style="font-size:15px;"> 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
