by Chrys Cymri
‘Act on it?’ Cheryl asked, her ponytail bobbing as she nodded. ‘I mean, was it love?’
‘It was only an obsession,’ Ian replied. ‘No, I’m comfortable in my self-identity as a heterosexual, and I’m only interested in human women.’
‘And there’s always Cadw ar Wahân to consider,’ Gavan said. His extra-long canines flashed as he gave us a bitter smile. ‘They’ve even reached into this world in order to destroy mixed species relationships.’
I pulled out a small notebook and pretended to be taking notes. As the others in the room offered their solutions to overcoming ‘other species fixation’, I wrote down ideas for my next sermon. Despite my best efforts, snatches of discussion still filtered through. ‘Honour differences.’ ‘Recognise that this isn’t a real relationship.’ ‘Seek professional help, if necessary.’
Finally, after some small group work in which I nodded a lot while wondering what we’d be served for lunch, the workshop was over. Ian prayed for ‘all relationships between England, Wales, Lloegyr, and Alba’, then dismissed us. ‘Go find your fourth cup of coffee!’
That was the best idea I’d heard all morning. As I rose to leave, I found the archdeacon at my side. I had no idea a man of his size could move so quickly. ‘Did you find the session interesting, Penny?’
‘Fascinating.’
Ian chuckled. ‘I could tell what you were doing in your notebook. Maybe you could tell me what I could do to improve the workshop. I’m running it again this afternoon.’
‘It was fine. Really.’ There must be some way a mere vicar could politely end an unwelcome conversation with someone several rungs higher in the church hierarchy. ‘Just a lot on my mind.’
‘Anything I can help with?’ He dropped his voice. ‘Nigel told me about Peter. I was very sorry to hear the news.’
‘Don’t be nice to me,’ I said, startling myself with the level of ferocity in my voice. ‘I can’t cope with people being nice to me.’
‘All right.’ Ian took a step back, which made it easier for me to meet his eyes. ‘Then I won’t. Try this instead. I said to you ages ago that my obsession was with unicorns, and that yours might be dragons. Was I right?’
I took a moment to compose myself, then flashed him a fake grin. ‘Blame Anne McCaffrey. I read too many Pern books as a teenager. Left me wanting to Impress a dragon. Problem was, I wanted a bronze, but only boys could Impress bronzes. Out and out sexism.’
As I had hoped, my words made little sense to him. Ian gave me a baffled smile. ‘Okay. So you’ll only fixate on bronze dragons?’
‘Possibly. I haven’t met any that colour in Lloegyr.’ I nodded at his long-abandoned mug. ‘I’m ready for that fourth cup of coffee, if you are.’
‘And cookies,’ Ian added. ‘Their kitchen staff make the best cookies ever. I hope there’s some left for us.’
And as his long legs carried him away from me, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.
<><><><><><>
The time between coffee break and lunch was, according to the timetable, ‘free for you to enjoy the Abbey’s grounds.’ I went out to the front to take in some fresh air. A number of clergy walked to the top of the nearby hill to get a signal on their phones, as the Abbey was in a blind spot for mobile reception.
Morey flew past, heading up a group of flighted hunters. I wished there were a way to warn the local bird population. And deer, I added mentally, noting the full-sized gryphons in Morey’s wake. These thoughts only served to remind me of the discussions instigated by the Minister without Portfolio. As much as it pained me, I had to admit that the British Isles did not have the wild animal population to feed large predators from Lloegyr. My own bank balance was suffering from the need to buy car-fulls of chicken and turkey for the rabble of snail sharks in my back garden.
I pulled the timetable from my pocket. We were meant to reconvene after lunch for lessons on beginner’s Welsh. ‘Learn how to greet beings from Lloegyr--and convince them not to eat you!’ the blurb promised. I’d resumed weekly meetings with my personal Welsh tutor, and I felt pretty confident that I could convince even the most ravenous were-shark that I wasn’t worth eating. Did Lloegyr even have were-sharks?
The meeting with the Minister without Portfolio, my disturbed sleep, and Ian’s session suddenly jumbled together in my head. The skies had clouded over, promising rain, and I wanted nothing more than to visit somewhere far away and sunny.
I strode away from the Abbey, collecting my coat from the car as I headed towards the nearby fields. Once I was well away from the house, I pulled out my pocketknife and half opened the blade. Then I found a tree stump and sat down to wait.
Raven didn’t always appear immediately to my call. I was used to that. Sometimes he had to fly a distance between the thin places which would bring him to me. As the minutes ticked by, I ate my cookie and checked my coat pockets. My usual Lloegyr supplies were in place. Full water bottle, packet of oat cakes, and a hip flask of Famous Grouse. At this rate, I might need all three.
Forty minutes later, I rose to my feet as I saw a green-black dragon appear above the nearby hill. Not Raven. A grey cowl rested around the neck, and the body was thicker, the wings longer. The dragon had little of Raven’s grace in flight. It was like shifting my gaze from the graceful run of a gazelle to the lurching of a dairy cow.
There, I found myself thinking at Ian. See? I’m not fixated on dragons after all.
The search dragon landed a short distance away, his claws digging up the soil as he trotted to a stop. Then he turned and strode over to me. ‘Greetings,’ he said, lowering his head to my height. ‘I’m Brother Damian, from the Order of Saint Thomas. Are you Father Penny White?’
‘The one and only,’ I managed to say, my heart pounding. ‘Has something happened to Raven?’
‘Oblate Raven is well but cannot be permitted to leave the monastery.’
‘Oblate? Since when? And why can’t he leave?’
‘Peace, Father Penny,’ Damian said gently. ‘The oblate advised Father Abbot of your summons, and that you would be anxious should he not appear. The Abbot has sent me in Oblate Raven’s stead, and has said that, if you are free from other responsibilities, he would be pleased to meet with you to discuss the situation. I can take you there now.’
Chapter Seven
Damian lowered his large body to the ground. I hesitated for a moment. This was not what I’d hoped to be doing with my afternoon. Visiting a religious community felt a bit too much like work. On the other hand, I’d been the one who suggested Raven should see Father Gerald for religious instruction. And there was the small matter of wanting to know how the Abbot had prevented Raven from answering my call. I’d thought that nothing could ever hold the search dragon back.
I was used to climbing up Raven. Damian was nearly half again as tall. I stood for a moment on his foreleg, looking up at the neck many feet away. To my great relief, the dragon lifted his leg, raising me up his side. I was able to grasp the nearest triangular spine and pull myself up the rest of the way.
Damian trotted across the grass, and I gritted my teeth as I bounced against his skin. Then he extended his legs into a smooth gallop, before taking us into the sky.
Our transitions through several thin places were smooth, unlike some of Raven’s more dramatic plunges. As we emerged over the monastery, I found myself wondering if my usual mount preferred to keep me literally on the edge of my seat.
Damian tilted his wing and swung us over the grey buildings. The walled garden was full of vigorous plants, and several dragons were busy pulling out weeds and training beans up trellises. Our shadows rippled over the empty cloisters, then the chapel, before touching on the grassy field beyond.
The landing was at a jerky trot, which made my back ache. We pulled up at the monastery’s entrance. The Abbot was making his way through the arch as I slid to the ground. He wore the dark grey cowl of his order, and a crucifix rested against his dark blue chest. ‘Father Penny. Thank you for c
oming.’
‘Thank you to Brother Damian for bringing me,’ I replied. ‘And who, I hope, will give me a lift back?’
Gerald laughed. ‘Of course. It’s a long way to walk. Shall we go to my study, and I’ll ring for some tea? Have you had lunch, or shall I ask for some bread and meat?’
‘A sandwich would be good,’ I agreed. ‘I haven’t eaten yet.’
The Abbot lifted his head to look past me. ‘Brother Damian, if you could kindly ask Brother Robert to bring up some tea and sandwiches?’
I followed him through the high-ceilinged cloisters and through a side door. Sunshine poured through the high windows of the stone corridors. I pulled off my coat and carried it over my arm. When we entered the Abbot’s study, I dropped it over the back of the ancient armchair before lowering myself carefully onto the shabby cushion. ‘You were expecting me to come.’
The Abbot sat down opposite me. ‘Why do you say that, Father Penny?’
‘You pulled a chair out of storage.’
The dragon chuckled. ‘Very observant. Yes, I hoped you would take me up on my invitation. But let’s first make sure you are fed. No one listens well on an empty stomach.’
As if on cue, there was a knock at the door, and then the heavy wood was pushed open by a dragon’s yellow muzzle. He pushed the trolley into the room. With agile fingertoes he poured out two mugs of tea, and handed me a plate piled with thick chunks of cooked meat and thinner slices of brown bread.
‘Thank you, Robert,’ the Abbot said. ‘Could you perhaps send a message to Raven that Father Penny is safe and well? I think Bastien has heard enough of our brother oblate’s curses.’
I stared at my lunch, hoping my teeth would be up to tearing off pieces of beef. ‘Who’s Bastien?’
‘He’s the flying rat who has taken up residence with Raven.’
‘The one Raven trapped?’
Gerald blew across his large mug. ‘Bastien was set free. But he has been persuaded to stay with your friend. The rat has a good grasp of the Scriptures and will recite psalms to Raven when our brother oblate is agitated.’
My appetite disappeared. ‘Father Abbot, please. Tell me what’s going on with Raven? I only saw him a few days ago, and he seemed fine.’
‘There was a, well, relapse.’ The dragon’s horns and ears pulled back, and despite his calm tone, I could see the muscles of his neck tensing under his blue skin. ‘Yesterday.’
Tea splashed down my hands as I sat upright. ‘What happened?’
‘Bastien alerted us. When we arrived at Raven’s room, it was clear to our deliverance advisor that he was fighting internally against another entity.’
‘The Noble Leader.’ Bitterness filled my mouth, and I took a swallow of tea. ‘But Raven’s been baptized. I did it myself.’
‘Baptism is the start of a covenant relationship with God,’ Gerald agreed. ‘But it’s not some magical protection. I have been meeting regularly with Raven to impress upon him the necessity of honouring that commitment.’
‘I should never have allowed him to go into that cave,’ I muttered, brushing at a wet patch on my trousers. ‘The rest of us were baptized. We were safe. He wasn’t.’
‘Father Penny.’ The sharp note in his voice made me look up again. ‘What did I just say to you? Baptism alone is not enough. The snail shark’s spirit was able to enter Raven because of the dragon’s enmity towards God.’
I frowned. ‘Raven always said he had no time for, as he’s called it, “your God”. I always thought that meant he was uninterested. It’s not like he was raised in a Christian culture and dragged to church as a puffling. He has nothing to rebel against.’
The Abbot was silent for a moment, his eyes looking past me. The only thing behind me was a bookshelf, full of leather bound volumes, and I wondered if he were thinking of consulting one of them. Then, with a loud sigh, he returned his attention to me. ‘I must tread carefully, Father Penny. Raven has taken me into his confidence, and it would be wrong of me to reveal too much. Let me just say that he was exposed to our faith at an early age. And, the one time he prayed to God, his heart was broken.’
‘I come across that all the time,’ I said sympathetically. ‘People who lose their faith, or decide that God is a jerk, because someone they loved became ill or died. It’s that old problem of unanswered prayer.’
‘The opposite, actually. Raven’s prayer was answered. And he suffered greatly as a result.’
‘And that,’ I complained, ‘is not fair. Telling me all that, and now expecting me not to ask anything further.’
‘I have no doubt that, if you ask at the right time, he will tell you himself.’ Gerald pointed a talon at my plate. ‘Father Penny, please, do have some lunch.’
‘You’ve just told me that Raven hates God and has been re-possessed by the spirit of a snail shark,’ I said quietly. ‘That hasn’t left me with much of an appetite.’
‘The brothers are praying for him night and day,’ the Abbot assured me. ‘It was at Raven’s request that we performed the short ceremony which made him an oblate. Trust in God, Father Penny. You do trust in our Lord’s victory over the powers of evil, don’t you?’
There was only one good answer to that question. ‘Of course I do.’
‘Then trust that God has the cure for Raven’s soul.’ The Abbot waggled his ears at me. ‘I never expect that particular dragon to be an enthusiastic believer, but God is gracious. I feel certain that a level of understanding will be found, and eventually Raven will be able to leave the monastery.’
My mouth dried. The tea was cold, but I drank it anyway. ‘How long do you think that’ll be?’
‘God has his own timing,’ Gerald said gently. ‘I’m certain, with your many responsibilities, you’ll find this a good season in your own life. I should think that Raven’s situation has taken up much of your time. You’ll now be able to commit your energies elsewhere.’
‘Yes, I will,’ I muttered, thinking of all the empty spots in my diary which had once been filled with Peter’s name.
‘Raven isn’t the first search dragon to come here, as you’ll have already noticed,’ Gerald continued. ‘Damian has spoken openly of the attempts his own mother made on his life. The draconic tendency is to be independent. This is exacerbated in search dragons, caused no doubt by the lack of welcome they received in their own birth house. Subsequent early experiences affect them deeply.’
‘Don’t they for all of us?’ I rose and placed mug and plate on to the trolley. ‘Would you mind occasionally sending someone to let me know how Raven is getting on? Without breaking any confidences, of course.’
‘Certainly.’ Gerald reached out a forefoot and pulled his door open. ‘Shall I first take you to the kitchens? We might find something you would prefer to eat.’
‘I have some supplies of my own.’ I slung my coat over my shoulders and thought longingly of the hipflask just inches from my fingers. ‘It was kind of you to offer. Thank you.’
The noonday sun did little to warm the chill which had settled in my chest. I hurried to keep up with the Abbot as we walked back outside. There might be a touch of grey around his muzzle, but there was no sign of age in his stride.
Damian was curled up near the entry arch. One large blue-green eye opened as we approached. The search dragon stretched like a cat, first the front, then the rear legs, his wings arching over his back. ‘Back to your own monastery, Father Penny?’
‘It’s a conference centre, actually, and I’m only staying one more night.’ I studied him for a moment. ‘How did you find me?’
‘Search dragons can find anything.’
‘And I know that isn’t entirely true,’ I persisted. ‘Raven needed help to find my brother, when he was held in a matriarch’s longhouse.’
Sharp teeth glistened as he dropped his jaws in a grin. ‘Then my talent must be exceptional.’
‘And now I know you’re a search dragon,’ I grumbled. I turned to Gerald. ‘Thank you for taking the time to
see me, Father Abbot.’
‘Your concern for your friend is admirable.’ He raised a forefoot to touch my shoulder with a black claw. ‘Go well, Father Penny, and with my blessing.’
Damian once again helped me up to his neck. For the second time, I enjoyed a smooth flight on a search dragon. Next time I met Raven, I’d have a word with him about calm and steady versus swift and unpredictable.
When would I meet him again? My hands tightened on the black spine in front of me. Not only did my days off promise to be long and empty, I would be spending all of them in England. No more easy trips to Lloegyr to visit merpeople or dragon longhouses. I would be as trapped in England as most of my fellow Vicars General.
Look at you, I told myself. Raven is battling the Noble Leader’s spirit, and all you’re worried about is losing out on your day trips. Dear God, forgive me, and heal Raven’s soul.
We flew over the abbey and to the walled garden. Damian wove his way around the trees to find a space into which he could drop down. His wings brushed against leaves as he landed. I remained on his back, looking around at the wet grass and frowning at the smell of damp soil. ‘It’s sunnier in Lloegyr,’ I grumbled.
‘I like it here,’ Damian replied. ‘Petrichor is a marvellous scent.’
The word reminded me of one of my favourite Doctor Who episodes. My mood lifted. “‘Borrowing implies the eventual intention to return the thing that was taken”,’ I quoted to myself. As Gerald had said, one day Raven would be able to leave the monastery. Then I remembered what else Idris, the Doctor’s TARDIS, had said. ‘What makes you think I would ever give you back?’
Damian lowered himself to the ground. I clambered down, then walked to his head. ‘May I ask you something? When you escaped from your birth longhouse, where did you go?’
