone foolish enough to make contact with him. In this case, it was my curse.

The entire lawn behind the woods was burned. It used to be fragrant with forget-me-nots and a stream of healing water. Now it was only the scorched to ashes soil that gave off such noxious fumes as if a black monster had lain beneath it.

A memory immediately struck my head: a whole scorched country that had once flourished, and then there was nothing left but poisonous soil that would never bear fruit again, and underneath the layers of which a huge black monster was burrowing. That country was my homeland. Now there was no life in it, except for the ash monsters that swallowed ships lost at sea.

The memory was very unpleasant, and I hurried away from the scorched meadow. I’ll come back here later and use magic to fix it. For now, I needed to get out and about. It would be nice to catch the dwarf and ask him what was going on. But he’s gone to ground. Maybe he decided to go down to the Underground City, where Henri would catch him and bring him back.

The road back to the fields of hops and poppies was short. If it hadn’t been for the bloody trail dragging along it, it would have been a pleasant walk. I noticed the chain of blood. Not too bright, almost a woody hue, it looked more like the blood of a dryad than anything else. I looked around for the injured party, but only spotted a stunted mushroom fairy, looking more like a little girl wearing a huge mushroom-shaped hat on her head. To my surprise, she was crying. Usually these creatures are very cheerful, especially when there’s an opportunity for mischief.

“Why are you doing this, Monsignor?” She sobbed. “Why did you have to burn our clearing, aren’t there enough mortal kingdoms?”

“What do you mean?” I looked at her carefully, but she carefully hid her crying mushroom-colored eyes from me. “I haven’t burned anything in years,” and it was true, I was careful to keep the flames inside me, even though it was hard at times. The fire was like a rabid monster, and it took a lot of self-concentration and a lot of unauthorized charms to fight it. “Besides, it’s against my rules to start fires in my own Empire.”

“Is it really?” She looked at me questioningly. It was clear she didn’t believe a word I said. Strange, because usually no one doubted the truth of my words, let alone my orders.

“Go to some party, take some comfort. Tears are not good for you,” I said, and with a bit of enchantment I pulled out a shining flower from the void, covered with gems instead of dewdrops. A generous gift, but I liked the mushroom fairy’s pretty face, so I decided to please her. For a moment she hesitated to accept it from my hands, obviously expecting a trick. It’s a gift from the dragon. Now I’m giving her a beautiful thing, and in a second I’ll turn, grab her in my claws and take her to some black tract for reprisal. The pretty girl pondered, shuffling from foot to foot, and then quickly snatched the flower from my hands, curtsied, and was gone. Was the girl afraid of me? Not so long ago, absolutely everyone liked me. My handsome face and the power of a dragon hidden behind it had attracted a lot of people, not to mention my treasures. And now something subtly changed. I was becoming feared. I felt it most sharply when I went out into the field, where the leprechauns were rummaging in the grass. Most of them were working diligently, plucking straw, tying it into small sheaves and carrying it underground, probably to spin gold from it. They knew how to do that. Others just did round dances to make the crops sing better. Such were their charms and amusements. Usually they didn’t get distracted unless they saw someone nearby who could be pinched to death for trespassing on their territory. Humans were rare in the Empire, and I was everywhere I went. Today, for the first time, when the tiny humans saw me, they stirred, jumped up in their seats, and scurried underground as quickly as if they’d never been here. They even forgot to take off their hats and bow, which was their usual etiquette. Well, I forgave them. I didn’t want to shoot them for such a small thing.

Things were more complicated with the dryad, who was sobbing in a neighboring field. I found her by the bloody trail. A girl with skin partially turned into bark sat on the pressed poppies and wept bitterly. With fists that looked like dry branches, she wiped away brown tears. Her green dress, made of leaves, was visibly scorched. And there was almost nothing left of her legs, which went from her knees to the trunk of the tree as per the rules. As well as from the very tree she lived in. Quite tragic, as the tree was not just a home to her, but a part of herself. What if she couldn’t live without it anymore?

“It was the dragon!” She wailed. “The dragon swooped down and burned down my place. And all the trees around it burned too.”

Unlike the others, she wasn’t frightened when she saw me. She probably hadn’t been out of her tree for thousands of years, and she hadn’t even heard of who I was. Even gossip doesn’t reach hibernating creatures.

I tried to help her up. She seemed to be crawling here, not walking. As I touched her, fresh roots began to grow out of the scorched stumps that could easily replace her legs. In a couple minutes she could walk on them, leaning lightly on my shoulder. Under the long dress, it still couldn’t be seen that she had live tree roots instead of legs.

“Thank you, Monsignor Dragon!”

Her voice sounded like the rustling of leaves. So she knows who I am after all! Then she suppressed her fright because she simply couldn’t run away.

“So you don’t think I burned down your place?”

“I don’t know,” she faltered a little. “That dragon didn’t seem to be gold and…” she pointed to her torn lobe. “He took my earring from me. You wouldn’t do that.”

“And what makes you think that?” I remembered how in the old days I’d robbed mortal kingdoms and taxed supernatural beings. They lived far from the Empire. But I never stooped to ripping jewelry off ladies. She’s right about that.

“It was just copper and carnelian. It would look ridiculous in your treasury. I found it once when I was coming out of the tree.”

“There’s nothing left of your tree?”

She shook her head sullenly. I noticed that one cheek was covered in bark, and her fingers looked more like dry twigs. Still, the dryad was quite pretty.

“I’m Chloe,” she introduced herself with a flirtatious wink. “And I’m not likely to last long, unless there’s a well of life-giving water nearby to help me put down new roots.”

I put my arm around her waist and almost dragged her, trying to remember where there was a well that hadn’t already been inhabited by some malicious creature who had declared himself guardian. The dryad was practically weightless. Walking with her was easy.

“If the well doesn’t work out, I promise I’ll find you a new tree or create one myself,” I promised. That cheered her up. It was important to take care of her now, for she was the injured one, and I could return to the scene of the accident and ask questions later. The ashes of the fire brought some blackness to the sunny day, but I could still enjoy the spring freshness and the scenic views around me. It’s a blessing that the expanse around us isn’t burning yet. It’s strange for me to think so, because I’m used to burning everything, but if this Empire burns down, it’s as if I won’t be there either. At any rate, I’ll be so angry that I’ll probably burn all the mortal domains for it as well. So I well understood Chloe, left without her magical dwelling. There was someone watching us closely from behind, but I didn’t have time to turn around and ask what he wanted from us.

Troubled times

Everyone I wanted to interview came to me. Usually anyone who wanted to report something urgent ended up right in the throne room. They didn’t even have to pass the castle gates. They would appear as if from the ground. This time, the victims acted more cautiously. First, they appeared out of nowhere in the courtyard of the castle. Some brought with them stacks of burnt straw, others charred bricks from their burnt dwellings, one nymph came with torn ears that were missing two earrings. Here I realized at once what was the matter?

The beautiful woman sat down in a curtsy, as if casually pointing to the slightly burned hem of her azure dress. It resembled the color of her skin, and was recovering very slowly. Usually all wounds on nymphs and fairies healed as quickly as they did on their bodies. What can you do, the outfit is part of their skin.

The Leprechauns began to complain to me intermittently. Their chorus made my ears ring. The dwarves looked warily at the stakes with the severed heads of my enemies, placed in a semicircle in the courtyard. Each one was barely smoldering to remind them of my victories. I called this circle the Ring of Triumph and was quite proud of it, but the guests trembled at the sight of it. Dragon trophies are not something that can please the faint of heart.

In addition to Chloe came a few more burned dryads, who apparently were also homeless. They dignifiedly introduced themselves to me and sat down in curtsy. Their names, given one by one, were mildly perplexing. Their names were Cypress, Ash, Beech, Aspen, Willow, Cracker, Birch, Elm, and Pine. Apparently, the names echoed the names of the trees in which the lovely creatures lived. The only reminders of their woody origins were the leaves in their hair and a bit of bark on their delicate skin. They were not burned as badly as Chloe, but the roots stretching from under their dresses like trains spread the smell of burning and ash. To me, those roots seemed alive and silently moaning in pain after the burns they had received. What wonders there are in my Empire? But the injured beauties are pitiful. They gathered in an ornate circle, resembling a green wreath, as their dresses were all green, skillfully sewn from leaves. Only the last two dryads, Palm and Bamboo, resembled exotic oriental queens. The huge green leaves in their outfits looked like greenish peacock tails.

“All our houses are ashes. We have nowhere to live,” Cypress complained. “Yesterday we had comfortable shelter in the trunks. We would wither without them, even if you offered to let us stay in your castle.”

“I could plant trees for you in the yard,” I suggested politely. How could I drive away such pretty girls? Let them stay to brighten my loneliness. I clenched my hand into a fist, and huge trees began to grow from the pebbles that littered the courtyard. I wish I’d realized that I was growing them on the site of mass executions. The trunks rose and grew fast, but they bled. The branches groaned and the growths on the limbs took the shape of severed heads.

Those who watched the sorcery were badly frightened.

“Have mercy on us, Monsignor,” Bamboo bowed down on the pebbles of the courtyard. I’d forgotten that in Eastern countries it’s not curtsy, but bowing before sultans or sheiks. The dryad just stretched out on the ground, sweeping the yard with the leaves of her outfit. “We don’t want to turn into bleeding trees.”

“And we don’t want to die,” Palm added timidly. She did not fall down, but lowered her eyes shyly. What magic wind had brought these strange eastern fairies to my Empire? But I was glad to have them. Like all beautiful creatures who could entertain me in Rose’s absence.

I was aware that dryads could only live in the trunks of their own trees, and I could, with the help of charms, grow sprawling trees right in the floor of my castle’s ballroom in a matter of minutes. But if they would rather live in groves or forests, then so be it. I’ll grow new trees for them there. And it’ll only take me a moment to heal their burns. I heal as easily as I burn. We must calm the beauties and invite them all to an evening feast. Afterward, we might have a hot night with dragon fire that would only light the candles but not burn the dryads, and lovemaking. I’m tired of my wife-hater and wanted to have fun, but first we need to deal with the other petitioners: dwarves, leprechauns, and even a couple of burnt trolls.

“We would be glad if the raids would stop,” one dwarf, who was timidly crumpling his hat in his hands, took it upon himself to speak for everyone. The others nodded in agreement.

“I would have stopped them immediately if it had been me. It’s not in my nature to scorch my own state.”

Not everyone believed me. Some even murmured. The country still remembered the appearance of my magic double Simon, who cleverly gave orders for me, and no one could expose him for a long time. True, he didn’t turn into a dragon. But no one paid attention to that at first. The subjects preferred to see me in my beautiful human form. It didn’t occur to anyone to ask me to turn in front of their eyes and scare everyone that way, probably even burn them. So Simon had managed to hide his identity for a long time. But now everything was back to normal. Simon took his place in Roshen in the alliance of magical creatures banished from the Empire by me. Here they would be the local nobility, but in the human world they were merely actors, playing at being evil. Their community was called the Alliance of Magic Talents. I jokingly referred to them as the Union of Beings who had wronged Edwin, who was me. There weren’t many such beings before. You could count them on the fingers of one hand, especially if you had six or seven fingers like dragon claws. But now there was a whole court of the wronged and the dispossessed. And all of them, for some reason, thought that it was none other than me who had wronged them. Even the azure nymph was sulking, though I had long ago touched her cheek and easily healed the ugly burn.

“The dragon that attacked us was also golden like you,” Cypress explained stammering. – Until now, we thought that only those with magical royal blood could turn gold after transformation. After all, color is your distinguishing mark. It symbolizes privilege and high descent – from Madeel himself.”

A scarlet lightning bolt glittered far in the sky, a reminder that a forbidden name had been spoken aloud. The corners of Cypress’ lips bled, as if one of Madeel’s invisible demons had given her a clawed fist on the lips for breaking the rules of conversation. The girl frowned guiltily and began crumpling the green leafy train in her hands as if she had no other concerns.

“I certainly didn’t attack you,” I said. Since when do I have to justify myself to them or explain anything to them? I wonder what kind of dragon put me in this awkward position. Probably it was some strange foreign beast that had escaped from the cage of some eastern sultana and flown into our midst. I remembered my travels in the eastern countries, when I had sought allies and enemies for Queen Serafina, whom I had loved for a short time. Sheikhs, rajahs, sultans or their viziers sometimes kept river and sea dragons in their special pearl cages. They could not be kept captive for long and could not be bribed with caresses. Such creatures did not usually breathe fire, but poisonous water, which put them to sleep and drove them mad. One sultan’s daughter died thanks to such a pet. Those lands stretched far across the oceans, but they were the only lands I had not explored where magic existed. If some dragon I didn’t know had come, it must have come from there. True, I hadn’t seen it yet.

“I’ll fix it,” I promised. But no one really believed me. They’d never disrespected me like this before, and there were only a tiny handful of my subjects here. Maybe I should blow fire on them for good measure. They’ll know not to honor their emperor.

“Maybe you just don’t remember,” Palm murmured uncertainly. “There are means to stupefy even our minds so that we forget something or someone…”

“Is it oriental remedies?” I revived. I hadn’t studied them yet, unlike the local ones, but I could use one to forget Rosa. “Do you know how to make them?”

Palm was even startled.

“I have never given anything like that to anyone,” she immediately began to justify herself.

“That’s not what I mean. I need a cook who can make such tinctures in the castle kitchen. You know how many gory details I want to forget after night raids on mortal lands.”