by Chrys Cymri
Chapter Thirty-One
A touch of sunshine on my face woke me. I realised that I’d fallen asleep leaning against Raven. Somehow I managed to sneak back into the tent before any of the others awakened. When Peter and James crawled out of their sleeping bags, I handed each of them a coffee can. We chewed on fruit and oatcakes while Morey talked strategy with James.
‘You’ll be taken back to the oak tree,’ Morey said. ‘Try to let the hunters to believe that you’re still in the forest. Take some extra clothes and leave them in an obvious place. But head out, go east, towards the sun.’
‘I know what direction east is,’ James muttered.
‘Go at a steady pace, but try not to run. The terrain is very uneven, and it would be disastrous if you were to twist an ankle or break a leg.’
‘You’re telling me.’
‘Yes, I am.’ Morey sounded exasperated. ‘This is serious, James Alfred White.’
‘Don’t I know it.’ James slung his backpack over one shoulder. ‘And when the gryphons find me out in the open?’
‘About two miles from the forest is an outcropping of rocks. Underneath is a cave. Use your light and climb well inside. The hunters won’t be able to reach you. If you stay there until sunset, you’ll gain another two hours’ head start for tomorrow.’
‘Fascinating.’ James looked at me, raised an eyebrow, and held his hand up in a Vulcan salute. ‘“I have been, and always shall be, your friend.”’
Why was my brother suddenly making Star Trek references? Well, if this were his way of coping with the stress of the hunt, I wasn’t going to discourage him. ‘Go boldly, James. Make it so.’
He left the tent. I took the water pitcher, a small towel, and went into the desert to seek some privacy. There was only so much body odour I could tolerate, even in our current circumstances.
When the rest of us returned to the peninsula, James was nowhere to be seen. The hunt gryphons peeled off, calling to each other as they circled above the trees. I stared intently at the forest, hoping that my gaze might encourage them to venture inside.
The two dragons landed us on the same hill we’d occupied the day before. Raven’s sores, I noted as I made my way down to the ground, had sealed over with new skin. I patted Clyde’s shell, wondering what other surprises the snail might have in store for me.
The skies were grey, and a chill wind made me slide my hands into my coat pockets. The hunters dropped down to the far edge of the forest, and I held my breath as they ventured inside. Only then did it occur to me to wonder how James could know when to leave the woods. How could he track where the gryphons were?
The answer was, he couldn’t. I groaned as James broke cover. The osprey gryphon was the first to see him, and her screech alerted her companions. The three of them turned and hurried after James. Although he had a head start of several hundred yards, they turned their runs into low level flight. Three pairs of wings drew them towards their prey.
James halted and dropped his backpack to the ground. His hands reached inside, and for a moment I wondered if he planned to use Peter’s gun after all. But he pulled out a tan and black cylinder with a long handle. Even at our distance, I could see that his face was pale, but his stance determined. He braced his legs as the gryphons angled towards him. The owl and osprey gryphons were nearly neck and neck, and the eagle was to their right and slightly behind.
The distance narrowed. Fifty feet. Forty. Thirty. Then James raised the cylinder and pressed down on the handle. I could hear the hiss from where I stood.
A red liquid was ejected from the nozzle. James turned his upper body, spraying the gel across the two nearer gryphons. They screamed in pain. The eagle gryphon tried to pull up, but James pivoted and managed to coat his eyes and head with the same force. Then he dropped the canister and dived to his right, out of the way of the gryphons as they tumbled from the sky.
‘Good lad,’ Peter said beside me. ‘Pepper spray. He’s used the pepper spray. That’ll disable them for at least a couple of hours.’
The gryphons were rolling on the ground, their foreclaws digging at their eyes and beaks. Their high-pitched cries made my teeth ache. As much as I wanted to see James live, I couldn’t help but ask, ‘Will they be blinded?’
‘I shouldn’t think so. Pepper spray is formulated so as to not cause permanent damage.’
James collected his backpack. I waved at him, and he waved back. Then he set off at a fast walk, heading towards the rocks which Morey had mentioned.
The owl gryphon began to call out the matriarch’s name. The other two echoed her. Ercwiff landed nearby, her ears pulled back and her steps cautious as she made her way to the fallen hunters. A low exchange took place. Then the matriarch raised her head. ‘Trahaearneifion! You and your grŵp rhyfelwyr, attend to me!’
‘Best see what she wants,’ Morey said, leaping up to Arnborg’s saddle. Peter and I climbed onto our dragons, and we glided down to the gryphons.
‘The hunters have a proposal,’ Ercwiff said. ‘They’ll declare the hunt over for the day, if you’ll allow the clan to help them reach the river. They need to wash their eyes in fresh water.’
The gryphons did look in a bad way. Their eyes had swollen shut, and they were panting for breath. The dragons had stayed well back, but as the wind shifted I caught the scent of pepper, and my own eyes watered. ‘Agreed,’ I said.
‘As do I,’ Morey said.
Peter nodded. ‘And me.’
‘No. Pain. Suffer.’ Clyde glared down at the stricken hunters. ‘“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored.”’
Peter stared at him. ‘You are one vengeful snail, Clyde.’
‘Clyde,’ I said, ‘this guarantees that James will have more time today.’
The snail grumbled to himself. Then he said, ‘Okay.’
Morey extended his wings. ‘I’ll tell James the good news.’
The dragons backed us away. Other members of the clan collected the hunters, wrapping forelegs around wings and chests to lift them away from the ground. Slowly and carefully, wings struggling against the weight of their comrades, they made their way to the distant river.
‘Does he have any more pepper spray?’ I asked hopefully.
Peter shook his head. ‘There was only one at the station, and we didn’t have enough time for me to find any more. I think he must’ve used it up, since he’s not taken it with him. I’ll go collect it.’
‘Why?’ Raven demanded. ‘I don’t want that anywhere near me.’
‘I clean up litter,’ Peter said firmly. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s completely empty before I bring it back.’
<><><><><><>
As we no longer had to worry about the hunters following us to James, we were able to keep close to him as he made his way across the scrub land. The dragons would fly ahead, find a viewpoint, and land so we could watch. At one point, James had to pick his way through a bog, and I was relieved that he could concentrate on his footing without worrying about gryphons. He passed by the cave which Morey had spotted, no longer needing its protection, and was well on his way to the thinner vegetation growing between lumps of lava rocks as the sun began to set.
Morey flew off to speak to James again. When he returned, he told us, ‘James doesn’t want to come back to camp. He’s found a spring to refill his bottles, and he has food in his pack. He says he’s going to push on through the night.’
‘That’s going to leave him very tired for tomorrow,’ I pointed out.
‘I’ve told him which tube to lower himself into. He should reach it by morning.’ Morey jumped up onto my shoulder. ‘And he said to remind you that he’s pulled all nighters before.’
‘Only because he ignores deadlines until the last minute.’ I looked at the figure fading into the distance. ‘He’d better not ignore this one.’
The dragons carried us back to the camp. Dinner was slices of cold cooked m
eat, accompanied by apples and a loaf of bread. Peter and I tucked in, but Morey and Clyde looked unimpressed.
‘Come on, kid,’ Morey said to the snail. ‘Let’s ask Margh to take us somewhere to hunt for our supper. I’ll ask him to lift you into the saddle.’
After our two hunters had left, Peter swallowed the last of his improvised sandwich and came to my side. ‘Clyde.’
‘What about him?’
‘You’ve always said he isn’t like other snail sharks. I was starting to agree with you.’ Peter rubbed at the beard forming on his chin. ‘But he was quite happy to see those gryphons suffer.’
‘He’s just loyal,’ I said. ‘We’re his family. He wants to see James succeed.’
‘I’ve seen what a snail shark can do to a dog, or a cat,’ Peter said grimly. ‘And I’ve seen photos of what one of them did to a human baby. Are you really sure we can trust him, Penny?’
‘Don’t worry, Clyde has sworn off babies.’ Awestruck lemmings were getting decimated instead. ‘Thanks for sorting out the pepper spray for James. Any other surprises in his backpack?’
‘Nothing else from me,’ Peter said. ‘Other than my gun.’
I went outside the camp to brush my teeth. As I stared up at the sky, I wondered how James was doing. Would he be safe, crossing unfamiliar countryside with only the beam of a torch? What if he tripped and hurt himself, or fell into a bog? Although I could see the logic of walking through the night, I would have preferred to have him safe back inside our tent. Suddenly I didn’t want to be alone.
When I returned, Morey was cleaning blood from his feathers, and Clyde was lying on his blanket bed. I looked around for the other human. ‘Peter?’
‘He’s already turned in,’ Morey said quietly. ‘And he’s snoring.’
I dropped toothbrush and mug back onto the table. Then I turned and left the tent and the camp.
My torch picked out Raven’s bulk, lying a few hundred feet away. I made my way across the sand. He raised his head as I approached, but he said nothing. Neither did I, as I lowered myself to the sand. The dragon sighed, and rolled onto his side. A foreleg moved across, offering a pillow for my head. I stretched out alongside him, taking comfort in the warmth which radiated from his skin. After a few minutes, I fell asleep.
Morey found me the next morning. He said nothing as he followed me back to the camp, but as I ate my breakfast, his eyes flicked between me and Peter. ‘Final can of coffee,’ I said, slightly too loudly, as I swigged down the hot liquid.
‘James should be close to the coast now,’ Morey said. ‘If he follows my directions, he’ll be in the lava tube which leads to the beach.’
‘Above the tide, I assume?’ Peter asked. ‘So how far does he have to dash to reach the water?’
‘It’s about a hundred yards.’
Peter nodded. ‘So what he should do is get to the far end, and wait until tomorrow’s head start to cross the final distance.’
‘But will he think of that?’ I asked.
‘He kept his cool yesterday,’ Peter said. ‘It couldn't have been easy, waiting for three gryphons to come into reach of the pepper spray. He pulled the trigger at exactly the right time.’
I wished I could share his confidence. But my life long experience of my brother led me to suspect that he might not even think of waiting. Morey leapt up to my shoulder, and I led the way out of the tent.
The hunter gryphons were waiting for us outside the camp. Their eyes still looked sore, and the feathers of the owl-tiger were stained red. As I walked past them, all three extended a foreleg and gave me a bow. I stopped, surprised.
‘We honour the cunning of your brother,’ the eagle gryphon told me.
I coughed. ‘I thought you might be angry.’
The owl gryphon whistled a laugh. ‘The hunt has become more interesting. His courage is admirable. We hope to taste his flesh today.’
‘Eating him won’t add his spirit to yours,’ Morey said. The weariness in his voice led me to suspect that he’d had this conversation before. ‘The soul goes to God for judgement when we die.’
The osprey gryphon snorted, and said in Welsh, ‘We aren’t one of your People of the Book. We know better.’
‘Let’s not get into an argument,’ I said as Morey bristled. ‘We respect your beliefs, even if we don’t share them.’
‘Heathens,’ Morey muttered in my ear as I walked over to Raven.
‘Yes,’ Clyde agreed from his case. ‘Jesus.’
‘When this is all over,’ I told the snail, ‘I will arrange confirmation classes for you. I promise.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Morey said. ‘He’ll blend in so well with your parishioners, won’t he? There’s so little difference between a carnivorous snail and an old age pensioner.’
‘If you’re trying to pick an argument to take my mind off James,’ I said, ‘it’s not going to work.’
I mounted, and Raven took us away from the desert. When we emerged over the peninsula, he deliberately flew in an erratic pattern to throw off the gryphons. I was very conscious about sweeping my head from side to side, trying not to show the hunters the direction we hoped James had taken.
‘He reached the lava tube,’ Morey said in my ear.
‘How can you tell?’
‘He had to go through another bit of bog.’ The gryphon sighed. ‘The boot marks are quite obvious.’
The hunters discovered this for themselves a short while later. The dragons landed us on a dry part of land nearby while the gryphons tried to insert themselves through the opening to the cave system. For a while they dug at the soft ground, claws throwing soil in all directions. When their efforts only led them to hard volcanic rock, they stopped, and conferred in low voices.
The owl gryphon shook her feathers clean, then proceeded to walk slowly along the ground. Her tan head was cocked, a long ear lowered close to the thin grass. Her companions stayed well back, moving only to keep her in sight.
Morey said something coarse in Welsh which made Raven snort in amusement. ‘She’s listening,’ the gryphon told me. ‘With those acute ears of hers. She’s working out where the tube leads.’
Peter whistled. ‘That’s some talent.’
‘Raven?’ I looked up at the dragon. ‘Do you know where he is?’
He cocked his head. ‘Yes. He’s a mile from the exit. The gryphon is on the right track.’
Now I was tempted to curse as well. Somehow I controlled myself. Clyde was listening from his pouch, after all. ‘Can you take us nearer? But not too close, so they can’t use us to help find him.’
‘Of course.’
We flew towards the ocean. Morey directed us to take a position between the lava tube and the cliff edge. From our vantage point, I could see a small cave which marked the exit to the beach. It was half way down the fifteen foot high cliff, so James would face a short drop when he decided to break cover.
‘The tide’s out.’ Peter pointed at the waves surging up the golden sands. ‘It’s about two hundred yards from the exit to the water.’
‘Is it a good idea for us to be here?’ I asked. ‘Won’t the gryphons fly over to the cliff?’
‘The tube branches off in several directions,’ Morey assured me. ‘I told him to keep going left, but of course they don’t know that. They need to follow James because they don’t know which exit he’s going to use.’
I climbed down to the ground. My backside was aching from the number of hours I’d been spending on a dragon. In other circumstances, I’d be enjoying the view. The coastline curved around on our left, forming a shallow bay. Waves pounded against tall rocks, and shore birds dived into the clear waters. The sun was warm on my face, and a slight breeze salted the air with the smell of seaweed. When our parents had been alive, James and I had spent school holidays building sandcastles on beaches like this one. Those happy memories clashed with the fear which was pounding through my body.
The owl gryphon was coming closer. Her tiger tail was lashing with exciteme
nt. The other two hunters had drawn closer, their bright eyes watching her progress. ‘She’s not far from James,’ Raven said in a low voice. ‘I think he’s near this end of the lava tube.’
‘Might be best to mount up,’ Peter said, still in the saddle of his dragon.
I started to climb up Raven’s foreleg, my right hand reaching out to his neck spine.
A shout made me turn my head. James had dropped down onto the soft sand. He threw his backpack to one side, and started running towards the ocean. The gryphons screamed, a high-pitched hunting cry which made me nearly lost my grip on Raven’s hide. They charged across the land, their wings blurring as they lifted into the air.
Peter’s dragon took off. Raven shuddered, but his claws remained on the ground as I hurried to climb up to his neck. No sooner did I drop into place between his spines than he took off. Morey squawked, and was torn from my shoulder. Clyde’s case bounced against my side, and then upturned. I had to tear my eyes from James as I reached out to catch the snail. Somehow I managed to shove him back into the bag.
James was half way to the ocean, struggling against the soft sand which caught at his boots. The dragons sped us over the beach, their wings pounding as they hurtled us towards my brother. But between us and him, beaks and claws gleaming in the sun, were the gryphons. And they were going to reach James before he could get to the water.
‘Raven!’ I found myself shouting. ‘Now, now, now!’
The search dragon was fast. The gryphons were faster. James glanced back over his shoulder. To my horror, he came to a stumbling halt. For a moment his eyes met mine. His lips curved into a smile. Then he pulled a small bottle from a shirt pocket. He thumbed off the cap, and threw back his head to gulp down the dark contents.
The gryphons were now only a hundred feet away. They angled their wings, sweeping upwards to position themselves into a killing strike. Arnborg was only a short distance from James, but she merely hovered, showing no desire to interfere. Raven thrust us closer to the ocean, obviously planning to throw himself between the hunters and my brother.
