Книга - Gryphon dynasty

Gryphon dynasty
Natalie Yacobson


Fiona followed the unusual golden eagle into the mountains and witnessed a witchcraft ritual in which a whole company of beautiful werewolf princes took part. All would be well, were it not for the appearance of a powerful rival, the Griffin Queen, and the curse of the sea witch, which lies on all the princes. Each of the brides of their dynasty will become a victim unless she herself turns into a griffin.





Gryphon dynasty



Natalie Yacobson



Translator Natalia Lilienthal



© Natalie Yacobson, 2022

© Natalia Lilienthal, translation, 2022



ISBN 978-5-0059-2672-2

Created with Ridero smart publishing system




What curiosity leads to?


Fiona went after an unusual bird and greatly regretted it. The golden-haired gyrfalcon led her high into the mountains. Her dress was torn and her arms and legs scratched, and the bird was now climbing a little higher, then he zigzagging, as if to taunt her and lead as far away from crowded places as possible. If she had not found that ill-fated feather on the road, she would not have noticed the gyrfalcon. A chain of ridiculous events coupled with curiosity could lead her into a trap.

Fiona looked back. The height she had climbed was dizzying. The carriage that had passed down the road looked no bigger than a grain of sand. And the gyrfalcon flew even higher. It was pure suicide to follow it, but it was scary to go back down as well. The soles of her shoes were slipping on the mountain trail.

A little higher up there was a gaping hole in the cave, and voices were heard from there. Could it be that there were people alive up there? Lost wretches like her? The gyrfalcon flashed its golden plumage in the sun and disappeared into the opening of the cave. It had been foolish to follow it from the start, but when she saw the glittering golden bird, she decided it was a sign from heaven.

There were hums and mysterious chants coming from the cave. Fiona listened:

«One who calls to us?

Who sleeps, who waits for?

The master of the world is coming,

In a century or this year,

Show yourself to us, among the deserts…»

The winds have brought and confounded the sounds. It’s a hymn of sorts! It sang of the sands and the glittering deity, but there were only mountains and road dust beneath. Still, Fiona went, and then even climbed forward. The words of the hymn were both frightening and intriguing. The monotonous hum struck with mystery, and the golden gyrfalcon, which flew into the cave’s yawn, was very much to be seen again.

«Have you fallen in love with him?» Fiona scolded herself harshly. «He’s just a bird, and you’re dreaming of him like a bride dreams of her fiancé. Go and get him! He has wings and you haven’t. Fool!»

Talking to herself had been her favorite pastime since she’d been without a family. But she might as well talk to these mountains. They would not answer. The hum coming from the cave should not be considered a response to the wails that escaped her lips.

She almost fell down. To fall was to crash to her death. Fiona’s heart pounded fast and frightened. Her disheveled reddish hair made it difficult to see properly.

She had to crawl back to the cave. Pity there was nothing to hold on to, and she had no rope or cord. Fiona had already managed to find a small ledge, leaned on it and pulled up. Now she could see into the cave, which hovered at an enormous height.

Inside, a fire was blazing. Who would think of stoking it in the warm season? The fire was strange. It glowed blue, then purple, then turned golden yellow. It must have been a play of light and shadows. No warmth came from the flames. Several big proud birds sat silently around the fire, but no people were visible in the cave. Then who was singing?

Fiona made a last desperate effort, pulled up and climbed into the cave. It was cool and gloomy inside. Sparks from the fire sprinkled, but many of the objects around the fire were still unlit.

Fiona shuddered when bones and skulls crunched under her foot. There appeared to be many in the cave, and they all looked human. Don’t panic yet! It was the chanting that had startled her, and dead skeletons could not sing, as she knew. A flock of beautiful, majestic eagles had gathered around the fire. They sat around so rankly, as if they possessed royal manners. Wasn’t she dreaming about all this? No, the scratches and abrasions on her hands were real. The pain pinches the skin that has been peeled off. It doesn’t hurt in dreams. And in reality, there are no such big eagles who behave like well-mannered men of high society. Besides, one eagle has something like a miniature crown glittering in its head. It’s probably some kind of speck that only looks like a crown from a distance.

The whole golden eagle was not to be seen among them. Only the largest bird had a few tail feathers of gold.

«Who are you?»

Fiona turned at the voice behind her.

«We didn’t call you!» The handsome young man, a blond boy, was assessing her with an arrogant look. «We could not have been summoned by a puny country girl who was not a deity.»

«Who are we?» He was the only one Fiona could see before her, and she wondered how he had managed to get up here without bleeding like she had. Not a scratch on him. The blond man was dressed like an aristocrat, in a sumptuous blue camisole with lace cuffs woven with images of griffins. He put his jeweled ringed hands on Fiona’s face.

«She is beautiful and gentle! She would be good for breakfast.»

«Condor, leave her alone!» A man’s voice came from the fire. «Come with us! We can’t complete the circle without you.»

Fiona rubbed her eyes in amazement. How she hadn’t noticed at once that there were boys bent over the fire. It was a whole circle of thirteen boys. Where were the birds? One feather was burning in the fire, and the action around the fire itself resembled some kind of witchcraft.

«We have a guest!» The tallest of the lads opened the circle. «Come to get warm? Or have you flown in?»

Is he joking? Fiona tensed. Barely had the boys’ hands parted as the flames went out. The cave was immediately brighter without the fire. Daylight penetrated the narrow manhole. It was as if the fire was blocking the light rather than creating it.

«Let her go!» Condor muttered dryly.

«Let her stay,» protested the lad, who was a head taller than the others. He was the man in charge.

«I am Orvel,» he said, «and these are my brothers, Leroy, Tarth, Otton, Lestan, Archibald, Vernon, Hawthorne, Seyn, Warwick, Terence, Simon, Wern, and Condor.

The last name was as if it were superfluous. Orvel almost forgot about him. The handsome blond twisted unhappily when he heard his name.

«And I’m Fiona,» she called timidly. Orvel’s anthracite eyes hypnotized her.

«Send her away!» Condor insisted.

«Can’t you see? She is one of ours.»

«She is the girl from the village!»

Orvel beckoned him to be quiet.

So they are all brothers? They really do look a lot like each other. Fiona considered them. They were all beautiful, all with dark silky hair and piercing blue eyes. It seemed to be a color commonly called violet, even though it was a poetic comparison. And Fiona was no good at poetry, but she would have liked to compose madrigals in honor of such handsome men. How pale they all were! Not a blood in their faces. Orvel had eagle-like features. The golden-haired one here was Condor. So he’s their brother too? You couldn’t tell by his looks.

«You’re not from the village,» Orvel determined.

«It is true. I’m from the mill, which is in the countryside.»

But he shook his head in the negative as well. His predatory gaze slid over her figure. Fiona immediately felt ashamed of her plain burgundy dress with lace-up front. Only maids wore it. All her new acquaintances, on the other hand, were dressed like princes. She, on the other hand, wore no bows or jewelry. The only gorgeous thing about her was her wavy red hair, which reached to her waist. It’s more orange than red, so she’d be lost in the fall foliage if she were fleeing from a flock of eagles. But now it was summer in the woods. Among the green trees, her bright hair was easy to see from on high.

Why did such thoughts pop into her head? Fiona wondered to herself. The fear that she was about to have to flee from a flock of birds of prey appeared suddenly and was getting stronger and stronger. Unreasonable fears had never plagued her before.

Could it be that witchcraft was indeed practiced here? Fiona had heard from gossip mongers that when village witches witchcraft on people, the victims began to suffer inexplicable fear. But she’d never heard of rich aristocrats being able to do black witchcraft at the cauldron like hillbillies.

«Would you like to join us?» Orvel nodded at the circle of skulls laid out around the already extinguished fire. «We were just waiting for someone to be the last one to show up, and here you are. It’s a sign! You have to close the circle. Condor is of no use.»

The blond boy gave a grudging snort, and regarded Fiona as if she were an annoying beggar who should have been expelled from decent society long ago. The girl clenched her fists in frustration. Well, why exactly the most handsome guy turned out to be such a nuisance! If only he had had a good character! Then she wouldn’t have been able to get away from him.

But it was Orvel, not Condor, who was the most courteous. For some reason Fiona didn’t like Orvel at all. Perhaps it was his predatory gaze. His dark eyes seemed to drain all her energy. Only to spite Condor, she nodded eagerly.

«I’m ready to join you.»

Orvel rejoiced. She hoped he wouldn’t get her involved in any adventures. She’d already taken a perilous journey chasing a bird. She didn’t have the energy for another adventure.

«I knew you were sent from on high,» Orvel took her hand and scratched it lightly. His nails are sharp, aren’t they? For some reason the color was black.

«Get ready for round two,» he turned to his brothers. «We have one more try.»

She wondered what he meant by that. His brothers immediately flinched. Fiona noticed, as they parted, that in the center of the skull circle, besides the fire, there was a carcass that had been butchered. Was it a doe? Or was it a deer? The carcass had been skinned. You can’t tell by eye now. Orvel took her closer, and Fiona shuddered. It’s the skinned carcass of a woman.

«Yes, don’t be so frightened!» Orvel acted as if she were imagining it. «You’re trembling! Calm down! Otherwise it won’t work. Do you like to dance? All the village girls love to dance at village parties. Let’s all take turns leading you in the dance.»

«Except for me,» said Condor, stepping to the edge of the cave as if he were going to jump down and fly. He’s got a lot of nerve! Or maybe he dislikes her so much that he’d kill himself not to dance with her.

The cave was no ballroom, but it would do for emergencies. Orvel led her in the dance first, then Leroy, then Tarth, and so everyone took turns doing a circular pas with her, passing her from hand to hand.

«That’s the one!» Orvel looked at her with delight. «It was like she was made for all of us, not just one of us. And her hair is like a flame. We don’t have to test her anymore. She was definitely sent to us.»

For a moment Fiona thought the circle of gentlemen beside her was a circle of eagles. They moved their wings and wanted to peck. But instead of pain she felt fresh kisses on her lips.

A large bird circled at the entrance to the cave, but Fiona didn’t care anymore. Suddenly a woman’s voice called out to all the brothers.

«Who is she?» There was a lady standing on the threshold of the cave, not a large bird. That’s too bad, Fiona sighed. The bird could be chased away, and the lady had a capricious and self-assured look.

«Your timing is bad, Ornella. We’re busy.»

Orwell said that. The other brothers frowned. Only Condor obediently stepped aside, letting Ornella go ahead. Is he in love with her? He looks just like a lover!

The lady is more elegant than beautiful. She has the same griffin embroidered in silver thread on her splendid corsage as all her brothers wear.

«She is superfluous,» Ornella looked down at Fiona. «Let her go where she came from.»

«Let her stay,» Orwell put his arm around her waist. Fiona flinched. He had eagle claws on his hands. He’d hurt her a little. Maybe he didn’t mean to, but living with a bird’s claws instead of nails meant being a predator against his will.

«If she does not leave, I will tear her to pieces!»

The arrogant lady was not joking. Somehow all her boyfriends were wary of her, or they were just fawning over her from the fact that they admired her. Fiona already knew that for young guys the most important thing is the girl they are in love with. But they didn’t all fall in love with her right away, did they? What was so special about her? Did she come here on a date with them or to perform a witchcraft rite?

Whoa! The circle might not be witchcraft. The skulls might have been left in the cave by savages, the feathers by real birds, and the noble gentlemen here are just having fun.

Fiona did not want to become their next amusement.

She would not leave, and the lady offered, taking off her black scarf. She didn’t seem to be wearing it a minute ago, but she couldn’t have pulled it right out of nowhere.

«Let’s play pinch-hit!»

The boys went pale all at once.

«You don’t want to, do you?»

«She wants to be with us, so she has to share our games.»

She blindfolded Fiona, scratching her cheek lightly with her claw.

«Let’s start a regular game, and then a game of steel! If you don’t catch us, you’ll be sorry. No more than a minute to catch each one.»

Unusual game! A minute passed, and Fiona was scratched with a claw so that she screamed.

«Courage!» is the woman’s voice, but it is no longer her hand, but the wing of a huge bird. It is running across her elbows, and at the end of it is a claw! There is pain again! Fiona screamed at the top of her voice. She tried to remove the bandage, but it was as if it were glued to her eyelids. She couldn’t see anything under it. There was a reason it was black! It stuck to her skin like Velcro!»

«Stop it!» Fiona shouted, but the attacks didn’t stop. Someone was laughing in a corner in the distance. Something was being moved across the floor, obviously skulls. Then there was the crunch of bones breaking. Someone had stepped on the skulls on purpose. She tripped over one of them and almost fell.

Nearby, birds’ wings flapped, voices echoed in the distance. Where did people go when there were birds all around? There was a whole flock, and they were scratching at her with their claws.

«Stop it!» It was the Condor’s voice. He tore the blindfold off Fiona’s face. Birds were circling him. One wing hovered over his shoulder, hiding his arm. Or was it his arm that had become a wing? Fiona backed away from him, seeing his eyes redden.

«Run for your life!» He advised her hoarsely.

She ran as fast as she could, knowing that she would never have another chance to escape. But there was no escape. At the exit she slipped, fell, and rolled down the stones. Her dress caught on something and kept her from falling for a long time. Fiona had expected a sharp bough or rocky ledge to have pierced her skirt, but it was the claws of a large bird. It was a gryphon! Fiona had never seen a real live gryphon in her life. It was only on a tapestry. But this gryphon was agile and alive. And it looked at her like a victim. One second its red eyes studied her with long gaze, and then suddenly its claws gripped her narrow waist and took off with the victim into free flight. The land and mountains remained far below. Fiona realized that there was no use in lashing out now. The gryphon soared so high that the surrounding world disappeared behind the clouds.




Dead Witnesses


She was looking for an unusual bird, and so she found it. The gryphon carried it in its talons like a toy. The feathers on the tips of its wings whipped across its face, and it was bright golden. So this was the bird she had naively pursued. She should have tempered her curiosity. Then she wouldn’t be dangling in the bird’s claws now, like a dolt. They were stuck somewhere between the celestial spheres and the tops of the snowy mountains. It was at the level of the pinnacle clouds.

It was cold and scary. It was as if gryphon had figured he had every right to her, for she was the one who had first started chasing him. She was mistaken! What could he do? If he’d known her to speak human, she’d have apologized. There they would have parted ways. But a gryphon didn’t know human speech. It was useless to ask him to go down and let her go free, so Fiona cried and kept silent.

You have played the game! Curious fool! Goes looking for an adventure on her head! She had her eye on a golden bird! It would have been better to find a dragon’s treasure. A bird of prey doesn’t have golden feathers. And they’re hardly made of pure gold. It is just the color of gold. Fiona scolded herself. She should have been more circumspect.

Ornella’s annoyed cries came from somewhere downstairs. She was not happy to have a toy taken away from her. Fiona was tired of feeling like a toy. Now it was scrapes and scratches, now it was flying in a bird’s claw! It’s an outrage! And the annoying shouts of the arrogant lady are cutting to the ear. How can she even hear the voices of people left far below? Not even the mountain tops can be seen anymore. They have disappeared below under the clouds.

The gryphon hugged her tighter. He was agitated for some reason and even looked back. Fiona screamed now. Its sharp claws pierced the fabric of her dress and then sank into her skin. Somewhere behind her there was a sound. It was an overhead echo that picked up her cries. No, there is no echo in the clouds! Someone was flying behind them. Fiona tried to look back. There were many griffins there. A whole flock! They are catching up.

The gryphon carrying her stirred and flew faster than the wind. Had he decided to take her only for himself, without sharing her with the others? Is she his dinner? What else would a large bird of prey need her for?

The flapping of wings behind him grew louder and louder. There was no escape now. One gryphon had already separated from the flock and was gaining on them. Fiona was frightened. If they fought over their prey right in the air, she would not escape the fall and death. She suddenly realized that her greatest fear was to crash to her death. Once she and a friend were taking sacks of flour to a feudal castle, and she saw a noblewoman there who killed herself by throwing herself from the castle wall. Everyone said she had been driven mad by a coastal witch who had wandered into the castle, but that was not what struck Fiona, but the condition of the fancy-dressed body, which had turned into a bloody puddle. Bundles of feathers protruded from the torn flesh. So the griffin feathers tickling her cheeks at the moment reminded her involuntarily of the shock she had experienced in the past. Was it a bad omen that she would end up like the lady who smashed her forehead on the blocks beneath the fortress wall?

Now the two griffins would collide in the sky, and there would be no fighting. But the griffin carrying her suddenly released one claw and golden lightning flashed through the clouds. The bird that had been chasing her screamed in frustration. The lightning struck it and ignited the plumage on its chest. The flock behind it also let out agitated shrieks. The lightning must have struck them, too.

Fiona suspected something. The lightning was as golden as the gryphon’s claws. Could it be magic? And griffins themselves are widely regarded as magical birds. Fortune is said to smile on whoever sees one, at least from a distance. Fiona, on the other hand, has only grinned at the grim tragedy. Apparently she is a rare loser.

The gryphon broke away from the chase and began to descend. A green plain appeared below. Now he would land and feast. On Fiona’s flesh and bones! He wondered if there would even be bones left of her when he was sated. Though why bother? She hasn’t any kin who’d look for her. If she goes missing, no one will even notice. Except the farm boys who liked her would miss her. And it is not for long. After all, there were plenty of pretty girls in the village.

The valley below was not strewn with skeletons left over from the griffins’ meals, but Fiona was still worried. The gryphon carried her over the plain, the woods, and the marshy lowlands where the reeds rippled. The land approached menacingly. Now the gryphon would wire its prey over the great boulders. Fiona squinted in fear. Suddenly the claws around her waist loosened.

The gryphon threw her down onto a rough, moss-covered mound like a thick carpet. Fiona fumbled for the stones beneath her – these were steps! They were scratched and old. They looked like the carcass of a ladder.

Fiona looked around. Gryphon had carried her into the ruins. He had disappeared somewhere. She hadn’t even heard him fly away. The clapping of its enormous wings was like the sound of a whip. She could not help but hear them.

«She is one of ours! She’s definitely one of ours!» The voices echoed from everywhere, but who had said so?

Fiona looked around.

«She is one of us! She was just lost!» The echoes in the ruins sounded like recitatives or prayerful chants. It was as if witchcraft had been wrought in the place. Echoes of laughter and hymns to the darkness were heard.

It was getting dark. Fiona struggled to her feet and walked a little. Her whole body ached. Scratches and abrasions could not be counted. Yes, the griffins had taken their toll on her. She really did feel like a big rag doll, played with and discarded. Right on the road! Or rather, it was in the ruins.

Even to be in the ruins is dangerous. Everything here is fragile, already partially destroyed and ready to collapse again. The remains of walls and towers reminded her of the castles of feudal lords. Apparently it had once been a castle, but now there was moss between the stones. The ruins of the walls themselves were gnarled and crooked. What had happened here? Was it a earthquake or a war? Could cannons and battering ram have done such damage? In the village, they’d say witches and fairies had had a hand in it. But the village was so far away that no locals would get here. The ruins were in a deserted area.

«Don’t worry, they won’t get in here!»

Fiona turned around at the voice. Something motley was looming in the shadows of the ruins. The figure of a jester! What was the jester doing in the ruins of the castle? Is he a remnant of the old masters? The castle had been destroyed, the owners slaughtered, and somehow the jester survived. He must be a friend of the fairies, if that’s what happened. He has the face of an inhuman, like an elf or a nix. His cheekbones are pointed, and so are his ears. Silver bells were dangling from the horns of a jester’s cap.

«Who are you?» Fiona moved toward him and found that there were already several jester figures on the ruins. They were multiplying, like reflections in shards of mirror.

Was this a mockery or some kind of trick? Everywhere Fiona went, all she found was a void instead of a jester. And the jester figures themselves were already multiplying in other places: on the walls, on the carcasses of towers, on the scratched staircases. In general, it was away from her.

«I don’t like jokes!» Fiona pouted angrily, stomping her foot. «If that’s the way you are, I’m going.»

Her stomping caused the ground to sink in, creating a hole. Inside the hole something sparkled enticingly. It looked like a jar of gold pieces! Was it a fairy joke? Fiona was afraid to bend down and check. It might be some kind of trap.

But a clear voice commanded:

«Take it now that you’ve found it!»

What was she to do? Fiona opened the hole with her bare hands and pulled out a pile of gold coins mixed with colored stones and jewelry. It looked like real gems! What luck! And there’s no one to thank. The jester figures had all disappeared, as if they had never existed.

Fiona was intrigued by one pendant in the shape of a sickle. It was certainly gold. A peasant girl would draw unnecessary attention to herself if she wore it around her neck, but Fiona couldn’t resist. The thing drew her like a magnet. She hated to part with the pendant now. Pity the chain was too short to hide it behind her corsage. The glitter of gold on a deserted road can only attract burglars.

«You’d be better off hiding in the ruins. No one will find you there,» the voices whispered in chorus. But since the voices were out of sight, Fiona decided they were not to be trusted. She could not trust the voices! To be alone in the ruins was frightening. She wondered if there were bandits nesting there at night. The jester costumes might be a good disguise for them. There’s a reason there’s gold hidden here. It could only come from the old owners of the castle or from the bandits who buried the treasure. But it was buried too shallow. But who knows, maybe if one dug a little deeper, one might find an entire gold mine under the ruins.

It was time to get out of here. The ruins stretched like a labyrinth. It took some time to find the way out of them. They were not too far from the road, as it turned out. If you look at them more closely, the ruins resembled a spiral with many twisted staircases, leading into the void and ending, as if they had been built on purpose into the sky. How convenient for those who want to land on the ruins from above. For the birds!

She shouldn’t have turned around before she left. Fiona noticed the brightly colored robes and bells again. There was a jester standing by the ruins, and in the ruins themselves there were many figures in motley jester outfits: both male and female. Are there women jesters and what are they called? If the jester’s outfit is the same cut as these, they could also be mistaken for colombina. She was not in the legendary Sickle of Mockingbirds, was she? It’s not in ruins, but in a closed ring of mountain ridge, and the way there can be found only at the full moon, and not everyone, but only those who are attracted to the spirits.

Motley figures soared over the ruins like a flock of colorful ghosts. How silent they were! They were bright but ominous. It was time to run away from here. No one tried to detain or catch Fiona. Only an echo of many voices echoed everything in her wake:

«She is lost!»

It was not until morning that she reached the road that led past the mountains to familiar places. Fiona was tired and out of breath. Her disheveled red hair was like flaming yarn, tangled with twigs and dry leaves. Her dress was torn, her skin scratched by bird claws. She looks like a beggar! But she had a pile of real gold coins with her! Fiona didn’t even know what she was going to spend them on. She had to put the coins in her pockets and throw the pile away. Carrying it was inconvenient.

At night Fiona snoozed by the side of the road and had a dream. The jester’s spirit assured her that the sickle around her neck and the month were almost the same thing, that it would always lead her to buried treasure. With the money she finds, she can buy an entire estate, not just a new mill or farm. And if she keeps looking for treasure, she could become queen herself.

«There is so much treasure hidden in the earth! Only spirits can see them, but they can’t use them, and you can! You have a special gift! We need you! But many others, alas, need you too!» The jester whispered. His face had a chalky hue, but his features were beautiful. It was only the laughing, snide eyes that spoiled the whole impression. They made it seem like he was mocking her.

The dream did not last long. Waking up, Fiona set off again. The road was dark, but she walked at random. Strangely, the pendant around her neck glowed like a yellow fire, helping her to navigate. Did gold have the property of glowing in pitch-black darkness?

They say that in the big cities at night they fasten torches in brackets on the walls so that the noblemen can walk in peace. But on the country road at night, you can’t see anything further. You can’t see further than your nose. So Fiona didn’t walk at night. This was an exception, and it was only the fault of the griffin that had led her nowhere. Fortunately, at least the direction in which to go, she guessed correctly, or else she would go to another village or even in another country.

Seeing the luxurious carriage left by the mountains with no servants, no coachman, and even no horses, Fiona was wary. She even rubbed her eyes, just in case. The carriage had not disappeared. So she had not imagined it!

Such fancy carriages she had only seen from afar. And here she could even touch it. Coats of arms gleam on the sides and top of the carriage. The frames of the doors and windows are gilded. The velvet curtains are purple to match the velvet upholstery of the carriage. On the fenders and inside the carriage were piled sacks of costly fabrics, or… Fiona was dumbfounded. Corpses! They were corpses! Brutally mutilated and even dismembered. From a distance they looked like large rag dolls, covered in red paint. Horse carcasses were lying in the mud on the road near the carriage. The human remains, judging by their clothing, belonged to noble and wealthy gentlemen, as well as their groomsmen.

One corpse appeared to be female. It was a girl. She was a redhead just like Fiona herself. Only, unlike Fiona, she was dressed in an expensive velvet gown. She could not be mistaken for a peasant girl. She was an aristocrat. Only her high position did not save her. Someone had strung her up like a puppet, placing her palms on sharp staples on the ceiling of the carriage. Her dainty hands were torn in places where there appeared to be jewelry. Her fingers were missing. They must have had rings on them, which could only be removed with the fingers themselves at the same time. If they were torn off by birds, those birds have the instincts of magpies. Except the magpies weren’t so big and their claws weren’t sharp enough to disfigure a corpse like that. It looked like it had been run through a grater. The eyes had been pecked out of the pretty maiden’s head. A necklace of scratches was left on her neck. There was a mark on her forehead, placed by a bird’s paw. Apparently it had been played with, too. The victim had simply been blinded.

Fiona shuddered involuntarily. The same thing could have been done to her, after all.

No doubt the griffins had killed everyone in the carriage, and the bodies all bore the marks of birds’ claws. The bodies had been ripped to shreds. One man’s body was crucified at the milepost. Feathers had been thrust into the deep wounds. Fiona walked over and touched them with her fingertips. There was no golden feather among them. But the corpse bore a striking resemblance to the body of Lady Eveline de Joel, smashed against the castle walls. That was the name of the noblewoman who had jumped from the castle roof. Fiona already doubted that she had jumped by herself, not without the help of birds.

Her touch made the body on the pole twitch. The dead man’s eyes fluttered open. They were rotten, but not torn out.

«You are the redheaded spirit!» The dead lips whispered.

«So you are not dead?»

«How could you tell?» The empty eyes, without pupils, were dead for sure.

She wondered if the corpse had come back to life and spoke to her. More like another dream.

«What happened to you all?» She asked. It was foolish to speak to a dead man. She wondered what kind of trouble it would lead to. That it would drag her back to the other world. But she was used to getting into trouble.

«The birds have flown in!» whispered the crucified corpse, whose hands and feet were pinned to the pole with what looked like shards of claws. «They were crowned birds! Run from them! And no, it’s too late to run! You have a mark on your forehead! They’ll find you anyway!»

Fiona touched her forehead. There was blood running down it. The bird’s claw had left a deep wound there. It was strange that the wound had opened now.

«Get the witch!» There was a shrill cry from behind her.

She turned around excitedly, and this time she didn’t think so. A group of men, including uniformed guardsmen and inquisitorial robes, were rushing toward the carriage. She was in trouble.

«Tell them that I am not a witch, but that you yourself have come back to life to denounce the culprits!» She turned to the dead man, but once again he was nothing but a silent corpse. No matter how much she shook him, he wouldn’t make a sound.

And if he had, it might not have saved her. There is a belief in the Inquisition that at the sight of the culprit the corpse may come to life and reveal the name of the murderer. Stop! It was at the sight of the culprit. He did come to life at the sight of her. Of course, she is by no means the culprit of his death, but his gesture can be interpreted in two ways. Suddenly the witnesses did. At their head was a lady in a splendid gown and ermine robe, which only royalty have the right to wear. It was this very lady that Fiona had recently met in a cave high in the mountains and had almost fallen prey to her.

«Seize her like a witch!» Ornella commanded, pointing a finger in a gleaming ring at Fiona. «It is her handiwork.»

Does she believe it herself, or is she still expressing her displeasure that all her brothers have a crush on the village girl. Fiona heard something about not messing with powerful people or they’ll find a way to get even with you. You’ve annoyed them in a trifle you can’t punish, so they’ll accuse you of something serious later, and everyone will be on their side and not yours.

Ornella was clearly proving how true these warnings were. If you can’t feed Fiona to the griffins, you must accuse her of witchcraft.

«I’m not a witch!» Fiona screamed, but her shouts were as useful as the squeak of a caught sparrow. The guardsmen grabbed her tightly.

«Only a witch could have done such a thing,» Ornella nodded eloquently at the disemboweled corpses in the carriage. «We are fortunate that we caught her at the scene of the crime. The entire Marquis de Palette’ family will be avenged, including their unfortunate young apprentice. Look what she’s done to Claretta! She doesn’t even have eyes left.

Ornella unceremoniously tugged at the cassock of one of the inquisitors, obviously the head inquisitor.

«But she has no claws on her hands,» remarked the youngest of the inquisitors judiciously. «Let me examine her. She does not look like a witch. Not unless she’s a heretic.»

«Or a harlot,» added the black-clad companion in disgust. «Look how red her hair is. It is a sign of vice! It is the mark of the devil.»

«Lady Claretta had red hair too,» the young inquisitor intervened again. «That is not yet proof.»

He clearly wanted to help the unfortunate woman who was caught like a rabbit in a trap. Maybe someone close to him had also been the victim of an unjust massacre, which made him sympathetic to others now. But finding sand and earth residue under Fiona’s fingernails, even he suspected something was amiss. And then there was the sickle pendant that sparkled around her neck, catching their attention at just the wrong time.

It is the sign of Satan,» the Inquisitors murmured like a flock of black crows.

«Perhaps she herself has been bewitched,» the young inquisitor tried once more to shield her. Apparently he had a crush on Fiona, though he was ashamed of it. «Look how badly she herself has been cut.»

«Witches often wound themselves to perform a ritual,» Ornella protested bluntly.

«I’ve never heard of such a thing. I have questioned many witches.»

«My servant girl saw her doing witchcraft in the mountains,» Ornella insisted, that is, she lied shamelessly.

«Is it the slave girl?» Someone of the inquisitors raised a doubtful eyebrow.

«Charisi knows all about witch cults.»

«And how did she conjure?» The young inquisitor asked.

«She is dancing in a circle of fire.»

«It is very doubtful.»

«I am in charge here, not you!» Ornella was tired of playing, and she said her final word. After that, she was defied in a moment. The inquisitors were whispering excitedly. Obviously, they were discussing what to do next. Remembering Ornella’s status, they did not want to argue with her. And what was her status? She was definitely royalty, judging by the ermine robe and the jagged crown with rubies, almost lost in the intricate hair of lush auburn curls. Moreover, Ornella reeked of arrogance. Only people from the very top of society behaved like that. The rest of us have to fawn and grovel before them.

She wondered where her brothers were, and would they stand up for Fiona if they knew she was in trouble? Or would they and Ornella have conspired? Then it’s strange why they didn’t come with their sister. Maybe they would have felt sorry for their new girlfriend. But there was no time to ponder. The clear-cut verdict that she was a witch was more jarring to her ears than the claws of a gryphon.




Witch for griffins


«You’ve made a mistake!» Fiona tried to break free, and the gold in her pockets spilled out onto the road.

«How could a simple peasant girl have so much gold?» Ornella triumphed. «She conjured it up. Everyone knows that witches can turn the blood of their victims, tortured under the moon, into gold or silver.»

«She could have just stolen it,» remarked someone sensible. He was so close!

«I found it. It is treasure,» protested Fiona, and Ornella suddenly looked at her with great interest.

«She is a treasure-hunter!» She murmured in amazement. She would have pouted a little more, but the verdict could not be reversed. Fiona was dragged away.

She could have sworn that Ornella smelled something in her to her advantage. Probably thought she would find her another treasure, since she had already found one. There were probably a lot of them in the ruins. But Fiona’s secret would die with her. She will not lead her executioners to enrich themselves. Though thanks to her awkwardness they have already had handfuls of gold and stones picked up right off the dusty road.

Ornella was the only one who didn’t pick them up. She must be from a rich family, after all. She’s got treasure enough. She’s got a crown to match! If robbers from the highways seize such a captive, she alone would be equal to the treasure found. That is probably why there are so many guards with her. And yet in the mountains Fiona had seen her with no escort at all. While her brothers were in the cave, Ornella was absent. And only then did she come. Alone! She hardly climbed the mountains like a simple villager. Maybe she flew in on a griffin. The birds certainly obeyed her. Take, for example, the game of snooker. Fiona was hurt by the birds, but Ornella was not, though they were both in a cave full of birds. Now the guards turned out to be more molesting than the birds. Fiona did not like their insistence on dragging her somewhere.

«Ornella! Stop them!» She didn’t want to ask, but what else to do. Given her acquaintance in the mountains, Ornella was almost like a friend to her. Well, with a stretch of the imagination, of course. But you could say that. She was in touch, so she was a friend. Only Ornella did not respond to her cries, and those around her considered her crazy, or confirmed their speculation that she is a witch who is now trying to bewitch a noble lady.

It’s a moment like this that makes you want to curse all the people in the world. But Fiona was no witch. Her curse was unlikely to work. Besides, she was never allowed to speak again. The guards shoved her roughly into a cramped, barred van. Why not string her up or burn her on the spot in front of the cheering villagers? We had to jolt along the bumpy road for hours. Was she really going to be taken to a dungeon and tortured? Fiona became frightened. If an evil spirit had spoken to her and offered to trade her soul for her escape, she would have said yes without hesitation.

People had got it into their heads that the redhead was a witch. No one in the town where they’d brought her was shrieking with delight and pointing their fingers at her, screaming «witch». The crowd was far more aristocratic. She was either turned away or looked at with devastatingly arrogant stares. She must have been brought to the capital. There is fabulous luxury everywhere, but Fiona was led not to the palace, but to a dungeon.

The witch who had been captured was confined to a small cell. There was no room to expand. There was not enough space. The dirt floor, lined with a thin layer of straw, was the only place to take a nap.

Fiona dreamt of the red-haired noblewoman in the carriage. She was alive in the dream, though the gray stains of decay and wounds remained on her body. Her eyes were still missing, but in their place there were gems of emerald and ruby that had been inserted into her eye sockets. They were the same stones Fiona had dropped on the road when she had been captured.

The dead woman, whose name seemed to be Claretta, was reaching for her hands. Not hands, but rotting meat in lace cuffs. She couldn’t see very well. Besides, the two multi-colored eyes were frightening. They say only witches’ eyes are different colors. And it didn’t matter that they were stones. In her sleep, Fiona couldn’t move or run away from Claretta. The dead girl’s hands fumbled for her.

«They are looking for one special girl. Not me! It is the other redhead. Run away from them!»

Good advice! Run! But where could she run? There are bars and locks everywhere. The smell of deadness was lingering in the cell after her sleep, as if Claretta had really been here.

Could the conversation with the crucified dead man on the pole have been just a dream, too? After all, corpses, as everyone knows, don’t come back to life. Or did they? What if the inquisitors’ omen is true, and dead bodies briefly come back to life if their murderer happens to be around to point a finger at the criminal.

If that were indeed the case, then criminals would be very easy to catch. With one «but» – the murderer must be near the corpse to be convicted in this way. Such a trial is easy to conduct only if all the suspects can be brought to the corpse at once. But what to do if the criminal has already fled and it is not known who he is? Then the method is ineffective.

Fiona could not have killed all these people, or even one of them. Or could she, since the corpses came back to life in her presence? They say the dead know everything, unlike the living. Those who have stepped over the brink of death discover the secrets of the netherworld. But this time, the dead have messed up, or someone has deliberately confused them. She wasn’t a killer, that’s for sure. It is not as if she were a bird of prey, capable of tearing a man’s flesh apart with her claws.

She was slandered. Ornella had arranged the whole thing cleverly. Such timing! Except how did Ornella know that Fiona would stumble upon a carriage load of corpses on the way back? Hadn’t she organized the murder herself, and then led the whole regiment to catch the witch. It was all subtly calculated. The only way to believe a frail girl could tear apart several tall men with her bare hands was if she was a witch.

Unfortunately, Fiona couldn’t do witchcraft, or she would have evaporated with the black wind or the smoke. Or what else could witches turn into?

Slander was a terrible thing. It could make an ordinary weak girl the stuff of fear for the big city. Fiona determined that she’d been dragged to the capital. A mob will soon be raging outside the prison windows, demanding an emergency execution for the witch. What a mess! If she had known it would end like this, she would never have gone to the mountains for a dozen golden eagles.

What was she going to do now? First, Fiona decided to look around. Was there any way to escape from here? The place was as bright as a campfire.

A spider web of fire stretched along the walls. A fire fairy the size of a cat crawled across it. Fiona carelessly touched it with her finger. The fire stung a larger bumblebee. The fairy grinned with her hot mouth and braided a flaming web around the already barred window. Yes, there’s no escaping from here! It is the local rulers who are witches, not she. Who but witches have flaming orange fairies as watchmen?

«Scram!» Fiona scolded the insolent firewoman. She may have been very pretty, but she was terrifying to be around. Touch such a beauty and there’d be no cure for the burns.

Apparently, when she realized she was being insulted, the fairy hissed in displeasure, spitting out sparks, and crawled up the wall in an offended manner.

It was calmer without her. Fiona listened to the silence. Not even the footsteps of the sentries could be heard. No prisoner would escape from a fairy. She could burn him alive if he escaped.

The sea was splashing beneath the dungeon window. She wished the fire fairy would fall there!

«You are unhappy, but there is nothing you can do,» came a mesmerizing voice from the sea.

«I am the king of Sultanit. I can do anything,» a hoarse, unpleasant bass protested.

«And I am the king of the sea. Which of us has a better chance of controlling the other?»

Is she dreaming of those voices? The meaning of the conversation was somehow fantastic, unless the talkers were joking. Fiona stood up and tried to look out the window. It was high enough above the floor, but she could see the edge of the surf. Fiona could see the helmets of the warriors, with their puffy cockades. An entire regiment had been brought ashore. Were they all really going to catch the Sea King? Or was it the nickname of some pirate?

Fiona peered around, but all she saw were belligerent men. Someone she could not see, however, was speaking to them from the side of the waves of the surf. His voice was hypnotizing, depriving her of will and reason. The sounds made her dizzy.

Outside the window something was happening on the water. First she heard the sound of an argument, then the clatter of weapons. Through the grating of the window Fiona could see only a corner of the shore. She had to tiptoe up to get a glimpse of the battle. Some kind of giant with blue skin and golden horns, strongly reminiscent of a watery creature, was battling a huge bird. The torn bodies of the guards were washed by the surf. A moment ago all those men in armor were alive. How could an entire squad be wiped out so quickly? And where had the Earth’s King gone? All Fiona could see was a huge griffin with a crown on a bird’s head.

Was she not dreaming about all this? Fiona rubbed her eyes. Somebody who had come out of the waves and looked little like a man had already beheaded the king and was walking away, clutching the severed head by the hair with his webbed hand. The head in his hands was definitely human and crowned. But where had the gryphon gone? Fiona looked closely at the face of the dead head. There was horror on it. The eyes remained wide open. The wrinkled skin showed traces of claws.

If she was not mistaken, it was King of Sultanit who had just been beheaded, and there was no one even to raise the alarm because everyone was dead. Fiona kept waiting for a gryphon to pounce on the assassin from behind, but the bird was gone. But the victor himself resembled a king, too. He had a blue scaly body, spikes on his back, pearls sprouting in his skin like armor. A crown glittered on his eerie head, too. As he went underwater, a turquoise dragon-like tail wriggled behind him.

He looked at Fiona. It was as if he sensed she was watching him!

«Let me out of here!» She called out to him.

The water monster, however, decided that the poor prisoner was not worth his attention. And in the coastal villages there are still legends that watermen are fond of women’s beauty! Apparently, if he’s no ordinary water-boy, but the king of the sea himself, he wants nothing more or less than a princess.

Though, on reflection, it’s even good that he didn’t like her. After all, the watermen drown their chosen ones. What’s better: drowning or burning? Fiona had an unenviable choice.

The firebrands hissed unhappily at the ceiling. The proximity of the water tsar displeased them. A shout of summoning came from above the castle towers:

«Seal!»

Ornella seemed to be shouting. Fiona was not mistaken in her hearing.

She kept hoping that the water king would come back and smashed the dungeon wall with a single blow of his powerful fist, but he went under the water slowly, as if descending a ladder. The last to disappear in the waves was his pointed crown, like a starfish of gold and coral. She wondered if she was dreaming. There’s no such thing as creatures with blue skin, shell ears, and a crown that grows right out of their heads.

It was easy to see if she was dreaming or not. The decapitated body in the royal robe would have been left on the beach. Except the bars were so narrow you couldn’t look out through them. One could not see the shore. Only the sea and the thin edge of the surf are visible. The water seems to turn scarlet closer to the shore. Or maybe it’s the rays of sunset.




Curiosity leads to a dungeon and a fire


Fiona was awakened by the sound of quiet conversation. The talkers were unaware that she was already awake and watching from beneath half-closed lashes.

Ornella and one of her brothers came into the cell. They seemed like two evil ghosts in the glare of the orange glow cast by the fire fairies actively crawling on the walls and ceiling.

Fiona was used to the regular hiss of fire overhead, but the sound of Ornella’s arrogant voice was disgusting. Who would have thought the sight of that silk-clad lady would make her sick.

«Father’s gone!» Ornella said. «I cannot, as the present Queen, go out and tell the people that the Sultanit does not have the strength to reach down and behead a supernatural murderer. Such a gesture would be seen as helplessness. I will be overthrown! Better to find the culprit, who is already known to the people as a witch. You know you can’t get a sea fortune-teller.»

«But she’s not a witch!»

«How would you know, Orvel! You’ve never been able to read minds. That’s my talent. I agree that each of my brothers has their own special gift, but I’m still the most gifted. That is why I will rule! Remember your place!»

«This you say to the eldest heir of the Sultanit?» Orvel was indignant.

«You gave me your place on the throne.»

«I had no choice,» he scowled.

«Yes, you did. And you have none now. I am the queen!»

«The death of my father at the hands of the water king seems to have been good for you. And everyone knows that the Sea King was your admirer. Maybe they’ll think you’re a witch.»

«Not unreasonably, as you know! But everyone also knows that I rejected the Sea King because of his not standard appearance and lack of gifts worthy of a Sultanit’s princess. Apparently he’s already spent it all on the withered Occylvanian princess Lilothea, who he dragged off to the bottom, so there’s no money left for new courtship.»

«What’s your point?» Orvel’s worried.

«That killing our father might be an act of revenge on the part of a spurned suitor. It’s not a pretty story! I suppose someone might accuse me of provoking the wrath of the sea on the Sultanit by my intransigence. We’d better execute one witch and close the case. The people will be glad, and so will I.»

«And all your brothers won’t! She’s perfect for us to close the circle.»

«And I’m not good enough for you?»

«She has a special purpose,» Orvel said. «I just don’t know what it is yet.»

«You must be mistaken!» Ornella barked back at him.

«Then we’re all wrong!»

«That’s why I rule, not you. All my brothers, unlike me, were not smart enough to be in charge of the country. And here I am, the first woman to pull the Sultan’s power. And you still contradict me!»

The firemen hissed angrily, sending up a shower of sparks.

«They report the watermen are watching us. A whole regiment of morgens under the windows,» Orwell translated the fire fairy’s tongue. «Soon they’ll bring the worst of the storm.»

«And it is good! Executing a witch at a time like this will distract everyone. I’ve already ordered a bonfire to be built in the square.»

«Execute such a pretty girl!» Orvel was indignant. «Give her to me!»

«Didn’t you claw the last minion with your claws during love games?»

«I’ve been more careful.»

«I won’t let you do that to this one. I could catch and send some old gypsy fortune-teller instead of her to tonight’s bonfire. But that redheaded girl’s no good for your clawed amusement anyway. You can’t have her!»

Ornella cares about her? There’s something fishy going on here. Fiona had trouble waking up to what was going on and who was running the country since the King’s death. But the word «bonfire» gave her a fright. She shuddered violently.

«She’s waking up!» Orvel determined. «I’ll take her upstairs to my ex-fiancée’s quarters.»

«You swore you wouldn’t take any more harlots.»

«This one’s innocent. I can smell it.»

«She’s a witch,» Orvnella said stubbornly.

«No, she isn’t. There’s something magical about her, but not witchy.»

«But she’ll burn at the stake as a witch!»

«Why don’t you leave her to us?» Orvel was begging. «The room of the Crown Prince’s dead bride is still empty, and apparently it will be empty forever.»

«You don’t want to marry a commoner, do you?»

«Well, no, of course not,» Orwell hesitated. «But she might amuse us.»

Fiona was frightened. For some reason she invariably associated amusement with scratches and claws and savage pain. Oh, why had she gone in the mountains? If she hadn’t gone there, she wouldn’t have ended up in a dungeon.

Ornella leaned over her and ran her fingers through her tangled hair.

«She is a redhead and she has no freckles!» For some reason Ornella was alarmed by this fact.

Yes, Fiona had no freckles. So what is of it? Redheads usually had them, but someone got away with it. You should be happy, not sad! Freckles and pimples were all skin blemishes. Fiona was glad she didn’t have to cover her freckles with homemade flour whitewash, not enough for the market. Ornella, on the other hand, was even angry.

«Remember the prophecies about the redheaded beast who…» She clutched at her brother’s sleeve.

«Ch-ch-ch!» he glanced at Fiona, who couldn’t stand it and opened her eyes.

«After a fire, memories turn to ashes too, so let her listen!» Ornella waved her ringed hand and straightened up stately.

«But it wouldn’t hurt to put the plugs in!» Orvel remarked.

Fiona felt a blockage in her ears, but not for long. She couldn’t hear anything at first. All she could see was Ornella’s pursed lips opening aggressively, and her brother shaking his head negatively. Then fragments of phrase began to be heard again.

«What do you mean, you can’t? You could! You have to learn better!»

«It is Sephora. She is a bad teacher and she is too flaming.»

«She’s the best, that’s why she’s fiery.»

Isn’t that the firebrand they’re talking about? That one hissed in a web of fire, hovering over Ornella’s head. A moment and her redheaded fingers reached for the crown on Ornella’s head, causing the metal to glow. Ornella shuddered, and quickly stepped back into the shadows. Smoke billowed from her strands.

«You are thieves!» She hissed at the fire fairies. «I’ll have you burned at the stake for disrespecting the Queen!»

The fairies merely laughed evilly.

«Then I’ll drown you! Give you to the Morgens as tribute!»

The flaming fairies kept silence, and scurried away. It was dark without them. Only Ornella’s jewels exuded a little golden glow, and the torches of the guards gingerly glowed behind the bars in the distance.

«I will invite Sephora again,» Ornella promised to Orvel.

«But don’t invite her dragons again!» He exclaimed.

«They are like her train. They are always around.»



«You don’t own us!»

«Yes, I do!»

She showed her claws. Birds’ claws on woman’s hands! Fiona shuddered.

«Yes, I see, I see!» Her brother brushed her off.

Fiona seemed to have lost her only protector. Orvel gave up. The newfound Queen of Sultanit bent over Fiona again and tugged her hair painfully.

«She is a redhead! All redheads are sorceresses. They must be tortured and burned.»

Fiona did not have time to object, and no one would have listened to her. Ornella had already summoned the guards.

The guards here were empty-headed in the literal sense. It was as if they had been turned into sleepwalkers. They moved like machines.

«Go to the bonfire!» Ornella ordered. «And go quickly!»

«It’s not fair!» Fiona screamed. «I am not a witch! You are the witch!»

Ornella’s face grew icy as she stepped toward the troubled condemned woman. Only her anthracite eyes flashed furiously with anger. Now she’s going to attack!

«My dear!» Ornella lifted her lips to her ear as if to kiss her cheek. «Never confuse witch and werewolf!»

And a bird’s claws slid across her shoulder, marking her like a brand.

Fiona cried out in pain, not outrage. She was dragged up the stairs and down the luxurious corridor of the castle, which appeared to lead through an intricate network of galleries and balconies, all the way to the front door.

On the way she ran into Condor. He was handsome as the dawn and as angry as the devil himself.

«What does it mean!» He shouted in fury.

The guards and Ornella all fell to their knees. They were frightened of him, weren’t they? Are they afraid of him? Fiona held her breath. Maybe he could help her out. He didn’t like her at first sight. But she saw him, and her heart leapt at him like a bird in a cage.

How handsome he was! And how inaccessible! Ornella’s other brothers like her, and she is attracted to someone who doesn’t care about her.

«It is just the execution of the witch who has worn out the king with her black magic!» Ornella commented.

«Is it just one witch?» Condor looked at Ornella as if he expected her to be dragged to the bonfire. «Really, the greatest evil is letting a witch get so bad that she sits on the throne and runs the whole country.»

«Shut up!» Ornella shushed him. «Remember the arrangements!»

Condor weighed his chances of winning the debate and nodded silently. Fiona was dragged along.

The fire fairies were already flying over the square and spitting fire, forming a large bonfire. The executioner stood idle. And in such a witch land they still burn witches! Magic is everywhere.

What on earth possessed her to go up into the mountains and encounter an entire witch royal community? Curiosity is a nasty trait! It was curiosity that had led her to the bonfire, and to unrequited love. She tried to twist herself in the hands of the guards so that she could get another look at Condor. She wished that the last thing she would see before she died was him, not the evil fire fairies.

«Send for Rokuela, or go yourself!» Condor whispered, addressing someone who was hovering outside the gallery windows.

Fiona did not have time to get a closer look. She was tied to a thick pole and literally thrown onto already burning piles of straw. Flames were about to rise to her ankles. The firefighters laughed merrily, a red-headed circle circling the square. For them, the execution was a feast. The flight of fiery bodies was like a dance or a monotone firework display. Sparks flew off in all directions. Someone in the crowd scolded angrily when a shower of sparks hit his family. Everyone came to see the witch’s execution, though it was late, and a storm was brewing on the sea beyond the square. Ornella herself watched from her high balcony. She had no shortage of regal grandeur. The people respected her and took off their hats in front of her. Women curtsied, hoping she would notice them. She really was the local leader.

With a wave of her hand, the firewomen obediently rushed to fan the flames, crawled over piles of straw, and dived for the pole to which the witch was tied.

Fiona felt her feet burn. She was on fire. Tongues of flame licked at her shoes. The flames were biting. The Condor watched indifferently from the tower. At least he would be the very last thing she would ever see. His face is as beautiful as a mural of an angel. Even more beautiful! And he himself is even more soulless than the cold celestial creatures. It is as if he were not looking at an execution, but at an empty square. He could at least put on a look of sorrow as a courtesy.

Ornella wasn’t hiding her feelings. She was ready to applaud the fire fairies. They were so successful in burning one witch that they could ignite the whole square. If such a selfish woman ruled Sultanit, the country would turn to hell. It already was hell. Fiona cringed at the pain in her shoulder. Only a werewolf could have left such deep wounds that were now scarlet on her skin. Ornella had bird claws, after all! What if she really was a werewolf? Then it was a good thing her scratches were contagious. She wished she could turn into a bird and fly away from the fire now!

The flames licked at her feet. Suddenly it rained. Slanting streams began to put out the fire. The firebirds hissed in displeasure, but could not resist the downpour. They had to fly back to the castle. The wind from the sea carried the murmur of the waves. Thunder and lightning heralded inclement weather, and a woman dressed in white flashed through the crowd. She looked like a sea ghost. Gray curls framed her young face. Heavy strands were held together by combs of large seashells. Her cheekbones and forehead themselves also resembled the shape of seashells. Her eyes sparkled like two magical sapphires.

It was she who was causing the rain, Fiona determined. Unknown how, but definitely her!

The rope burst. Just in time! The hangman and the guards had just had to clear the square, which had been flooded by waves from the sea. There had never been such a flood. Though Fiona was free, she could not swim.

However, the white woman beckoned her. In the empty square she looked even more like a ghost.

«Follow her!» Voices whispered out of the rain.

Fiona gasped. In the streams came the outlines of figures. They were the ghosts of the rain, so much is said. If she saw them, there would be disaster. Only Fiona was already in trouble. She had nothing to lose.

Ornella disappeared from the balcony. Probably didn’t want to get her hair wet. The firebrands hissed discontentedly at the spirits of rain, peering out of the castle windows-boys. Here they found worthy opponents. The rain spirits were no less mischievous. They danced around the walls and spat frozen water at the fire fairies. Some of the rain ghosts clung to Fiona.

«Redhead, like fire,» they howled. «Fire must be put out.»

They threw water on her.

«Let her go!» The white woman commanded as they tried to drown Fiona in the puddles.

The spirits obeyed.

«Come on!» The stranger held out her hand. She herself did not walk, but treaded on the water that flooded the square.

It was frightening to walk with her. She is surely a sorceress! But how else could she be saved? What if they send a chase after her from the king’s castle? She must run! But where could she run? There was only one way. She could throw herself into the waves. But the waves were rolling with something that looked like a shell or a fancy rook. Fiona was pulled into it by a stranger. As it turned out, the shell was able to move.

«It was alive!» shrieked Fiona.

«Don’t worry!» The stranger reassured her. «Anything is better than a fire.»

She might have been right about that, but Fiona didn’t want to drown either, nor did she want to fall into the clutches of the sea king. But it didn’t take long to worry. The shell swam for a while, and then crawled out of the waves and raced down the rain-soaked path. It glided even faster through the puddles than it did through the waves.

Fiona didn’t even dare ask the stranger where they were going.




Sea Witch


Barely had the Sultan’s castle disappeared from view as the white-haired woman sighed in relief. It was evident that her visit to the square had been difficult. Fiona eyed her companion suspiciously. It was as if she had been carried by the sea. The wagon of the great shell slid first through the rain, then through the shore waves, leaving a swirl of foam around it.

«Thank you for bailing me out,» Fiona murmured, though she feared the stranger was leading her into another trap.

«Thank my dislike of the Sultanit’s dynasty, not myself,» the companion straightened the folds of her white garment, which rustled like sea foam, and again it seemed that the slender woman was only part of the sea, like a nymph of waves or a naiad.

«Who are you?»

«I am Rokuela.»

Isn’t that the name Condor said when he sent for someone? But if she dislikes the whole Sultanit’s dynasty, why did she answer his call? Something doesn’t make sense.

«I’m Fiona.»

«I’ve already been informed of you. You’re the girl who attracted all the Sultanit’s princes at once.»

Rockwell’s white curls fluttered in the wind and resembled a whirlwind of snow. Her face was pleasant, but her cheekbones and forehead, shaped like fluted seashells, were a little alarming. She was probably a sea fairy. Only those could have such peculiarities.

While Fiona pondered, they reached the seashell cottage, erected on a tiny island. All the many hedges, fences and gates near it were made of the bones of sea creatures: fish, fairy morgen and even mermaids. Fiona gasped!

«Don’t be so embarrassed!» Rokuela helped her out of the shell, which was left swinging by the shore like a boat.

«This is the sea witch’s house!» Fiona was frightened.

«And I am the sea witch!» Rokuela pulled her forward. «Mostly they call me a sea-teller because I can tell fortunes, but that’s a nickname.»

«I won’t go to the witch’s house!» Fiona was seized by superstitious fear.

«What else can you do? If you hold out, you’ll fall into the claws of griffins. But I’m not going to force you anyway.»

Rokuela adjusted her flowing skirts and walked gracefully forward. What else could Fiona do but follow her. And it was scary to find shelter with a witch, and there was nowhere else to go. It’s scary to even look at the sky. What if Ornella sends griffins with steel claws after her? The scratches from the cave were still aching.

The rain continued to fall. Fiona discerned threads of pearls in the streams, put her palm up and was surprised to catch not hail, but real pearls.

«Throw them away at once!» Rokuela demanded. «The watermen will be furious if you do not. These pearls are only for their brides. The one who keeps them will be hauled to the bottom.»

Fiona obediently unclenched her palm, tossing the pearls away. They did not fall, but dissolved into the rain.

Unusual blue birds with luxurious tails peeked out of the waves and landed on a pile of bones.

«They’re sea-birds, morrilla,» Rokuela explained. «They usually fly only in the open sea. If they land on a kingdom, it won’t be long before it sinks.»

«I hope they fly to Sultanit!» Fiona quipped, but the proud Morillas were not going there. Their feathers were gleaming with real blue precious stones. One of those birds would be worth a chest full of jewels. Fiona opened her mouth in wonder.

«Don’t you dare catch them! The Water King will be furious!» Rokuela warned her.

«I don’t!»

«It’s not beauty that makes them so useful, it’s their strength. They ward off the spirits of rain and wind, so one of them always flies with me.»

Rokuela walked to the lodge. Bridges of skulls led to it on many sides, which made the house look like a huge spider, hanging over the sea on its own legs-bridges. On one side was a harmless bridge of shells. It was less intimidating, so Fiona chose it. But here, too, she stumbled upon a mermaid skeleton stuck like an ornament in a railing of shells.

«What’s the matter with you?» Rokuela wondered. «Have you never seen a live mermaid?»

«I’ve never even seen a dead one before,» Fiona mesmerized, running her finger over the mermaid’s bones and stabbing at the sharp incisions. There were no such notches on human ribs. She’d seen human skeletons in abandoned crypts and cemeteries. Morgen’s skeletons were very different from them. For example, the skull boxes, curled up to the shell-shaped ear area, were definitely those of a sea-dweller.

«And I like to kill them or use them for magic,» Rokuela boasted.

«Won’t the Sea King punish you for what you did to them?»

«The Sea King and I have a special arrangement! He doesn’t touch me, and I don’t touch him. But there was a time of war between me and him…»

The mermaid skeleton suddenly came to life and grinned. Fiona cried out. She had no idea that the hedge was alive. The skeletons it was made of seemed dead.

«So you enchanted the morgens and the mermaids?»

«They are only the ones who attacked me first.»

«I thought you killed them.»

«You can’t kill them completely. They’re immortal.»

«Are you?»

Rokuela looked like an immortal creature. She may have looked young, but her gray hair and the ancient wisdom in her eyes made her seem like a very old woman.

«It’s a very touchy subject,» she brushed her cheekily aside. «You know you’re not supposed to ask a woman her age or her mortality.»

Surely there are many witches who want to be immortal, and that might offend them. Take Ornella, for example. Ask her if she’s mortal and you’ll get a harsh rebuke and a tantrum. Many arrogant women would like to consider them exclusively immortal fairies.

Inside the witch’s cottage was even more intimidating. Here were prepared potions of dubious ingredients, hung bundles of black herbs, in bottles instead of models of ships were sharpened rainbow and miniature storm. It’s magic! Fiona went to the window to touch a garland of dried starfish. Immediately a flock of aggressive rain spirits ogled at her from the shroud of rain. They hovered over the bridges. Each one was no bigger than a cat, but they had the fury of a lion. One spirit tried to grab hold of Fiona’s arm and douse her in salt water.

«Close all the windows!» Rokuela’s shrill command drew the shutters shut abruptly, but they shut on her command as if the house were a living organism over which the Sea Witch could have no control.

«And don’t look out, or the rain spirits will find a way to get in and tear you to pieces!»

«But why is it?» Fiona wondered. What had she done to them?

«You’re a redhead!» She pointed to her disheveled curls as if that explained everything.

«And you’re against redheads, too, like Ornella, because all redheads are witches, etc., etc.»

You’d think rain spirits weren’t witchy creatures themselves!

«It’s not about the legend of the red-haired punisher! The strands of your hair are like real fire in color. And the rain spirits hate anything fiery and are bent on destroying it.»

That’s right! She remembered how fiercely they attacked the fire spirits, and they were afraid of them. The rain spirits do have the power to defeat fire.

«And what is the tale of the red-haired punisher? I’ve never heard of such a thing!» Fiona looked at the fireplace, somehow full of water and covered by a glass screen. Inside it, as if it were an aquarium, some horrible sea creature languished. A veritable monster! In the various vials on the shelves were also imprisoned water creatures: jellyfish, stingrays, octopuses, and many unimaginable creatures whose names Fiona did not know. In one vial were shimmering real stars, as if Rokuela had managed to pull them down from the heavens.

Fiona tried to uncork the bottle, but the mistress of the lodge stopped her.

«Don’t dare!»

«What’s inside? Are they stars?»

«Have you ever heard the stories about the people who let the genies out and paid for their curiosity!»

Fiona didn’t want to be lectured, so she obediently put the vial back.

«You can spend the night here!» Rokuela threw a blanket over the narrow thatch bunk. «I have business to run tonight, so I won’t be constrained by you. But don’t touch anything while I’m gone, or there’ll be more repercussions later than from the war. The power imprisoned in the vials is dangerous.»

«I see!» Fiona made a vow not to touch anything here again. She didn’t want to get hurt or unleash a water demon at all.

«We’ll talk a little while before the rain stops,» the landlady pointed to the chairs and table made from shells. The screen beside them was also covered in shells, like bas-reliefs.

«You could make it rain, but you couldn’t make it stop?» Fiona guessed, taking a seat on the rickety shell stool.

«You can’t do everything at once. One magic on top of another is too much,» said Rockwell admonishingly. «If you knew more about magic, you’d understand.»

«But I’m not a witch! Ornella only called me that to send me to the bonfire.»

«I’ll look into your past myself if I want to,» Rokuela barked at her and placed an elegant mirror framed in monograms and seashells on the table. «It reveals the past and present very well, but it is not always exact for the future.»

«So you cannot tell a lie,» Fiona summed up. «You know I’m just a mill girl, not a witch, not a princess to rival Ornella.»

Rokuela didn’t let her finish her sentence.

«You must have some talent!» With the intonation of a seer she proclaimed. «I can see that!»

«Well!» Fiona shrugged hesitantly. «I can do a bit of needlework and cross stitch. I make a good tasty dish from mushrooms I pick in the woods and muffin tarts. Well, and to spin good yarn, besides me, all the peasant women know how to do. So it probably doesn’t count as a talent anymore.»

«We’re talking about magical talent!» Rokuela interrupted her. «What’s that got to do with embroidery and cooking?»

«I’m sorry, but I didn’t know about magic.»

«What if you found a dusty old book in the attic of your mill, written in ancient writings, and realized that you could read them, even if you were illiterate? Such books have a habit of calling you by name or you begin to be drawn to them by some irresistible force. You just want to open them, even if they are chained.»

«It is exactly! There was one such book! Found it among old junk and sacks of flour. Probably one of the rich customers had forgotten it. I mistook it for a casket because the binding was decorated with jasper, and thin chains and a lock set around it. I never managed to open it. I exchanged it for a new dress at a box man.»

«You are silly! You’ll trade your own head for something. Do you know what treasure you’ve lost?»

«But the dress was of real silk, like a noblewoman’s. The butler gave it up for that book.»

«That book could have been your friend and advisor for all eternity. It was a big risk, though,» Rockwell said with a frown. «You can’t keep that quiet, either. As a rule, only potential students of the School of Witchcraft could get their hands on such witchcraft volumes. It’s a place like a black palace, hidden under a veil of invisibility, where spirits train young wizards. It will cost you your soul, but you’ll gain eternal youth and power. You can eventually become queen yourself by wresting someone else’s throne with the help of charms.»

«I’m not Ornella… I don’t have her ways.»

«That’s right! Ornella would not let such a valuable book out of her claws.»

«Naturally, she would be attracted to jasper. She loves sparkling stones!»

«I don’t mean the cost of the binding!» Rokuela was indignant. «Wizards are the richest people in the world, not because they hoard treasure, but because they know how to acquire it by means of charms. I’ve known magicians who lost a fortune in a night at the gambling houses, and the next morning they were rich again. It is as if the gold had grown in the palms of their hands.»

«How is that?»

«The book you sold in exchange for silk rags would have told you everything.»

«Told?! Books can’t talk.»

«Magical books do. Besides great knowledge, they hold great power. If the mistress of such a book were attacked and tried to drag her to the fire, the nearest houses and mountains would collapse, burying all but you.»

Now, that is really tempting! Unless Rokuela is lying and exaggerating, she could use a magic book. Fiona imagined Ornella telling her guards to drag her out of the mill, and the walls of the building and the windmills collapsing on the heads of the guards.

«To bury her attackers under the rubble and not be hurt…» said Fiona dreamily.«That is magic!»

«But it was too late to learn. If you have drunk the magic book, you cannot go to School of Witchcraft – no one will be admitted! A book is sent as a guide and a pass. There is no messenger. It finds you, like a bird or a ghost. But when you give it to her, you give up everything.»

Rokuela should never have told her about it. It was more delicate to remain silent. In her mind, Fiona scolded herself. She used to live peacefully in the mill. Now there was nowhere to go. A way to the magic school, invisible to Ornella’s guards, would come in handy. It would be the only place to sit out while they looked for you as a witch. And when your graduation date comes, you’ll come out so strong that you’ll demolish the entire state of your enemies in a jiffy.

«I wish you’d warned me sooner,» Fiona sighed. She doesn’t think Ornella will leave a victim behind. They’ll send guards or gryphons after her for sure. She felt sick at the thought of the latter. The clawed jaws alone were worth a scratch a month’s worth of healing. And what would happen if the birds decided to peck her to death.

«You have a gift of some sort, and it’s independent of your training,» Rokuela said. «I just can’t figure out what it is.»

«I can see ghosts,» said Fiona, recalling the Jokers in the ruins.

«Plenty of people can do that without a magic gift.»

«But those ghosts were bright, not your typical ghosts.»

«Were you able to make them serve you? Did they do some kind of thing you asked them to do, or did they do some kind of errand you wanted them to do? Did they drag you into their circle and share your forbidden secrets?»

Fiona shook her head mournfully. She seemed talentless. And it wouldn’t be a bad idea to set ghost jesters to tear Ornella apart. They would have mocked her for a long time before the massacre. They’re jesters.

«Let me see your hands!» Rokuela looked at her palms. «They are all scratched! I’m no chiromancer, but this mark here looks like a line of enrichment… Tell me, are you attracted to gold.»

«Do you mean gold?» Fiona thought about it. She wondered if it was worth mentioning that she was magnetically attracted to it by the sight of golden eagle feathers. It had caused so much trouble, hadn’t it? It was better not to follow the eagle. Then she wouldn’t have met the insensitive Condor, the ravenous princes, and the evil queen.

«Come on!» insisted Rokuela. «Maybe you hear the coins singing, or maybe they jump into your pocket, popping out of other people’s purses. You ought to go around the marketplace and check it out.»

«You shouldn’t! Such talent, even if I have it, will not keep me safe from Ornella’s griffins.»

«But you can make a fortune and hire your own army for protection, and buy your own fortress, which I will shield with magic.»

«I…» Fiona struggled to explain how she’d discovered the mound beneath the ruins. «I seem to be attracted only to the gold that is buried in the ground. I see a halo of glow where it’s buried. It happened to me once or twice by happy coincidence. Or maybe the ghosts of the ruins told me…»

«You are a treasure hunter!» Rokuela rejoiced. «It is a good gift, but you cannot do without helpers. The gold is often buried too deep for you to retrieve it by yourself. There is magic that makes the earth part. If you had learned it in magic school, you could have got the treasure even from the bottom of the sea.»

«Don’t remind me how much I’ve lost by not going to school! Or I’ll burst into tears!»

«Don’t grieve! I guess your talent wasn’t so great that you didn’t figure out the book’s purpose. Ornella probably only clung to you because of the prophecy about the redheads.»

«What was the prophecy?» Fiona only now noticed that one blue morialla was perched imposingly on top of the flooded fireplace.

«She’s not a spy,» Rokuela nodded at the bird. «So, about the redheads… It is a delicate subject! There is a prophecy that the Sultanit’s dynasty will be massacred by a single ginger-haired girl. She can be identified by her freckles and her ability to communicate with the souls of the dead.»

«You mean ghosts?» Fiona remembered the jesters and the corpses in the carriage. She had communicated with the latter. She didn’t imagine it.

«Does communicating with dead people in dreams count, too?»

«Well, if they’re frequent dreams…»

«What if I only dreamt about the dead woman who warned me of danger once?»

«Then it might just have been a prophetic dream. Many people have such dreams when they’re in danger. And you were about to be executed.»

«It is ridiculous! Her hair is like fire, but she would have died in the fire,» the horned skull of a morgen’s muttered as he lay across the table and laughed gruffly.

«Shut up!» Rokuela hissed at him and explained. «That’s my counselor.»

She had a magic fish, a man-each minute changing the color of its scales, a man-shell that sang beautifully, and a strange jelly-fish-like creature that swept the floor with its tentacles.

It was the shell that Fiona liked best. It had such a sweet-sounding singing voice, as if a siren had been imprisoned inside.

«You’ll have to stay here with me and my pets,» she concluded when she heard the sound of huge wings rustling through the rain.»

«Wouldn’t it be better if I went back to the mill? I don’t want to embarrass you.»

In fact she was frightened. A hedge of live jellyfish, morgens’ skulls, and mermaid’s bones would impress anyone. And then there’s the creature in the fire tank!

«Ornella will find you at the mill. Griffons never let their victims go, and their brides won’t be let go by sea magic.»

«Are griffons sea birds?»

«All birds that are capable of flying across the sea can be categorized as sea birds. They have settled by the sea.»

She’s right about that. Ornella and her brothers’ castle stands at the edge of the surf. It’s like a rock rising out of the coastal waves. That’s no coincidence.

«You already know there’s a terrible curse on the whole Sultanit’s dynasty,» Rokuela said, as if she’d just remembered it now. She clutched the amulet of feathers and shells tightly in her hands. The feathers seemed to be eagle feathers.

«They were now only half human and half griffin. And every bride or groom chosen by the children of the cursed Sultanit’s King will also be forced to turn into a griffin. It is fate that will decide whether they die in the first transformation or become accustomed to the plumage of a bird.»

The drumbeat of rain became as unpleasant as if needles had been pricked into their ears. Fiona somehow wasn’t surprised or questioning the sea witch’s words. Ornella had mentioned werewolves for a reason. Nor was the game of clawed tomboys a coincidence.

«So all birds could turn into griffins? Can Condor, too?»

It didn’t surprise Rokuela that Fiona was interested in the most handsome of princes.

«He is the only one who is an innocent victim. Only half of the Sultan’s blood is in him, but he has become so accustomed to the guise of the golden eagle that he himself has become a predator.»

The golden eagle is him! That’s why she was so infatuated with him that she climbed into the cave! Condor’s charm was undeniable. No matter what form he took, he could charm a girl’s heart out of anything.

«Werewolves are not a fairy tale,» Rokuela interpreted her grief in her own way. «You may not believe a man can turn into a wolf or a bird of prey with claws of steel, but you can’t ignore the power of a curse.»

«I’m afraid that for bad people, the curse can be a blessing. If Ornella manages to turn into a bird of prey, she will tear everyone apart.»

«She can,» Rokuela dumbfounded her. – All of the king’s children can turn into birds. In addition, they all develop some sort of magical gift. The Condor, for instance, can understand what the wind reports. He can also easily translate the speech of the spirits of rain, fire, and even snow and ice. He is the most gifted of the royal family.»

«And he is the most evil!»

«Conrad is not evil! He just doesn’t want anyone else to be victimized, so he doesn’t greet anyone. I bet he tried to chase you away when you snuck into the eagle’s nest.»

«Did he call you here to get me away from the eagle princes forever?» Fiona guessed. That’s hardly a sign of kindness. It’s more likely that Condor was afraid his brothers would be attracted to the peasant girl. He and Ornella were on the same side. What two snobs!

For some reason, she longed unbearably to dance with all the princes again, and then to fly with the birds. What was going through her head? It is as if someone is sending them to her on purpose.

«They are looking for you,» Rokuela realized. «Close your mind to them!»

«Or else they will tear me to pieces, won’t they?»

«As long as you’re with me, they don’t stand a chance. If you have nowhere else to go, we should unite against them. But to help me, you must return to the castle for a while and trick the princes into believing that you miss them, too, and are even willing to sacrifice yourself for them. It’s risky, but worth the risk.»

Fiona fell asleep on the move. Rokuela’s translucent eyes fascinated her. Rokuela was definitely not young, but her skin was so youthful. What magic tricks does she not know? Is an alliance with her power or doom?

«What do you want from the Sultanit’s dynasty?» Fiona asked, yawning. «Is it their total annihilation?»

«I only want my beloved back. He is imprisoned somewhere by King of Sultanit.»

«King of Sultanit is dead. The queen rules there now.»

«Is it a queen?» Rokuela didn’t know that yet. She must not have looked in her mirror.

«I’m sure I heard. Ornella was proclaimed queen.»

«Then the worst thing happened. Did none of the brothers insist on their right to the throne?»

«It is no one!»

«Oh, my! The weakest link turned out to be the strongest. Six months ago, I wouldn’t have bet on Ornella and a crushed shell. Either Orvel or Condor should have ruled.»

«Is Condor the eldest?» Fiona thought he was the youngest.

«He is the youngest,» Rokuela confirmed. «But I could see in the future that he must rule the country. It makes sense. He’s reasonable and reserved. He would be a good counterbalance to the brothers’ aggression.»

«Not all prophecies are destined to come true,» said Fiona philosophically.

Perhaps it was for the best. If Condor were King, no more maidens’ hearts would be broken. He’d already broken her heart. Fiona would have liked to tame him, even as a golden eagle, but he was beyond her reach.

«Consider my offer now!» Rokuela wove fanciful ornaments of coins and shells into her hair, and prepared to set out into the night.

Fiona realized that she should not be asked where she was going. It was a mystery.




Raid


A night surrounded by creepy sea creatures was no sugar coating. Fiona didn’t even know where best to spend the night: out in the open, risking being clawed by griffins, or in a house full of sea creatures. As soon as Rokuela left, the morgens in the aquarium became aggressive. Some strange, tiny creatures crawled across the floor of the hut. And the shells whispered in hoarse, monotonous voices, like the sound of the surf:

«I’ll bet you an eternity that the griffins will come back for her.»

«They never leave their prey behind.»

«Not even iron doors can keep her from them.»

«But there is an amulet that protects even against a bird’s claws!»

Could it be that they’re talking about that fancy amulet of feathers that lies next to them on the shelf. Fiona instinctively grabbed it and put it around her neck. Any protection is better than none. Although, she had noticed a similar amulet around Ornella’s neck. It probably wasn’t protective after all, but a sorcerer’s.

The bivalve on the table shone and opened, revealing a large pearl inside, glistening with all the colors of the rainbow. A wonderful singing voice poured out of the shell. It must have been hypnotizing, because Fiona fell asleep to the singing of the shell.

She awoke to an earthquake-like rumble. The dawn was gray, and it sounded as if rocks were falling from the sky and hitting the roof of the cabin. Fiona became nervous. The house seemed to be groaning under the heel of a giant who was about to tear it down.

The walls shook, and sharp bird claws scratched against the windows.

They were griffins! They swooped down on the sea witch’s cottage from all sides. The flapping of their wings echoed in her ears. Their claws scraped against the windowpanes, but they could not squeeze them out.

«They’re looking for their prey,» they whispered from the shelves. It was the shells talking again.

«How could they see the house below? They don’t usually see it when they fly over.»

«That’s right! They’re blind wherever sea magic has taken root. They, too, are prisoners of the underwater kingdom.»

Fiona shuddered when she heard the last phrase. The shells said it with grim solemnity.

«Who are the prisoners of the underwater kingdom?» She asked, but none of the shells dignified her with an answer.

Fiona was even offended. Shellfish are such chatterboxes when they need to talk among themselves, and with a human girl they do not want to engage in conversation. Or are they forbidden?

«Come to the window!» Suddenly a familiar voice called.

Fiona turned around. Outside one of the windows a huge, majestic bird was flying. It was a gryphon, a crowned gryphon. His feathered head gleamed with a gold crown of teeth like a king’s crown. It was no longer a gryphon, but Prince Orwell, standing outside the window, timidly beckoning her to him.

Fiona hesitantly moved toward him. She was won over by the fact that Orvel acted as if he were a lover who had come to sing a serenade beneath the window of his sweetheart. Except he had neither a lute nor a mandolin, and his sharp steel fingernails bore the claws of a griffin. But he has a magnificent crown on his forehead. Fiona sighed languidly. Somehow she instantly forgot all the hurt and even the fact that she was about to be executed. Now Orvel looked more handsome than ever. Only his eyes glittered feverishly.

«Let me in!» He asked. It was very uncomfortable for him to stand on the bridges near the house. There was a little room, and it was slippery, and the bones of mermaids and morgenes could prick him.

«Can’t you go in yourself?»

Orvel shook his head sadly.

«There are sea spells everywhere. They won’t let me in. But you can let me in. You’re special! That’s why we can’t all live without you. Ever since you disappeared, all the princes have had thirst and insomnia that won’t go away from anything.»

«But you were going to burn me as a witch,» Fiona reminded him.

«It was Ornella, not us. We won’t let her do that again.»

Should we take his word for it? Fiona hesitated. He was a werewolf, after all. She had just seen with her own eyes how he had changed from a griffin to a man. But he was a prince, and quite handsome. She’d developed a weakness for princes recently. She guessed all country girls are overly susceptible to the allure of nobility.

«I can’t let you in,» Fiona admitted honestly. «This isn’t my house.»

«Then come out yourself!» He beckoned to her more insistently. «Hurry up! Rokuela will return.»

Behind him on the bridges the other brothers were already turning from griffins to princes. Perhaps Condor could join them. Fiona longed impatiently to see him again.

She cast a wary glance at Rockwell’s sinister pets. It was no less dangerous in the sea witch’s cottage than it was in the company of the griffin princes.

Fiona dared to go out to them. And no one touched her! Even Orvel hid his steel-clawed hands from her so as not to scratch her.

«I am so glad to have you with us again!» He smiled beamingly. «I promise you that we will not play bluffs anymore.»

«Blind spots are for victims,» one of his brothers confirmed.

«And you are not a victim!» Orvel agreed. «You’re our lady!»

Is she a lady? Can’t he see she’s only a peasant girl? Or is it more important to him some inner magical light he sees in her?

«Would you like to ride on the back of a griffin?» Orvel suddenly suggested it.

«Are you serious?» Fiona didn’t have time to break free. The elder prince put his arm around her waist and danced with her across the bridge of mermaid’s bones. A moment and they were already dancing over the sea. Fiona didn’t even realize how they had managed to get off the bridge. The waves were bubbling beneath her feet. Let her go now, and she would fall and drown. It must be deep under the bridges, and she couldn’t swim.

Orvel suddenly laughed like a madman. Perhaps he wants to drown her after all. She had trusted him for nothing! The prince tossed her in the air like a light toy. Now she is going to fall! Only instead of the cold waves, Fiona fell straight to the scruff of the huge bird. Orvel managed to change into a griffin in an instant. The other princes left below were also turning. Fiona noticed that each of them had an amulet around their necks like the one she had found at Rokuela.

Orvel was already carrying her forward, overtaking the wind. The other griffins were catching up behind her. The flapping of their wings made the sky black. Fiona focused her gaze on the crowned bird’s head, which was now a millimeter from her. She clung to the griffin’s powerful neck as tightly as she could. A normal bird would have strangled by her now, but for Orvel her touch was barely perceptible. He cackled something quietly as he flew over the waves.

The rainbow was suddenly right below them. It weaved and diverged into a multitude of new rainbows. Fiona did not immediately realize that these were the rainbow bridges of fairies and elves about which there were so many legends among the people. She had always thought they were the fiction of storytellers, and now she saw them with her own eyes!

Griffins flew over the bridges. Fiona noticed some winged figures idly strolling on one of the rainbow bridges.

The sea below began to stir. A storm was coming up! One could see from above how the huge waves were breaking the small fishing boats. The griffins began to play, flipping Fiona from one back to the other with ease. Within minutes she was flying on the scruff of each of the griffin princes. Sometimes she got creepy. The storm below was wrecking ships.

«Shall we dive aboard some merchant caravel to play with the sailors?» She could hear the words in the bird’s wail.

«It is not today! The storm is already playing with them!»

One enormous shaft nearly covered the gryphon on whose back Fiona was now flying. The bird carrying her had managed at the last moment to fly higher into the sky.

«Griffins can carry you to the stars, but they can also kill you,» the distant whisper of Rokuela stood in her head. It probably just seems.

Fiona laughed as the griffins lowered her to the sandy shore, turned back into princes, and began to waltz with her each in turn.

«She’s still alive and in one piece!» Orvel proclaimed. «This is our victory! It’s good to have at least one friend on all of us who isn’t afraid of the fact that we’re werewolves.»

«Magic can take its toll on her later, and she, too, will jump off the wall or grow feathers like pustules, or wither away!» The other princes began listing the dangers, but Orvell didn’t care.

«They’re overprotective,» he explained to Fiona.

And then she was suddenly attracted by the golden light. It pulled her toward him like a magnet, and she broke free from Orvell’s grasp.

«There it is!» Fiona pointed under a big boulder.

«What’s in there?» Orvel wondered. «It’s just a stone.»

«It’s all glowing!»

«I don’t see anything.»

«I can definitely see light around the boulder,» Fiona insisted.

«There must have been a mermaid sitting on it recently. There would have been traces of her magic on the surface.»

«Can’t you see under the boulder? There must be something hidden under it.»

Fiona’s ears perked up. She thought she could hear the sound of dwarves’ hammers right here on the beach.

«It is as you wish, pretty girl!» Orvel wanted to oblige her, and with a light touch of his hand moved the enormous boulder easily out of the way.

Fiona was astonished. There was more strength in Orvel alone than in the giant. And what he could do with all his brothers, who also appeared to have magical powers! And all of them together cannot overthrow Ornella alone! What is so special about their sister?

«You’re right!» Orvel discovered a deep hole under a boulder, in which something glistened enticingly. A moment later he pulled out a huge chest full of luxurious gold jewelry and ancient gold coins. The massive lid of the chest was forged in the shape of some fantastic city and adorned with gems.

«The mermaid must have hidden them,» said Archibald uneasily.

«It is best not to touch them,» Terence said.

«They’re bad luck and attract vengeful ghosts,» agreed Lestan.

«It is better put it back,» advised several princes at once.

But Orvel did not want to part with the find.

«Let Fiona try it on,» he suggested.

Fiona hesitated. Her dress is plain. It wouldn’t go with such gorgeous crowns and necklaces, but she wanted to try it on anyway. There’s no one here anyway. It is no one to see. The coast is empty all around. And the griffin princes don’t count. They all want to be her suitors. And you can do all the things you can’t do with a cavalier. Tradition was discarded. The peasant dress was adorned with intricate brooches and necklaces. On Fiona’s head Orvel wore a magnificent crown of rubies and pearls. There was also a mirror in the chest. Its handle and frame were also of solid gold. The monograms on the lid of the casket looked like Arcana’s emblems, and Arcana is a state that has long since gone. Legend has it that it was sunk by the king of the sea. The princes noticed it, too, and looked at each other.

«You can’t joke with mermaids,» Leroy remarked.

«Is it with live ones or with bony ones, like in Rokuela’s domain?» Warwick asked, irascibly.

«It is with both!» Several of the brothers answered at once.

Fiona couldn’t even see which princes were speaking. She glanced in the mirror. The crown and long emerald earrings made her look like a real queen herself. If only she could find a fancy dress somewhere else! Then she would be just like her new friends, the princes.

She found the jewels herself. Pity that satin and silk, unlike precious metals, do not last. And, consequently, buried along with the jewelry also the chest with the dresses could not.

«Your jewelry is no worse than that of the queen of the seas, Lilophea,» Orvel commented.

«It’s a good thing Ornella can’t see me now. She would think I was a witch if she found them,» Fiona thought aloud.

«Aren’t you a witch?» Orvell was genuinely surprised.

«Am I a witch?» Fiona sounded frightened. All witches are old and ugly. How can she be compared to them! – I am not a witch!

«I think you are,» Leroy said casually.

Fiona didn’t even have time to be offended.

«If you weren’t a witch, you wouldn’t have spent an hour with us,» said Archibald. «Ordinary girls go crazy if they’re in our company. The ones who turn into griffins tend to die. You’re still alive. So you’re a witch. Or are you a clairvoyant? Or a chosen one of the magical powers whose path leads to the School of Witchcraft?»

It was something Rokuela had said. Fiona wondered.

Another gryphon flew over the sea. She wondered if it might be Condor. Fiona’s heart quickened with excitement.

The gryphon lowered itself onto the sand and turned into the furious Ornella instead of Condor.

«She must be a witch!» Ornella pointed a clawed hand at Fiona. «If she doesn’t burn, she must be drowned!»

«Well, no!» Orvel was resolute this time. All the princes surrounded Fiona. Ornella only pressed her lips together angrily. The squad of guards was not with her at the moment. Besides, griffins were more powerful than an army.

«I am in charge!» Ornella insisted. «I alone decide who lives and who is executed. She is dangerous! She’s a redhead!»

«This prophecy about redheads is nonsense,» Orvel cut his sister off. «You’re so hung up on it you’ll drive yourself mad.»

«Let Fiona come and live with us!» Lestan suggested.

«This is intolerable!» Ornella stomped her foot and her shoe sank into the sand.

«One less lady at court, one more, what difference does it make?»

«But she’s just a peasant girl!»

«So dress her up like a lady and no-one will know the difference,» Lestan could not take his eyes off Fiona and Ornella grew more and more furious.

«Our ancestors would roll over in their graves with shame if they knew of such frivolity.»

«When have you ever had any respect for our ancestors?» Orvel snapped at her. «They’re just people. Griffins are just us!»

Fiona was astonished! She had thought the curse was old, but it was fresh.

A large cavalry party was galloping toward the shore. Ornella’s guards followed her everywhere. Fiona was frightened.

«The witch must be put to death or we shall all regret we were sentimental!» Ornella kept on persisting.

«She is useful!» Orvel stood up for Fiona, pointing to a chest lying in the sand. «Look what she has found! She is the only one who can see the light of buried treasure!»

«Is she a treasure hunter?» Ornella became alarmed. «And this was not the first time?» She remembered. «The valuables you had with you when you were taken… Did you find them in the earth or in the sand?»

Fiona nodded.

«That changes everything!» Ornella immediately showed her greed. «Better to keep her alive for now and test her. If she shows her talent as a treasure hunter in the future, you can consider her saved! I love it when people are useful!»

Ornella went to meet the party, talked to their leader about something, and took his horse. She liked riding as much as she liked flying through the sky on her own wings.

«We’ll be under escort to the palace, I suppose,» Orvel concluded, justly. «The important thing is that we’ve asserted our rights to our friend.»

Fiona watched as the guards gathered the jewels and coins from the chest and could not understand why Ornella was more important than the whole group of Prince Heirs. Why was she the queen? And why are all the princes beside her practically powerless? After all, apart from her they have the power of giants. There lies some mystery here.





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