by Chrys Cymri
‘The indefatigable Penny,’ he greeted me. A few spots of rain clung like jewels on his bright scales. ‘I believe that this is the date humans mark as the last of a year?’
‘You change years at a different date?’
‘Of course.’ He arched his neck. ‘Calan Gaeaf, the Day of the Dead, when the boundaries between the living and the dead are thin. That’s when many in Lloegyr celebrate those who have gone before us, and we renew our promises to honour them in the year to come.’
I filed the information away. There was something else on my mind. ‘What can you tell me about snail sharks?’
‘Other that they are vermin and taste very good once shelled?’
‘Other than that.’
His ears flicked. ‘Why would I want to know more? Even a harpy flinches if she encounters a rabble of malwod siarc.’
‘Has anyone ever studied them? In the wild?’
‘They are vermin. Why waste time on them?’ He lifted his head to peer through the study window. ‘If you don’t want to eat that one raw, I’ve heard that the dwarves have found them to be quite tasty when cooked with spices. I can take you to one of their chefs.’
I swallowed hard in order to settle my stomach. ‘I’m worried about him. He's too intelligent to keep in a tank, but too dangerous to be allowed to roam loose.’
Raven opened his jaws, and his blue tongue traced over his sharp teeth. ‘I can take care of it for you.’
‘Clyde is not on the menu,’ I said firmly.
‘A snail shark.’ Raven snorted. ‘Do you take such care over wasps?’
‘I know that you don’t care about anyone who's important to me,’ I said bitterly. ‘You asked what I see in Peter? At least he came through when Clyde was injured. He doesn’t care about Clyde either, but he came through because he cares about me.’
‘You’ll never be satisfied with a human.’ He lowered his head down to mine. ‘And you know that.’
His scent of wood smoke and grass tingled through my nostrils. ‘At least Peter introduced me to his parents,’ I said, fighting against the pull the dragon had on me. ‘I met them at Christmas.’
‘Is that all?’ He yawned. ‘Climb up.’
‘Why? Where are you going to take me?’
‘To meet my mother, of course.’
I gulped. This was rather more than I'd bargained for. But I couldn't back down now. I did duck back into the house to change into warmer trousers and hiking boots. There was no way I was going to meet Raven’s mother while wearing wellies. I did have some standards.
The rain had started again. Drops splattered against my face as Raven kicked us upwards. I gripped his rubbery spine and grimly hoped that we were heading somewhere drier and warmer. At least the weather should mean that none of my neighbours should be looking out of their windows to see my backside rising rapidly into the air.
Raven took us through the thin place near my house. A quick dive gave me little time to enjoy the new view before we were back again over Earth. I had a dizzying glimpse of golden desert before he twisted sideways and returned us to his own world. I gritted my teeth, wondering if it were really necessary for him to be quite so acrobatic.
We were now flying in darkness, obviously somewhere on the opposite side of the planet to Lloegyr. As I gave up trying to see anything in the dim light, I found myself wondering what the political situation was between Lloegyr and other countries of Earth’s sister world. Or did the citizens of our sister nation find that they had enough internal problems to keep them occupied?
Raven slipped through another thin space, and we were suddenly high above a city. I had just enough time to recognise the Thames twisting far below before he pounded his wings and took us above the clouds.
Usually going through airborne crossing places was a trouble free journey, very unlike those I’d travelled through on foot. But this time a sudden weight pressed me back against Raven’s neck spine. My mouth jarred shut with a force that made my teeth ache. My right toes went numb, and my left shoulder throbbed.
Then we were on the other side. Much to my relief, it was not raining. But the skies were still grey, and the wind racing past us was cold. I regretted that I hadn’t thought to put on a woolly hat.
Somehow I had expected that Raven would take me to the dragon longhouses on the outskirts of Llanbedr. But we seemed to be far away from any city. Low lying hills humped green-brown backs beneath us. I could see mountains in the distance, the peaks white with snow.
Raven twisted his wings, taking us lower. The land was flattening out into the dull brown and stunted rocks of moors. A flock of birds took off in fright, their high cries of alarm filling the air. The dragon snaked his neck around and neatly caught one, tossing the bird into the air and swallowing it whole without slowing his wing beat.
I smelled the village before the first longhouse came into view. The pleasant scent of smoke was undercut with an acrid note of urine, and I wondered whether dragons had plumbing or if they created middens. The latter, I decided, as we passed what looked very much like large dunghills.
The longhouses were similar to the one which I had entered to rescue James. Dragon sized, of course, and formed from stone and slate. Considering that dragons could exhale flame, this made sense. There were at least forty of the structures, scattered in no discernible pattern. The streets between them looked to be an unappealing mixture of mud and gravel.
Raven aimed us towards the western edge of the settlement. I had to revise my initial impression that all of the longhouses were the same. Now I could see that symbols had been painted on the slate. Red, green, and yellow swirled to form rough pictures of claws, or teeth, or wings. Splatter marks made me suspect that the images had been created by dragons dropping paint whilst hovering above the roof.
My back was already smarting from Raven’s earlier antics, so his sudden backwinging made me mutter words unworthy of a vicar. He landed in front of one of the grander longhouses. My right foot had recovered from the crossing, and I was able to dismount without embarrassing myself. Gravel crunched under my boots as I followed Raven to the entrance.
Stopping at the large wooden door brought back memories I’d rather forget. I reminded myself that we were visiting Raven’s direct family. There was no reason to be nervous. But I found that I was biting my lower lip.
‘Hrafn Eydisson, son of this house!’ Raven bellowed. ‘I claim entry from my blood kin!’
The door drew back smoothly. A dark blue dragon half Raven’s size blinked up at us. Red-rimmed nostrils fluttered as the doorkeeper drew in a deep breath. ‘You are recognised,’ she said, her voice rising and falling with the Welsh accent. ‘Why do you seek entry?’
‘To meet with my dam.’ Raven lowered his head. ‘Who is, I believe, also your dam. Who is your sire?’
‘I am hatched from the second clutch out of Eydis Asgersdottir from Eirik Runasson.’
Raven grunted. ‘My dam remains fertile. At her great age.’
‘You’re only as old, my son, as the drake who catches you.’ The voice came from further within the longhouse. ‘And Eirik is a very virile drake indeed. Let them in, Sylvi.’
Although the day was far from bright, I found myself stumbling as we walked into the even darker building. Scattered light drifted down from openings near the high ceiling. There was a hearth further in, but only embers glowed between the stones. The floor was of slightly thicker gravel than the streets outside. At least the smell was cleaner, a mixture of burnt wood and leather.
The largest dragon I’d yet seen was sitting near the banked fire. She was nearly twice Raven’s height. As she turned her blue head to us, muscles slid under her broad shoulders. Claws the size of kitchen knives gripped the ground. I tried not to think of how large her teeth might be.
‘Hrafn.’ And she opened her mouth. Even in the low light, I could see that her teeth were very large indeed. ‘What brings you to my house?’
‘Why, to see you, of course.’ Raven lo
wered himself to his haunches. I decided to remain standing. And to place myself close by his left foreleg.
‘And you’ve brought a skrælingjar.’
I’d heard the same word used for humans in the Inkeri longhouse. The word did not sound Welsh, but this was not the time to wonder about the native language of dragons. ‘I’m honoured to meet you, Eydis Asgersdottir. I am Penelope Sarahsdottir.’
‘You’re a skrælingjar, too thin to be worth eating.’ As I floundered over whether to be pleased or insulted, she turned her attention to her son. ‘It’s said that you invaded the house of the Matriarch of Family Inkeri.’
‘You know that to be true.’
Eydis snorted. ‘Bodil’s wings have been singed. I am pleased. I might even allow you to leave here alive.’
‘I’m no longer a puffling, too weak to defend myself,’ Raven said steadily. ‘And my companion is a knifebearer.’
To my amazement, even this huge dragon drew back at the news. I was reminded of the old tale of elephants being afraid of mice. Her eyes flicked back to me. ‘And why have you brought this knifebearer here?’
‘She wanted to meet you.’
‘I wanted to meet the dam who laid the egg of such a fine dragon,’ I said quickly. ‘You must be very proud of him.’
Both dragons laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. ‘Search dragons are live born,’ Raven explained.
‘Which is how I knew what I was carrying,’ Eydis continued. ‘The rest of the clutch had been laid. Then he hatched within me, and I knew that I carried a search dragon.’
‘Did you wait before or after my birth to hunt my sire?’
‘Oh, before.’
I swallowed. ‘You hunted your mate?’
‘Successfully.’ Eydis growled. ‘He disgraced his bloodline and mine by siring a search dragon.’
It’s their culture. You have to respect their culture, I told myself firmly. ‘Was that all?’
‘He further disgraced his family by attempting to escape his fate.’ Her voice softened and carried a note of regret. ‘But he was due to be eaten at any rate. Wayland had already sired three clutches. No drake is good for more than four.’
I was developing a nasty suspicion as to why some dragons preferred romances with human females. ‘You do sound a bit sad about it, Matriarch Eydis.’
‘Oh, I am.’ She sighed. ‘Despite the chase, I wasn’t able to eat all of him. And Wayland’s flesh was so very sweet.’
It’s their culture, respect their culture, I reminded myself desperately. My brain was scrambling for a polite comment, when all I wanted to do was bolt for the nearest exit. Only the courtesy which I’d inherited from my parents, along with my brown eyes and a depressing lack of height, kept me in my place. ‘How many children do you have, Matriarch?’
‘Ten still live.’
Relief washed over me. I could switch to being pastoral. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Do many pufflings die young?’
‘A clutch is usually five to six eggs,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘Far too many for any family to rear.’
‘The smallest are eaten first,’ Raven told me. ‘The smallest, the weakest, and the unwelcome.’
Eydis lowered her head to his. ‘You survived.’
‘I heard your plans for me while I was still in your womb.’ I could feel him tensing. ‘I knew the moment I was born that I’d have to flee. Or be eaten.’
‘Why,’ I asked Eydis, ‘do you other dragons hate search dragons so much?’
She hissed. ‘Search dragons can find anything. Including secrets.’
‘Any secret,’ Raven agreed. ‘Such as the location of the gold you hide from even your heir. The merpeople are keeping it safe for you, aren’t they?’
This gave a whole new meaning to the term ‘offshore investments’. There was obviously no love lost between this two. If all dragons felt this way, no wonder the search dragons had built their own community. ‘It was good to meet you, Eydis Asgersdottir. All respect to you and your house. Raven, isn’t it time we were going?’
‘Why?’ he asked.
For a moment he reminded me of my husband. Equally unable to pick up a hint. ‘We were going to watch the New Year’s celebrations on my own world.’
‘So we were.’ Raven gave his mother a graceful bow. ‘My compliments to your drake, if the puffling who greeted us is a typical example of his progeny.’
‘Sylvi is, but I ate Eirik last week.’
‘You said he was very virile,’ I blurted, shocked.
‘He was.’ A wisp of smoke curled from her nostrils. ‘But he was also a drake of much action and few words. I grew tired of him.’
‘Then my compliments to your next drake,’ Raven said. ‘May the mating flight be long, the clutch large, and the unwanted pufflings tasty.’
There was an awkward pause, and I realised that I was supposed to say something. ‘And may he be able to satisfy you in longhouse as well as in the air.’
Eydis made an approving noise deep in her throat. ‘Try not to misplace this one, Hrafn. She shows promise, even if she is a skrælingjar.’
This one? I filed my questions away as I stepped sideways, giving Raven room to turn around. Despite his mother’s warm words, I still didn't feel safe until we were outside again, and I’d climbed up onto his neck.
Raven didn’t seem inclined to wait around. Gravel bounced away from us as he ran down the street, his wings spreading out to give us a gradual lift into the air. Once aloft, he trimmed his wings, allowing him to make a graceful sweep across the settlement. Then he took us towards the distant mountains.
I wanted us to land. The visit had left me with many questions for which I needed answers. But the wind snatched away my words, and I had resign myself to being taken wherever the dragon wished. Males, I thought balefully. They always want to be the driver.
We flitted through several thin places, including one long stretch in hot sunshine over a glistening sea. This brought some welcome warmth before we ducked sideways and emerged into cold winter night. The sweat on my face immediately cooled.
The city lights shone bright below us. After a moment, I identified London by the golden Houses of Parliament and the blue circle which was the London Eye. The sky was black, long past sunset, but all the travel between the two worlds meant that I’d lost track of time.
A dark shape detached itself from the darker sky and came close. Small lights attached to the saddle gleamed on a black uniform. The dragon and rider swung in alongside us, and both dragons pulled up into a hover.
‘Croeso i Llundain,’ said the calm, almost ethereal voice. I knew without seeing her face that we were being addressed by an elf and, I assumed, a police officer from Lloegyr. ‘Pam ydych chi yma?’
‘We’re here to see the fireworks,’ Raven replied. ‘Best show on the planet.’
‘Welcome you are to watch.’ This was the dragon speaking, and I wondered whether he were the ranking officer of the two, or if he simply knew more English. ‘All flyers to keep on South Bank side. And away from fireworks.’
I felt Raven’s annoyance rumble against my legs. But aloud he said, ‘South Bank side. Thank you, officer.’
A half dozen other dragons were circling in the designated area. I wondered how long any of them could stay aloft before their wings called out for a break. But then, how could a dragon fly in the first place? For all I knew, dragons were naturally light and their wings just provided extra lift.
A roar of human voices told us that midnight was fast approaching. Raven dipped his body into a hover, angling our view down the river. The Thames burst into light as the calendar year changed. Fingers of fire burst from the London Eye.
I should have been entranced. This was a sight I’d only ever seen on TV, and here I was in person, given a unique view from the back of a dragon. But the meeting with Eydis was playing through my mind. I had already known that dragons ate their own dead. But the fact that mothers ate their own pufflings, and indeed sought to kill s
earch dragons such as Raven, made me feel ill. And what had Raven’s mother meant by the phrase, ‘This one’? Had there been human women before me? And how had they been ‘misplaced’?
As fireworks began to explode over the water, several dragons broke away. They darted between the fiery trails and around exploding centres. The heddlu flew over to order them back to safer air. Raven began to even out, preparing for normal flight. ‘No,’ I told him sternly. ‘You’re not going to play dodge ‘ems with me on your neck.’
The fireworks ended, and I realised that my ears were ringing from the noise. I could barely hear the singing which rose from below us. My hands and feet were numb, so I asked Raven to take me home.
Much to my relief, we only darted through four thin places before reaching the outskirts of Northampton. Then a short flight brought us to my back garden. Raven did a near vertical drop, which made me first rise from my seat and then fall back down. My back protested, and I ached as I made my way to the ground.
All I wanted was a coffee with a large shot of whisky. I was cold, I was tired, it was early into New Year’s Day and I was stone cold sober. But as I turned away, Raven muttered something under his breath. Although I couldn’t pick out the words, the tone was enough to let me know it wasn’t complimentary. I turned back to him. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You weren’t much fun tonight.’
I crossed my arms over my chest. ‘You’re the one who decided to take me to meet your mother.’
He snorted. ‘I meant the fireworks. I wanted to fly between them.’
‘That’s dangerous.’
‘It’s fun,’ he insisted. ‘That’s why I came for you. So we could have fun together.’
‘There has to be more to a relationship than just fun.’
‘Why?’ Raven lowered his head to mine. ‘How much fun have you had in your life?’
A question once posed to me by my spiritual director came to mind. ‘So, Penny, have you ever rebelled?’ I said steadily, ‘There are more important things in life than having fun.’