Swan and Dragon. Dragon Empire. Natalie Yacobson

the old beauty in gold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      “Am I sleeping?” Rose asked.

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

      The golden-haired youth walked for a second to the stove, poked the ash with a poker, and then returned back to Rose. He thrust a pewter mug of steaming drink into her hands.

      Rose took a sip. The hot liquid burned her throat, and a pleasant warmth spilled over her body. The aroma of roasted meat spread through the hut and made her feel hungry.

      The snowstorm outside the window was getting worse. The wind howled monotonously. Singing, inhuman voices sounded in time with him in the trumpets.

      “Winter!” Rose whispered. “Winter has already come!”

      Only now she woke up from dreams and began to really look at the world. But what was the use of looking for reality in a world that in an instant acquired a fabulous gloss. In this transformed universe, anything could happen.

      “What month is it now?” The princess asked.

      “January,” came the reply.

      “How long did I stay in the courtroom?”

      “For the uninitiated, the days there fly like minutes. Sorcerers prefer violent entertainment.