Raven's Flight

by Chrys Cymri

  The fish turned and tried to swim towards the open water. Raven pumped his wings to bring himself just ahead of them. Although it slowed his flight, he extended his claws into the water as a warning. Water sprayed up towards his jaws, and he tasted salt.

  The shoal changed direction. Tyra was ready for them, slapping a wing tip into the water to force them back into the shallows. Two managed to break away, and she let them go. Five still clung together, their bodies glistening like silver as they sped through the water, hemmed in by dragon and rock.

  Raven pulled his feet free and twisted in the air. Tyra dipped her own claws in and out of the water, forcing the fish into one of the narrow water channels. Raven dropped down to block the way to a large pool, which would have given access to the ocean. One of their prey managed to dart past his legs and escape.

  Four left. The water level was dropping as the rocks rose from the sea. As if sensing that continuing on would be certain death, the fish tried to leap free. Tyra snapped her head down, teeth flashing in the bright sunlight. She caught one by the tail, and threw it up onto the beach.

  Raven nearly folded himself in half to sink his jaws into another fish. It struggled, filling his mouth with scales and blood. The last two landed on the rocks. Tyra flicked one onto the sand, but the other flopped into the surf and was gone.

  With a determined crunch, Raven ended the life of the fish in his jaws. He flew to the beach. Tyra bit into the head of the other two. And then they ate. The thick flesh reminded him of his meals with the merpeople, and he decided to visit them soon.

  Afterwards, they plunged into the waves to remove the traces of fish from their muzzles and claws. The water was warm, and Raven enjoyed the feel of the waves rising and falling against his ribs.

  ‘Do you often hunt on your own?’ he asked Tyra as they walked back up the beach.

  ‘I wasn’t hunting on my own,’ she pointed out. There was a light note in her voice that he had never heard before. ‘I was hunting with you.’

  ‘What I meant was, don’t you usually hunt with the group?’

  She halted, and swung her body around. As she was further up the shore than him, their eyes were nearly level. ‘Sometimes the group isn’t welcome.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Tyra brought her head close. ‘Sometimes a draka wants a drake all to herself. Fly with me, Hrafn.’

  Raven stared at her. ‘Do you want to go back to the settlement already?’

  ‘No.’ She moved closer, her teeth nibbling gently along his neck. ‘Fly with me, Hrafn. You know what I mean. Catch me in the sky.’

  And then, suddenly, he did. Raven stumbled away, soft sand giving way under his frantic feet. The fish curdled in his stomach, and for a moment he thought he might bring up his meal. ‘I don’t want to fly with you, Tyra.’

  She stared at him, ears and horns pulled flat against her head. ‘Any drake would be honoured to fly with me, Hrafn Eydisson. Privileged.’

  Raven could only repeat, ‘I don’t want to fly with you.’

  Tyra snorted. Then her body relaxed. ‘You’re a young drake. I’ll give you time to realise your mistake. And to want to rectify it.’

  Sand scattered as she launched herself into the air. Raven watched her rise into the blue sky, then disappear as she passed through the crossing place. She had sounded certain of herself. But he was positive that he had no interest in flying her, or any other dragon.

  Raven unfurled his wings. The wounds left by his mother were now just faint scars. He studied the marks for a moment. Just a year ago he had been a puffling, fleeing to safety. Now he had a place to live, a craft he enjoyed and which was financially rewarding, and other dragons as hunting and drinking partners. The years which stretched ahead of him were full of promise.

  The small creatures gathering around the fish carcasses started at his cheerful laughter. Raven took a deep breath and kicked himself away from the beach. Time to go home.

  <><><><><><>

  ‘And this is the twenty-year-old whisky,’ Hreinalög said. The small dragon, more black than green, walked past the copper still set in the centre of the tent. Raven accepted the small mug, holding the porcelain sides carefully between his claws. ‘Don’t spill any, there’s not much left from that year.’

  Raven took a sniff, then handed it down to the black rat hovering by his feet. ‘Will this do, Halsey?’

  The rat folded her wings and leaned over to lower her snout into the amber liquid. ‘Oh, yes, that’ll do nicely.’

  ‘How many years have you lived here, Hrafn?’ Hreinalög asked. ‘And only now do you darken my tent?’

  ‘I can’t remember how long,’ Raven said slowly.

  Halsey looked up. ‘Sixty-eight years.’

  Raven arched his neck. ‘Still in my prime. And why do you know how long I’ve lived here?’

  ‘Because you said you were a year old, the first time you paid a rat messenger.’ Halsey paused to wipe liquid from her whiskers. ‘The rat kings like to store information about our clients. Helps us to provide a more personal service.’

  ‘Hrafn is welcome here any time,’ Hreinalög said. ‘So I’ve said at many a merchant day when we’ve compared our takings. But perhaps my whisky can’t be properly appreciated by such a young worm.’

  Raven chuckled. ‘I leave drinking to old serpents like you. You’ve cost me several galleons, Halsey. Maybe now you’ll share your news?’

  The rat hiccupped. ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to deliver it in verse.’

  ‘Straight prose will do.’

  ‘Your cousin, Endre.’ Halsey dipped her head and slurped more whisky. ‘He found himself a human woman.’

  ‘The family was already unhappy that he’d become a Christian,’ Raven told Hreinalög. ‘He left the longhouse and moved in with other dragons who follow that God.’

  Hreinalög used a foreclaw to push red-rimmed eyeglasses back up his snout. ‘Nothing wrong with Christians. They’re my best customers.’

  ‘That’s not a view which my family shares.’ Raven grinned. ‘I’ve managed to visit my mother’s longhouse several times and come out alive. But she might decide to eat me after all if I took on the humans’ religion.’

  The rat gave them a solemn look. ‘My sorrow for your sorrow, but Endre is dead.’

  ‘Can’t say I knew him well. He was only a distant cousin.’

  ‘And he asked to be buried.’

  ‘That won’t happen,’ Hreinalög declared. ‘His family have the right to his body.’

  ‘The Christian monks,’ Halsey said, ‘demand that he be buried. Whole.’

  ‘What, eat none of him?’ Raven asked, appalled. ‘You said that they’re dragons. How could they deny his family their rights?’

  ‘And this is the interesting part.’ The rat giggled. ‘A human has been called in, someone called Penny White. The hope is that she can negotiate a compromise.’

  ‘A human?’ Hreinalög’s tail slapped the ground. ‘What does a human know of dragon customs?’

  Raven cocked his head. ‘This Penny White sounds intriguing.’

  Hreinalög coughed, and waddled to the barrels lining the back of the tent. ‘You said that about the last woman. And the one before that. They didn’t respond well to your interest, I seem to recall.’

  ‘It’s not easy with humans,’ Raven grumbled. ‘Most of them can’t see me, not until I touch them. And then there’s screaming, and crying, and sometimes terrible smells. Hard to build any sort of relationship after all that.’

  ‘Humans call it “the Sight”,’ Halsey said. ‘They can’t see people from Lloegyr unless we bump into them.’

  The small dragon brought over another mug. ‘This is the seven-year-old. Extra peaty. If you like it, maybe you can tell your rat king. I can arrange shipping.’

  ‘Will do.’ Halsey took a few mouthfuls. ‘The meeting’s been arranged. Matriarch Bodil and Abbot Gerald will be attending, along with some of their supporters. And it’s happening in Engl
and. Tomorrow, 10am their time.’

  ‘I’ll be there.’ Raven grinned. ‘Finish up, rat. I’ll take you back to Llanbedr. And then I’m going to finish my new torc. I was looking for a good reason for its first outing.’

  <><><><><><>

  Bodil was easy to find. His senses were attuned to members of his family, even if the blood relationship were distant. But the crossing place was a land-based one, and located in a chamber under a large stone building. Raven flew to the town, convinced the elf guard that he was attending the meeting as a distant cousin, and climbed down the ramp to the crypt.

  Only rarely did he use land crossings. As ever, the darkness which swirled around his shoulders was unpleasant. Raven gritted his teeth as he pushed through, ignoring the distant screams and the ghostly knife that slid past his back.

  A strange metal box waited for him on the other side, a human male in dark clothes standing inside. ‘I was told you were coming through,’ he explained. ‘This is a lift. Just come inside, and I’ll take you up to the second floor.’

  The moving platform was disorientating, but at least the journey was brief. The man led him down a short passageway. ‘I think they’re in full flow,’ he whispered to Raven. ‘How about you go into this room until they take a break? You should be able to hear what’s going on.’

  The door shut behind him. Raven turned around, placing the window at his back, and cocked his ears at the thin partition. A moment later, the windows rattled at the sound of Matriarch Bodil’s shout. ‘Why should I let these lizards have any part of my son?’

  A human woman’s voice responded calmly, ‘Because your son clearly chose to become a Christian, and to join the Order of Saint Thomas. If you truly want to honour him, then you should honour his wishes.’

  An older male dragon spoke. ‘‘Exactly. So why should we permit any part of him to be eaten?’

  ‘Because a person still belongs to his or her culture,’ the woman replied. ‘The Gospel remains the same, but the way in which the Christian faith is expressed changes from culture to culture. The church does not insist on all parts of a person being buried, which is how we have relics. It’s quite possible that Dominic might have expected to share at least part of his bodily self with his family after he died.’

  ‘We want all of him,’ another dragon growled.

  ‘As do we,’ said another.

  ‘And so we have to compromise,’ the human responded. ‘Or do we take this to the harpies?’

  Raven grinned, entranced. This human knew exactly how to deal with dragons. Was this the Penny White the rat had mentioned?

  After a long silence, Bodil said, ‘The wings and two legs.’

  ‘Not the wings,’ the older dragon said. ‘The wings remind us of our constant need to be supported by the Holy Spirit. One leg and the tail.’

  She had done it. Penny White had negotiated two sets of dragons into a truce. Raven wondered what she looked like. Could he arrange to meet her? So long as she wasn’t blonde, he could be very interested.

  The door was suddenly flung open, and the woman stepped into the room. Penny had long brown hair, green eyes, and showed no fear as she glared at him. Raven felt his heart first slow, then quicken. ‘Oops,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Caught.’

  The woman simply stared at him. Raven realised that the room was filling with the scent of an excited drake. So he sat back on his haunches and nibbled at a golden claw. ‘Hrafn Eydisson.’

  The sound of Penny’s heart beat thrilled his ears. ‘And what are you doing here, Hraffn--?’

  Something turned inside of him, as if a door long held shut were opening again. Forcing himself to sound nonchalant, he said, ‘Translates to Raven in English, if that’s easier for you.’ Then he quickly added, ‘It’s not often a human is called in to mediate between dragons. I was curious. And Endre was a second cousin. Or something.’ He yawned. ‘Genealogy bores me. Although you were magnificent. I do like strong females.’

  To his delight, her face flushed. ‘Do the family know that you’re here?’

  ‘No. I'm not exactly their favourite dragon.’

  ‘And why is that?’

  ‘There are reasons. All of them quite justified.’

  ‘That sounds very honest.’

  ‘Lying bores me.’

  Penny’s eyes dropped to his chest. Raven was pleased that he’d finished his torc. The obsidian had been a challenge to carve, but he knew it emphasised the black which edged his green scales. She cleared her throat. ‘Which do you think is in the right, the family or the brothers?’

  ‘Both. Neither. Who cares?’ Raven lifted his wings in a shrug. ‘Endre’s dead. What happens to his body doesn’t matter.’

  ‘You find that boring as well?’

  Her own scent, a mixture of sweat and flowers, tangled his thoughts. He turned his head to look out of the window. ‘Quite right.’

  ‘Is there anything you don’t find boring?’

  Raven rose to his feet. Penny held still as he paced towards her. ‘Yes. And it’s something Endre and I had in common.’ He exhaled across her face. ‘Can you guess what that is?’

  Penny swallowed noisily. Then she said, ‘I have to get back to the negotiations.’

  Her legs looked unsteady as she walked away. Raven waited until the door was shut. Then he sat down again, his own body feeling weak. He longed to hear her call him ‘Raven.’ And he could hardly wait to feel her clinging close to his neck when he took her on their first flight.

  ###########

  Was this your first introduction to Penny?

  Want to read more?

  Here’s the opening chapter of her first adventure,

  ‘The Temptation of Dragons’

  The Temptation of Dragons

  Chapter One

  ‘Vicar arrested for drunk driving’ is not the sort of headline my bishop wants to read about his priests. So I slowed down my Ford as I saw the flashing lights of the police car ahead. An accident. I hunched low over the steering wheel, hoping to hide the tell tale sign of the dog collar around my neck. My wine-sweetened breath wafted back into my face, reminding me of the reason I must not stop to offer any assistance. I was pretty certain that I was not over the drink drive limit, but possibly very close.

  I risked a guilty glance as I passed the accident site. The black Mercedes had come to rest on the hard shoulder, right up against the traffic barrier. The front was caved in, although I couldn’t see what had caused the damage. No other car was nearby, and as far as I could see none of the trees had wandered across the dual carriageway. Two people stood near the police. Neither looked injured. I let out a sigh of relief.

  I pulled back into the slow lane. A moment’s inattention made me drift onto the hard shoulder. The car’s front wheels and rear wheels bumped over an obstruction which shuddered and crunched. My throat closed and my heart pounded fast and quick in my chest. I slammed to stop, pulled up the hand brake and ripped my keys from the ignition. The car lurched against the clutch. I stumbled out and hurried back, terrified that I’d run over some animal or, please God Almighty no, a human.

  My foot tripped against something solid. I staggered, and my hand slapped against scaly hide. Hide? The shape solidified under and around me. A tail. I was touching the base of a tail. I looked back at the webbed red tip, the scales, the thin spines. Then I lifted my eyes to see a thick body, two legs splayed back towards me, long leathery wings flung away from the road and over the traffic barrier. I forced myself to walk towards the front legs. My mind kept trying to reject the word forcing itself into my consciousness. Dragon. I was looking at a dragon.

  For some reason a sense of disappointment crawled over me. The dragon was smaller than any I’d ever held in my imagination, about twice the size of a large horse. From the amount of blood that was pooling around the heaving chest, it was dying. The blood was only a shade darker than the bright red scales.

  I stopped beside the narrow head. One large eye opened and looked up at
me. Even in the dying light of a summer’s evening I could see that it was reptilian, the narrow pupil black against a wide iris of shimmering green. For a moment I saw myself mirrored on the clear surface, dark hair askew around my frowning face. The jaws cracked open, and a blue tongue slithered from the rows of small sharp teeth. ‘Father?’

  I swallowed against my automatic correction. This was not the time to discuss the best way to address a female priest. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘I’m dying.’

  ‘I could call an ambulance…’ I stopped. Had someone slipped something into my wine? Was I really thinking of arranging medical care for a dragon?

  ‘No time.’ His voice was fading. ‘Father, will you hear my confession? And give me the last rites?’

  ‘I’ll get my bag,’ I said. My legs felt rubbery as I stumbled back to the car. What if, I wondered, I were hallucinating a dragon, and it really was a human lying on the ground? The briefcase I use for hospital visiting sat on the back seat. I carried it back to the dragon, then knelt beside the fluttering nostrils. Best to do this properly. I placed the purple stole around my neck, then lifted out the order of service. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Dominic is my religious name in the Order of Saint Thomas. But my hatch name was Endre.’

  ‘Brother Dominic, our friend Endre,’ I said, forcing my voice to remain steady, ‘the Bible reminds us that “Whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s” and “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places.” Let’s share together the prayer our Lord taught us. Our Father, who art in heaven…’

  The dragon joined in, quietly but firmly, a Welsh lilt to his voice. When they had finished, he added, ‘Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. I’ve not been a very good monk, and you know I’ve found celibacy difficult. I particularly repent about Miranda. But for all that I’ve done, and all that I’ve left undone, have mercy on me, a sinner.’