Book Two ‘RISE OF THE DRAGON, of the CRACH FFINNANT series is now complete and in prep for our publisher, Words Matter Publishing. Book Three is now underway.

‘DRAGONS AND RAVENS’

COMING SOON

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Our cue to the stage rang through the beat of Wasp’s drum and with utmost surprise, my legs ceased to quake and as if no thought was required, I stepped in front of the crowd. For the first time in my life I was a performer and here, now, under a full moon, my strength would be proven to all who could see. Crow played a jolly jig, accompanied by Wasp beating loudly, drumming rhythmically, as Strong-Man and I lifted a wagon high in the air. I lifted a large wooden wheel with one hand above my head whilst Strong-Man swung an enormous iron ball at the end of a short chain, round and around his head. I was really starting to enjoy myself, in fact it is true to say that I had not had as much fun in years and the applause seemed to make it even better.

  Energy coursed as a fast flowing river through every cell of my small body. This small body, in such a state of concentration, and yet not, showed strength equivalent to that of three full-sized men.  Our combined strength, phenomenal as it must have been to watch, seemed easy to us and required little real effort, simply concentration with ease. Our finale of strength was near. Wasp crashed the drum as smoke washed across the stage. Strong-Man stepped into the centre and bellowed at the audience, requesting six volunteers to step forward. Well, between them there was every shape and size imaginable standing with us on the stage. All six of them waited, fidgeting and twitching, perhaps wondering what sort of experience to be remembered for many years to come was about to take place.

  Strong-Man took hold of two of the men by the scruff of their necks in his left hand. One was as round as a barrel, the other well-built and muscular. In his right hand, he held two very plump men, bloated by ale and pie, faces flushed purple. I knelt with arms outstretched, laying my palms uppermost on the ground, beckoning the remaining men. Each stepped onto my hands and I felt their weight, heavy at first, as indeed they were. In my mind, I could see feathers floating and I began to feel their lightness. Wasp and Crow began a merry tune and together Strong-Man and I lifted our charges. He lifted his, their feet dangled helplessly. One man lifting four!  I took a breath and raised my arms with a man precariously balanced on each hand. Straightening my back and legs while standing up, I took them higher. The audiences were wild with excitement and the drum beat resounded in our ears.

 Our finale over, we stepped back into the smoke, leaving the volunteers, now with feet back on the ground, seemingly lost and forlorn. Pale-Man quickly helped the shaking men off the stage, urging them away into a waiting crowd of back-slapping friends and family.

 Circus Master stepped forward. The applauding audience clapped louder, almost frantically, encouraging more of the same. Raising his arms, gesticulating a need for quiet, slowly the audience responded and became calmer, settling in for the main finale about to unfurl. He raised his arms as high as it was possible, waving at the audience, golden ring on gloved hand glistening in the moonlight.

 “Friends, parents, children, people of Shrewsbury. We, the ‘Magic Travelling Circus’, invite you all to join in song and dance!” The audience cheered and screamed for more. “Dwarves, strike up the music!”

 He waved towards Crow who, beating his drum three times in succession, began to dance as Wasp tootled his flute. Music filled the air and the audience began to sway from side to side in time with the melody. The performers sang from behind the stage as the music became louder and louder.

‘All of us here in dark of night

Have seen magic dancing in light

Mystery of fire, truth of arrow, standing tall

Wonder of Wolves, strong men big and small

We wish you well in all you do

In grace we bid farewell to you’

Sounds of joy filled the night as, one by one, performers stepped onto the stage. Fire-Eater, spinning rings of fire around his head, bowed as he stepped forward. Clapping and screaming, the audience thanked him for his part in the spectacular. Before the applause could subside, Blaze leapt onto the stage, spinning his long bow, somersaulting and landing on his feet to stand erect next to Fire-Eater. Hands clapped, feet stamped and the audience danced on. Smoke fluttered across the stage, fogging all, as Wasp and Crow played on. Wolf-Woman, with Black-Wolf and White-Wolf at her side, stepped daintily to centre stage and curtsied. The wolves raised their huge heads to the moon and howled loudly, deeply filling the night with their haunting voices. Frantic dancing sent clouds of dust into the air, ale swilling from jugs splashed on unsuspecting neighbours lost in their own dreams, children laughed, screamed, folk wanted more. Crow and Wasp played on as we, the cast, sang.

Now it was my turn. Strong-Man lifted me up onto his broad, muscular shoulders. We stepped out proudly in front of all gathered and both bowed, me being very careful not to tumble off! I laughed loudly at my near fall and Strong-Man, feeling my anxiety, straightened to balance himself, and me too! Circus Master raised his arms and the music and singing ceased abruptly. He addressed the audience, thanking all for coming, expressing gratitude, bowing low. The audience cheered for one last time as we all bowed and left the stage.

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 “Jump upon my back, Crach, the moon is full tonight. I will save you from the long walk home and pay my respects to your Master at the same time. We have prophecies and dwarves to discuss. Come along, be not afraid. Climb up.” The great dragon lowered his gigantic head, bending one of his front legs, then flushed out a gill. I scrambled up his leg and used the bony nodules on the gill as a ladder, enabling me to climb with ease up onto his back, where I sat ‘betwixt huge scaled shoulders. “Are you as comfortable as you can be sat upon a dragon?” His voice boomed.

“I am ready, I think!” I replied with some trepidation, my feet never having been so high in the air before, let alone on top of a dragon! As an honest dwarf, I must tell you that I was petrified. I shook from my toes to the tips of my fingers, but he knew that!

“Hold on tight, Crach!”

  Suddenly, great wings stretched slowly outwards before his whole body tensed as muscles prepared to spring into action, then with one great flap, his enormous body swept upwards, swirling and turning as we flew higher and higher up through the tunnel above his lair. Hanging on to his gills, a hand on each, my knuckles white with fear, gripping on for my very life. I looked up and could see the full moon in a clear night sky looming in front of us and within the wink of an eye, the entrance to the cave tunnel was far below. We flew higher and higher across the face of the moon. With my fear now gone, I felt the wind blowing through my hair and clothes, as if I hung upon a line to dry. I now dared to look down and could see so much. Looking at the beauty of our mountains from such a height was magical.

CRACH FFINNANT
RISE OF THE DRAGON
IS FINISHED!

BIT MORE CRACH’O’MAGIC FOR THE MASSES

WATCH THIS SPACE

Fwynedd strode over the threshold into the cavern and I thought ‘from storm to warm‘, smiling to myself inwardly at such poetic humour. Even the idea of this cave raised my spirit. Once inside nature’s shelter with the rain behind me, calmness entered my every pore. Turning around, scanning the cave floor for wood to burn, I saw that Fwynedd had already gathered a bundle of twigs and branches in his strong arms. I watched and within the time it took me to consider where we may be, Fwynedd had piled twigs, then betwixt flint and blade drawn from the leather pouch hanging at his belt, sparked and blew a flame. A small flicker of orange danced as he gently blew and the fire caught. Twigs, dry from the shelter of the cave, lit with ease as Fwynedd snapped branches into smaller chunks, placing one or two on the fire. A warm yellow glow reflected across the cave walls, giving light to our sanctuary. I took the wet cloak from my shoulders and undid the thongs that held my jerkin together. I hung the sodden cloak from a branch extending from a gnarled old tree stump that had somehow ended up here in this cave. Perhaps the old stories were true about lost trees seeking refuge in caves when death approached. True or not, it was proving very useful. Taking off my wet jerkin, I felt a pang of relief, it must be either I have grown or it has shrunk! I laid it next to the fire and sat down. I could not help but almost stick my feet into the burning logs, I was so desirous of warmth. Casting temptation of pain to the back of my mind, I satisfied myself with a quiet smouldering, wet feet steaming whilst flickering shadows danced across the cave walls.

 Quietly and with industry, Fwynedd was boiling water in a small pot, adding chopped herbs and roots, stirring all slowly with a knife blade. He looked up at me smiling. Now that I was considerably drier, warmer and brighter, I also smiled. Fwynedd the Shepherd spoke again.

 “We will drink and rest!” his words still a whisper, gravelly and hoarse.

 He certainly was, as my Master had said, ‘a man of few words‘. He continued to stir the pot, now bubbling furiously. Ushering steam wound its way aimlessly to the cave roof, sucked into oblivion, becoming invisible. A pleasant aroma filled the cave as unseen wisps of our earth’s grace filled my nose. Fwynedd covered his hand with a blanket to protect vulnerable skin, as skilfully he removed a steaming pot from the fire, placing it gently on the ground. He then took the blanket from around his hand and sprawled it across the cave floor. Sitting cross-legged atop the blanket, a long strong-arm reached for the hat on his head. As Fwynedd became hatless, thick dark hair, almost as long as his beard which was still tucked in by the belt, cascaded over broad shoulders and down his back. He moved his hair from craggy worn features, securing its wildness behind his ears. Smiling, he said.

 “It is dry in this cave and we have made good time and pace, Crach.” His croaky voice, rasping silent whispers, continued. “You do not realise how long we have walked for, do you?” He smiled again.

 I thought to myself before answering him. ‘A day at most’. Confidently, I replied to this simple question from my guide.

 “A whole day’s marching, I would say!”

 Upon hearing my answer, Fwynedd the Shepherd, my guide and my Master’s old friend, exploded into laughter, almost seeming to burst. His eyes bulged, expelling tears which dripped down his weather-battered cheeks, now rosy from the heat of the fire. In my embarrassment at his reaction and not wishing to seem like a fool, I casually placed some wood on the fire. I looked up at him, still taller than me sitting down, and said.

 “Surely it has only been one day!”

 He laughed again, only this time a little less raucously and with slightly more control. ‘What had I said that is so funny?’ I wondered. Gathering his wits, Fwynedd spoke quietly.

 “So, your Master did not teach you how nature will warp our time, change our space, to arrive before we realise we have left?”

 “Of course!” I replied defensively. Llwyd ap Crachan Llwyd had taught me everything he knew and I knew all about ‘warping ways’. I gasped a sigh of surprise.

 “You mean we have been walking for longer than one day?”

 Before he even began to answer, I remembered that the whole essence of ‘warping ways’ related to not knowing a ‘warp’ had occurred until it had. ‘Like time stands still!’ I thought.

 “Exactly, like time standing still. Exactly!” Fwynedd smiled as he repeated my thoughts, whispering in that gravelly voice again. So he too could read my thoughts, just like my Master! My thoughts are not my own!

 Fwynedd began to snigger again, lips and forehead twitching, before bursting into laughter. This time I joined him, it was funny and the joke was on me.

  “So how far have we come, Fwynedd?”

I had a feeling I knew, of course, but confirmation was something I now needed. Perhaps this journey was going to be easier than my fears and jittery self-foretold.

“Six days and nights, Crach. Six days and nights!” Fwynedd smiled knowingly. “When all is meant to be, we know all is in harmony. Nature is the only truth in all things.” 

 I knew this and now realised that indeed a ‘warp-way’ had opened in the universe. This truly was as Llwyd ap Crachan Llwyd, my Master, had said. ‘A very great pilgrimage!’

  “We have journeyed far and yet no distance at all in the scheme of things.” Fwynedd scratched his forehead. “From the mountains of Gwynedd, across ridges and along valleys, day and night, our pace sure. Through mists, from dawn to dusk, into Powys and over the mountains to the Welsh Marches, Crach. Over this ridge, my little dwarf friend, lays Shrewsbury, your destination and our parting!” He smiled.  ‘Yes’ I thought, ‘warp-way indeed!’ I turned to look towards Fwynedd who was now relaxing against the cave wall, his long legs stretched out in front of the fire, twiddling his beard betwixt intertwining fingers, he was smiling quietly. Such a journey in real-time would take seven days. Through the ‘warp-way’, we had done it in less than two. Magic in the universe was at hand and true destiny at my feet. Fwynedd, eyes closed, drifted sleepily within the warmth and shelter of our refuge. My eyes, now heavy and tired, lost focus in the firelight as I fell into caverns of sleep. Tomorrow, I would be saying farewell to Fwynedd and be arriving in Shrewsbury with the next part of my adventure in readiness to unfurl before me.