by Chrys Cymri
‘When we’ve finished with the lemmings,’ Morey said. ‘No hunter leaves prey to suffer.’
‘Except for snail sharks,’ Taryn snapped. ‘Anyone who attacks my children deserves to suffer.’
Peter grabbed my elbow. ‘Let’s get going.’
We piled into his car, Taryn taking a seat in the back. Peter reached over to fasten my seat belt, and I cupped Jago in my hands as we set off. ‘Don’t look at the speedometer,’ Peter warned me.
The world rushed by my window in a blur. I kept my eyes fixed on the small gryphon. Each time he paused for breath, I feared it would be his last. Dear God, I prayed, please keep him alive. Please, please, keep him alive.
I looked up as we finally slowed. We had reached the gates of the Midlands Safari Park. Peter drove down a side lane, and spoke to someone on his iPhone. A moment later, the gate swung open, and we drove inside.
Jen was waiting at the door to the veterinary block. Next to her was a much smaller woman, her short grey hair a contrast to Jen’s brown ponytail. Both looked smart and professional, white lab coats covering their shirts and trousers.
Peter unlocked both of our seat belts, slid from the car, and came around to open my door. I uncurled carefully from my seat, Jago still spread across my hands. ‘This is Chrissy Woodman,’ Jen said as the two women hurried over. ‘One of best avian vets I know.’
‘I specialise in raptors,’ Chrissy said. I lowered Jago for her to take a better look, her bright eyes peering over her glasses. ‘Let’s get him inside.’
Taryn landed onto my shoulder as I followed the vets. Although I was used to carrying a gryphon, she was larger and heavier than Morey, and I rocked slightly on my heels. In all the haste, I’d had no time to change my footwear, and I was still wearing my slippers.
Jen took us straight to an examination room. Chrissy placed a small cushion onto the metal table, and I carefully removed Jago from my hands. His legs and wings spread across the white material, his breathing still uneven.
Chrissy touched one wing. Jago screeched, and Taryn hissed, ‘Be careful with my son.’
‘Out,’ Jen said firmly. ‘All of you. We need to concentrate.’
‘And send for Ben,’ Chrissy added. ‘I want him here too.’
With great reluctance, I allowed Peter to shepherd me from the room. Taryn’s claws were digging deep into my shoulder, but she said nothing as we returned to the corridor. Peter disappeared to pass on Chrissy’s message to the front office.
‘You can tell this isn’t like a normal vet’s,’ I complained as he returned. ‘No chairs or out-of-date magazines.’
‘Chairs I can find. And I’ve asked for the wifi code.’
So we took seats outside the examination room. Taryn paced up and down the floor, barely noticing humans who nearly tripped over her sleek body. I half-heartedly looked through Facebook and read emails.
Finally, over an hour later, the door opened. Peter scooped up Taryn before she could dash through, and she snapped her beak in annoyance. But we all stilled as Chrissy stepped outside.
‘He’s alive,’ she told us, rubbing hands over tired looking eyes. ‘And he’s got a good chance of staying that way, but it won’t be easy. Come in.’
Jen was standing beside the table, a hand resting near Jago. A young man, whom I assumed was Ben, was wheeling away complicated looking machine. ‘He’s sleeping now,’ Jen said. ‘It’ll take several hours for the anaesthetic to wear off.’
‘He lost some primaries from his left wing,’ Chrissy told us. Taryn flew onto the table, landing near her son. ‘They should grow back with his first moult, if his physiology follows that of raptors. Might be sooner on a gryphon.’
‘He won’t be able to fly with his siblings,’ Taryn growled.
‘This will hold him back,’ Chrissy agreed. ‘It’s going to be important to make sure he still exercises his wing muscles. Have him grip a stick and practice beating his wings, at least once a day. Once he’s grown his new primaries, he might need encouragement to fly. And late flyers don’t always become confident flyers. We see this with parrots who’ve been clipped by their breeders. Even if they’re allowed to grow flight feathers later, they’re never as confident as those who’ve never been clipped.’
‘You allow this?’ Taryn asked, sounding shocked. ‘You permit wings to be desecrated in this way?’
‘It’s a personal choice,’ Jen said. ‘People do it for good reasons. They worry about their birds escaping through an open door or crashing into windows.’
‘There is no good reason,’ Taryn snapped.
‘What about his beak?’ I asked, trying to move the conversation on.
‘That was a bit more tricky.’ Chrissy placed a finger next to Jago’s head. ‘I’ve managed to realign the jaw. But the muscles were weakened. He’ll need liquidised food for awhile, at least for the next couple of weeks.’
‘Liquidised food.’ Taryn said the words as if they were a foreign language.
‘Ground up meat, cooked egg yolk, raw egg white,’ Chrissy said. ‘Real meat is best, like beef or lamb. Cat food at a push, but none of the cheap brands. I’ll email you a list, but I really rather you used beef or lamb.’
‘Thanks for your help,’ I said, after a long moment of silence made me realise that Taryn wasn’t going offer any expression of gratitude. ‘Can we take him home?’
‘Certainly. Just keep an eye on him until he wakes up.’ Chrissy handed me the cushion. ‘He’ll be a bit groggy, so don’t let him try to walk anywhere.’
‘Oh, and his ability to speak will also be affected,’ Jen added. ‘It may be a permanent disability. You’ll only know in few months or so.’
I passed on some more thanks. Then Peter opened doors while I carried the cushion and sleeping gryphon. Taryn had settled onto his shoulder this time, her eyes looking everywhere but at her son.
The drive home was at a more sedate pace. Morey was waiting in the tree flowering in the front garden. His feathers rose at the sight of Jago. A glance at his wife made them smooth back down again, a sign that he was once again worried.
‘The other chicks are upstairs with Clyde,’ James said as he opened the door. ‘How’s Jago?’
I walked through to the kitchen, the gryphons following behind. My grumbling stomach reminded me that we’d all missed lunch. I placed Jago carefully onto the table, and his parents landed next to him. ‘He’ll live. But he needs to be fed mashed food until his jaw muscles recover.’
Morey hung his head. ‘Then he won’t live.’
‘Why not?’ I asked, studying the slumped forms of both adult gryphons. ‘It’s only for a few weeks.’
‘In several days’ time, the eyasses will be hunting with us,’ Morey explained. ‘We won’t be bringing food back to a nest.’
‘Why not?’ Neither gryphon would meet my eyes. ‘Like the vet said, this is only temporary.’
‘He needs to be able to hunt for himself,’ Taryn said. ‘All gryphons do.’
‘But what about Eiddwen?’ I leaned over the table, bringing myself closer to Morey. ‘She has bad legs, and you’ve still fed her.’
‘She hunted for herself,’ Taryn corrected me. ‘Despite her weak legs.’
‘And once she can fly,’ Morey added, ‘her leg strength will be less important.’
‘But why one,’ I continued, fighting to keep my tone reasonable, ‘and not the other?’
‘If we try to cater to Jago’s needs,’ Taryn said, ‘we risk letting our other eyasses starve.’ Her back rose, and her tail lashed across the table. ‘Do you really think that we want one of our children to die? But we can’t take care of him when we have four others who need our attention.’
I hadn’t realised that James had left the room. But now he was back in the kitchen, a hurriedly unwrapped unicorn horn in his hands. Peter and I skipped back as my brother touched the silver tip to the sleeping gryphon.
And nothing happened. No glow across Jago’s feathers, no sudden tightening ar
ound his beak. James swore, and since I had some sympathy with his anger, I bit my lower lip and said nothing. He stripped the towel from the horn and held the long object in his bare hands. ‘I don’t feel anything. What’s happened to this thing?’
‘The power lessens,’ I said gently, ‘the longer it’s been removed from the unicorn. Maybe it’s all gone now.’
‘There are limits to even what a living unicorn can do,’ Morey said. ‘The older the injury, the harder it is to heal.’
‘Okay, then we don’t use magic.’ James lifted Jago from his cushion and cradled the small gryphon against his chest. ‘I’ll feed him.’
‘Twice a day,’ Morey warned him. ‘And you’ll have to bring him to Caer-grawnt. He needs to be with his family.’
‘Oh, yeah,’ James said bitterly. ‘The same family who won’t take care of him.’
‘The same family,’ Taryn replied, ‘he will eventually hunt with, should he survive.’
‘We’ll manage,’ I said, placing a hand on my brother’s shoulder. ‘It’s about time I brought the food processor out of storage.’
‘There’s no electricity in Lloegyr,’ Peter reminded us quietly.
‘Then I’ll chop his meat up myself.’ James bent his head to the still sleeping gryphon. ‘Come on, Jago. Let’s go upstairs. There’s plenty of room on my bed.’
I sighed. ‘And I’ll go to the supermarket to buy some beef.’ Then I looked at Peter. ‘And you realise something, don’t you? I don’t think the snail sharks are stalking me.’
‘You’re right,’ he said grimly. ‘Looks like it’s me they’re after.’
‘Not only you,’ I pointed out. ‘You and Clyde.’
Chapter Thirteen
A week later, and I was standing in my back garden, a small duffel bag at my feet. Morey had announced two days before, somewhat grandly, that the eyasses could be moved. I sent a rat to the removal firm, but mentioned that James and I had very little to take with us this time. One dragon transport should be sufficient for two humans, a family of gryphons, and a snail shark.
April was turning to May, and the garden was resplendent with flowers. Buttercups and dandelions added a dash of yellow to the green of weeds and grass, and the bushes were covered in a mixture of red and orange. My mother would have known the names of each plant. To me, they were only Green Things Which Must Occasionally be Hacked with a Saw. Was there a Latin name for that?
Clyde rested beside his carry case. I’d had to upgrade to a small cat carrier. ‘You’ll have to be lashed to the dragon’s saddle,’ I told the snail. ‘It’s too long a flight for me to hold you all the way.’
A tendril of yellow wove through his body. ‘How long?’
‘The flight?’ I winced. ‘It’ll be at least an hour. There aren’t any air thin places over Caer-grawnt. We’re being sent a search dragon, but even he or she will have to fly part of it straight.’
Clyde’s tentacles rose, his eyespots studying the blue sky above us. The dark shell pulled back, and he stretched out his wings. I watched him fly up, once again proving that creatures from Lloegyr defied all human understanding of aerodynamics. Then I frowned. The snail had positioned himself near the roof of my vicarage, white feathers cutting through the air as he hovered. His belly split open, revealing his bright teeth. His wings pounded harder, lifting him upwards, jaws still open. After he’d risen around twenty feet Clyde clamped his mouth shut, and dived sideways. Then he rose again, flew forwards, and disappeared.
I blinked at the empty sky. A moment later, the snail was back again. His shell glistened, wet from rain which was not falling in Northampton. As he spiralled back to my feet, I felt my throat close. I must have blinked and missed him. That must be it.
A black shadow stretched across the garden. Raven dropped down, the elegance of his sculpted head and the scars across his right leg marking him out from any other search dragon. His skin shifted between green and black in the bright sun.
I forced myself to stop admiring his beauty. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’
Raven arched his neck. ‘Glorious Penny, how could I permit you to mount a lesser dragon?’
‘Could you check something out for me?’ I asked casually. ‘How many thin places are above my house?’
‘Just the one, as ever.’ Then Raven looked upwards. ‘Actually, no, I sense a second crossing. How interesting.’
Earth and grass flung across the garden as he leapt upwards. I watched him find the area near the roof. Raven hovered for a moment. Then he folded his wings, and dived through.
Clyde hummed to himself as the dragon disappeared. The eyespots came to me, and his body flushed purple. ‘Short cut.’
Raven reappeared, his skin shedding droplets of rain. ‘New thin place,’ he confirmed as he landed. ‘Leads straight through to Caer-grawnt.’
My stomach lurched. Clyde had created a thin place. A flying snail shark could create air thin places. And I knew that I had to bury this knowledge deep, deep down, where even I might be able to forget about it. Who knew what damage could be caused to Lloegyr, to Earth, if anyone else ever discovered Clyde’s talent?
‘That’s wonderful,’ I said with a joy I didn’t feel. ‘It’ll come in very useful when I need to pick up some more loo roll.’
‘It is very strange, though,’ Raven mused.
‘Certainly is,’ I agreed. The fake smile was making my cheeks ache. ‘But who knows how thin places are formed in the sky? Maybe we’ll just thank God for a small miracle.’
Raven merely snorted.
The back door opened. Peter came out first, carrying James’ backpack. My brother was holding a basket. Five small gryphons peered over the edge, chittering with excitement. The occasional English or Welsh word slipped into their noises, and my smile eased into a real one as I heard ‘Dragon’, ‘Clyde’, ‘Mum’, and ‘Dad.’
‘Raven,’ Peter greeted the dragon. ‘I’m glad it’s you taking Penny to Caer-grawnt.’ He walked up to the lowered head. ‘Would you do me a favour? Keep an eye on Penny. Maybe even stay in the town.’
‘Peter!’ I protested.
‘We know something’s going on,’ he reminded me. ‘The snail sharks?’
I couldn’t help a glance at the bushes. ‘They seem to be targeting you and Clyde.’
‘And anybody associated with us,’ Peter said. ‘Your car? The gryphons?’
Raven’s ears pulled back. ‘Penny can look after herself. Or do you not value independence in the woman you plan to wed?’
Peter stepped back to look into the dragon’s eyes. ‘I’m supposed to protect her, but I can’t. Not while she’s in Caer-grawnt, and I’m here in England.’
‘A dragon,’ Raven said scornfully, ‘would never marry someone who wasn’t his equal in the hunt, or in the fight.’
Peter’s hands had curled into fists. ‘Obviously dragons aren’t gentlemen.’
‘Obviously humans don’t encourage self-reliance in their partners.’
‘And it’s getting late,’ I said. ‘Lord Willis is expecting us before nightfall.’
Peter came to my side. His hands warmed on my shoulders as he pulled me close. ‘Just take care, please?’ He kissed me, then pulled me into a hug. I could feel the weight of Raven’s gaze on us both.
<><><><><><>
Light rain fell on my coat as we emerged near the rectory. Raven adjusted the angle of his wings and followed the road down through the town. My hands were full of Clyde’s case, so I could do little more than put my head down to avoid water hitting my eyes. James, sitting behind me on Raven’s neck, muttered something and then assured the eyasses that the weather wasn’t always this unpleasant in Lloegyr.
A blurred impression of wet roofs and damp fields slipped past my gaze. It was a relief when Raven landed in a trot across the front garden of Lord Willis’ mansion. After a quick word with James, my brother handed me the basket of wet eyasses before sliding to the ground. He took the basket and then Clyde’s box before I joined him on th
e grass.
Lord Willis was in the portico, Morey and Taryn standing beside him. At a word from the unicorn, an elf hurried out with an umbrella. James and I huddled together as we hurried over to shelter.
Four young gryphons glided from the basket to land at their parents’ feet. Jago, hindered by the missing feathers in his wings, mewled at James. My brother unzipped his coat and transferred the gryphon to his shirt pocket. Jago turned around inside the material and poked his head out, his wet crest plastered against his head.
‘Welcome back to Caer-grawnt,’ Lord Willis said gravely. ‘Do please come inside. I’ve sent for mulled wine.’ Morey gave him a look. ‘And tea for the young ones.’
We walked into the large entrance hall, hooves and claws clicking against the blue tiles. The warmth was welcome, although I felt a pang of guilt as I remembered the source of the mansion’s heating. A number of servants bustled around us, removing coats, opening Clyde’s container, placing the basket onto a table, collecting our bags. The mug of mulled wine eased the chill in my fingers. I sipped gingerly at the thick liquid, wondering at the spices that cut through the deep velvet of the red wine.
Lord Willis lifted his head, capturing our attention. ‘I’ve had rooms prepared for all of you. Father Penny, I’ve assigned Arwel to attend to you.’
Arwel bent his head towards me. I found myself saying, ‘What, like a house elf?’
‘House elf?’ Lord Willis asked. ‘In Lloegyr, we call them valets.’
‘Black,’ Morey growled from a nearby table, ‘keep it real.’
‘Like you’d know about that,’ James muttered around his mug. Then he marched over to the unicorn. ‘You lot can heal, right?’
‘James,’ I warned, wondering if my brother were hoping to have his heart restored.
‘Because I’ve got someone here who needs your help.’ James drew Jago from his shirt pocket and held him out on his palm. ‘Go on, heal him.’