clouds.
It was cold and scary. It was as if gryphon had figured he had every right to her, for she was the one who had first started chasing him. She was mistaken! What could he do? If he’d known her to speak human, she’d have apologized. There they would have parted ways. But a gryphon didn’t know human speech. It was useless to ask him to go down and let her go free, so Fiona cried and kept silent.
You have played the game! Curious fool! Goes looking for an adventure on her head! She had her eye on a golden bird! It would have been better to find a dragon’s treasure. A bird of prey doesn’t have golden feathers. And they’re hardly made of pure gold. It is just the color of gold. Fiona scolded herself. She should have been more circumspect.
Ornella’s annoyed cries came from somewhere downstairs. She was not happy to have a toy taken away from her. Fiona was tired of feeling like a toy. Now it was scrapes and scratches, now it was flying in a bird’s claw! It’s an outrage! And the annoying shouts of the arrogant lady are cutting to the ear. How can she even hear the voices of people left far below? Not even the mountain tops can be seen anymore. They have disappeared below under the clouds.
The gryphon hugged her tighter. He was agitated for some reason and even looked back. Fiona screamed now. Its sharp claws pierced the fabric of her dress and then sank into her skin. Somewhere behind her there was a sound. It was an overhead echo that picked up her cries. No, there is no echo in the clouds! Someone was flying behind them. Fiona tried to look back. There were many griffins there. A whole flock! They are catching up.
The gryphon carrying her stirred and flew faster than the wind. Had he decided to take her only for himself, without sharing her with the others? Is she his dinner? What else would a large bird of prey need her for?
The flapping of wings behind him grew louder and louder. There was no escape now. One gryphon had already separated from the flock and was gaining on them. Fiona was frightened. If they fought over their prey right in the air, she would not escape the fall and death. She suddenly realized that her greatest fear was to crash to her death. Once she and a friend were taking sacks of flour to a feudal castle, and she saw a noblewoman there who killed herself by throwing herself from the castle wall. Everyone said she had been driven mad by a coastal witch who had wandered into the castle, but that was not what struck Fiona, but the condition of the fancy-dressed body, which had turned into a bloody puddle. Bundles of feathers protruded from the torn flesh. So the griffin feathers tickling her cheeks at the moment reminded her involuntarily of the shock she had experienced in the past. Was it a bad omen that she would end up like the lady who smashed her forehead on the blocks beneath the fortress wall?
Now the two griffins would collide in the sky, and there would be no fighting. But the griffin carrying her suddenly released one claw and golden lightning flashed through the clouds. The bird that had been chasing her screamed in frustration. The lightning struck it and ignited the plumage on its chest. The flock behind it also let out agitated shrieks. The lightning must have struck them, too.
Fiona suspected something. The lightning was as golden as the gryphon’s claws. Could it be magic? And griffins themselves are widely regarded as magical birds. Fortune is said to smile on whoever sees one, at least from a distance. Fiona, on the other hand, has only grinned at the grim tragedy. Apparently she is a rare loser.
The gryphon broke away from the chase and began to descend. A green plain appeared below. Now he would land and feast. On Fiona’s flesh and bones! He wondered if there would even be bones left of her when he was sated. Though why bother? She hasn’t any kin who’d look for her. If she goes missing, no one will even notice. Except the farm boys who liked her would miss her. And it is not for long. After all, there were plenty of pretty girls in the village.
The valley below was not strewn with skeletons left over from the griffins’ meals, but Fiona was still worried. The gryphon carried her over the plain, the woods, and the marshy lowlands where the reeds rippled. The land approached menacingly. Now the gryphon would wire its prey over the great boulders. Fiona squinted in fear. Suddenly the claws around her waist loosened.
The gryphon threw her down onto a rough, moss-covered mound like a thick carpet. Fiona fumbled for the stones beneath her – these were steps! They were scratched and old. They looked like the carcass of a ladder.
Fiona looked around. Gryphon had carried her into the ruins. He had disappeared somewhere. She hadn’t even heard him fly away. The clapping of its enormous wings was like the sound of a whip. She could not help but hear them.
«She is one of ours! She’s definitely one of ours!» The voices echoed from everywhere, but who had said so?
Fiona looked around.
«She is one of us! She was just lost!» The echoes in the ruins sounded like recitatives or prayerful chants. It was as if witchcraft had been wrought in the place. Echoes of laughter and hymns to the darkness were heard.
It was getting dark. Fiona struggled to her feet and walked a little. Her whole body ached. Scratches and abrasions could not be counted. Yes, the griffins had taken their toll on her. She really did feel like a big rag doll, played with and discarded. Right on the road! Or rather, it was in the ruins.
Even to be in the ruins is dangerous. Everything here is fragile, already partially destroyed and ready to collapse again. The remains of walls and towers reminded her of the castles of feudal lords. Apparently it had once been a castle, but now there was moss between the stones. The ruins of the walls themselves were gnarled and crooked. What had happened here? Was it a earthquake or a war? Could cannons and battering ram have done such damage? In the village, they’d say witches and fairies had had a hand in it. But the village was so far away that no locals would get here. The ruins were in a deserted area.
«Don’t worry, they won’t get in here!»
Fiona turned around at the voice. Something motley was looming in the shadows of the ruins. The figure of a jester! What was the jester doing in the ruins of the castle? Is he a remnant of the old masters? The castle had been destroyed, the owners slaughtered, and somehow the jester survived. He must be a friend of the fairies, if that’s what happened. He has the face of an inhuman, like an elf or a nix. His cheekbones are pointed, and so are his ears. Silver bells were dangling from the horns of a jester’s cap.
«Who are you?» Fiona moved toward him and found that there were already several jester figures on the ruins. They were multiplying, like reflections in shards of mirror.
Was this a mockery or some kind of trick? Everywhere Fiona went, all she found was a void instead of a jester. And the jester figures themselves were already multiplying in other places: on the walls, on the carcasses of towers, on the scratched staircases. In general, it was away from her.
«I don’t like jokes!» Fiona pouted angrily, stomping her foot. «If that’s the way you are, I’m going.»
Her stomping caused the ground to sink in, creating a hole. Inside the hole something sparkled enticingly. It looked like a jar of gold pieces! Was it a fairy joke? Fiona was afraid to bend down and check. It might be some kind of trap.
But a clear voice commanded:
«Take it now that you’ve found it!»
What was she to do? Fiona opened the hole with her bare hands and pulled out a pile of gold coins mixed with colored stones and jewelry. It looked like real gems! What luck! And there’s no one to thank. The jester figures had all disappeared, as if they had never existed.
Fiona was intrigued by one pendant in the shape of a sickle. It was certainly gold. A peasant girl would draw unnecessary attention to herself if she wore it around her neck, but Fiona couldn’t resist. The thing drew her like a magnet. She hated to part with the pendant now. Pity the chain was too short to hide it behind her corsage. The glitter of gold on a deserted road can only attract burglars.
«You’d be better off hiding in the ruins. No one will find you there,» the voices whispered