by Chrys Cymri
‘Just wanted to thank you for last night,’ he said. ‘You’re a big hit with Katherine. Alice was wondering whether you wanted her to be a flower girl or a bridesmaid.’
‘She’s a bit old to be a flower girl.’ I paused to swallow down the last of my coffee. ‘I’m happy to have her as a bridesmaid. And I suppose we’d better have Luke as a page boy?’
‘That could be asking for trouble. But I’ll run it past Alice. Thanks for agreeing to this, Penny.’
‘It can go terribly wrong,’ I warned him, ‘giving children places in the bridal party.’
Peter chuckled. ‘Not with you there. Children listen to you.’
Morey flew into the kitchen and landed on the table. His beak stabbed in the direction of the wall clock. ‘I need to go,’ I told Peter. ‘See you Sunday?’
‘Of course. Love you.’
‘You too.’
Morey hopped onto my shoulder and I went through the connecting door to the built-in garage. The gryphon made himself comfortable on the passenger seat as I backed the car out into the grey morning. A smattering of rain drops made me return to the house to grab my waterproof coat.
Traffic on the A43 to Kettering was light. The rain, however, became heavier as I drove past Little Cransley and the Kettering Golf Club. The wipers fought to clear the windscreen, and I slowed down as I looked for signs to Newton.
The directions provided by Sue Harkness’ office took me down a narrow country lane. Water was pooling in the dips, and I lowered my speed even further. ‘Red post on the left,’ I reminded Morey as I concentrated on the road.
‘Just up ahead. I suggest you look for parking.’
I found a patch of grass and hoped that it wouldn’t turn to mud under my car wheels. With some difficulty, I managed to pull my jacket on while still in the car. ‘Umbrella?’ Morey asked hopefully.
‘If I have one, it’ll be in the boot.’
‘Let’s hope you have one.’
‘Gryphons must be used to getting wet,’ I said. ‘I didn’t see your clan carrying umbrellas.’
‘We get wet, and then we get miserable.’ Morey cocked his head. ‘Do you really want to spend the day with a miserable gryphon?’
So I dashed out into the rain to open the boot. Fortunately, the black umbrella was resting near a pile of empty carrier bags and a box of half used candles. I unfurled it and made a show of opening the passenger door. ‘Your carriage awaits, Lord Morey.’
The gryphon snorted, but leapt up to my shoulder. I locked the car, pocketed the keys, and sloshed my way over to the brightly painted wooden pole. At least the umbrella kept the rain out of my eyes as I studied the stile and the rain-soaked field beyond. The air smelled of wet grass blended with a sweet tone from the yellow flowers of the nearby fields.
‘Into the field,’ Morey reminded me, ‘then turn back as if you’re trying to run into the post. That’s how you’ll enter the thin place.’
‘I remember.’ The wooden steps of the stile were slippery, and I wished I had both hands free to hold onto the top of the fence. At least my new hiking boots were, thus far, proving to be waterproof. I squelched my way over to the pole. After a moment’s hesitation, I closed up the umbrella. Then I stepped towards the fence.
For a moment, all was dry blackness. Then I heard men and women shouting. The words were hard to understand, but I could make out something about ‘land’ and ‘levellers’. A loud voice was pronouncing something which sounded official.
A name was roared out across the darkness. ‘Captain Pouch! Captain Pouch!’ Horses whinnied. Then there were bodies pressing all around me, arms and legs flailing. I felt the swords piercing through flesh, and clubs smashing into legs and heads. Air was driven from my lungs and I nearly lost my footing.
A beak bit deep into my right ear. My pain separated me from the surrounding horror. I staggered forwards, only dimly aware of my umbrella being ripped from my hand.
Bright sunshine and soft birdsong met us on the other side of the crossing. I found a boulder and sank down onto its reassuring solidity. ‘I really must start researching local history,’ I told Morey. ‘Just so I’ll have some warning what might be inside the thin place.’
The gryphon unhooked his claws from my coat. ‘That would be helpful. I think I left my breakfast behind.’
I hurriedly checked my clothes. ‘I seem to be in the clear.’
‘Then I must have imagined it. I felt like my guts were involved, somehow.’
A cough made me look up. The tacsi dragon strode towards us, her large saddle dark against her yellow hide. ‘Wyt ti'n deithiwr i Kyteringas?’
‘Yes, we’re your passengers,’ I answered, forcing myself to stand.
‘A rat has told me where to take you,’ the dragon continued in Welsh. ‘But I have only been paid for one passenger. It’ll be a groat for a second.’
‘I can fly,’ Morey said archly.
‘I’d rather you saved your energy,’ I told him. Then I turned back to the dragon. ‘Iawn. I’ll pay the extra for the second passenger.’
The dragon crouched down. She was smaller and thinner than other tacsi dragons I’d met, and her hide was dull. I could see raw wounds where the saddle rubbed against her skin. Surely no dragon willingly chose this line of work?
Morey flew up and perched on the cantle. I used the metal rungs to climb into my own place. A small wooden box was strapped to the pommel, and I dropped a silver coin inside.
The dragon spread her orange wings. ‘Two to Kyteringas,’ she announced. ‘Ten-minute flight time, barring interference from the townspeople. Please hold on to the grab handles and, in the unlikely event of nausea, do not vomit upwind.’
It took me a moment to translate all of the Welsh. I wanted to ask why the townspeople might want to interfere, but we were already in the air and a brisk wind threw my words back into my throat.
Unlike the same area in England, mile after mile of forest spread out below us. A few fields had been cleared near the town ahead, but this was the exception rather than the norm. Did this mean that the inhabitants of Kyteringas were predators rather than grazers?
I put the question out of my mind. We were here to meet with vampires, not to investigate the town. The dragon turned to the right, taking us away from the cluster of brick and stone buildings. The woods thinned, and a river meandered through the grassy meadows.
Between the last of the trees and the river were a series of large tents. I had a glimpse of animal and human shapes as the dragon flew past. She twisted her wings, and backwinged us into an inelegant landing. My backside crashed into the saddle as first her rear legs and then her front thudded into the ground. I was strongly tempted to break into her fare box and confiscate my silver coin.
The dragon lowered herself, and I only had a short slide down to the soft ground. Morey hopped onto my shoulder, grumbling under his breath as he licked a forepaw. ‘I don’t know how long we’ll be,’ I told the dragon.
‘I’ve been paid for waiting time,’ she said. ‘You’ll find me here.’
‘I’d prefer a different tacsi,’ Morey muttered in my ear.
‘Glad to hear it,’ I said loudly to the dragon. After a moment’s hesitation, I decided to remove my jacket and tie the arms to the saddle rungs. ‘We’ll be back by the afternoon, at the latest.’
The encampment was a short walk away. The warm sun had dried out my trousers by the time we reached the outskirts, and I was glad I’d left my coat behind. ‘Why is the weather so often much better here than in England?’ I asked Morey.
The gryphon sniffed. ‘The weather is better everywhere than in England.’
‘Except Wales. It rains more there than in England.’
Morey stared at me. ‘That’s not possible.’
‘Believe me, I had lots of rainy family holidays in North Wales.’
A small herd of horses grazed near the first set of tents, their brown and white hides dull alongside the bright fabrics of green and blue. Despite
the sunshine, I felt a shudder go through my chest. My steps slowed. ‘Morey. Those horses. There’s something, well, wrong about them.’
To my alarm, the gryphon abandoned my shoulder to hide behind my back. His voice was muffled by my hair. ‘They’re not-weres.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Just walk on. And don’t stare. They don’t like that.’
The grey shimmer which clung to their bodies made it difficult to follow Morey’s advice. I focused my eyes on the nearest tent. Looking at weres always gave me a slight headache, but there was something about these horses which made me feel physically ill.
A child ran past, a long black ponytail flapping against his brown shirt. ‘Hello,’ I called out in English, then in Welsh. ‘Can you help us? Alli di’n ein helpu ni?’
He stopped, turned in place, and walked back to me. ‘You ain’t from our colony,’ he said in English. ‘What be your blood type?’
I put on my brightest smile. ‘Since you have to ask, you must know that I’m not a vampire. Could I please be taken to your magister?’
Dark brown eyes studied me. ‘He’m not see the likes of you.’
Morey crawled around to my right shoulder. ‘Manners,’ he snapped at the boy. ‘This is a priest you’re talking to.’
The vampire looked up at my dog collar. I had chosen to wear a dark blue shirt to make the white plastic, my ministerial credentials, very obvious. Then he ran off, his bare feet slapping against the hard ground.
‘’Well, what do we do now?’ I asked Morey. ‘Follow him, or hope he’s fetching the magister?’
‘I haven’t a clue.’ Feathers smoothed at my look. ‘I don’t know much about vampire culture.’
‘And here I thought you were the Lloegyr equivalent of Wikipedia.’
‘Now, Black, really? I check the reliability of my sources.’
I took a few steps towards the first tent, mostly to keep my distance from the horses. Grazing had brought them closer, and my stomach gurgled in protest. Their heads kept changing to human faces, although their bodies remained as animals.
The boy reappeared, puffing slightly. He gave me a sketchy bow, then pulled to one side to allow an adult vampire to stride forward.
The man was only slightly taller than me, and for a moment I was disappointed by his thin stature, grey hair, and dark clothes. But a closer look revealed the intricate embroidery of flowers and butterflies which brightened his black waistcoat. The wrinkles around his eyes and mouth spoke of both high laughter and deep sadness.
‘That’ll do, Brianthony,’ the vampire told the boy. ‘And remember, speak in English. We be needing English for where we be going.’ The bright green eyes came to me. ‘Elthan Arth, magister of this colony. What be you, and why be you asking for me?’
‘I’m a priest--’
‘That can I see. What be you?’ He leaned close, nostrils expanding as he took a deep sniff. ‘You be neither were nor vampire. What be you?’
‘My name is Penny White, and I'm human.’ I waited a moment, then added, ‘From Lloegyr’s sister country, England.’
Elthan lifted his head and let out a shout. The horses started, and cries came back from deeper in the camp. ‘So it be real! England be real!’
‘It certainly is,’ Morey assured him. ‘I’ve lived there for nearly a year now. Trahaearneifion, or Morey, if you find the Welsh beyond you.’
The vampire reached out to grip my arm. ‘You must come to my tent. We been travelling for so long, and we be so tired. But you bring hope. Come, share drink with me and mine and say more.’
We walked through the haphazard camp. Tents had been erected without any discernible pattern, some close together, others many yards away from the rest. The material ranged from unshaven fur to brightly coloured fabrics. Vampire adults worked away at spinning, weaving, kneading bread, or stirring the contents of cauldrons which hung over open fires. One woman stood over a small forge. Metal clanged against metal as she hammered a long hook into shape.
‘How many live in this colony?’ I asked Elthan as we passed another cooking pot. The smell of beef and onions filled the air and made my mouth water.
‘One hundred and sixty adults, and fifty pups. That be the weight of my responsibilities.’ As we passed people, Elthan stopped to touch a shoulder, or give a smile, or sometimes offer a hug. The expressions on the vampires’ faces made me feel uncomfortable. It was obvious that they adored their magister.
‘And which blood types?’
‘Many be Arth, with a good number of Llwynogod and Madfallod. The Corrynnod travel with us, but keep their tents at a wee distance. We have a few Blaidd and Carlwm.’
‘Any Grey?’
‘No Grey,’ Elthan answered. ‘But all blood types be welcome here. Our tents be not shut ‘gainst any in need.’
The children seemed to be working as hard as the adults. I saw one girl carrying wood to fires, another carding wool. A boy cleaned out a cold fire, ashes staining his hands and trousers with black. ‘Is this where you live?’
‘You know that to be not true.’ Elthan’s rebuke was mild but firm. ‘Ask in truth and speak in truth. That be the rule here.’
I cleared my throat. ‘Okay, yes, I know that you’re travelling.’
‘We be always those who roam.’ The magister held out his left arm, pointing out our destination, a gold and purple tent just ahead. ‘Across and ‘round Lloegyr, through river and dale, over mountain and tarn. Flying always to find our next stopping place, there to dwell a time ‘mongst folk and animals, afore flying on again.’
The tent front had been rolled up. Inside were a number of camp stools and a small fire. A young male vampire dipped a long ladle into a small pot and poured dark red liquid into pottery mugs.
I took a seat and a drink. Morey hopped onto a stool next to mine, but politely declined a mug of his own. I sipped from the mulled wine, my eyes watering from both the heat of the liquid and the strong spices.
‘Geffrai,’ Elthan said with an affectionate nod at the other vampire. I glanced at the man, wondering what was their relationship. Son? Husband? Nephew? General dogsbody and hanger on? ‘Now, Penny White and Trahaearneifion Morey, why come you to our camp this day?’
‘What is your direction of travel?’ Morey asked.
‘We aim towards Llanbedr.’
‘It’s still quite some distance on foot,’ I said. ‘What do you hope to do once you arrive at the city? Find homes and jobs?’
‘We be not land dwellers,’ Geffrai snapped. ‘We roam. We fly free.’
Morey snorted. ‘With all these tents?’
‘Time was we did roam,’ Elthan said. ‘But those days be fading fast. Folk be moving to towns and cities. Gone be the time a colony could easily fly from dragon longhouse to dwarf caves, unicorn forests to gryphon camps. Feeding off each for a time, then moving on again.’
‘So, you’re hoping to settle in Llanbedr?’ I asked. ‘I know other vampires have.’
‘One here, two there.’ Elthan knocked back his drink and held out the mug for a refill. ‘But us many? We be not welcome.’
‘Your history goes before you,’ I said. ‘All that feeding off other species.’
‘We eat solid now,’ Elthan said. ‘So that townspeople leave us alone. Only our young drink blood.’
‘So they can fly,’ Geffrai added.
I put down my drink. The high alcohol content was not helping my concentration. ‘You can’t fly if you eat solid food?’ Skylar had said something very similar.
Elthan shook his head. ‘We be unable to change on solid. Blood, yes. Solid, no. Only our pups feed on blood.’
‘Why?’ I asked.
Geffrai turned away. I bit my lip as the choking sound of muffled sobs filled the tent. Elthan rose and placed a comforting arm across the younger vampire’s shoulders. ‘To keep them safe,’ the magister said softly. ‘We never know when they might needs to fly.’
I had to put any further questions on hold. A d
ozen vampires were coming towards the tent, their ages ranging from a teenager to a woman stooped over with old age. When I realised that their eyes were fixed on me, I rose from my stool, my heart thudding in my ears.
‘Peace, Penny White,’ Elthan said reassuringly. The smile was back on his face. ‘Brothers, sisters, you have heard?’
‘We have heard,’ the teenager said eagerly, pushing long hair back from her sooty face. ‘You be human? You come from England?’
‘Yes to both,’ I said slowly.
‘And it be as they say?’
‘I don’t know. What do they say?’
‘People be safe there,’ the old woman said.
‘And there be food aplenty,’ added a young man.
‘And places to live,’ a middle-aged man added. ‘Warm and dry, not tents that city dwellers try to burn down.’
‘Schools,’ added another man. ‘For our pups.’
‘For all of us,’ the teenager said eagerly. ‘And real jobs. Not this make do and mend.’
‘Oh, don’t know,’ a woman said to him. ‘Me, I’d like to roam again.’
‘There’ll be plenty of room for both,’ the teenager assured her.
I felt a hollow pit open in my stomach. Images from both news accounts and from my own personal experience filled my thoughts. The over-stretched food banks in Northampton. The homeless men and women freezing on London’s streets. The struggle of the National Health Service to keep up with demand. But even worse than that, what would be the reaction to colonies of vampires flying freely around the British Isles, seeking blood wherever they stopped for the night?
‘Paradise,’ the old woman said with a sigh. ‘Just t’other side of a crossing. ‘Tis said to be a crossing in Llanbedr.’
‘The cathedral,’ Geffrai agreed. ‘That’s where we be headed. We arrive at the cathedral, and the pups fly around until they find it. The crossing to England.’
‘And this human be a sign,’ Elthan added, placing a hand on my shoulder. ‘She does show us that England be real. England!’
