The Vengeance of Snails

by Chrys Cymri

  ‘Certainly,’ Cornelius said. ‘The Great Leader knows you have many duties.’

  I started forward. Several snails reared up, opening their jaws. A pulse of blue along Clyde’s tentacles made them relax again. I walked up to the slab, and lowered myself onto the rock. ‘You’re staying here, aren’t you?’ I asked him quietly.

  The eyespots studied my face. ‘I’m wanted here,’ Cornelius translated for him.

  ‘Clyde, we want you too.’

  The snail opened his jaws and spoke for himself. ‘No Jesus.’ I needed no interpretation for the black stripes weaving through his body.

  ‘That’s just the Bishop,’ I told him. ‘Not us.’

  ‘Come on, Black,’ Morey said, still balancing carefully on my shoulder. ‘Time to go. You can see Clyde’s happy to be back with his own kind.’

  ‘You’re welcome here any time,’ the mantis assured us. ‘Come back to see the Great Leader’s land.’

  I reached out to rub Clyde’s shell. The General flowed onto the rock, jaws aiming for my hand. I heard Peter shout out, and Raven’s wings rustling. But Clyde calmly backed away whilst at the same time telling the other snail, ‘Lawr!’

  The larger snail shark grumbled, but obediently reversed direction. I carefully brought my hand back to my side. ‘We’ll come back,’ I told Clyde. ‘Later this week.’

  ‘Later.’ And with that he turned and disappeared into the opening behind the slab.

  <><><><><><>

  Raven flew us back out. We travelled much more slowly than his usual pace. The dragon pretended to be admiring the landscape, but I suspected the true reason was some residual cramp in his left wing.

  The sun was setting when we finally landed outside the mansion. I gave Raven some coins so he could visit the bathhouse and give himself a thorough clean. Peter declined the invitation to come inside the mansion, and arranged for Raven to meet him at a tavern when the dragon was ready to transport him back to England. ‘See you Thursday,’ he said, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.

  ‘I never thought to ask,’ I admitted. ‘Can you come back then?’

  ‘I’ll make sure of it.’ He grinned. ‘I’m not missing this tour of the Great Leader’s land. I know you’ll miss Clyde, though.’

  I bit my lip. ‘You don’t think he’ll come back, then?’

  ‘Penny, here with us—well, you know what people think of snail sharks. Here he’s vermin. With his own kind, he’s important. You really expect him to turn that down?’

  ‘I know there’s a lot of prejudice against snail sharks,’ I admitted. ‘But we can work on changing that. Like you changed your mind about Clyde.’

  His face plunged into shadow as he turned away from me. ‘I like Clyde, yes, but I’m still not certain I’d trust him around a baby. No, no, don’t tell me off. They have killer instincts. It’s like trusting a cat with pet bird. No matter how much they seem to get along, one day the cat will act on instinct, and you have a dead bird.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ I slid my hands into my pockets. ‘Because I trust Clyde. I know he has a good heart. And if he’d lived in this town long enough, I think people here would’ve come to know that for themselves.’

  Morey was waiting patiently for me on the mansion’s porch. ‘Do we need to knock?’ I asked as I joined him.

  ‘We live here,’ he said. ‘I should think we let ourselves in.’

  So I pushed at the door, staggering slightly at how easily it opened to allow us into the entrance hall.

  A chaotic scene met our eyes. Young gryphons were swooping around the wide area, soaring down across the length to land briefly onto James’ hands. He would then throw an eyas into the air to once again spread wings and attempt to fly. The larger gryphons, such as Rothgen and Annest, did better at gliding. Gwilym and Eiddwen gained some height themselves by hard flapping, their small wings a blur against the dark walls.

  Jago grasped my brother’s shoulder, head thrown back as he watched his larger siblings. A couple of servants huddled at the edges of the hall, bed sheets held up against their chests as they watched the gryphons rise and fall.

  ‘Stop this at once,’ Morey commanded, flying over to James’ free shoulder. ‘Where’s your mother? She would never have allowed you to disrupt the entire household like this!’

  ‘I gave permission for their flight practice, Father Trahaearneifion.’ Hooves clacked against the tiled floor as Lord Willis strode from the back of the house. ‘It’s not your children’s fault that elves have such an aversion to flying.’

  ‘Wings,’ said one of the elves. ‘Can’t stand the flapping.’

  Rothgen landed on the unicorn’s back. I saw Morey tense, his tail a stiff exclamation point. But Lord Willis calmly turned his head to speak to the gryphon. ‘Young lady, it’s customary to wait for an invitation before mounting a unicorn.’

  The gryphon extended her beak. ‘Ride? Please?’

  ‘Certainly, since you have asked so nicely.’ Lord Willis glanced at Morey. ‘I believe they hunted earlier today. Is it time they went to their room?’

  ‘Time and past time,’ Morey grumbled.

  The unicorn chuckled. ‘My back is broad, should any more children want a lift.’

  ‘Me!’ ‘Me!’ ‘Me!’

  Lord Willis folded his legs, and lowered himself to the ground. Annest, Gwilym, and Eiddwen crawled up his side and settled beside their sister. The unicorn rose to his feet, and made his way up the ramp to the next floor. I winced as I saw pricks of red blood form under the grasp of the gryphons’ sharp claws.

  The servants scuttled off. Morey flew after his children, calling out Taryn’s name. Jago signed something to James. ‘You could’ve ridden him too,’ James responded. ‘Well, yes, I guess your mother might’ve expected you to stay with them. But they are your family.’ Several more motions. My brother’s voice dropped. ‘I would’ve missed you too. But I guess, one day, you’ll have to go. To be with other gryphons. Why? Well, I’m not a gryphon. I’m not a member of your clan.’

  Lord Willis clomped back down the ramp. ‘Their mother is mortified,’ he said cheerfully. ‘She only curled up for a quick nap. She never expected her children to end up terrorising the household.’

  ‘But they weren’t,’ James protested. ‘They were just getting in some flight practice.’

  ‘Which is what I told her.’ The unicorn swept his eyes across us. ‘But where is Master Clyde?’

  James turned towards me. ‘Sis? Didn’t you find him?’

  ‘He’s safe and well,’ I said hurriedly. ‘It seems he’s the Great Leader for, well, at least several hundred snail sharks. He’s stayed behind.’

  ‘Forever?’

  ‘For now.’ I swallowed against a sudden constriction in my throat. ‘But I’m going back on Thursday. Clyde wants to give us a tour.’

  ‘Then I’m going too.’

  ‘But Jago--’

  ‘Can come along too,’ James insisted. ‘It’s not like today, when you thought you’d be rescuing him, is it? This is, well, like a royal visit or something, right?’

  Jago made a noise deep in his chest. He made a few quick motions with his forefeet. James grinned. ‘And Jago says he wants to see Uncle Clyde again. So that’s settled.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Lord Willis said. ‘Dinner will be served in twenty minutes. I suggest we all use the time to prepare ourselves.’

  Suddenly I was acutely aware of my stained clothing and unruly hair. I hurried to remove my dirty shoes and headed upstairs to claim the shared bathroom.

  <><><><><><>

  I had planned to use Sunday afternoon to work on my school assembly. But Clyde’s abduction had prevented that, and I felt too tired after dinner. Which meant that I faced nearly two hundred children early Monday morning without a script or props in hand. The fact that ‘children’ in Caer-grawnt meant a mixture of dragon, unicorns, gryphons, various weres, several vampires, and a scattering of dwarves and elves didn’t change the fact that they ex
pected to be entertained.

  The head teacher introduced me. ‘Father Penny is with us today, and I know she’ll have something wonderful to tell us. Let’s first have our hymn, “How Great is the Father’s Love.” Show Father Penny what great voices you all have!’

  A thought came to me as their voices filled the large hall. The art on the walls might be a mixture of hand drawn and flame created, and the Lord’s Prayer was printed in English and Welsh, but this was still a school. These were youngsters, and surely they would enjoy an interactive story as much as human schoolchildren.

  ‘I’ll need three volunteers for my story today,’ I said once the singing had finished. A mixture of hands, horns, and talons rose into the air. I chose a unicorn colt, a were-badger who was in human form, and a small dragon to come up to the front.

  ‘This is a story Jesus told,’ I explained to the children. ‘There was once a farmer.’ I tapped the unicorn’s shoulder. ‘He had two children, one older, the other younger.’ I tapped the dragon and the were-badger in turn. ‘One day, the younger one said to her father, “Dad, I hate working on the farm. I want half of my inheritance, the money which would come to me when you die, so I can go off and do my own thing.” What do you think the father did?’

  One of the older dragon children growled. ‘Ate her, of course.’

  I coughed. ‘Well, actually, no. The father was very sad, but he gave his daughter half of his money. And she went off to the big city.’

  ‘Llanbedr?’ the were-child asked, her face shimmering between human and badger. I felt my head swim. ‘I’ve always wanted to see Llanbedr.’

  ‘Okay, we’ll say it was Llanbedr,’ I agreed.

  ‘But was it Llanbedr?’ the unicorn colt asked.

  ‘It doesn’t really matter,’ I said. ‘In the story, it was a big city. Exactly which city is unimportant.’

  The unicorn’s tail flicked over his hindquarters, but he kept quiet.

  ‘So the daughter went off to the big city.’ I took the were-badger by the arm and led her down the side of the hall. ‘And there she spent all her money on having exciting parties and buying expensive clothes.’

  ‘Must’ve been winter,’ said the were-badger. ‘I only wear clothes in winter, when I can’t be a badger.’

  ‘Why can’t you be a badger in winter?’ asked one of the small elves near the front.

  ‘I can be a badger in winter, but then I don’t have hands.’

  ‘And,’ I said, trying to regain control, ‘when her money ran out, then all of her city friends left her.’

  ‘Must’ve been dwarves, then,’ muttered a were-squirrel. ‘They’re only interested in gold and stuff.’

  ‘So are dragons,’ a young dwarf piped up.

  ‘Now, children,’ said the headteacher, herself a unicorn. ‘You know we don’t talk like that. What do we call such statements, children?’

  ‘Prejudice,’ the older ones answered.

  ‘And what’s wrong with prejudice?’

  One of the older dragons lifted a forefoot. ‘It stops you from seeing someone as they really are.’

  And this was why I wanted to be in Caer-grawnt. I continued, ‘So the daughter was hungry, and needed food.’

  ‘Couldn’t I just go into the woods and dig up some worms?’ the were-badger asked.

  ‘No woods,’ I said quickly. ‘She had to beg for a job, and she ended up looking after pigs. And she was so hungry, that she would even have eaten what the pigs were given, but no one gave her anything.’

  ‘Why didn’t she eat the pigs?’ one of the gryphons asked.

  The were-badger sniffed. ‘Because pigs aren’t kosher.’

  ‘Precisely,’ I said, wondering if the were came from a Jewish family. ‘So then she thought to herself, “My father’s servants never starve. I’ll go home, and ask to be one of his servants. That would be much better than what I have here.” So she headed home.’ I took the child by the arm and led her back to the front.

  ‘Careful,’ said a dragon. ‘You’re coming home with nothing. He’ll eat you.’

  ‘But the father,’ I said firmly, ‘really missed his daughter. So every day he stood just outside his house, hoping to see her coming back down the road. So when he saw her, can you guess what he did? And, no, he did not eat her.’

  The unicorn colt said, his tone thoughtful, ‘If someone I loved were coming home, I’d gallop out to meet her.’

  I gave the unicorn a smile. ‘Precisely. The father ran out and embraced—well, nuzzled the daughter. He told the servants to bring her new clothes, and to throw a big party to celebrate her coming home.’

  ‘What about me?’ said the young dragon, still standing beside the unicorn. ‘What’s the older one been doing all this time?’

  ‘What do you think?’ Then I answered my own question. ‘He’s been working on the farm all this time.’

  ‘Well, that isn’t fair,’ the dragon said. ‘Why should she get a party, when I’ve been the one working hard?’

  The unicorn was tapping at the floor with a fore hoof. ‘The father was so happy to have her back, he didn’t really think about what was fair.’

  ‘Not only that,’ I continued, ‘but when the older one refused to join the party, the father tried to talk him into it. He told his son, “Everything I have is yours. But we needed to celebrate, because we thought your sister was lost, and dead, but she has come back to us.” What do you think the son did?’

  ‘The clan looks after each other,’ one of the gryphons declared. ‘Doesn’t matter if you’re from the same hatching or not. You look after each other.’

  The were-badger tugged at my arm. ‘What did Jesus say happened to the older one?’

  ‘We don’t know.’ I swept my gaze around the hall. ‘Jesus was saying that all of us do things that are wrong, but God loves us. All God wants is for us to come back to him, and he’ll forgive us.’

  ‘Still say he should’ve eaten her,’ one dragon muttered.

  ‘What a wonderful story,’ the headteacher said. ‘Thank you, Father Penny. Can you all thank Father Penny?’

  ‘Thank you, Father Penny,’ they chanted in unison.

  I gathered up my coat and headed outside. The warmth in my chest had little to do with the bright sunshine. Good things do happen here, I told myself. Dear God, help me enable more good things to happen.

  <><><><><><>

  James and I huddled in the mansion’s porch, waiting for the servants to find us some umbrellas. ‘The weather changes just like back home,’ James grumbled. ‘Yesterday was so nice. Now look at it.’

  ‘Seems right for what we’re doing.’ I zipped up my coat. ‘Dark Satanic mills and all that.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  My fingers itched to pull out my iPhone and look up the reference. When would Lloegyr developed the necessary technology? ‘It comes from a song. “Jerusalem.” You know, the Last Night of the Proms.’

  A noise came from James’ shirt. A bright blue head poked out. Jago tried again. ‘Dark?’

  ‘Careful, Padawan,’ my brother said. ‘Don’t strain your beak.’

  ‘He’s coming with us?’

  James shrugged. ‘He goes pretty much everywhere with me.’

  I frowned. ‘Some of what we’re going to see--isn’t that pretty.’

  ‘You’re talking about someone,’ James reminded me, ‘who’ll be tearing birds apart when he’s up to hunting.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  A dwarf emerged from the rain. Three elves accompanied him, one with an umbrella over his bald head, the other two ready with large black ones for James and me. ‘Erskine,’ I asked, ‘are you giving us the tour?’

  The dwarf gave us a curt nod. ‘Lord Willis, sadly, has other matters which demand his attention. I understand Master James desires the same tour which Father Penny enjoyed?’

  ‘Oh, yes, please,’ James said blandly as I went into a coughing fit. ‘She’s told me so much about it.’

  We plodded th
rough the rain to the pottery factory, where James made appreciative noises about designs. Then we marched through the town to the lumber yard. No one was working outside in the downpour, but the roof over the saw mill allowed the workers inside to carry on. The noise of the metal blades cutting through logs made conversation impossible, so I tapped James on the arm and pointed out the unicorns and dragons pulling the loaded carts. James nodded as he saw where the harnesses had cut through their skin, leaving sores behind.

  Next was the foundry. We stood on the viewing gallery, watching as dragons tipped yellow-white metal into moulds set into the floor. The cup of tea offered to us afterwards washed some of the acrid soot from my throat.

  The rain eased as we approached the textile factory. The building was certainly attractive, the tan bricks around the windows contrasting with the red of the walls. I tensed as we walked inside. Outer beauty, inner ugliness.

  The manager, a unicorn, showed us to the spinning room. She pushed the door open with her nose. James followed close behind. I looked around. Were these the same children I’d seen in my last visit? I recognised the vampire child who was missing two fingers on his left hand, and the were-badger cub who had a twisted foot. The gryphon was a brown eagle-lion mix, but many gryphons were that colour.

  ‘They’re all pretty young,’ James said, speaking loudly to be heard over the sound of the spinning machines.

  ‘They earn food and clothing,’ the unicorn responded. ‘So they aren’t a burden on their families.’

  ‘When do they see their families?’ my brother asked.

  ‘Over the night. And a half day on Sundays.’

  ‘Do your own children work here?’

  The unicorn snorted. ‘Of course not. Mine go to school. They’ll be managers themselves, one day.’

  ‘The invisible children,’ Peter told me. He pulled out his iPhone and started to video the scene.

  ‘What the eye doesn’t see,’ I said, ‘the heart doesn’t grieve over.’