Rhianon – Princess of Fire

Rhianon – Princess of Fire
Natalie Yacobson

Rianon is a princess with the gift of fire. Madeel is a winged warrior, without whose magical power no battle on earth can be decided. He is subject to swarms of dragons and all magical creatures. Every king dreams of enlisting his support. Rhianon, too, needs his help to reclaim her kingdom. The fairies warn Rhianon that an encounter with Madeel will be deadly for her.

Rhianon – Princess of Fire

Natalie Yacobson

Translator Natalia Lilienthal

© Natalie Yacobson, 2022

© Natalia Lilienthal, translation, 2022

ISBN 978-5-0056-8157-7

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

Prologue

«They were as winged as my former brethren, and just as badly disfigured.»

In the overcast autumn sky above the mountain range, a bright cloud of scaly dragon bodies mottled and wriggled. Red coral crests, webbed paws with claws, powerful tails, black and emerald, eyes sparkling with fury, and mouths that gnawed at the fiery flames that were about to burst forth-an army worthy of Lucifer. Madeel grinned wryly. His thin, pale fingers tugged at his scarlet cloak, a cloak he no longer needed. Rumors of what he was like were now openly circulating around the world, but few guessed the truth. Only these creatures saw through him and worshipped him almost as a god, and he paid tribute to their strength and singularity. They were dragons. A whole firework of multicolored, wriggling, living ornamented bodies. They were shapeless rainbows over the darkening sky. The tearful cries of birds subsided in the distance. No more songbirds survived; over the mountains and valley, only a vast, all-powerful army of angry dragons. Today their fire would fall upon the city at his command, and all would be over.

«Will you not feel pity at all when all that you valued recently dies?» The young traveler, perched on a boulder, stared thoughtfully at the swirling cloud over the mountains.

«This world is only a place of exile for me. Yes, it’s almost entirely mine, but if it perishes, I’ll have nothing to be sorry about,» he might have been lying a little, perhaps those crazy dangerous nights when she had walked with him through the dark streets of Loretta were the only things to regret.

«Are you sorry about them?» The traveler nodded at the swarm of dragons that were growing in number, and beyond the sweep of their leathery wings the sky was hardly visible anymore. «They really were your brethren once.»

«Perhaps,» Madeel shrugged, and the wings fluttered behind him. He still hid them and pretended not to know why he was invulnerable. Let the rivals whisper that the knight who defeats them is not a human, his beautiful eyes flash with lightning in the heat of battle, that his sword always strikes without a miss, that there is an invisible power in his armor, that wings are hidden beneath his armor. Their attempts to discover who he really is are in vain. Only one knows that… but, Madeel preferred not to think of her now. And his heart burned even harder and more painfully than the heavenly fire that had once burned his forehead millennia ago. Now his skin was still smooth and translucent, but the invisible seal remained.

Madeel shook his head, trying to shake off the memory like a bad dream. The wind fluttered his angelic curls. They had once been brighter than the sun, so bright and pure that they had been admired even in paradise; now they had faded to a golden wheat color, but they still continued to fascinate mortals. He was lucky; at least he was still beautiful, but his former friends had become too ugly. Only for some did beauty return for a brief moment, only to fade again and give way to more ugliness. And more than once it had happened in front of mortals. Madeel squeezed his eyes shut painfully.

«I hope it never happens to me. Some of them might have been like me. The ones the others missed, but now… look at them. Even if I knew them before, I don’t recognize them now…»

«You don’t want to be like them, do you?»

«Of course not,» he said, and his pale wings were already beginning to darken. His insides were churning with anger and fire. «But after tonight, maybe I’ll be worse.»

«Don’t do this…»

«I’ve already made up my mind. Perhaps the higher powers are of a different opinion, but those who live in Loretta deserve it. Their evil has gone beyond all limits. It’s time for vigilante justice. I could do it alone, sweeping over the city with my sword, but what a commander without an army. With dragons at my back, anyone would be more impressive.»

«Would she, too?»

Madeel shuddered. His wings fluttered so that not even his cloak could conceal them. He wanted to fly now, to outrun the dragons, the wind, and most importantly, the nightfall. The night would take everything from him, so why not get ahead of it. After all, he has strong wings and he can penetrate the tower with the last light and take what he needs with him. It was only with a tremendous effort of will that he pulled himself together. What was all this for? He was used to being alone.

«Don’t worry about her,» he muttered, then leaned carelessly against the huge boulder to watch the dragons indifferently. Their scales glittered like jewels against the gray sky. Above the dark cliffs, their cries and their cries shook everything. And inexpressibly beautiful, still childlike purity, Madeel’s face showed no emotion. Arno, the traveler, stowed his harp back in his travel bag without touching its strings. The face of the former angel before him looked as if it had descended from one of the frescos of an ethereal painter. When you look at such beauty, you want no words, no music, nothing.

You want only to look at these uncreated and at the same time not created by nature, but by some unknown magic, and not to think about time, because time has no power over them.

«You may die today, but you don’t want to die alone. You want to take this girl with you, you want to drag her to hell, because her embrace was more beautiful to you than heaven, wasn’t it?» Arnaud sounded like he was almost eternal himself. That’s probably where it’s going. It’s worth waiting to see how what he’s done reflects on him.

«Why lie?» Madeel stroked the razor sharp green scaled wing of the flying dragon, touched the comb with his pale lips, felt his curls explode in the fire’s powerful breath, felt the faint heat wash over his skin. Even the strongest fire could not burn him, nor could it do any harm. His pale, shimmering skin remained unscathed against both sword and flame. Invulnerability was as much a gift as his strength, and he needed it all, until he strayed from his chosen path.

«I wanted to give one beautiful, dishonorable creature the whole world, but all I can give us both is a tiny slice of hell.»

«You did. That means you’re already better than me, even though I haven’t done what you’ve done,» Arnaud still looked sadly at the harp. Maybe play it one last time, but why, the roar of the dragons would drown out all his music anyway.

«I just felt like I’d found someone as beautiful as the ones I’d been with before. This girl, she wasn’t just prettier than them…she was the only one who looked into my soul and didn’t shudder at what she saw there.»

«So spare these people for her sake.»

«I will kill them for her. They deserve it,» the dragon flew back to his friends. Madeel mentally ordered the others to prepare to attack. Fly. It’s about time. The daylight is going out. Night is the time of fire. It will rain like ginger rain on the copper roofs of the city, and the spires of palaces and the domes of cathedrals where there is no divinity, and even on the cherished towers. Like hail, the orange fireworks of dragon fire will fall upon the city, and for tomorrow there will be only ashes and memories. There need be no war, no clang of swords, no long duels, just one raid and in the flames all cries and pleas for mercy are silenced. The world is merciless to his desire, so too will he, the immortal, be merciless to the world. Madeel’s cloak fluttered in the wind. It is time.

«Nor will you spare her,» Arno questioned one last time.

Madeel stopped. His face grew impenetrable, like a stone statue in the glow of a flame that was already blazing over the mountains in the sky.

«Would you have any mortal follow my fate? Better that one of the most beautiful of mortals should die than that thousands should be burned alive? Wouldn’t you?»

Arnaud didn’t know what to say. He had to agree, but suddenly he remembered the tower, and the reflection of the candles in the golden curls and the sound of her enchanting music. Maybe it was better to let thousands perish, and let the angel’s voice singing of love remain in eternity. But it was too late to change his mind. Flames were already erupting over the valley, turning the previously blooming terrain into a steaming inferno. Madeel was gone, and the dragons were in flight.

Escape from Fate

Winning again! The dice fell again for luck. And this was not the first dozen times it had come out. Superior points had fallen regularly since she’d sat down at the gaming table, as if someone had cast a spell on the dice. As long as none of the partners accused her of cheating, because she was not cheating at all, she was just incredibly, amazingly lucky. Rhianon pulled her beret down over her forehead to hide the strands of golden hair that fell out of the bun. No one should doubt that she was just a cheeky, pretty boy, a page or a gamekeeper who’d escaped from her lord for the evening to try his luck at the first pub and have a drink. It is only a pity she had a face too delicate and girlishly beautiful for a boy. She must not be recognized. She will never come back. When she is missed the noble lady must disappear, leaving only the young man, who travels light and wins unusually often.

One of the players slammed his fist on the table in frustration. He had already lost all his money. A mountain of copper change was growing on the table in front of Rhianon, a few gold coins even jingled under her hands. It was all her winnings.

It was another game of luck. The players dispersed, some outraged, others lamenting their bad luck, but that the boy was a cheat was out of the question, for everyone was taking turns rolling the same dice, and he had done nothing to ensure that only he was lucky. The last partner, muttering something about the newcomer’s luck, also moved to another table, and Rhianon collected her winnings. Her long, slender hands dipped into the copper and gold. Treasures like a dragon’s. They would come in handy on her journey.

She should have trimmed her hair so she wouldn’t fear the beret was about to fall from her head and her curls would scatter down her back. It was as if someone was watching her all the time, trying to denounce the girl in her, but who? She looked around the tavern in vain for more than the first time. All the customers were occupied only with themselves and their drinks. No one was watching her. So where did this feeling of someone staring intently at her, trying to remember all her features, and the flame of the candle on the table was already trembling with the close breath of the watcher.

Someone was looking at her through the window of the tavern. It seemed so to her, and she flinched. What is this stalking mania, can’t someone be watching her so long and so intently while remaining unnoticed.

But someone’s silhouette outside the window did loom. Someone with a hood pulled down over his face, a vagabond or a monk. Rhianon would have turned away if suddenly a thin, pale hand had not pressed against the glass. It was too white and long, with elongated fingers and almost translucent skin. A non-human hand!

What strange thoughts? Rhianon would have shaken her head to drive them away if she hadn’t feared her beret might fly off. Whoever was watching her was already in the tavern. She could feel it with every pore of her skin, though no one present could be suspected. Did the feeling deceive her. Everyone seemed preoccupied only with their own business. Still, she looked around every corner, even the chandelier and the stove with the burning coals. It seemed as if someone’s gaze could be on her from anywhere, even from places where no human being was standing. It was especially from these places. Someone was staring, as if from a void, and the feeling made her uncomfortable. Rhianon shuddered. She would have to get out of the tavern and take a walk. Maybe it was because it was too stuffy in here. Her horse was just growling anxiously outside the door to the stable. It was far away, but she heard it and rushed over there. Fresh air wafted in her face, and the thought that someone might be watching her sitting right on the swinging chandelier under the ceiling or perched almost in the mouth of a glowing oven seemed absurd. Was it Imagination? No, her fantasies had dried up since the council sentenced the heiress to the harsh reality that the country, of which she was to be the sole ruler, would never be hers alone. Or it was not yet. Rhianon was used to insisting on her own, only now it was pointless. She had to wait it out, had to stall until she was of age, until she was free.

Her groomed, white horse stood out sharply among the inconspicuous, brown-haired stallions and geldings. We must change him later, or pass ourselves off as a royal messenger. Only that one could have an outfit and a horse of such value. There is no need to arouse anyone’s suspicions now. They must be looking for her by now. They should search the castle first, all cellars, wells, ponds, and houses in the city. It would be wonderful if no one could place the young page at the head of an expensive thoroughbred and the missing princess. But her pursuers might be too cautious, so they would have to be clever at hiding.

Rhianon put a finger to her lips, calling for silence. She should have taken the horse by the bridle, stroked it, patted its withers, calmed it down in general by usual methods, but she was used to doing otherwise. The animals understood her, and she didn’t need physical force to subdue them, just a faint mental contact, a subtle sign «obey me», and it worked. One gesture, one thought, and the beasts understood her in a way humans never would.

Someone clapped their hands, but the clapping sounded not in the night, but in her brain.

«You’re gorgeous!»

No one said it, no one breathed in her ear. Just a whiff of wind touched her cheek. The strange thing was that this wind was only felt for one moment, and then the calm of the night closed over the windless space again. It was cold, but there was no draught. Her head felt like it was on fire, maybe from the feeling of her own daring and boldness. She would never have dared to run away before, but now she could smell the freedom. She did what she had to do.