The Marriage of Gryphons (Penny White Book 3)

by Chrys Cymri

  We rose through our first thin place. I closed my eyes. A challenging phone call from my treasurer, asking me why we hadn’t seen Holly in church for a couple of weeks, had made me toss and turn much of the night. The early rise, designed to get us aloft before too many people could wonder how a woman was floating through air, hadn’t helped matters.

  So I felt rather than saw the changes as Raven piloted our passage. Heat and cold, a spray of salt water which made me pull Clyde’s case closer to my chest. A brief smell of spring flowers and then an acrid smog which made me cough for breath.

  I opened my eyes after we’d been soaring for several minutes. We were several hundred feet above an island. The green-brown shape reminded me of a letter ‘C’, but with a comma attached to the curve. Ragged cliff edges rose from the blue-black sea like snail shark teeth, and the rising sun cast long shadows across the treeless land. As Raven tilted his wings and took us in, I saw the right hand side of the large bay had a gentler slope. Brown tents were scattered across the green grass.

  Raven took us down in a gradual glide. We skimmed over the small rocky beach, the small waves murmuring just beneath the dragon’s feet. His blue-green wings billowed as he lifted us over a slope. Then he touched down in a light jog.

  To my horror, Raven lowered himself onto his belly to allow me to dismount. I slid down to the sparse grass, and turned to thank him. But he was already striding away. A moment later he leapt up, and flew over to join two other dragons huddled at one end of the beach. One was a search dragon, her green-black skin standing out against the orange-red colouring of the smaller tasci dragon.

  ‘Hey, Sis!’ James waved at me, and Peter, standing near him, gave me a nod. ‘Over here!’

  I hobbled the short distance nearer the semi-circle of tents. Riding in the saddle had been less comfortable than bare-back. Morey took off as I joined the two men. ‘Been here long?’

  ‘I arrived about twenty minutes ago,’ Peter said. ‘Arnborg, the other search dragon over there, had to be sent for James. Seems even he didn’t know where he was.’

  My brother grinned. ‘Sign of a great night out.’

  I found myself savaging my lower lip. ‘And how’s your head?’

  ‘Fresh air is good, even though a bit nippy.’ James threw a thumb at the distant dragons. ‘But the ride over was a real bummer. Couldn’t get any conversation out of her.’

  ‘From what I understand,’ Peter said carefully, ‘it’s a disgrace to sell your services as a mount. I don’t think any dragon does it unless he or she has no other choice.’

  ‘But the police, the heddlu, they ride dragons.’

  ‘Those dragons have joined the force and are full partners. And often the dragon is the senior partner, as well.’ Peter glanced at his watch. ‘At least we’re in the same time zone as home. No jet lag.’

  ‘Shouldn’t that be dragon lag?’ James asked.

  Morey had gone into the tent nearest us. Now he nosed his way back out. I could hear voices behind him. ‘Quick, comb your hair,’ I whispered to James. ‘And couldn't you have found clean clothes before you came?’

  He tried to smooth down his wind-swept brown hair. ‘All I had was what I didn’t sleep in.’

  I tore my eyes away from the splotches of beer scattered across his blue shirt. At least Peter looked smart, his tweed jacket over a white shirt and black jeans. I brushed at my blue trousers and tugged my black fleece into place.

  ‘Relax, Pen,’ James said. ‘This is Morey’s grandma, right? We’ve met her before.’

  The tent flap shuddered. Tan leather pulled aside, and the matriarch strode out to meet us. She seemed even larger than when we’d met her in the house. Her feathered shoulders reached the same height as my own, and her brown eagle head was the same height as Peter’s. Broad wings were folded over her muscular lion legs. Red eyes gleamed above the fierce yellow beak. On either side of her paced gryphons nearly the same size, looking equally formidable.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ James muttered.

  ‘Language,’ I muttered back. The ornate chain of jewel-studded gold lying against the gryphon’s chest made me want to hide the scuffed hiking boots I’d chosen to wear.

  Morey placed himself in front of us. ‘Cyfarchion, Ercwiff, anrhydeddus Fatriarch y Cornovi.’

  ‘Greetings to the Matriarch Ercwiff,’ I said in English, and then repeated it in Welsh. ‘Mae’n anrhydedd i ni gwrdd â chi.’ Well, it was indeed an honour to meet her, here on her home turf.

  The matriarch spoke in a deep voice. ‘Rhain yw eich grŵp rhyfelwyr, Trahaearneifion?’

  ‘This is my warrior group,’ Morey agreed in Welsh. ‘I will introduce them to you, Matriarch.’

  Clyde trilled from inside his pouch. I opened the top and lifted him out. After a moment’s hesitation, I placed him on my right shoulder. Gryphons small and large paced past us, Morey naming us each in turn. ‘Peter, Police Inspector. James, currently unemployed. Penny, priest. And Clyde, a noble hunter.’

  Ercwiff brought her eyes close to the snail. ‘Malwen siarc. Rhyfelwr nerthol.’

  I could feel Clyde stiffen with pride at being called ‘a mighty warrior.’

  Ercwiff continued to speak in Welsh to her grandson. ‘The priest and the snail shark are good choices. Even the policeman could do well. But the other human male smells of rut and beer. You’re certain of this one?’

  Somehow I managed to keep my face straight. Just as well that James had never learned to speak Welsh. Morey said steadily, ‘He is my choice, Matriarch Grandmother.’

  ‘Your choice it is to make,’ she agreed. ‘And you will either rise or fall from your choices. Very good, Trahaearneifion. The forgers are ready. Take them to be fitted for their swords.’

  Morey turned to us. ‘Follow me.’

  ‘We’ve been accepted,’ I quickly explained to James as we trudged up the gradual slope. ‘And I think we’re going to get some kit.’

  ‘Oh, good, I like presents.’ But he pressed a hand to his forehead. ‘You don’t have any ibuprofen on you, do you?’

  Moving carefully so that I didn’t knock Clyde from his perch, I slid my backpack to my side. ‘Here. Have a couple. And, James, really, couldn’t you have stayed sober for just one night? You knew we were coming here this morning.’

  ‘I planned to, I really did.’ James swallowed the tablets dry, and coughed for a moment. ‘But then Ashley texted me, and it sounded like a really great party, so what was I supposed to do?’

  ‘Just say no?’ I asked, suppressing the impulse to ask what had happened to Debbie.

  A path of hard stone led us away from the main tents. Ahead of us loomed a grey building, the uneven stones laid roughly one upon the other. A brick chimney rose haphazardly from the tile roof. A change in the breeze brought the smell of smoke and hot metal. Buckets were stacked outside the wide entrance.

  We followed Morey inside. The only light came from the doorway and chinks in the wall. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I saw that a large anvil filled the back section of the building. A dwarf was holding a long piece of metal out to a dog-sized dragon, who exhaled flames across the length. The metal glowed yellow, and the blacksmith swung it over to the anvil. The sound of metal striking metal clanged through the air.

  ‘Cwsmeriaid,’ the black dragon said to the dwarf.

  The gleaming rod was hammered a few more times, and then lowered into a bucket of water. The dwarf hung up the tongs, and turned to us. Blackened hands were wiped into his beard before he held one out to me. ‘Father Penny.’

  Calluses pressed against my palm as I shook his hand. ‘You know me?’

  ‘Forged your knife, I did, remember?’ He spoke in English with a Welsh accent. ‘Where is it now?’

  Somewhere in Tyra’s large intestine, I found myself thinking. ‘Safely tucked away. Excellent work, by the way.’

  ‘Aodh is the top blacksmith in Lloegyr,’ Morey said. ‘He will forge your swords.’

  ‘Cool.’ James grinned. ‘I get
a sword.’

  Peter frowned. ‘Why do we need swords, Morey?’

  ‘And hunting knives,’ Morey continued. ‘You might need them both for the challenges.’

  ‘What is--’ I started.

  Peter interrupted me. ‘Morey, it’s about time you told us what’s actually going to happen.’

  ‘If you’re going to have a row,’ Aodh grumbled, ‘do it on your own time. Time to size you up.’

  Each human had to stand still as the dwarf ran a grimy measuring tape along our arms and around our chests and biceps. I had to do some twisting from my hips, and the two men were asked to hop and spin. Aodh tapped Clyde’s shell, a thoughtful expression creasing his weathered face. The snail bared his teeth, and the dwarf clucked in approval.

  We were shown various options for hilt and cross guards. James entered the selection process with the same enthusiasm as I’d seen when he’d shown off his new BMW. Peter simply pointed at the plainest example and then crossed his arms, his eyes fixed on Morey. I went for a tapered wooden grip. ‘I’ll knock up some wooden practice swords now,’ Aodh told us. ‘Then this afternoon I’ll have a look at your reach.’

  ‘As long as we’re gone by four,’ I said quickly. ‘I have another engagement.’

  ‘You won’t miss your appointment,’ Morey assured me. ‘And the swords will probably be more ceremonial than functional.’

  ‘The edges will be sharp, mind you,’ Aodh warned us. ‘So be careful with them. No messing about.’

  This seemed to be directed at James in particular, who quickly put down the dagger he’d been swishing through the air. ‘Yes, sir.’

  We emerged back into the clean air. I slipped my hands into my fleece pockets, wishing I’d put on something a bit warmer. Where were we? Something about the landscape made me think of Scotland.

  Peter took several quick strides and bent down to grab Morey. Morey yelped as he was lifted onto a boulder so that man and gryphon stood eye to eye. ‘I’ve had enough of this,’ Peter said sternly. ‘Moriarty Trahaearneifion, tell me exactly what is going to happen in these challenges.’

  Morey’s tail was an agitated blur. ‘What did Taryn say?’

  ‘Taryn said to ask you.’

  ‘They’ll be tests of courage more than anything else,’ Morey said quickly. ‘We believe that you can judge the calibre of a gryphon by the quality of his friends.’

  ‘Can you guarantee our safety?’ Peter glanced over at me. ‘Can you guarantee Penny’s safety?’

  I glared at him. ‘Why’re you singling me out? Because I’m a woman?’

  ‘No,’ Peter said heatedly, ‘it’s because I love you.’

  Silence fell. Even the hammering in the forge faltered. Peter’s face reddened. A part of me wanted to throw myself into his arms. But I held back, aware of the gryphons stirring below us, the dwarf studying us from his doorway, and the snail shark murmuring on my shoulder. Nor could I read James’ neutral expression. So I turned to my Associate. ‘Go on, Morey. Answer Peter’s question.’

  ‘I can’t, not exactly.’ Morey looked at each of us in turn. ‘My matriarch will decide the challenges. But I promise you, I won’t let any of you be harmed.’

  ‘Aodh,’ Peter said, making the dwarf startle. ‘May I have a blade, please?’

  The blacksmith hurried inside, and returned a moment later with a dagger, which he offered hilt first. Peter accepted the knife, and then positioned the gleaming blade near Morey. ‘Swear it on iron, Moriarty Trahaearneifion. Promise that you will let no harm come to me, James, Penny, or Clyde.’

  The gryphon placed one falcon foot on the metal. ‘I swear, in my name and on my blood, that I will permit no harm to come to any of my grŵp rhyfelwyr.’ He pressed against the sharp edge, and a trickle of red dribbed from his toe. ‘Satisfied?’

  ‘It’ll have to do.’ Peter wiped the blade on a tissue, and returned it to the dwarf. I fished out a bandage from my backpack and wound it around Morey’s cut. He spread his wings and flew to the gryphons who were beginning to emerge from their tents.

  As we walked back down the slope, I made my way over to Peter. I put a hand on his arm. ‘You know, I, well, I’d like to say...’

  He covered my hand with his own. ‘Sorry, Penny, it just came out. But, you know, after Sam and I split up, I never thought--it’s been wonderful to find you.’

  Words tangled in my throat. I managed to get out, ‘And you.’

  Clyde tapped against my cheek, leaving a wet splodge of slime. ‘Cold.’

  I broke away from Peter. ‘Okay, in you go.’ He slid into his carry bag and I closed the top. Then I looked up at Peter. ‘Kids, always ruining a romantic moment.’

  Peter smiled. ‘That’s something we might find out.’

  No, we wouldn’t, I thought. We were nearly back to the tents now, so I had an excuse to call out, ‘Morey, what now?’

  Morey broke off his conversation with an osprey-panther gryphon and flew over to land on my right shoulder. ‘You’ve been slimed,’ he complained, lifting a dripping foot from my fleece.

  ‘Clyde had to hold on somehow.’

  With a graceful jump, Morey soared over my head and onto my left shoulder. ‘My clan will impress you with their flying skills, and then we’ll have lunch.’

  ‘Great,’ James said happily. ‘This stag do is starting out really well.’ And then he turned to give me and Peter a big smile. ‘And I don’t only mean because of the gryphons. I’m really happy about you two.’

  And I felt a tension ease from my chest as we trudged down to the beach.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The first half dozen flying demonstrations were indeed impressive. Large gryphons threw themselves at each other over the bay, ducking and diving as they entered into mock fights. Feathers and fur of many hues, ranging from black to white with most settling for tawny, gleamed even in the weak sunshine. Losers in the bouts sometimes ended up in the water, squawking curses in Welsh as they splashed noisily to shore.

  Morey caught me yawning part way through the morning. ‘Boring you, Black?’

  ‘They’re a bit samey,’ I admitted. ‘The same attack over and over again.’

  He snorted. ‘Tactics are not their strong point. Most gryphons labour under the misconception that size is all that matters.’

  ‘Whereas those who are only cat sized?’

  ‘They have the brawn, we have the brains.’

  A call from Aodh gave us an excuse to leave the beach. The blacksmith had set up a small outdoor pit, to which the small dragon applied fire. The smell of frying meat made my nose twitch. As we made our way up the slope, I could see that several small animal carcases were suspended on a metal pole just above the flames.

  Lunch was a messy affair. Aodh used a long knife to carve off sections of meat which he dropped into a bowl. An utter lack of utensils meant somewhat burnt and very greasy fingers. After I’d had my fill of what appeared to have been some sort of large bird, I wiped my hands on the grass before pulling some paper napkins from my backpack.

  ‘What was that?’ James asked the dwarf.

  Aodh shrugged. ‘I don’t know what you call it. Olafur?’

  The small dragon lifted his head from his own bowl. ‘Aderyn du a gwyn, dim adenydd. Fe’i cymerais oddi ar y môr.’

  ‘A black and white bird, and it was in the sea,’ I translated for James.

  ‘What, a penguin?’

  ‘I can’t think that we’re in the southern hemisphere. We didn’t go through that much of a time shift.’ Then I turned to the dragon. ‘Olafur, pa mor fawr oedd yr aderyn?’

  Olafur considered my question. ‘Byddai dau gymaint â fi.’

  ‘He said two would equal his length,’ I mused.

  ‘So around three feet long?’ Peter asked. ‘I didn’t think flightless birds came that big. Unless James is right and they are penguins?’

  ‘Or,’ I said slowly, ‘great auks. They were quite big. But they’re extinct.’

  ‘On our world, th
ey are,’ Peter reminded me. ‘You’ve told me that Daear even has dinosaurs.’

  ‘Now that,’ James said, ‘is something I’d like to see.’

  ‘Soon enough, lad,’ Aodh said, wiping his hands on his trousers. ‘Let’s first see what you can do with this.’

  A wooden sword landed at his feet. James bent down, and with a quick movement lifted it up into the air. ‘Winter is coming!’

  Peter glanced at me. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but has James just done a geek thing?’

  ‘Shush,’ I said quickly. ‘There might be hope for him yet.’

  ‘What, today Game of Thrones, tomorrow Doctor Who?’

  ‘Surely not,’ Morey said, landing on my left shoulder. I winced as he wiped his beak clean on my fleece. Then he raised his voice. ‘Right, Aodh, time to take the measure of the man!’

  The dwarf picked up a wooden sword of his own. James backed away as Aodh marched over. ‘Are you sure about this? I mean, shouldn’t I pick on someone my own size?’

  ‘You think height is all that matters?’ Aodh crouched. ‘Come now, lad. Swing that blade.’

  I’d watched enough Buffy the Vampire Slayer episodes to know how this would go. With a few quick moves, the dwarf had knocked the sword from James’ hand and left my brother rubbing his palm. ‘You should’ve shouted something first. I wasn’t ready for you.’

  ‘Then you should have been.’

  Peter left my side to join them. ‘Wouldn’t it be better if I practiced with James? You could watch us both to decide on our reach.’

  Aodh grunted agreement. Peter was handed a sword of his own, and James retrieved his. ‘I did some fencing while I was at uni,’ Peter said. ‘Let me show you a few moves, James.’

  The sound of wood thwacking upon wood filled the air. Peter was lighter on his feet than I would have expected. After a few minutes, Peter stopped and showed James how to hold the sword. He spoke too quietly for me to hear, but whatever he said made my brother stand more at ease.

  ‘He’s being soft on the lad,’ Morey commented as they exchanged a few more blows.