Jago's Journey: A Gryphon's Walkabout

By Chrys Cymri

A vegetarian, pacifist gryphon? No wonder Jago’s own family don’t understand him.

From the day of his hatching, Jago has been different. But his refusal to kill or to fight has made him wonder if he’s a real gryphon. Maybe going on a special journey, a walkabout, will help him work out who he really is?

Jago’s determination to undertake the walkabout on his own is soon derailed when Cornelius, a sarcastic praying mantis, insists on joining him. Then matters become more complicated when Jago comes across a young family in need of protection. Will he be able to hold true to his beliefs?

Jago is a character in the urban fantasy ‘Penny White’ series. This is his story of self-discovery.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chrys Cymri
• Release date: May 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463195888

Chrys Cymri

Priest by day, writer at odd times of the day and night, I live with a small green parrot called Tilly because the upkeep for a dragon is beyond my current budget. Plus I’m responsible for making good any flame damage to church property. I love ‘Doctor Who’, landscape photography, single malt whisky, and my job, in no particular order. When I’m not looking after a small parish church in the Midlands (England) I like to go on far flung adventures to places like Peru, New Zealand, and North Korea.

Book preview

Jago’s Journey

A Gryphon’s Walkabout

From the magical world of Penny White

By Chrys Cymri

Copyright 2020 Chrys Cymri

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Cover Design: Oliviaprodesign on Fiverr

This is a work of fiction.

All names, characters, businesses,

places, events and incidents are either the

products of the author’s imagination

or used in a fictitious manner and any resemblance

to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events

is purely coincidental.

Jago pressed against the woven sides of the crow’s nest, poking his beak through gaps to look down at the ship’s deck far below. The crew were busy at their tasks. Although they had taken human form, the black and white bird feathers covering their bodies was a reminder of their dual nature as were-puffins.

The Morning Star might be at anchor, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t work to be done. Sails were spread across the wooden deck for repairs. Part of the port gunwale was being reinforced with new wood. And one of the small row boats was being given a new layer of varnish. There wasn’t much a small gryphon like Jago could do to help, so he had decided it was best simply to stay out of the crew’s way.

A large bird circled the top mast. Jago watched as the grey albatross landed nearby, shifting a moment later from bird to human form. ‘Arvo, cobber,’ Johno said in his Australian drawl, pulling out a pipe from somewhere. ‘Watching the crew?’

The captain towered over him, but Jago was used to being the smallest in any gathering. ‘I like were-birds. Maybe it’s because, like me, they can fly.’

Johno drew on his pipe, then exhaled sweet-smelling smoke. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask. Do you look more like your mum than your dad? Morey and you both have front bits like a falcon, truth, but your back bit’s like a fox instead of a cat.’

‘Gryphons can come in all sorts of shapes.’

‘But you’re not a half and half. Truth? All gryphon, not half bird and half fox.’

Jago glanced back at his grey sides and tail. The fur shimmered with green and blue notes in the bright sunshine. He extended his wings and flapped up to the wooden rail which marked the top of the crow’s nest, bringing him to the height of the captain’s feathered chest. ‘I guess not. Just like the crew aren’t half human and half puffin.’

‘And one’s a were-penguin.’ The captain pointed the stem of his pipe at Jago. ‘You’ve been up here a lot, lad. You still cranky over that sheila?’

‘No.’

Johno cocked his head, the dark eyebrows drawing together. ‘Deadset? From where I’m standing, you look lower than a dead dingo’s donger.’

After living on The Morning Star for nearly four months, Jago had learned to interpret the captain’s phrases and how to respond in turn. ‘I had to give Dancer the flick. We just didn’t see things the same way.’

‘Did you crack on to her?’

‘I'm too young for that.’ Jago sighed. ‘As Tad likes to remind me.’

‘And your dad says you have a spunk waiting back home for you.’

‘Bastien.’ Jago felt his crest sag. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to tell him.’

‘Your head was turned by a pretty sheila. But you didn’t even pash, did you? No harm done.’

‘Except to me,’ Jago muttered. ‘Before she left, Dancer said--no, never mind.’

Johno held out his free hand. Jago hopped over, fitting easily on the broad palm. ‘I know I’m a sticky beak, but I'm going to ask. What was her parting shot?’

‘That I’m not a real gryphon.’ Jago drew air in through his nostrils, determined not to cry in front of the captain. ‘I won’t hunt, I won’t fight.’

‘They didn’t hunt, those hummingbird-gryphons. Nectar eaters, truth?’

‘But they were still fighters. Dancer even brought a sword for me to use.’ Jago sighed. ‘Maybe she’s right. I don’t know what I am.’

They stood together for awhile without speaking. The sounds of the crew calling to each other rose from the deck below, along with the sound of water slapping against the ship’s wooden hull. Closer by, Johno sucked on his pipe, humming softly under his breath.

‘Walkabout,’ the captain finally said.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Jago asked, well aware that he was using one of Aunt Penny’s favourite phrases.

Johno gave him a jerky nod. ‘Somewhat nippers do in Oz. Say hooroo to the olds and go into the back of beyond. Chance to work out who they are without anyone giving them an earbashing. When they’ve worked out who they are, they come back.’

‘Walkabout,’ Jago said thoughtfully. ‘Maybe I could do that at our next island?’

‘I’ll give you three days, as soon as we rock up,’ Johno agreed. Then