you not help me make my decision?»
«You must make it yourself.»
«But I brought you a hoop. You took it, so you must pay for it,» she reminded him.
For a moment the skeleton stared into the mirror, silently, and surely he saw something there that Graymore herself did not see.
«If you go, you solve all your doubts, if you stay, you betray yourself and scold yourself,» he admonished.
«You are a slacker! I knew that.»
«But it’s the only sensible advice I can give you.»
Graymore stomped her foot. She felt like yelling at the dead advisor, but that wasn’t wise. Fighting with a wizard, even a dead one, was too dangerous.
«Well, thank you!» She said. «I hope your advice will be more meaningful next time.»
«There won’t be a next time,» the skeleton called out to her at the exit.
«Why is it not?» Graymore looked around with interest.
«This dragon is your destiny.»
«What do you mean by that?»
The skeleton made no reply, but in the mirror she flashed a glimpse of the most beautiful dragon Graymore had ever seen in her life. He had burned an entire horde of goblins. They were coming to sort things out with him over territories. One dragon’s breath was enough to take them all out. And with such a dragon she would have to fight! Admiration and martial spirit struggled within Graymore.
«He burned a kingdom the other day,» the skeleton reminded her.
«I know.»
«If you don’t go to him, next time he might burn the whole of Livellin. He’s got the strength for it.»
Now, that was an ultimatum, coming from a skeleton. Graymore is sick and tired of the dead wizard speaking in riddles.
«I’ll go!» She made up her mind.
Graymore unfastened the ruby belt around her hips, threw a cascade of dark serpentine curls behind her back, and showed her tongue to the sleepy magic mirror, which stubbornly refused to show her dragon a second time.
«Remember the golden statues of the dragon deity,» the skeleton warned her as she grasped the doorjamb. «It sleeps in the thicket, but you cannot go near it. If you go near it, you might not survive. It is unless your blood is indeed golden. Then you are a chosen one.»
Graymore nodded dryly.
«I have noted all the instructions. Is there anything else?»
But the skeleton was already asleep. He looked dead and motionless. She could no longer believe that he had been alive and talking, even arguing with the ruler a moment ago.
The magical mirror showed a picture of a dragon massacre of some village that did not belong to Livellin’s domain. Graymore could see the stranger’s banner. Knights tried to defend the village, but they failed. One dragon was stronger than all of them. Had they known that one girl could be stronger than an entire army! But they did not have her support, so they died in dragon fire.
«Someday dragons will do to you what you did to them,» the mirror whispered.
The horned fairy of the looking-glass must be joking with her. Though is she capable of speaking through a magic mirror? She usually lives in ordinary mirrors, not magic mirrors.
«You do not know how to distinguish friend from foe,» whispered the ghostly lips, traced on the amalgam.
The skeleton adviser did not respond to the whispers, so Graymore decided to ignore them as well. Everyone knows that the spirits of the looking-glasses deliberately mess with the heads of people who stare in the mirror. That’s why you can’t look in mirrors for long, or the ghosts will drive you crazy.
Graymore slammed the tower door as she went, and dozens of spiders spilled from the jamb to the hem of her dress. The tower had long resembled a tomb. And no wonder! After all, the skeleton counselor sat there.
It was time to learn to live without his advice. Her only real friend and advisor was her battle sword. In anticipation of the dragon hunt, Graymore remembered it. The sword had never failed her, and magicians and magic mirrors could lie.
Golden Laurel
The spring archery contest was held according to all the rules. The winner of it would be proclaimed a hero for the day. A wreath of golden laurel would adorn the winner’s head.
Graymore had won the archery contest for many years in a row. Regular practice with marksmanship and concentration had helped her win.
The hunt for the dragon was postponed for exactly one day only because of the contest. If she did not win it, she would not be allowed to go into the woods. How can you hunt a monster of prey if you can’t even win a shooting tournament?
She won the first rounds, but there are more difficult tests ahead. One target succeeds another. The competitors are as talented as she is. She has to beat them all. Graymore was as nervous as a needle. And you can’t get nervous or you’ll miss. Anyone who gets nervous loses their aim. You have to be cool and calculating so your hand doesn’t shake when you shoot.
«Look! She wins again!» Some ladies gathered by the grove, pointing their hands at her. Their manners were a little too plain. They must have come from the country. Graymore almost dropped her bow and arrow when she noticed, from the corner of her eye, that the ladies were true fairies. They were huddled in the shade of laurel trees. They were wearing wreaths of thyme and eucalyptus leaves. All winged! Their bare feet did not touch the ground, and their dresses were woven of grass and leaves.
What a sight! Fairies flew in from the fields to look at her. Apparently she was becoming a legend.
Graymore took aim at the apple, which she wanted to knock down in a swoop so that it would break into even halves. The squire was already tossing it in the air. The arrow, released from the bowstring, split the apple in a fraction of a second. In the next round it would be necessary to knock down several apples at once with a single shot. And then you have to shoot blindfolded. Graymore only had one minute of breathing room.
Someone strange in a cloak embroidered with dragon symbols flashed through the crowd. Could it be a sorcerer? Graymore squinted at the bright sun that peeked out from behind the clouds, blocking her view. The bizarre mask of gold and green dragon scales might have been just a gimmick. Many young men wore one as a sign of their fearlessness of dragons. There was nothing to fear from the flying reptiles. After all, the ruler of Livellin was capable of defeating them all.
The young man in the dragon mask looked directly at Graymore. What bottomless eyes he had! She drowned in those eyes for a second, and then the herald trumpets announced the start of the next round.
Graymore tried to concentrate on the target thrown in the air, but the stranger in the crowd was in her way. It was as if he spoke to her without words:
«Follow me!»
She
