was no help to be had from them.
Rhianon looked once more to the heavens, waiting for a miracle. Perhaps one of the winged reptiles had heard her call. But there were only dark clouds in the sky. It was as gloomy as her soul.
Orpheus, who had once sat proudly on the scaffold, had now disappeared, but his quiet laughter still echoed through the crowd like the sound of jingle bells. Perhaps she was the only one to hear it, or perhaps the condemned too. Rhiannon pushed her way forward, trying to get a good look at each condemned man. There were many of them, and she met several unfamiliar faces. Apparently more thugs had joined the gang since she’d left them. Naturally the people rejoiced, the king’s guards had finally managed to disarm an entire nest of outlaws. Rhianon remembered the forest and the feeling that there was a den of outlaws somewhere nearby. Maybe she only thought she saw one blind man among the condemned. Could a man who once saw an angel without a helmet have survived? It seems not. Even if he had not lived much longer since he had been blind, his path was now inevitably to the scaffold. He would never have time to tell anyone what he had seen. His head, which retained the memory of the beautiful devil, was about to be severed by an axe. Rhianon squeezed her eyes shut when she saw the sharp blade. It was rather unusual. Outlaws were usually hanged or quartered, and this was suddenly an easy execution. It was the way aristocrats were executed, not outlaws. Ron had once been an aristocrat. Her gut twisted. She tried to look for his fair-haired head among the condemned men and could not. He was not among them. Did that mean he was the only one who was saved? Or was he already dead? She swallowed hard. There was no doubt that Ron was a good fighter. But he could have died in an unexpected confrontation, too. She wouldn’t want that to happen. She might have been cruel to him, but he still commanded her sympathy.
«Where are you?» She asked a mental question, imagining a pale, pleasant face with golden eyebrows and beautiful cheekbones. The answer to her question was a quick vision-the oak walls, the table, the lamp, the drunken scolding like an echoing sound behind and the knife. Fingers with skin scraped to blood were drawing something with the blade on the wooden table. And right next to it, some creepy little creatures were crawling across the tabletop. Disgusting, but Ron was alive after all. An inner voice told her so clearly.
Still, Rhianon pushed herself closer to the dais. She couldn’t wait to see the face of each condemned man to be sure. There she saw Harold, hurt and tired, Raven next to him, followed by Brom. All that was missing was the dwarf Shivo. He might have died too, or he might still be alive. His nasty looks and small stature would have helped him hide, even in the world of the dwarves. Rhianon sighed in relief. At least someone else had survived. She no longer expected miracles and help from heaven, but the dream of a dragon coming still lingered. She longed for the sound of wings whistling through the air, but the roof was littered with shingles. Madael’s neglected servants were playing cards at the chimneys and laughing venomously. No one noticed them, and they could have spat at passersby from on high if they’d wanted to, but for now they limited themselves to cursing. It was easy for people to mistake their words for echoes in the old house, but Rhianon could hear everything. She didn’t want to hear it, but all the sounds of the crowd reached her ears, the coughing, the laughter, the swearing, and even the thoughts, human and non-human. She became equally susceptible to people and things. She did not want to distract herself from the execution, but her mind distracted itself. Here is some gnome counts the proceeds from the cut purse, and people passing by take him for a child. They can’t see his wrinkled face hidden by his cap, and they even hand him change. There are pixies scattering buckwheat grains from a torn sack, griffins scratching at roofs with their claws, black faeries fiddling in spilled flour, dyeing their wings white, elves making jokes about drunks in the pub. She hears everything and the whole world is as if in her power. Human thoughts and the thoughts of magical beings are intertwined in her perception. Maybe it’s because there is as much ethereal in her as there is human. There were equal parts of both. It is as if she is divided into two halves, as if a day is divided into day and night. Both are at her mercy. She feels the vibrations of both worlds and can captivate them both. It felt that way, but if she is so powerful, then why can’t she save her friends.
Rianon intercepted Brom’s gaze fixed on her. He noticed her quite casually and opened his mouth in amazement. None of the bandits had ever seen her dressed as a noblewoman before. Rhianon realized it too late. Of course, no one would have counted on her help or intervention now. But she wanted to intervene. She could have saved them. Rhianon took one last look at the dark clouds streaking across the sky. There was no help in sight. No dragon could come, and even if he did, it would be too late.
«But you’re like a dragon,» the voice inside her reminded her playfully. «You’re even stronger than a dragon. You have a more powerful fire.»
Even if Orpheus had appeared behind her back now, he couldn’t have been that heartfelt.
She did feel stuffy. Her lungs were constricting. She was sure that if she could breathe in now, she would exhale not oxygen but a jet of flame. It was cold and damp in the night plaza, and it felt like heat all around. Rhianon felt as if she were in a furnace. She didn’t even notice the dragging of her friends toward the scaffold. She had to hold back somehow to keep from burning the whole town down, but the flames had already burst out. The rush of fire and explosion was as powerful as ever. Rhianon wouldn’t have thought it was bursting out of her own body if she hadn’t felt the burning inside. First the scaffold burst into flames. Then a trickle of flame ran all over the platform. No one knew what it was or how dangerous the fire was, so they did not hurry to put it out. Even the guards were stunned. The flames had appeared out of nowhere beneath their feet. The flames had affected the square as well as some of the nearby buildings. Out of the corner of her eye, Rhianon saw the creatures of Madael swiftly fly from the rooftops, and the leprechauns flee the crowd, dashing off toward their dens below ground. It’s nice and damp there, and the fire won’t touch them. But the people already felt its heat. It was as if hell was near. Some cried out in fright, knocking sparks from their clothes. The eaves of the houses were collapsing in flames. The guards looked around in bewilderment. No one could have imagined that the fire was caused by a girl standing in the crowd. She could not have been suspected. But Brom looked at her again. He knew that she was capable of igniting the world around her with her mere presence. He just didn’t know what she was capable of. Her talent had grown since the last time they had seen each other.
She had met the devil. His proximity had made her shattering gift even more powerful. Perhaps that was what made their meeting so dangerous. Rhianon wanted to become her beloved’s equal. She gave free rein to the fire and many more buildings were occupied. Flames burst from the windows themselves, erupting on the sidewalk beneath the feet of passersby. Those who stood near the dais could already feel the heat on the ground. It was hell. It was only fire and no escape. People cried out in fright, but Rhianon could not be appeased. Those who had watched so indifferently the execution of her friends deserved no mercy. Now fire was blazing everywhere, pillars of flame arising right beside her. The blowing wind could not put them out.
«I’m stronger,» Rhianon looked up at the sky, which promised a storm. Neither wind nor rain could extinguish the kind of fire she caused. Already the entire city was ablaze, not just the square. The flames were spreading with astonishing speed. Rhianon could hear the screeching of the fleeing supernatural creatures. Unlike humans, they could escape. Some opened their wings and flew away, others hid under the ground or dissolved into small puddles. There was always a way for the unearthly to preserve themselves, but the mortals were so vulnerable. They were powerless against the flames. Rianon suddenly realized what terrible power she possessed. Why would she need armies of man or beast when she herself is more powerful than an army of dragons? She has the power to burn or spare those who fear fire.
Spare? Rhianon only began to think about that as the flames began to consume her friends along with the guards. They must have been counting on her help. Brom, who’d seen her and known
