Nadyn Bagout "Not fairy tales"

«Exactly!» the wizard held up his finger meaningfully. «It’s not flying. You noticed it too, my lord. So my eyes were right. Hmm. What else do you see?»

The king squinted at his companion with suspicion, but didn’t rant. He raised his spyglass and stared at the dark spot in the center of the approaching army.

«The dragon… not young, crawling slowly, but it seems to me that this does not affect his breathing: he’s puffing fire… Greenish, with a streak of yellow along his backbone… He’s about fifteen yards long. Oh, wait a minute… he’s got wings, but they’re tiny and rudimentary.»

The mage hummed so loudly that the king flinched and turned around abruptly.

В«What?! Did you think ofВ something?В»

В«Yes, IВ have aВ thought,В» nodded Dorrenoi. В«Tell me, Your Majesty, what is our food supply? Or rather, what fruit do we have?В»

«From the fruit?!» the ruler’s eyebrows rose almost to the border of his hair. «You picked your time…» he paused, looking at the stern, serious face of his advisor, «well… if that’s what it takes… what do we have? Fruit… you know, not much. Except maybe five bags of apples. Dried plums, a dozen bundles. Grapes have all been crushed for brew. Hmm… There’s plenty of jam, though. Oh, here’s a couple more cases of oranges: they brought them just before the first attack and I forgot.»

The wizard smiled.

В«Oranges, you say? Just inВ time. Oh, just inВ time! Get everything toВ the trebuchet!В»

The king opened his mouth inВ amazement, twisted his head, glanced at the already discernible monster without the magnifying glasses, and turned toВ the wizard again.

В«Are you out ofВ your mind?! What oranges?В»

«Bring it, I say! Don’t waste any time. We’ve got to get there before they get too close.»

After giving his orders inВ aВ few short phrases, Gafarro set the spyglass aside and sat down heavily on aВ sandbag, leaning against the battlements ofВ the tower. Covering his face with his hands, he sighed sorrowfully.

«Take it easy, Your Majesty. Maybe the battle will be over in a few minutes, yeah,» Dorrenoi rubbed his hands together. «Listen to me… It’s important, vitally important, that as many oranges as possible hit the dragon, you hear. The more the better. How to do that is not up to me. You’re the best in the business. You can mix it with rocks, you can mix it as is… it doesn’t matter. It’s up to you. Just make sure you hit him before he gets within a hundred and thirty or a hundred and forty yards. He’s got a thirty-yard flame. And here already our soldiers are standing. That’s so they don’t get hooked, you know?»

The king’s eyes lit up with interest and, more importantly, hope.

В«But what will this shelling do forВ us?В»

«Uh, I’ll explain later. „If you’re not sure, don’t promise,“ as my teacher used to say, bless his bones. If it works, then it works.»

Gafarro stood up and clapped the mage on the shoulder.

«All right, I’ll trust your knowledge, my friend. Besides, what else can we do? So, you say, hit the dragon?»

«Yeah, in the muzzle, in the eyes – the best.»

From behind aВ narrow door inВ the wall, aВ panting soldier ran out, carrying aВ crate ofВ sweetsmelling orange fruits like the sun. He was followed byВ another.

В«Here, Your Majesty, your wisdom, is all thereВ is.В»

«Over there,» the king waved toward the two tall trebuchets that occupied most of the third tier below the observation tower. «Mix it with the gravel. I’ll be right back,» he glanced around. «May your wiles work, wizard,» and he hurried toward the stairway that led straight down.

Dorrenoi, grunting and barely moving his legs – knees, be damned – headed out the same way, but bypassing the inner galleries and passageways. When he finally reached the vast and terrifyingly large, crane-like, overgrown killing machines, they were all ready. It was just a matter of waiting until the target was at a calculated distance.

These few minutes passed inВ silence, only toВ the anxious sighs reverberating inВ the back ofВ their heads.

The monster was very close: even the carved scales on its thick flanks could be seen. The smell was nasty: rotten, musty, and lifeless, and it made the horses in the vanguard roar and sprang to their feet. Nauseating. Well, on the plus side, they hadn’t all eaten in twenty-four hours.

Around the monster, the Duke of Krumland’s mercenaries and bandits stomped in close lines. Pitchforks, spears, and axes were what this filthy rabble carried as weapons. Yes, their combat was not intended to be noble, so…

But the instigator himself is nowhere toВ be seen. He probably keeps his witch toВ himself,В too.

Ugh, what aВ mess! What aВ mess!

The dragon panted, releasing a jet of swampy yellow fire from its ajar mouth: two hundred yards away from the ranks of the palace and the kingdom’s defenders, ready to attack. A little more… and a little more…

The trebuchets surged forward, sending aВ small citrus cloud that seemed incapable ofВ even tickling the skin ofВ the creature crawling at them.

AВ few small stones hit the enemy fighters, bruising them and causing them toВ laugh maliciously. But they could not make fun ofВ the weakness ofВ the blow.

The oranges clattered against the dragon’s hard shell, scattering in bits. The acrid, fragrant juice tickled the beast’s eyes and nostrils. He shook his head, hissed, puffing gray smoke, and then suddenly reared up and spun, sneezing and coughing like a man on fire.

Each «Aa-pchhhh’ was accompanied by a burst of flame, wiping out all those who, by an evil stroke of fate, happened to be in the vicinity. The heart-rending screams of the burning people, the shrieks, the hubbub, and the jostling of those who tried to dodge and escape from the fiery death filled the clearing.

The duke’s army was spreading like worn fabric, ripping in the most inopportune places. Panic washed over the rebels.

The dragon, still sneezing and wiggling and tearing at its throat with its forelegs, darted back toward the lake aВ few miles away.

A few almost demonstrative raids by the king’s cavalry completed the job: a wide swath of land was strewn with corpses, and the rest fled in terror.

Sniffing at the strangely pleasant smell ofВ roast meat inВ the air, despite its actual origin, Gafarro stepped away from the trebuchet and approached the mage.

«How?! What kind of magic did you stuff them with if such a small thing could turn a real dragon into a fugitive? Oranges… who would have guessed…»

Dorrenoi averted his eyes. He looked up at the king with embarrassment and explained:

«You see, Your Majesty, long ago, even before I entered Your Majesty’s service, I had to do all sorts of things to survive, you know, to get food. I was a healer, in general. I lived there, in Ilfania, almost at the border of the Marshlands. Whoever came to me for medical help, yeah. He was young then. A teenager, in fact. Did me no harm, either. I helped him as much as I could, so I know…»

«What do you know? Who did you help? Speak clearly…»

«So, who… the dragon, yes. He can’t stand citrus fruits. He’s been allergic since childhood.»

Thing called spring

Once there was a thing called spring…

Spring is here!

Why doesn’t my heart go dancing?

Spring is here!

Why isn’t the waltz entrancing?

No desire, no ambition leadsВ me

Maybe it’s because nobody needs me?

В В В В Frank Sinatra

The monumental bulk ofВ the Tengwang Pavilion stands out clearly against the background ofВ the river at this sunset time.

The lanterns circling the tower are about to flash, echoing the color of the brick-red walls and the emerald-green roofs. Actually, the pavilion could be called a pagoda, but it lacks the usual elegance of these traditional structures. However, it makes a remarkable impression: yes, it is new, but something so ancient, some spirit of place, no doubt, lives in these stones. And surrounded by dozens, hundreds of skyscrapers, each year more and more squeezing their arms – both on this coast and on the opposite one – scratching the clouds with their claws, the Tengwang can seem like a pillar, piercing and linking the past and the present.

The rain that had fallen since this morning had washed everything away, making the colors more vivid. The wide stone staircase leading up toВ the pavilion now looked more like aВ rock than aВ human creation.

Two young men – obviously out-of-towners, tourists – stop right at the Yin-Yang symbol – the Great Limit sign – take their eyes off their smartphone screens, and look up.

«Hmm, there it is. Well, not bad, huh? We didn’t go here for nothing.»

«Impressive. It’s not a small thing,» the guy sips his iced tea from his cup, smacks his lips. «You know, it’s not bad. I don’t really like herbs, but it’s nice and refreshing.»

His buddy sips his drink too, nods.

В«Yeah, it is good. Well, shall we go?В» he waves his hand inВ the direction ofВ the rise.

«Soon, give me a couple of minutes. Let me catch my breath: you’ve been dragging me around all day… didn’t even take a taxi.

«Taxi… You’re such a sissy. We never even left the neighborhood. And dragging… like I made you do it.»

«All right, all right, it’s about work, I agree. But it’s time to rest now, isn’t it? So, what’s the hurry? This tower isn’t going anywhere,» he looks at the Tengwang again. «Look, what’s that up there?»

At the corner of the curved roof, remotely resembling a dragon’s spine, stood a strange figure. It wasn’t easy to make out the silhouette in the twilight: not human, but certainly someone alive.

«Wait a minute, I think that’s one of them. He’s going to jump, look! Oh, that’ll be a sight to see! Come on! Jump!»

***

He is standing on the very edge.

InВ general, the weather today is windless, but not here, not up there. However, the wind is aВ friend, one ofВ the few: violent, uncontrollable, necessary.

Now any gust threatens to rip him off the roof. Rip him off, throw, spin… no, not now… a little more later…

Down below, behind him, aВ dark ribbon ofВ river winds, lazily rolling its still-cool waters into the distance: aВ few weeks, and the heat will take over. AВ heat from which he must get away. Is it worthВ it?

For whatВ now?

Why should he go back to his homeland now? Alone… without her…

What’s driving him back?!

Spring…it’s all her, part of the eternal cycle of this world. The law of the universe, if you will. A law demanding and inexorable, embedded in the very depths of the subconscious. To go back…

He thought they would go home together. Together from this seemingly benevolent place toВ which they were strangers.

Aliens. Incomers.

Scarlet faces, scarlet feet, white covers.

They are different.

No, they haven’t been harassed here for a long time. They’re even protected. People take care of them, you could say. But people care more about themselves and their well-being.

What about them? They’re not from around here. Valuable, but different.

They will never understand each other. And people are stronger. Stronger, more insolent, more demanding.

And they take the water. They limit themselves, but still inexorably take away space for life. Not here, but there, just to the north – here he came by chance, circling and circling, and here – but the city will soon approach there as well. It would come and take new lives, as it had taken his beloved. Would kill others as it had killed her.

No, no one hunts them on purpose: the local governments have long forbidden such things. But man stains everything around him with his presence: everything he has created can bring death. Many things are not her weapons at all, but almost every grain can suddenly summon this cold, empty-eyed lady.

Simple fuel for people’s boats is poison for the likes of him.

Dirty death. Accidental death.

They were found too late.

He called out to people, calling desperately, trying to lead them to her, dying in that muddy puddle, but people didn’t understand. They shouted in admiration, pointed their fingers at him, smiled, wished each other happiness. As if he had come to them to show off. As if they couldn’t hear the hopelessness and grief in his cry.

People sat inВ their cells scattered over the ground, stacked one on another, formed the tall ant towers like the ones across the river. People sat there thinking only ofВ themselves.

Sometimes they remembered creatures like him,В too.

Not everyone: only the most understanding or those who could benefit most fromВ it.

Then they decided toВ surround the strangers with care.

For now, all care is the bracelet draped around his leg. Yes, they had put a tag on him – trying not to hurt him, but still against his will – a tag that could be used to track his life.

But what does it matter toВ him?

His sweetheart also had aВ tag, aВ shiny little thing wrapped around her shin.

Did it help when the wearer was convulsing? That’s right.

They also gave him aВ name. AВ strange name, similar toВ theirВ own.

Heng Chun. The Permanent Spring. The Eternal Spring.