The Vengeance of Snails (Penny White Book 4)

by Chrys Cymri

  ‘A new tale of martyrdom will be created.’ The mantis waved antennae at me and drawled, ‘You ought to be as happy as a dead pig in sunshine. This means the Great Leader won’t have to kill you.’

  ‘Oh happy days indeed,’ I muttered.

  ‘Seems taking vengeance on a human doesn’t hold a candle to killing a dragon or a bear. No offence meant, ma’am.’

  ‘None taken. So what’s it to be instead?’

  ‘They haven’t decided yet.’ One of the new arrivals moved towards me. ‘For now, you’re to be taken to join the rest of your group.’

  ‘Your grŵp rhyfelwyr, and your friend Raven,’ I told Clyde. ‘Please don’t forget that.’

  But his only response was a flash of red and brown. I turned and allowed the snail soldier to lead me away from the cave.

  We turned down a series of passageways and caverns. If it had been the intention of my guards to disorientate me, they utterly succeeded. By the time I was shown into the small cave where my companions waited, I was both confused and in need of ibuprofen.

  ‘Headache,’ I said after pats and hugs had assured them that I was unharmed. I dug around in my pockets for the small packet I usually carried. ‘Where’s Raven?’

  ‘There’s no way he could have gotten down here,’ James told me. ‘Come on, even you must’ve found it a tight squeeze.’

  There were two tablets left in the plastic packet. ‘I wasn’t paying that much attention. Again, I say, headache.’

  ‘Not surprising,’ Morey said. He flew up to Peter’s shoulder. ‘We’ve all been exposed to psychotropic compounds during the Ceremony. I suggest the snails ingested the necessary plants beforehand, and the scent from their secretions affected us. You and Raven above all.’

  ‘Drugs?’ I asked numbly. ‘We’ve been exposed to drugs?’

  ‘Hey, Sis,’ James said, ‘just say no.’

  ‘It’s not like I had a choice.’ I stared down at the red tablets in my hands. ‘So I probably shouldn’t take these. Just in case they react with whatever we inhaled.’

  Peter nodded. ‘Put them away for now.’

  I slipped pills and packet back into my pocket. ‘So we don’t know where Raven is?’

  ‘Nope. But we still have five musketeers.’ James tapped on his shirt pocket. A blue head emerged, and Jago looked around the cave before yawning and dropping back down again.

  ‘A snail shark brought him,’ Morey said. ‘I’ll say this, he’s been well looked after.’

  ‘And on that note, supplies.’ Peter pulled out a half empty water bottle from a coat pocket. ‘I have this and two packets of biscuits. Anyone else?’

  ‘Don’t look at me,’ Morey said. ‘No pockets.’

  ‘Some mints,’ James said. ‘Two packets of sugar. And some condoms.’

  ‘Edible items,’ I snapped.

  ‘Go easy on the lad,’ Morey said as James stomped off to the far wall. ‘I think the compounds are still affecting him.’

  I grimaced. ‘It’s hard to tell the difference. Okay, I have a cereal bar, and a small bottle of water. And, well, a hip flask. With some Talisker.’

  ‘We’ll save that for medicinal purposes,’ Peter said. ‘So maybe a wee dram later tonight to help us sleep.’

  ‘They’re not going to keep us that long, are they?’ James asked. ‘I mean, Pen, you talked to Clyde, didn’t you?’

  ‘It looks like the Great Leader won’t have to kill me.’ I lowered myself to the hard floor. At least it was dry. ‘So that’s all good.’

  ‘Not much merit in killing a human,’ Morey said drily. ‘Pales besides dragons and bears.’

  James came over and took a seat. ‘So what do you think they’ll do instead?’

  Peter looked down at us. ‘Make something up. Something even more spectacular than dragons or bears. Maybe an entire flight of dragons. Fought on a glacier. During an earthquake. With his tentacles tied behind his shell.’

  Despite my throbbing head, I was still tempted to pull out the hipflask. ‘You really think that’s what the Nation will do?’

  ‘That’s what all totalitarian states do.’ Peter lowered himself down next to me. ‘They write fiction which glorifies their leaders, and present it as history. Birth stories which make it clear that the heavens marked this special arrival, childhoods full of early wisdom, and courage which takes his elders by surprise. Then there will be the early setbacks, and betrayals, but the heroic leader rises above all hurdles because he loves his people.’

  James looked over at me. ‘Sounds like he’s describing Jesus.’

  ‘God in Christ subverted that story,’ Morey said. ‘Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a humble donkey, not a prancing stallion. And he chose to be crucified, rather than claim power for himself. Christ’s throne was a cross.’

  ‘I was thinking of more recent examples.’ Peter touched my arm reassuringly. ‘You know me, Penny. I don’t mock the Christian faith.’

  I studied him. ‘But you seem to have pretty strong feelings about the Nation.’

  ‘I don’t like bullies. That’s why I became a police officer, to protect the vunerable.’ Peter shook his head. ‘This place reminds me of all the nastiest societies we’ve seen on Earth. They even have that cult of personality thing. Hitler, Stalin, Idi Amin, Pol Pot. The list goes on.’

  ‘Clyde isn’t like any of them,’ I said. ‘He won’t let this carry on. He’ll see it’s wrong, and make it stop.’

  ‘Really?’ Peter gave me a sad smile. ‘The way he’s treated here? You actually think he’d want to change all this? Why would he want to give it all up?’

  I wanted to say, For us, but the answer sounded so weak. Particularly now that Clyde knew I’d killed his mother.

  We shared around a small amount of our food and water. James took himself off to the far end of the cave, and we all politely pretended not to notice the sounds of liquid splashing against wall. Or the acrid smell which then wafted across our nostrils. I wondered how long it would be before I’d be asking the men to turn their backs while I visited the same area.

  My headache finally started to ease. James and Jago practised sign language, Peter was writing in his notebook, and Morey was curled up, napping. I was tempted to join him.

  ‘Please remove your posteriors, good snails,’ a crisp voice said in Welsh. The two snails blocking the cave entrance slid aside. Cornelius strode into the cave. ‘Glad to see that young Jago was returned to you.’

  We all stumbled to our feet. Jago crawled across James’ chest and dropped into his pocket. Morey glanced at me, but opted to fly onto Peter’s shoulder. I wiped my hands on my trousers and glared at the insect. ‘What does the Great Leader want now?’

  ‘Time y’all were out of here.’ The triangular head cocked. ‘Come with me.’

  Peter braced his legs. ‘Not until we know what’s happening next.’

  ‘Sir, I’m to take you outside and away from here. There’s a special meeting for y’all. On my honour, this is for your safety.’

  ‘“Come with me if you want to live”,’ James quoted, voice gruff and low. ‘You don’t much look like a Terminator.’

  The long forelegs opened, revealing the jagged spines which lined the interior. ‘I’ve taken down a rattlesnake in my time, young sir. Now, do you want to mess around, or do you want to live?’

  ‘Clyde told you to do this, didn’t he?’ I asked. The insect’s compound eyes slid away from mine. ‘Okay, let’s go with Arnie.’ At any rate, once we were outside, we’d have a much better chance to escape.

  Quick glances assured me that the others had had the same thought. So we followed the mantis from the cave. The two guard snails snarled, but at a sharp word from Cornelius, they backed off. The praying mantis swaggered away. I squinted, and for a moment I did find myself reminded of Arnold Schwarzenegger.

  Now that my head was nearly clear, I realised that James had been right about the passageways. Although lower sections had been widened to allow snails through, this was of l
ittle help to the average sized human. Or even one like me, who had less height and more weight than I would have liked.

  James said, after a short while, ‘I don’t think this is the way we came.’ He was in the front, the men having decided that I needed protection. Once my head was fully back to normal, I would be making the necessary cutting remarks.

  ‘How can you tell?’ Peter asked from behind me. ‘All these corridors look the same to me.’

  The traditional Doctor Who comment made me smile. ‘I hope you’re not lost, Cornelius,’ I called ahead.

  ‘No, ma’am. This here’s the scenic route.’

  Cleaner air and greater brightness promised a chamber ahead. James paused at the entrance, and I nearly bumped into him. I tapped him on the shoulder and he moved to one side. Then it was my turn to halt, jaw dropping, as I stared at the scene before us.

  The chamber was oblong, and the whole downstairs of my four bedroom house could have easily fitted inside. The largest glow-worms I’d ever seen flooded the area with light. The entire floor was lined with fresh grass and moss. One area was slightly raised, and the mixture of herbs covering the platform made me wonder if it were a bed. On our right, one pen was filled with lemmings. A series of cages sat alongside the pen, and various types of birds fluttered inside. Dinners for a snail shark, I realised.

  Peter was pressing at my back. I stepped further inside, my shoes squelching on the damp vegetation. Between the pungent herbs and the green moss, the chamber had a clean smell which made me long to be back outside. I’d seen enough of caves for a lifetime.

  ‘What’re those?’ James pointed at the smooth walls. Intricate carvings depicted men in armour holding up shields and swords to fight off menacing snails. The combatants seemed to be standing on branches or in gardens.

  ‘There were a number of snail shark invasions during the 13th and 14th centuries,’ Peter said. ‘Knights had special training to fight them. You can find drawings like those on manuscripts in the British Library.’

  ‘This is the Great Leader’s chamber,’ Cornelius said, his voice low. ‘Please bow to the Eternal Leaders.’

  Engravings of Clyde’s forebears took pride of place over the bed. I obeyed, as did Peter and James. Morey, I saw, most resolutely did not. Jago merely watched from his pocket. His eyes came to me, and I was certain that I read disapproval in the raised feathers around his beak.

  We walked along the right wall to the exit beyond the cages. I turned my head away from the panicked birds. As much as I wanted to free them, I knew that I didn’t dare. Their release could bring attention to us.

  ‘Quite a change from a terrarium,’ Peter said to me. ‘Or a dog run. Hardly compares to his life in England.’ He squeezed my shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Penny, I know how much you hope he might change things around here. But look at all this. He’s living the life of Riley.’

  I gave the cavern one last glance before following James into the passageway. There was no way I could have offered Clyde a daily change of herbs and moss. Nor would I have coped with trapping birds in order to satisfy his appetite. Peter was right. The life I had given Clyde was far below that which the Nation now provided.

  The ground fell sharply. We splashed through a series of puddles, and I sighed inwardly as my socks dampened. Then the floor rose sharply. As we approached the next cave, natural light trickled down the passageway and water dripped on my head.

  The cave floor was a mire of mud and vegetation. The roof had crumbled away, and my eyes ached as I finally looked at open sky. The clean smell of grass after rain made me take deep, refreshing breaths.

  A ramp of roughly lashed branches ran from the floor to one end of the opening. Cornelius flew over and then ran up its length, calling back to us, ‘Don’t y’all come up until I’m back.’

  ‘Any ideas,’ James asked, ‘how we’re supposed to follow him without getting absolutely covered in mud?’

  ‘Fly!’ declared Jago, his head peering out of the shirt pocket.

  ‘Fine for you, kiddo, but some of us aren’t born with wings.’

  The gryphon’s crest flattened. ‘Sad.’

  The mantis dropped back down, landing carefully on a dry patch of ground. ‘Good. The ground is clear. Y’all can climb out.’

  There was no choice. I picked my way across the floor, trying in vain to find parts of floor which didn’t threaten to suck my boots from my feet. By the time I made it to the ramp, mud coated my trousers up to the knees. Nor was the climb much better. The wood was slippery, and I bent over low as my fingers scrabbled for handholds. By the time I crawled out onto the moor, my coat sleeves were wet with slime.

  The angle of the sun told me it was late afternoon. That explained the ache in my stomach. I turned and offered a helping hand to James, and then he in turn gave Peter a pull. Morey merely flew out, landing on the rock slab nearby.

  ‘We’re inside the stone circle,’ Peter noted.

  I nodded. ‘This must be how Clyde accesses his chamber.’

  James was wiping his hands on the moss. ‘Handy for popping in and out when you want some ancestor worship.’

  Jago crawled up to James’ shoulder, then told him, ‘No bowing to graven images.’

  ‘He’s definitely your son,’ my brother said to Morey. ‘Longest sentence he’s come up with so far, and it’s the ruddy Ten Commandments.’

  ‘You might try paying more attention to them yourself.’

  ‘And we’re back,’ I said wearily. ‘Where’s this meeting taking place, Cornelius? Is Clyde coming here?’

  ‘We need to stretch our legs,’ the mantis said. Sunlight sparkled on his large green eyes as he turned his head. ‘This way.’

  ‘And what about Raven?’ I continued. ‘When is he joining us?’

  ‘Later. He can’t come out the same way. Time is moving on, folks.’

  I coughed. ‘Yes, well, give me a few minutes.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Peter said. ‘Plenty of bushes just down the hill. Boys left, girl right?’

  Cornelius clicked his forelegs, but said nothing as we trudged off in our different directions. ‘I’m reminded why I hated camping,’ James said when we’d reconvened.

  ‘You loved camping,’ I protested.

  ‘I only pretended because you and Alan were so keen.’

  ‘But we only went because of you.’

  ‘Humans,’ Cornelius grumbled as he set off. ‘Worse than two cats tail-tied and dumped in a sack.’

  We headed north. The sun dried the mud on my clothing as I followed behind the insect. Morey had once again decided to ride on Peter’s shoulder. The initial delight at being out in the fresh air soon wore off. Gorse bushes snagged at my trousers and my mouth started to dry. We were slowly angling downhill, which made for easier but also more treacherous walking on the uneven ground. I concentrated on my footing, and kept my grumbling internal.

  The welcome sound of trickling water gave fresh energy to my legs. The small stream was surrounded by bog. Peter took the plastic bottles and eased himself to and from the water supply. We all took several swigs. The liquid was slightly musty in flavour, and I hoped our digestive systems wouldn’t suffer later.

  ‘It’s getting dark,’ Peter said to Cornelius as the mantis set off again. ‘And I’m beginning to wonder why Clyde would have flown this far. Why exactly are we out here?’

  ‘For a meeting, sir, as I promised.’

  The mantis disappeared over a small rise. I gritted my teeth and willed strength into my aching calf muscles. Gorse bushes lined the path, and I bit back a curse as I pushed my way through.

  There was a small hollow on the other side. Cornelius waited in the centre. My feet rejoiced in the flatter ground. I stopped beside the mantis, and a moment later the two men had joined me. Even Peter was breathing heavily, I noted with some satisfaction.

  ‘It is much further?’ James asked.

  ‘No farther. We’re here.’

  All around us, soil was heaved up and thrown as
ide. Snails poured from their hiding places, their jaws open as they filled the hollow. Red numbers stood out against their brown shells.

  ‘Yes, a meeting,’ Cornelius said. ‘But I never said it’d be with the Great Leader.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  One snail detached herself from the rabble. 43 slid up to my boots, her head the same height as my chest. Her eyespots hovered only a foot below my chin. ‘Kyrie eleison?’ I suggested weakly.

  Cornelius stepped to my side. ‘Dyma’r y rhyfelwr mawr a ddinistriodd yr Arweinydd Aruchel.’

  Purples and reds chased through the snail sharks’ bodies. Then they reared up on their feet and burst into song. ‘“Crist a orchfygodd fore’r trydydd dydd, cododd ein Gwaredwr, daeth o’r rhwymau’n rhydd.”’

  ‘Penny?’ Peter asked. ‘Translation?’

  ‘Cornelius told them I’m the great warrior who killed the Noble Leader.’ I brushed at my filthy trousers, wishing I looked the part. ‘And that’s the Welsh version of “Thine be the glory, rising conquering Son”.’

  The song finally trailed away. 43 moved back. Jaws closed, and snail bodies settled into calmer colours of green and blue. ‘Welcome to the Community,’ Cornelius translated as purple and yellow travelled along 43’s tentacles. ‘We’re very pleased to have you here.’

  Peter took a step towards the mantis. ‘Cornelius. Does this mean you’ve always been working for the rebels?’

  ‘Takes two to fight, sir. I’ve always kept lines open with both groups. I’m fixing to be on the winning side.’ The forelegs clicked. ‘Just at this here moment, I reckon the rebels have the stronger foreleg. And I knew they’d be grinning like a possum eating a sweet tater if I brought them the Noble Leader’s killer.’

  ‘How very mercenary of you,’ I said, fighting back the impulse to slap the insect’s antennae.

  ‘I have to look out for myself,’ he replied. ‘The insects here are no bigger than a minnow in a fishing pond, and the winters are cold enough to freeze the wings off a bee.’

  ‘Friends,’ Jago announced. He leaned down from James’ shoulder, crest feathers catching the last light from the setting sun. ‘They say friends.’