The Nest of Nessies (Penny White Book 6)

by Chrys Cymri

  ‘I ended up with a group of miners.’ His voice soured. ‘They made me into a beast of burden. I hauled sacks of coal for many years.’

  I laid a hand on his foreleg. ‘I’m sorry. Did they chain you?’

  ‘Not physically.’ His shudder jounced my arm. ‘I was only hours old when I crashed into the dwarves’ camp. They fed me and raised me, and they convinced me that I would never be at home with anything other than dwarves.’

  ‘That’s terrible.’

  ‘When I was several years old, there was an accident in the mine.’ Damian paused to take a deep breath. ‘I was the only survivor. And I didn’t know what to do. So I searched for the nearest group of dwarves, and found myself in Llanbedr.’

  ‘You looked for more dwarves? After all they’d done to you?’

  ‘Dwarves were all I knew,’ Damian said. ‘A puffling is very impressionable just after birth. A dragon never forgets those who first took him in. A vicar in Llanbedr sent for Father Gerald, who brought me to the monastery for my healing. What happened to Raven when he escaped the longhouse?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘I’ve never asked. I wonder if he’d tell me.’

  ‘You’ll never know, unless you ask.’

  Damian pulled away, and I skipped back. He rocked his weight onto his hindquarters and leapt upwards. The down sweep of his wings blew my hair away from my face. And as leaves brushed against my cheeks, I heard the whispered words, ‘Black wings. Come.’

  I whirled, looking for the speaker. But the grounds were empty. And rain was beginning to fall. I zipped up my coat and hurried down the path to the abbey.

  By the time I reached the entrance, I was soaked. I could feel a wet trickle down my back, and my trousers were dark with the runoff from my jacket. The receptionist hurried over and helped me out of my coat. ‘A hot bath,’ she told me. ‘That’s what you need. Do you mind leaving your shoes down here as well?’

  ‘No, that’s fine.’ I pulled off my boots, then hurried up the stairs to my room.

  I unlocked the door and pushed it open. Mark sprang to his feet, and we stared at each other for a moment. Morey was seated on the bed opposite, his tail curled around his feet. I glanced between them. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I’m really sorry, Penny,’ Mark said. ‘We thought you were at the presentation.’

  ‘I'm conducting interviews,’ Morey replied grandly. ‘I have at least three eyasses who might serve as Associates. Mark is the second person who’s expressed an interest.’

  ‘I like Brynmor, I really do,’ Mark said, his face flushed. ‘But it’s not easy living with a full-sized gryphon. And, well, I can see what you have with Morey. I’d like to have a relationship like that.’

  ‘Really?’ I glared at my Associate. ‘It’s not all sweetness and light.’

  ‘She snores,’ Morey told Mark.

  ‘Morey!’

  ‘And never let her drive. Or, if you do, shut your eyes and pretend you’re flying over a nice forest somewhere.’

  ‘Get used to finding dead birds in your back garden,’ I countered, ‘and a large beer bill.’

  ‘And this,’ Mark said sadly, ‘is exactly what I’m missing. It’s so obvious that you’re best friends.’

  ‘I wouldn't be without her,’ Morey agreed. ‘Even when she’s soaking wet and smells of dragon.’ His red-brown eyes warned me that he’d be asking questions later.

  ‘You two carry on,’ I said. ‘I’ll just gather together some dry clothes and nip off to have a bath.’

  Mark’s face reddened further. ‘I’d better go.’

  ‘There’s a gryphon chaperone in the room, and a lock on the bathroom door.’ I did grab my underwear quickly so Mark couldn’t see the dismal state of my smalls. ‘Carry on with the interview.’

  I went into the en-suite. For a while, the splashing noise of water filling the bath drowned out their voices. But as I soaked in the hot water, I listened to Morey grilling the clergyman. ‘So, Mark, you say that you understand the Genesis creation stories metaphorically, not literally. If that’s the case, how do you explain the existence of evil in the world?’

  ‘Yes, I accept evolutionary theory.’ There was a pause, then Mark continued, ‘The way I look at it, as we humans evolved, we had to be selfish in order to survive. We had to kill to survive. Fear and superstition kept our ancestors alive in all sorts of dangerous situations. It’s a form of selfishness, but it had a purpose. I mean, you couldn’t afford to keep an elderly person or a person badly wounded alive, because that food was needed for those who were still fit and could go out to hunt and to gather. Survival of the fittest was what humans needed back then. Problem now is, we’ve not outgrown that selfishness, and it’s destroying us, and our planet now.’

  ‘But is selfishness evil?’

  ‘Will all due respect, I’m not quite sure what this has to do with one of your children becoming my Associate.’

  ‘My children were baptized and, I hope, will take on the Christian faith for themselves. So I want them to be placed with theologically sound individuals.’

  ‘You don’t consider me theologically sound,’ I called out, ‘but we manage to get along.’

  ‘I’m old enough to know better,’ Morey replied. ‘The young are far more persuadable.’

  ‘One can only hope!’ And then I rose from the bathwater, chuckling to myself.

  When I returned to the bedroom, dressed and feeling much warmer, Mark was writing down his contact details. Morey promised to let him know his decision. Mark waved goodbye before shutting the door behind him.

  ‘I like what I’ve seen of Mark,’ I offered as I sat down on the vacated settee. ‘Did you have a particular eyas in mind?’

  ‘Mark has a good mind,’ Morey said grudgingly. ‘He could probably cope with Jago. But I think that son of mine has other plans for his life.’

  ‘All of your children might.’

  ‘Indeed. And Taryn has made it clear that she also wants them to consider careers in the police force.’

  ‘I thought they’d already chosen their careers. That was the reason for the exemplar ceremony.’

  ‘They only spend a year with an exemplar. Then they branch out.’

  I stopped towelling my hair. ‘And what did you do for your year?’

  ‘That’s not important.’

  ‘So, it must be something really embarrassing.’ I studied him. ‘I know. Horticulture. How to raise carrots for your vegetarian offspring.’

  ‘Very funny, Black. What would yours have been?’ He cocked his head. ‘How to use Doctor Who quotes in sermons for maximum annoyance?’

  I grinned. ‘No one had to teach me how to do that. It just comes naturally.’

  A loud knock cut through Morey’s reply. I opened the door to find Mark standing outside, Clyde in his arms. The mixed smell of man-sweat and damp snail was not a pleasant one. ‘Sorry to disturb you,’ Mark said. ‘But the snail was very insistent.’

  ‘Trees,’ Clyde told me urgently. ‘Black wings.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ I said. ‘I’ve heard it too.’

  ‘Calling.’ The snail stretched out orange and green tentacles. ‘Archdruid. Go now.’

  Chapter Eight

  Mention of that particular unicorn made my legs lose strength. I clutched at the door for support. ‘Are you certain, Clyde? How do you know?’

  ‘Know,’ the snail insisted.

  Mark glanced between me and Clyde. ‘I seem to be missing something here, but as it’s nothing to do with me, I guess that’s not important.’

  ‘The Archdruid saved Clyde’s life,’ I said. ‘At my request. So I owe her.’

  ‘Penny promised, rather unwisely, that she’d do anything that unicorn asks.’ Morey flew to my shoulder. ‘If she’s calling for you, you’d better go. It’s not wise to keep a unicorn waiting.’

  ‘But they’re such pure and noble creatures,’ Mark said, allowing me to take Clyde from his arms. ‘Who wouldn’t want to go and see o
ne?’

  I had neither the time nor the energy to explain otherwise. ‘Morey, are you coming?’

  ‘No,’ Clyde answered before the gryphon could speak. ‘Us.’

  That was not what I wanted to hear. ‘I’d rather have Morey too.’

  ‘Not if it’s going to cause issues with the Archdruid.’ The gryphon hopped down to the bed. ‘I’ll stay here. And I’ll let Bishop Nigel know if you’re not back by bedtime.’

  ‘Thanks. I think.’

  ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it.’ Mark walked away, brushing bits of grass from his fleece.

  I collected my still sodden jacket and shoes from reception. The skies, although grey, had decided that enough water had been dumped onto the county for the time being. ‘We’ll need to drive north. The thin place which leads to that herd’s lands is near Earls Barton.’

  ‘Cut.’ Clyde’s belly split open. ‘Crossing.’

  ‘That’ll save a lot of time. Let me find a good place.’ I followed the path to the back of the abbey, gravel crunching underfoot. Perhaps near a fence, so that unwary walkers wouldn’t accidentally stumble over it? ‘You couldn’t somehow fill it with dread and doom, could you, like the thin places which touch the ground? So people would avoid going through?’

  ‘No. Can’t.’

  ‘Stupid question, anyway,’ I added. ‘Since the land ones are created by horrible things like massacres and executions. Can you cut a passage to anywhere, or only to someplace you’ve been?’

  ‘Been first.’ Clyde wriggled, and I put him down on the wet grass.

  ‘But you cut through a passage to the Community’s cave,’ I said. ‘And you’d never been there before, had you?’

  ‘Connection.’

  ‘What connection?’

  ‘Tamar.’ His shell moved, revealing two gleaming scars. ‘Wing.’

  ‘Of course.’ Clyde’s sacrifice of his wings still felt like a wound in my soul. ‘Sadly, all that makes sense.’

  I led the way to a dry-stone wall. A stile on my right gave access to the field of sheep beyond, so there should be no particular reason for anyone to come close to the barrier at this point. I picked a section which was guarded by a large cluster of nettles.

  I glanced around to make sure that no one was in sight. Then I wrapped my hands around Clyde’s shell and lifted him from the ground. Holding him as close to the nettle bed as I dared, I said, ‘Okay, do your thing.’

  As I lowered him from the height of my head towards the ground, his teeth cut at the air. A shimmer marked where snail shark had sliced through reality. I stopped a foot above the ground. Clyde closed his mouth. I moved him to my right arm and, taking a deep breath of the cool air, I stepped through into Lloegyr.

  Dry ground met my feet. I squinted in the bright sunlight. We were at the edge of the unicorns’ forest. A broad meadow stretched off to my left, the long grass studded with blue, white, and yellow flowers. The woods were on my right. I turned and walked forward a few steps, then stopped. From past experience, the Archdruid didn’t like me walking in without permission. ‘Hello? Anyone home?’

  ‘Name,’ Clyde prompted.

  ‘If I must.’ Through gritted teeth, I added, ‘Neciaunim.’

  My senses shifted. I heard the grass giggling around me as a sardonic buttercup made a joke. A spider sang a lullaby to the fly struggling in her web, soothing her prey even as she slipped her fangs into the body. A lizard muttered quadratic equations under his breath as he hurried up a weeping willow. And, deep in the forest, there was a being so full of dark fire that the trees stood still and mute, terrified by her presence.

  ‘Father Penny.’ The Archdruid’s voice shattered the spell. I blinked as the normal world slammed back into place around me. ‘Finally, you come. I have been calling for some time.’

  ‘I came as soon as I knew,’ I retorted. ‘“Black wings.” That’s all I’ve heard. You could’ve sent a rat with a sonnet, if you wanted me sooner.’

  ‘We will not deal with rat kings.’ Her silver-white coat sparkled as she strode closer. ‘We use the trees.’

  ‘Heard trees,’ Clyde confirmed. The blues and greens swirling around his body encouraged me to calm myself in turn.

  ‘The woods will eventually recover,’ Neciaunim said. ‘But you must take her away. Now. I am calling upon the promise which you made to me.’ She raised her head and let out a loud whistle.

  The meadow fell silent. Even the breeze seemed to die. I found myself clutching Clyde for comfort as the ground trembled. The trees swayed, rowan, oaks, and elms thrashing as if in a high wind. Birds scattered from the branches, calling out in terror as they dashed past. A distant howl made my neck prickle.

  A unicorn filly stepped out of the woods. Her skin was dark grey, almost black. Red, orange, and green coloured the twists of her short horn, and the same colours continued in patterns, which striped her neck and swirled down her shoulders and hindquarters. Her short-cropped mane and thin tail were dark green. And two black-feathered wings unfurled from her back.

  ‘Take her,’ said the Archdruid. ‘Far away from here, and never allow her to return.’

  ‘But she’s so young,’ I said. The filly could only be a few months old.

  ‘She is weaned. And her dam now needs to recover from the burden of birthing and nursing her.’

  Despite the fact that the grass seemed to bend away from her orange hooves, I still moved towards the filly. Her green eyes watched me approach, narrowing a little as she glanced at the snail shark in my arms.

  ‘Don’t touch her!’

  I jumped back, startled both by the Archdruid’s voice and her use of a contraction. ‘Why not?’

  The filly folded her wings against her back. ‘Because I can’t control what happens next.’

  ‘Which is why you are to take her away.’

  ‘All right, all right,’ I said, ‘I made a promise, and I’ll keep it. But maybe you can just take a moment to explain what’s going on?’

  Neciaunim’s tail snapped across her back. ‘Very well. All unicorns draw their power from the land. That is how we can heal, and speak to the trees, and encourage grass and flowers to grow. But the land prevents us from taking more than she can afford. The enaid tywyll has no such limit to her abilities. She can drain the land, or indeed any creature, of all its power.’

  Enaid tywyll. It meant ‘black soul.’ I felt the meadow and the woods shudder. ‘Do they eventually recover?’

  ‘Eventually.’

  ‘I don’t mean to do it,’ the filly said unhappily. ‘It just happens.’

  The impulse to hug her was hard to fight. Despite the dark unease swirling around me, I kept thinking of another filly, now long dead. But I dug my toes into the ground. ‘And where am I meant to take her?’

  ‘Anywhere. So long as it is far away from our land.’

  Clyde waved his tentacles at the Archdruid. ‘Name?’

  The filly answered for herself. ‘Afagddu. They call me Afagddu.’

  The snail growled. I glanced down, but he said nothing. So I took a deep breath. ‘Okay, Afagddu. How about I take you to my own country, for the time being? There’s a place which will look after people from Lloegyr, Midlands Safari Park. They’ve taken in unicorns before.’ I decided not to mention how badly that had turned out for the unicorn in question.

  ‘Go well,’ the Archdruid told the filly. ‘You are still of this herd. Remember what we have taught you.’

  Afagddu lowered her head. ‘You don’t want me. That’s what you’ve taught me.’

  ‘So let’s take you away from here,’ I said firmly. Then I glared at Neciaunim. ‘And this means I’ve kept my promise. I don’t owe you anything more.’

  ‘Your pledge has been fulfilled,’ the Archdruid agreed. Then, with a dismissive swish of her tail, she turned and went back into the forest.

  For some reason, I felt guilty, as if I’d witnessed a mugging and had done nothing but stand by and watch. I focussed my attention on the filly. ‘We
’re going to take you through a thin place. Follow us, but make sure you pick up your hooves. The crossing doesn’t go all the way to the ground. Once we’re on the other side, I’ll arrange for transport to take us to the place I mentioned.’ Had I put Sergeant Pike’s number into my iPhone? It’d be awkward to phone Peter and ask for him to send someone else with a car and trailer.

  One problem at a time. Clyde’s tentacles pointed the way to the thin place. Afagddu followed close behind me as I retraced my earlier steps. ‘Up,’ the snail reminded me, and I lifted my foot to step through to England.

  Weak sunshine met us on the other side. I moved to one side, and a moment later Afagddu joined me. ‘Let’s walk away from the wall,’ I said to her. ‘I don’t want you to be stung by those nettles.’

  A blur of purple and blue dived out of the nearby oak. I braced myself as he landed on my shoulder, but Jago’s weight was nothing compared to Morey’s. ‘Where’ve you been?’ the small gryphon demanded by my left ear. ‘Why didn’t you take me? I bet you’ve had an adventure. Without me! And who’s this?’

  Before I could say anything, Jago had lifted off again. Before I could say a word, he had already landed on Afagddu’s dark withers. ‘Hi, I’m Jago, and I used to ride on Uncle Willis like this. What’s your name?’

  The filly turned her head to look at him. ‘You shouldn’t have touched me.’

  ‘Oh, sorry.’ Jago spread his wings and leapt away. To my horror, despite furious flapping, he fell straight down onto the long grass.

  ‘Jago!’ I transferred Clyde to my left arm as I hurried over. The small gryphon righted himself, spluttering out flowers and rude words. I reached down and collected him in my free hand. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘What’s happened, Auntie Penny?’ he demanded, his crest lying flat against his slick neck feathers. ‘I can’t fly!’

  ‘I didn’t mean to do it,’ Afagddu said softly. ‘It just happens.’

  The small gryphon was trembling on my palm. Clyde reached over to touch the small head with his tentacles. ‘It’s only temporary,’ I said, hoping that I wasn’t stretching the truth. ‘You fly by, well, I guess the best word to use is “magic”.’