The Dark Portal (The Gryphon Chronicles, Book 3) (3 page)

BOOK: The Dark Portal (The Gryphon Chronicles, Book 3)
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He poi
nted them out, but the others didn’t look fast enough to see.

The tiny people followed, spying on them and
running atop the branches to keep up with the carriage.

Hmm! I wonder what they are,
Jake thought, but they couldn’t be anything dangerous. His ancestors had protected all three thousand acres of their land here centuries ago with countless magical spells.

Plas-y-Fforest
was a very special place in Everton family history, which was why they had come. As the long-lost heir of the Griffon earldom and the family fortune, Jake still had much to learn about his heritage.

At last, near the top of the mountain, they reached a clearing where his ancestors’ ramblin
g old holiday cottage came into sight.

As the carriage rolled to a halt in front of it,
the children stared in delight. The sun had come back out; the sky was blue again; the earlier gloom and the sinister feeling up by the cemetery were forgotten.

For t
here in the sunny clearing before them, hidden among the woods, sat a large medieval cottage right out of a storybook—a wonderful old hodgepodge of gray stone sections, haphazardly joined, and seemingly held together by nothing but the climbing roses and dark green ivy that grew up its sides.

It had banks of narrow
mullioned windows, some with colored glass, and a funny little arched doorway at the entrance. A dozen chimneypots poked up from the steep slate roof; gables peered out in all directions like watchful eyes.

Jake loved the place on sight. Despite having “Mansion” in its name,
Plas-y-Fforest was not at all grand and imposing, like Everton House in London, but cozy and quirky, and full of nooks and crannies that the children suddenly couldn’t wait to explore.

T
hey burst out of the coach, freed at last from the stifling confinement of their journey. Teddy dove out, barking, and started running around in circles.

Red leaped out of the
carriage and soared skyward to stretch his wings with a few minutes of much-needed flying.

Perhaps the Welsh-born beast also wanted a moment alone to reacquaint himself with his homeland.

Meanwhile, Derek dismounted from his horse and went to hand Miss Helena down from the driver’s box.

A
t that moment, the cottage door banged open and out rushed a little human whirlwind.

Well, maybe not
human,
exactly, Jake thought.

“W
elcome, oh, welcome, lords and ladies! Guardian Stone, so good to see you again! Welcome, children, oh, do please, all of you, come in, come in! Snowdrop Fingle at your service!”

Snowdrop Fingle was no taller than the children and bore a strong resemblance, Jake thought, to a cheery little hedgehog, with shiny dark eyes, slight sideburns, and pointy ears sticking out from beneath her white house cap.

She wore an apron over her plain cotton work dress; the dress hung to her ankles, revealing her odd bare feet.

The feet seemed just a bit too large for such a diminutive woman: strong, callused feet with slight fuzz growing on them.

Dani elbowed Jake.
“Quit staring,”
she whispered.

Derek did the introductions. “Children, Mr. and Mrs. Fingle have been the faithful caretaker couple here at Plas-y-Fforest for many years.”

The coachman tipped his hat as he jumped down from the carriage and started getting their luggage.

“And if I may say so,” Derek added, “your family is very lucky to have them, Jake. One house brownie can do the work of twenty servants, but you’re blessed with two.”

“Oh, Guardian Stone, such flattery!” The small, hairy she-brownie tittered nervously as she stood by, waiting to hold the door for everyone.

Jake was aston
ished. House brownies?

He had thought the Welsh driver
was merely a short man rather in need of a shave. It was only when Mr. Fingle’s top hat slipped that his pointy ears popped out from beneath the brim.

“Well, dash my wig,” said Jake, but the Fingles were just as mystified by him.

“Sweet bees’ wings,” Snowdrop fairly whispered, “is this the young master who was missing all those years? Oh, but it must be! He looks just like his father.”

“Doesn’t he, though?” Derek agreed with a smile.

Jake swelled with pride, though he felt a bit self-conscious. She took a step toward him. “Welcome to your little Welsh cottage in the woods, Lord Griffon. My Nimbus and I, we do our best to keep it perfect for you at all times. If there’s anything you want changed now that you’re the new owner, you have only to let us know. The same goes for all your guests. House brownies live to make their masters comfortable.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Fingle, you’re very kind,” Jake answered.

“Welcome to you all,” she added, beaming at the others. But when Red landed in their midst, the little house brownie gasped.

“Crafanc!” Snowdrop cried.

“Huh?” Jake said.

She forgot all about the rest of them and went running
to throw her arms around the Gryphon’s neck. “Oh, my most noble Lord Crafanc! How marvelous to see you again after all this time!”

Red hugged her back with his front lion-paw.

Apparently, they were already well acquainted, but Jake was puzzled. “Why’d you call him that?”

Snowdrop released the
Gryphon and wiped away a tear of joy. “Because it is his name, of course, my lord! Crafanc-y-Gwrool.”

“Really?” Jake exclaimed, astonished. “I always just called him Red. Or Big Red.”

“Well, he does seem to like that, too,” Snowdrop admitted. “But his real name, his old name, his Welsh name, his royal name, is
Crafanc-y-Gwrool. Claw the Courageous,” she translated in a reverent tone.

“Claw the Courageous?” Jake echoed, impressed, as were they all. “Well, that certainly suits you, boy.”

The Gryphon snuffled through his sharp golden beak as though making light of his own magnificence, then fluffed out the scarlet feathers of his mane in kingly fashion and prowled off to the cottage.

He pushed the front door open with his beak and went strolling in like he owned the place—and for all Jake knew, maybe he did.
The Evertons would still be peasant farmers if it weren’t for the gratitude of a gryphon long ago.

“Is anyone hungry
?” Snowdrop asked brightly. “How about some nice warm bannock cakes with honey?”

That got them moving.

Inside, the pokey old house had low, plaster ceilings crisscrossed with dark, heavy, wooden beams in the old medieval style. Underfoot, the ancient flagstone floors were uneven, tilting this way and that, and the sconces on the walls were for ordinary candles; Plas-y-Fforest had never been updated with gaslamps and probably never would.

While Mr. Nimbus
Fingle carried in their traveling trunks far faster than would have been
humanly
possible, Snowdrop showed them around the cottage. She pointed the way to the bedchambers upstairs, where the children chose their rooms for the trip.

But there wasn’t time
for unpacking quite yet, or they’d be late for their tour of the Everton Goldmine.

O
n Derek’s orders, they changed their shoes and put on wellies or good, sturdy boots for the hike up to the mine entrance and for traipsing around through the underground tunnels that awaited them.

Four sets of clomping footfalls
rushed back downstairs to the kitchen, then the kids scarfed down the traditional Welsh bannock cakes that Snowdrop had prepared for them. Cut into wedges, they were very much like scones.

They were
wonderful.

“Quickly, now.” Miss Helena tapped
the dainty watch that hung on a ribbon around her neck. “You mustn’t keep the dwarves waiting.”

“Aren’t you coming?” Isabelle asked.

“No, my dear, I’ll stay behind to get your things unpacked,” said the governess. “You go on, now, and do as Derek tells you. You’re due there in twenty minutes.”

“Time is short,” Jake agreed, flashing
a grin at Archie.


Ah, yes!” the boy genius drawled. “We don’t want the dwarves getting angry. They can be short-tempered.”

“W
e all have our shortcomings,” Jake rejoined.


But I’m sure their anger at us would be short-lived,” Dani chimed in.

Isabelle just looked at them
. She hadn’t found the game very amusing in the carriage, either, during their bout of silliness. But then, empaths were incapable of making fun of people or hurting others’ feelings, since they shared them.

Jake snorted
. Little Miss Perfect was too bloody nice. No wonder she had been chosen as a Keeper of the Unicorns.

“Enough, you lot,” Derek grumbled
, rising from the table. “Crack a joke like that in front of one of the dwarves, and you’ll see what you get.”

“They’ll
make short work of us,” Archie said under his breath.

Jake tried not to laugh.

“You’re not exactly tall yourself, Master Archie.” Derek scowled at them. “Time to go.” He stalked out of the room, leaving them to scramble after him.

“I’ll grow!” Archie assured the others a
s they left the table, thanking Snowdrop for the snack and grabbing a few extra bannocks to bring along on their hike.

Miss Helena
accepted temporary charge of Dani’s dog. Teddy growled as the governess took him in her arms; he accepted Miss Helena but would never quite trust her, considering she was a shapeshifter whose other form was feline.

Dani waved a finger at him. “Teddy, be nice!” Then the
Irish redhead ran outside after the others.

Before
the group set out on their hike up to the mine’s hidden entrance in the woods, Derek gathered them around to reiterate the warning he had already given them several times along their journey.


Now, children. About this goldmine. Listen well. I know you’re tired of hearing it, but as Jake’s bodyguard, it is my duty to remind you one last time. It is of the
utmost importance
that you keep everything you’re about to see today in strictest secrecy. Understood?”

“Yes, yes, we
understand,” they mumbled.


Even knowing about the Everton Mine’s existence, let alone its location, brings a certain risk,” he continued. “You may discuss it amongst yourselves or with us, but never speak about it in front of outsiders. Never forget, having great wealth, like magical abilities, can make a person a target for those with bad intents. Of course, you’re well protected here, but always be discreet. We don’t need the wrong sort of people hearing about the goldmine and deciding to try to kidnap Jake or any of you, as his closest friends, to make a fortune in ransom money.”


I’d like to see ’em try it,” Jake drawled.

T
he battle-hardened warrior eyed him with a cynical frown, then turned away with one of his meaningful low growls.

“What?” Jake
asked in an innocent tone.

“We all know you
hate caves, Jake,” Derek shot back over his shoulder, “and that you’re already dreading going underground into the mine. Your showing off, boasting, and making fun of the dwarves isn’t fooling anybody.”


Am not! What do you mean?” he protested, his cheeks coloring as Derek stalked off. “I’m not scared!”

BOOK: The Dark Portal (The Gryphon Chronicles, Book 3)
11.18Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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