p>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.
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