The Marriage of Gryphons (Penny White Book 3)

by Chrys Cymri

  ‘This’ll never do!’ Peter shouted as he brought his mount alongside mine. ‘We can’t bring him down with spears alone!’

  ‘A boulder!’ James called out. ‘Get your lion to drop a boulder on him!’

  The lion grunted. Then, not waiting for my instruction, he whirled us away. My eyes streamed as he dived down to the nearby riverbed. As he hovered over a large rock, I quickly told him, ‘Let me off, you don’t need the extra weight.’

  He continued to ignore me. Wrapping all four legs around the elongated stone, he puffed and groaned as his wings pounded to lift us back up again. We headed back, only a few feet off the ground, and I found myself biting my lip as I willed strength into his muscles.

  The bull was swinging back and forth, his head following Morey’s darting motions. Peter had pulled out his sword, and was trying to fly close to where blood was already flowing from James’ spear. My brother was on the other side, the wolf hovering just out of reach of the massive trunk as James jabbed his own sword at the mammoth.

  I pressed my knees against the saddle, hoping to convey encouragement to the lion. He rose up into the air, and I found myself holding my breath. Ten feet. Twenty feet. When we were thirty feet above the mammoth, the large claws pulled away, and the boulder dropped down to the furry back.

  The bull screamed as the rock crashed into him. He slumped to the ground, forelegs pounding against the grass as he tried and failed to remain upright. ‘Swords!’ Morey called out. ‘Time to land and use your swords!’

  My fingers fumbled at the saddle straps as my mount landed. I slid from his back and ran towards the struggling mammoth. The bull was on his stomach, and his head swung from side to side, trunk swinging wildly. James was off his wolf and running to the haunches, sword at the ready. Peter had slashed his blade across the mammoth’s ribs, and bright blood gleamed against the brown fur.

  I found myself breathing hard. Were we meant to hack the poor animal to death? I halted, and glanced back. The herd stood still, the females facing outwards towards the hunters and their patriarch. The calf, I assumed, was behind them.

  For Morey, I told myself. And I joined James near the small tail, discovering that it was more difficult than it looked to pierce matted fur and thick skin with a sword.

  The bull groaned, and rolled sideways. Peter jumped back just in time. Morey flew onto the bloodied side and called up in Welsh to the clan. ‘The beast is ready. Come and enjoy the feast!’

  I was more than ready to back away. The lion was panting nearby, and something moved on the cantle. I dropped my sword and hurried over. ‘Clyde, Clyde, are you all right?’

  The snail shark slid down into the saddle. ‘Miss hunt?’

  ‘Yes, you did, sorry.’ I wished I had. My stomach was threatening a revolt as I looked down at my bloody hands.

  Gryphons dropped down from the sky, landing on and around the mammoth. This was too much for the herd. They turned and ran, the ground shuddering under their heavy gait. I noticed, with a pang of shame, that the calf was left behind, an unmoving ball of blood and fur.

  Peter and James joined me as the gryphons began to feed. Peter handed me my sword, and I stared down at the brown stains. I bent down to try to wipe the blade clean on the long grass.

  ‘“Whatever happens”,’ Peter quoted, ‘“Never forget to wipe your sword.”’

  I managed to quirk a smile. ‘More Narnia.’

  ‘I only quote from the best.’ He handed me a white cloth. ‘We’ll just have to do what we can, and clean them more thoroughly later.’

  Morey flew over and landed next to Clyde. ‘Well done, grŵp rhyfelwyr. If this is your first kill, of course you’ll need blooding.’

  ‘It’s not mine,’ Peter said, in a grim tone which warned against any questions.

  ‘Or mine,’ I added, trying not to look at Clyde. The death of his mother still weighed heavily on my conscience.

  ‘What does that mean?’ James asked nervously.

  ‘Blood from the mammoth will be smeared on your cheeks,’ Peter explained. ‘It’s an old hunting custom.’

  ‘Do I have to?’ James asked.

  ‘Your first kill is an important threshold,’ Morey said. ‘You’ve passed from childhood, and are now an adult.’

  ‘I don’t see how killing something makes me an adult.’

  ‘This deserves a celebration,’ Morey continued. ‘I’ll make sure the heart is saved for you. Would you like it raw or cooked?’

  ‘Cooked,’ James managed to choke out. ‘Maybe with chips. Do you have any ketchup?’

  A hissing roar blasted across my ears. A moment later the air was filled with the rush of wings as gryphons threw themselves into the air. And, standing not fifty feet away from us, was a massive dinosaur with an even more massive head. The green and brown feathers covering the stocky chest and sprouting from the tiny forearms confused me for a moment. Then I found myself telling Peter, ‘It’s a Tyrannosaurus rex, and that’s impossible, because they died out long before mammoths evolved, and so it shouldn’t be here, and let’s get those gryphons back again!’

  The matriarch shouted out a command in Welsh. It took a moment for my brain to scramble out a translation. ‘This battle is for Trahaearneifion and his grŵp rhyfelwyr alone! A much more suitable challenge than a grass eater!’

  The dinosaur roared again. I felt eardrums squeak in protest. The small black eyes gleamed as it looked at the mammoth carcass, then back at us. ‘Do we have a plan?’ I asked Morey desperately.

  ‘We fight.’

  ‘Something more specific?’

  Peter hoisted his sword. ‘“Well, personally, I kind of want to slay the dinosaur. Let’s go to work.”’

  And I gave him a large smile, my heart warming to hear an amended quote from Angel. ‘Unless it decides that mammoth is more tasty?’

  The huge head, longer than I was tall, swung back in our direction. Morey cocked his head. ‘I think this T-rex prefers fresh meat. Again, I’ll go for the eyes. Do any of you still have your spear?’

  ‘I do.’ Peter lifted his from the ground.

  ‘Good. Peter, you take the right, Penny the left, and James the rear. Confuse it. Most of the mass of a T-rex is some distance from its centre of gravity, so you’re far more agile. Clyde, we need to bring him down. You know what to do.’

  The dinosaur was striding towards us, the long legs eating up the distance at an incredible speed. ‘Wait for my mark,’ Morey said. When the animal was fifteen feet away, he shouted, ‘Mark!’

  I dashed to the left. The T-rex snarled, but the hiss was all but lost in the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. The dinosaur began to turn, and I saw that Morey was right. The large body juddered as the thick hindfeet churned grass and soil. The small forelegs wriggled near the thick chest, and I realised that all I had to do was avoid the foot long teeth which lined the thick jaws. Simple, really.

  With the dinosaur’s attention on me, Peter was able to throw his spear at the protruding ribcage. The tip bounced off the feathers, and the shaft fell harmlessly to one side. The long tail arched off the ground and swung around. Peter was hit in the side and thrown from his feet.

  James started to go to his side. Peter waved him away. ‘I’m okay! Get to work!’

  Then I realised that I’d better turn all of my attention to the T-rex, as it had definitely chosen me as its next meal. I stumbled backwards as the dinosaur snapped its head forward and down, the jaws opening to grab my head. My sword, trembling in my hands, seemed a very small defence. A purple tongue drew back, and I wondered if it were sampling my sour sweat. My foot caught on a clump of grass, and to my horror I tumbled to my knees.

  ‘Penny!’ James grabbed the spear and rushed to my side. ‘Get back, you bastard! She’s my sister, and you’re not touching her!’ Actually, a few more colourful words peppered his descriptions, but I was in no condition to protest at his language so I merely blanked them.

  A rumble went through the thick throat. Did dino
saurs laugh? From the corner of my eye, I saw Peter crawling towards us, pain and determination twisting his face. Using my sword as a support, I pushed myself back to my feet. If I were going to die alongside the two men I cared for most in the world, I had no intention of doing so on my knees.

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ Morey shrieked. He was a purple-grey blur as he flew past the T-rex’s eyes, his claws extended as he tried to stab at the dark pupils. One forefoot caught in the right socket, and blood spurted in his wake. The dinosaur bit at the air, enraged, and one tooth pulled feathers from a wing. Morey spun away, his flight erratic as he tried to correct for the imbalance.

  ‘Geronimo!’ And I knew that Clyde had entered the fray.

  The T-rex’s head twisted up and away. The dinosaur bellowed, and tried to reach down. Clyde was clinging to the right hind leg, his jaws chewing through feather and skin and muscle to the tendons below. For a moment I was back in a garden in Earls Barton, watching as his mother tried to do the same to Raven. But no clergywoman with a shovel was going to rush to the dinosaur’s aid.

  Blood spurted around the snail, and he nearly lost his grip. Then he succeeded in his task. The dinosaur hissed as it suddenly lost the use of one leg. For a moment I thought it would still be able to remain standing. Then it toppled, jaws opening and closing helplessly as the large body slammed against the ground.

  ‘It won’t last long,’ Morey wheezed, crashing against my chest. Somehow I managed to catch him. ‘Air sacs will squeeze. Weight too much. Not made for lying down.’

  ‘We should put it out of its misery,’ I said, eyeing my sword without enthusiasm.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ James said.

  I gaped at him. ‘You?’

  ‘Peter’s still down, and you’re holding a gryphon.’ And then my brother, who at seven had insisted on a full funeral for his pet hamster, walked over and started hacking at a dinosaur’s throat with his sword. As blood spurted over his chest and arms, I decided that our clothes would be thrown into the dustbin the moment we got home.

  Then I suddenly heard what James had said. I transferred Morey to my shoulder and knelt beside Peter. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Knocked the wind from me.’ He slid a hand under his shirt and winced. ‘Bruised some ribs, I think.’

  ‘We have a medic,’ Morey said. ‘She’ll be here in a minute.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ I asked worriedly. ‘Should I ask Raven to take me home for some unicorn horn?’

  ‘Penny.’ Peter manoeuvred himself from a crawl to a sit. ‘I’ll be fine. We shouldn’t be using unicorn horn for every injury. Save it for something important.’ He paused, and took a careful breath. ‘Although I suppose I wouldn’t rule it out as an alternative to IVF.’

  ‘IVF?’

  ‘Well, it seems to boost fertility.’ He chuckled. ‘Remember, just touching a unicorn’s horn reversed Russell’s vasectomy.’

  ‘Which gave them twins. Which they didn’t want.’

  ‘Of course they wanted them,’ Peter said. ‘Everyone has that deep down desire to have a child. It’s part of being human.’

  ‘Or gryphon,’ Morey added. ‘Penny, will you have a look at my wing? I think I lost a couple of primaries.’

  He hopped down to my arm and extended both wings. ‘Two longer ones from the outer edge,’ I confirmed. ‘And a smaller one further in. How will that affect your flight?’

  ‘Makes it a bit tricky, but I’ll manage.’

  James returned. He looked like he’d been in an abattoir, and he reeked of blood and sweat. But there was a strange calmness to his face. ‘It’s not suffering any more.’

  I nodded, not trusting my voice. So it was Peter, pushing himself painfully to his feet, who looked my brother in the eye and told him, ‘That was bravely done.’

  ‘Which reminds me.’ Morey took off, his flight erratic but still sure. He returned a moment later, his beak holding brown feathers which glistened with blood. James held out his arm, and Morey perched as he swiped the blood down each cheek. ‘James Alfred White, you have met and bested both a mammoth and a Tyrannosaurus rex in mortal combat. I declare that you are no longer eyas, but a tiercel.’

  ‘No longer a boy,’ I translated for James, ‘but a man.’

  ‘I know what it means,’ James said gruffly. But his eyes were bright with proud tears.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The clan descended once the T-rex was well and truly dead. Morey formally presented his grŵp rhyfelwyr to the matriarch. She made a long speech which I was too tired to translate fully, but which in summary seemed to both grudgingly praise us for meeting the first challenge, and to warn us that future ones would be more difficult.

  When the matriarch had finished, there were worrying signs that a party was about to begin. The dragons lowered large beer barrels to the ground, and the tents had been erected not far from the mammoth’s carcass. I managed to catch Morey’s eye. He flew over, wobbling somewhat as he tried to compensate for the loss of flight feathers. James was nearest, and Morey landed on his shoulder.

  ‘Can we go home now?’ I asked him.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘What do you think?’ I waved a hand at our clothing, dark and stiff with dried blood. ‘And I know your medic did her best to bandage Peter, but I’d like to see him in the hands of the NHS.’

  ‘As would I,’ Peter said. He was using a spear to prop himself up. ‘Can you call the dragons, Morey?’

  ‘Oh, all right.’ He took off, muttering under his breath.

  Clyde made an enquiring sound. I reached down to pick him up. ‘Sorry, I know you’d enjoy mammoth tartare and beer. I’ll open some Old Speckled Hen for you at home.’ Then I looked at Peter. ‘How are you going to get to hospital?’

  ‘I’ll go through the thin place which connects to my house,’ he assured me. ‘There’s a phone in my lounge. I’ll ring an ambulance once I'm through.’

  The dragons arrived a few minutes later, but our departure was delayed by the gryphons insisting that James should have the mammoth’s heart. The large organ was carved out and shoved inside a leather sack. James grunted as he hoisted the package onto the tacsi dragon, hooking the top straps around the metal handle on the front of the saddle.

  Then, finally, we were able to leave. I turned my head away from the two dead animals we left behind. Killing them had given me no sense of victory. The mammoth had been the challenge. Why couldn’t the gryphons have lifted us to safety away from the T-rex? Surely the dinosaur would simply have gorged on the carcass and then gone on its merry way. The promise Morey had made to protect us obviously meant nothing to his clan.

  The flight back seemed longer than the one out. When we were finally back in the field, and Raven had peeled away with Peter, James and I slid to the ground. James offered the mammoth heart to Margh, who tore into the leather bundle with great enthusiasm.

  Fortunately there were no visitors in the church when James and I dropped back down to the gallery. We hurried to the car, keeping our heads down as we passed a couple of villagers. As I drove home, the scent of blood and sweat was undercut by a distinct whiff of urine. But the British Code of Conduct which required us to suspect the other also required us to remain silent, lest we find out which of us was the culprit.

  I left the car on the drive and we rushed into the garage. Once the door was down, we stripped to our underwear. I found a plastic bin bag, and we stuffed everything inside. Then we stumbled inside, seeking showers and whisky.

  Thirty minutes later, pizza in the oven, Talisker on the table, and Clyde slurping at a bowl of beer, I ran a hand through my wet hair and tried to summon enthusiasm for taking the Sunday service after all. I glanced at the clock. It was only 6pm, plenty of time to advise Rosie.

  ‘Your answering machine is flashing,’ James told me as he poured himself a large measure of whisky.

  I groaned, then hauled myself up to go into the study. The message made me grin, and I felt a bounce in my step as I returned to t
he kitchen. ‘That was the Archdeacon of Ocheham. The licensing date has been set. I’ll start at Caer-grawnt in a fortnight. I can make the announcement tomorrow.’

  ‘I guess I’d better let Anwen know. How do I get hold of a rat?’

  ‘I’ll send the Bishop’s office an email. They usually keep one around for taking messages to Lloegyr.’ The oven pinged, and I walked over to pull out the pizza. Two more weeks. In two more weeks, I’d be living in Caer-grawnt. It couldn’t come soon enough.

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  There are differing opinions as to which part of the Sunday service a priest should announce that she’s leaving. Some advise doing so at the start, during other announcements, so that the sermon and prayers can follow a theme of moving on, new beginnings, and give encouragement to the church. Others argue that an announcement should wait until the end, so that people aren’t distracted during worship. After all, their focus should be on God, not the minister. I decided to follow the second route. Just before the final hymn, I told the congregation that I would be gone for a three month sabbatical. Although no one burst into tears, no cheering occurred either, so I breathed a sigh of relief.

  Rosie had invited me to lunch, so after making small talk over coffee, I escaped from the church and drove the short distance to her house. After a filling meal of roast beef with all the trimmings, Linda excused herself. Rosie and I sipped at cups of tea in the dining room.

  ‘It’s the invisible stuff I need to tell you about,’ I apologised. ‘Like the dragons that come over to watch the webisode filming. Do you want me to talk to Bishop Aeron about sending you an Associate?’

  Rosie waved the idea away. ‘I don’t think Linda’s ready to learn about Lloegyr. I’ll not worry about the filming. Is there anything else I need to know?’