Penlynn Castle

The woods had forgotten him. Or was it the other way around? The path must have become run down. Brambles that had once parted to admit him now barred the way, catching at his trousers and dragging at his heels. These were his good clothes too. What was he doing anyway? Picking his way down this overgrown path when he should be packing his things to go to the station at eight. But… something seemed to be pulling him back. He hadn’t been in the area for ages, not since he was a boy growing up in the little Welsh village nearby. He had spent a lot of time in the woods in those days. Looking back, he wasn’t quite sure why… hadn’t he wanted to become a naturalist or an explorer or some such thing one day? Yes, that was it. Yet here he was with a desk job as an accountant and perfectly content with it. Funny how things always turned out differently then one expected. He hadn’t set foot in the woods since those times, before they sent him away to school. Again he wondered why he was here. And again the mysterious pull in the back of his mind urged him on.

The trees parted.

He had not thought of this spot for years, but now as he stepped into the clearing, a great wash of remembrance came flooding over him. Not a thing had changed. Not a breath of wind disturbed the stillness. It was as if the place was under an enchantment, insulated and set apart from the realm of time. Tangles of ivy wreathed the crumbling stone. Grey sky over grey ruins in the silvery grey-green grass.

He shivered slightly. It must be getting chilly. Well, this was what he had come for. Mildly interesting from a historical viewpoint, of course, but not really much to see. As he stood looking, a raven flapped from a niche in the ruin and flew upwards, cawing as it went. He watched its winged shape circling higher, silhouetted against the clouds, and slowly, slowly, something stirred in the depths of memory…

Winged shapes against the sky. Emerald and sapphire, scarlet and purple and gold, flashing like jewels in the light of the setting sun. Bright green eyes peering from nooks and crannies in the crumbling ruin. The soft rustle and coo of activity as night began to fall. Shimmering, darting, dancing in the air, filling the twilight with iridescent beauty. And then there was Lirra the bold, Lirra the fearless, who lighted on his arm and was unafraid… they had been friends. Hadn’t they?
He shook his head, suddenly uneasy. The memory was fading already, growing dimmer as he grasped at it. Of course it had been nothing but a lonely boy’s imagination.

It was getting dark. He turned to go. But his footsteps slowed. Just for a moment, a strange feeling tugged at his heart, urging him to look back. He turned his head slowly, half-afraid of what he might see.

But there was nothing. Grey sky over a grey ruin in the silvery grey-green grass. Almost angrily, he shook his head to clear it. He needed to get back soon if he was going to be in time to catch the train. He had an important meeting tomorrow… What had he been thinking of again? He couldn’t remember. No matter.

A pair of jewel-bright eyes watched him go. The last of the dragons of Penlynn.