by Chrys Cymri
His red eyes came to me. ‘You be that qasis for town?’
‘I’m a priest, if that’s what you mean.’
Asilraf’s ears flicked. ‘Insha'Allah, rabble will be broken. Where you be going next?’
‘I want an overview,’ Lord Willis said, his voice grim. ‘I’ll be going up the hill, towards the church.’
‘Then you go not alone.’ Asilraf raised his head. ‘Sergeant Llinos! Attend!’ A brown gryphon arrowed down from the sky, landing neatly beside her much larger comrade. ‘You be with these two.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Llinos said sharply.
‘I be going to the unicorn sector,’ Asilraf continued. ‘Pray for us.’
I scoured my brain for what I’d learned in my inter-faith meetings. ‘Salam ou alaikoum.’
‘Saha,’ the gryphon responded. Then he leapt away, his dark wings sweeping down inches from the unicorn’s nose.
Llinos fell in beside us. ‘The fighting is over in this section. We should be safe, so long as we keep away from the streets on the left.’
Unicorn and gryphon walked slowly up the hill. Groups gathered by corners or in streets. The injured were being treated by those who were sometimes simply bleeding less. I bit my lip at the scattered bodies of snails. Shells had been shattered, heads cut off, and bellies ripped apart. One unicorn colt was driving sliver hooves into a long dead snail, snorting as he tore at the grey flesh. The sharp teeth scraped along his legs. Lord Willis stopped beside him, and with a few quiet words managed to lead the youngster away and into the care of a family of dragons.
Every time we passed a street on our left, and heard the shouts and cries of pain, I could feel Lord Willis pause. But he then carried on, taking us up the rise and past the church. Near the crest of the hill, just as the road levelled out near the rectory, he turned around.
The slope wasn’t enough to give us a clear view. It was hard to see over the taller residences to gain a true picture of the damage. ‘Oh, for wings to lift me higher,’ Lord Willis murmured.
‘Do unicorns ever have wings?’ I asked.
‘The birth of a winged unicorn is an ill omen.’ He sighed. ‘But I wonder if one’s been born, and no one’s told me.’
‘I'm afraid most of the force is otherwise engaged,’ Llinos said. ‘A report will have to wait.’
Lord Willis snorted. ‘Fully understood, Sergeant.’
I rubbed my eyes, and looked again. ‘There’s smoke in several quarters.’ Sunlight touched on winged beings rising and falling over a section on our right, bats mingling with the much larger dragons and gryphons. ‘Will Llanbedr send reinforcements?’
‘We all hire our own police.’ Lord Willis stiffened. ‘You might want to have your sword ready, Father Penny.’
That’s when I saw them. A dozen snail sharks raced up the road towards us. Their bodies were nearly as red as the numbers painted on their brown shells. The smallest one was the size of a spaniel, and the largest were half the unicorn’s size. ‘Retreat?’ I suggested.
‘We’d be cut down from behind.’ Lord Willis sounded perfectly calm. ‘I suggest that you dismount, Father Penny. We will fight better side by side.’
‘Three against that lot,’ the gryphon agreed, sounding frighteningly cheerful. ‘This should be a fight worthy of song.’
‘I’d hoped to make a full confession before I met the Lord,’ the unicorn said as I slid from his back. ‘Do you believe in purgatory, Father Penny?’
Metal scraped against leather as I pulled the blade free. ‘Ask me on the other side.’
The snails were only fifty feet away. The sun gleamed on their eyespots. I found myself cursing the bravado which had made me think I belonged on streets filled with such dangerous creatures. I should never have left the mansion.
The snail sharks opened their jaws. Sharp teeth glistened as they raised themselves high on their feet. The sword trembled in my hand.
A roar made me jump back, and I nearly lost my footing on the cobbles. Then Raven was beside me, his hide radiating heat from flame and fury. He roared again. Red and yellow fire blazed from his jaws, engulfing the snails.
They shrieked, and despite the death they had promised, I couldn’t help but feel sickened as their bodies curled into black corpses. Raven swept his head from side to side, expelling flame until even the shells were crumbling into dust.
‘Okay, you can stop now, you can stop,’ I said, placing a hand against his heaving chest. ‘They’re all dead.’
Raven streamed the last of his fire into the air. Then he dropped his head. ‘I hate what that does to my teeth. They won’t feel right for weeks.’
‘Regardless,’ Lord Willis said, ‘we’re grateful you came when you did.’
‘Trahaearneifion sent me.’ Raven turned red-rimmed eyes in my direction. ‘My apologies, courageous Penny.’
I stared at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’ It was amazing how my mother’s training held, even in the most trying circumstances.
‘That I didn’t give you the opportunity to wet your blade in the blood of our enemies.’
‘I forgive you,’ I said weakly.
The gryphon gave him a bow. ‘On behalf of the Caer-grawnt Constabulary, I give you thanks for your timely intervention. Could you give us a report on the state of the town?’
‘I didn’t stop to look.’ Raven paused to give a hacking cough. Smoke wisped from his nostrils.
‘Could you fly me over?’ I asked. ‘So I can have a look and report back?’
‘Certainly. But first put away your blade. I’m not having you lop off my ears.’
I’d not realised that my sword was still clenched in my hand. It took only three attempts to slide it back into the leather scabbard. As I climbed up Raven’s neck, I tried to convince myself that I was not being a coward, that it was really important to check out the town. I wasn’t running away, of course not.
Raven’s take off slammed my back against a spine. I gritted my teeth as he rose sharply into the air. Then we levelled off, his wings spreading wide as he coasted a hundred feet above the town.
At first, all I could see was the destruction. Houses that lacked roofs and doors. Huddles of townspeople gathered in open spaces where they were tending each other’s wounds. The torn-up trees of a small park. Then I blinked, and noticed all the undamaged sections of the town. ‘Raven? Can you see any sort of pattern to the attacks?’
He turned his head towards me. ‘I notice that there’s a lot of fire damage. And snail sharks can’t shoot flame.’
‘I also don’t think they can break a roof.’
‘The weight of a dragon could break through. Or maybe a large gryphon.’
‘And why would snail sharks attack this town? Are they still after Peter and Clyde?’
‘We could ask.’
‘I don’t think they’re in the mood to talk.’
‘A rabble might attack,’ Raven agreed. ‘But not a solitary snail. Not one that’s hiding from the heddlu. Hold on.’
My hands clenched around the spine in front of me. The dragon went into a long, shallow dive. The road we’d been following led to a factory, and I found myself holding my breath as we skimmed over the pointed roof. On the other side was a long yard. It was only as Raven stretched out one foreleg that I saw the small snail shark. The creature was resting on the muddy ground, a bright red ‘73’ painted on the volleyball sized shell. The tentacles rose in alarm as we approached, but before the snail could move, strong dragon talons snapped shut around him.
Raven’s wings pounded as he lifted us over the wall at the far side. A tilt to our right brought a bathhouse into view. A number of large tubs rested outside, metal sides bright in the morning sun. The dragon pulled up above one.
‘Don’t drop the snail!’ I urged. ‘You’ll break his shell!’
A grumble thrummed along Raven’s chest. But he landed onto three feet. The fourth carefully lowered the snail shark into the container.
I slid to the ground. The si
des of the elongated tub nearly reached my shoulders. ‘What’s he doing?’ I asked nervously, wondering if I dared to peer over the edge.
‘Curled up at the bottom. If he tries to attack, I’ll have him for breakfast.’
As Raven had said, the snail shark was hidden in his shell. Or her shell. Thanks to Clyde, I had a tendency to think of snails being male. ‘Look, we don’t plan to hurt you,’ I called down. Then I switched to Welsh, repeating my assurances in Lloegyr’s native tongue. ‘I just want to talk to you.’
Two tentacles emerged. The eyespots looked up at me. ‘Sgwrs?’
‘Yes, sgwrs. Talk.’ I glanced at Raven, then continued in Welsh, ‘I promise, we’ll let you go free afterwards.’
The dragon snorted. ‘Really?’
‘We will,’ I told Raven. ‘Unharmed.’
More snail emerged from the shell. The body was a mixture of orange and yellow. The creature was frightened. I put on a soothing tone. ‘Pam ddaethoch chi i'r dref?’ Why had they come to the town?
‘Arweinydd mawr,’ the snail replied. ‘Lladd yr arweinydd mawr.’
I shivered. They had come to kill Clyde? Why? ‘Pam llad?’
‘Drwg.’ Evil.
‘Clyde’s not evil,’ I said in Welsh. ‘He’s never gone on a rampage through a town. You’re the one who’s acted cruelly.’
The snail shark reared up. Raven let out a warning hiss. But the snail remained in place as he opened his jaws and began to sing. ‘“Nid wy'n gofyn bywyd moethus, aur y byd na'i berlau mân: Gofyn wyf am galon hapus, calon onest, calon lân.”’
‘That’s a hymn,’ I said to Raven. ‘A hymn asking God to give him a pure heart. Why does this snail shark know a hymn?’
The snail had continued to sing, his voice lower and gruffer than Clyde’s clear tenor. I waited until he had finished. Then I pointed out, ‘Nid yw lladd yn rhoi calon lân.’ Killing did not give a pure heart.
‘Rhyddid,’ the snail replied. Freedom. Blues and purples now swirled through his body.
‘Where’s a praying mantis when you need him,’ I grumbled. ‘I’m certain he’s saying more than we can understand.’ I switched back to Welsh. ‘The Great Leader isn’t here anymore. He’s gone back to his own land.’
Raven ran a golden claw down the side of the tub. The screeching sound made my teeth ache. ‘Are you certain you want to let him go?’
The snail retreated to the far side of his prison. ‘Kyrie eleison. Christe eleison. Kyrie eleison.’
‘What on earth is that?’ Raven asked.
My mouth had gone dry. ‘Raven, tip the tub. Let him go.’
‘Why? What did he say?’
‘It’s something we use in church.’ I rubbed my eyes. ‘It means, “Lord have mercy”. He was praying.’
Raven’s growl showed what he thought of that. ‘You attack us,’ he warned the snail in Welsh, ‘and you’ll be roasted in your shell. Prayers or no prayers. I am not a Christian dragon.’
I stood well back as Raven pushed the container onto one side. The snail shark slithered free. For a moment his eyespots twisted to look at me. A ripple of yellow travelled down his tentacles. Then Raven opened his jaws. The snail closed his mouth and zoomed into the nearby bushes.
‘He was praying,’ I said to Raven. ‘And he sang a hymn.’
The dragon turned, presenting his side to me. ‘He could’ve picked that up listening outside your church.’ Then his head cocked. ‘Mount quickly. Trahaearneifion’s calling for you. I believe the attack has moved on to the mansion.’
Chapter Eighteen
I threw myself up Raven’s neck, my fingers gripping deep into his skin as I pulled myself into place. He kicked into the air, right wing clipping the side of the bath house as he fought for elevation. I gripped hard with my knees, feeling the strain along his muscles as he hurtled us towards the mansion.
The wind whipping through my hair brought tears to my eyes. I wiped them clear as the green front garden came into view. Lord Willis pawed the ground near the porch, his staff lined up on either side. Taryn was on his back. Morey and the eyasses waited on the roof. James stood on the far right, his sword drawn and ready.
The snails gathered on the grass, just a few feet off the road. As we flew over the rabble, I made a rough guess that around fifty snail sharks were milling around. Most of them had their mouths shut, and their bodies pulsed with the orange-yellow of indecision.
I leaned forward. ‘Put us down between the snails and the mansion!’
Raven’s growl juddered against my legs. But he neatly pivoted in the air and backwinged into an elegant landing.
The snails stopped moving. They were spread out, grouped together in clusters of five or six. I noticed for the first time that the numbers on many of their shells had been crudely painted. The numerals had none of the crispness of Peter’s work, and as I looked closer, I noted that the same number had been repeated. At least a dozen snails bore a ‘3’ and another five a ‘7’.
Steel snicked against scabbard as I drew my sword. ‘Careful with that,’ Raven growled, his ears and horns suddenly pointing forward.
‘Leave now,’ I told the snails in Welsh. ‘There’s nothing for you here. The Great Leader is gone.’
One large snail slithered away from the others. The ‘43’ on the shell made me blink. Had I seen him, or her, somewhere before? I decided, for the sake of equality, to think of her as being female. Did she have a name?
As she came nearer, I saw that part of the flat side of her shell, just above her foot, was missing. The grey skin looked raw and sore where the jagged edge rubbed against her body.
The snail was the height of a St Bernard, and Raven turned to keep his head facing the creature. ‘Leave now,’ I said again. ‘And no one will follow you.’
The snail halted. Colours chased through her body. The reds made me stiffen. Then browns and greys took over. ‘Arweinydd mawr wedi mynd?’
‘Ydy,’ I affirmed. ‘Nid yw'r arweinydd mawr gyda ni.’ The Great Leader is no longer with us.
‘Rydym wedi eich gweld chi gyda'r cydweithredwr.’
My tired brain was refusing to provide a translation. ‘Raven?’
‘The snail says that you’ve been seen with the collaborator.’
The other snail sharks growled. Swords and pans rattled in response. No doubt, between Raven’s flame and the staffs’ weapons, the snails could be defeated. But I was tired of bloodshed. So I twisted my sword around and slid the blade back into the scabbard. Then I held out my empty hands to the lead snail. ‘Kyrie eleison. Christe eleison. Kyrie eleison.’
A sigh went up from her compatriots. 43’s body went white in shock. ‘Iesu yw’r Arglwydd?’
‘Jesus is Lord,’ I confirmed in Welsh.
At that moment, 73 sped across the grass. He nearly collided with 43, halting mere inches away from the much larger snail. Colours pulsed across their bodies as they conversed. I heard restless movements come from the mansion, and I waved my hands at them, urging the group to hold back.
43 turned to face the other snails. Brown and black slid across her body. I held my breath. Then, with the speed which always amazed me, they left the garden. Only slime trails marked their passage.
‘Quick,’ Tierney shouted out. ‘After them!’
‘No!’ I swivelled in my seat. ‘They decided not to attack. Let them go!’
‘Agreed,’ Lord Willis said. ‘Now that Clyde has gone, there’s no reason for them to remain.’
My legs felt rubbery as I slid to the ground. Raven strode away, and a moment later released pent up flame. Taryn flew up to join her family. Lord Willis dismissed his staff, then paced over to me. ‘Father Penny,’ he said, his voice pitched low to reach my ears alone. ‘It would be wise for Clyde to stay on his own land.’
‘I was hoping he might return,’ I admitted.
‘Any snail shark is going to find a poor reception here.’
‘But Clyde didn’t attack the town.’
Lord Willis si
ghed. ‘Those who have lost homes or family to the attacks won’t differentiate.’
My fingers curled into my palms. ‘I hate prejudice.’
‘Certainly. When it affects your friends. And otherwise?’
I felt my face flush as he strode back to the mansion.
Raven stomped back to my side. ‘Time and past time for me to collect your paramour.’
‘My fiancé,’ I corrected him. Then I glanced up at the sun. ‘We’re late. Clyde was expecting us hours ago.’
‘Then I won’t tarry. Stay ready.’
‘But the townspeople--’
Raven was already high above me. I watched him disappear. Well, whatever I did next, I needed a wash. My entire body cried out for a shower. Pity unicorns had never thought to install such a convenience in a home. I hurried up to my room, determined to at least do a quick bit of freshening up.
Clean clothes rested on my bed. A bit of effort with a cloth and water, and I felt I was on the verge of being presentable. I pulled on fresh trousers. For a moment, my hand rested on my sword. No, this was a meeting with a friend, not a rescue operation. I carefully placed the blade on the bed and pulled on my coat instead.
James was waiting on the landing. ‘How bad is it?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘I did see lots of people injured. I’m about to go look for Lord Willis.’
Jago clung to my brother’s shoulder, the small body fitting neatly under James’ right ear. His beak opened, and he asked slowly, ‘Uncle Clyde?’
‘We’re supposed to see him today,’ I admitted. ‘But with this attack...’
Morey swooped from the gyphons’ room and landed on James’ free shoulder. ‘We might want to spend some time away from the town. Word will spread that the snail sharks came looking for Clyde, and they know we’re the ones who brought him here.’
‘They can’t blame us for the attack,’ James protested. ‘We had no idea that might happen.’
‘I’ll speak to Lord Willis.’ I found my shoulders hunching at the thought. ‘I’ll see what he thinks.’
A quick question to one of the servants downstairs sent me outside. I paused on the porch. Raven had returned. Peter stood at the dragon’s side, and was in deep conversation with Lord Willis. I hurried over, hoping they’d not had much time together.