Chapter 51 Jean
What the hell?
I watch, stunned, as Venim swings his sword right at Ghorak’s face.
The horned giant leans back just in time, and the blade misses him, but it comes so close it clips the burning end off the weedstalk he just lit.
Venim follows up with a second slash in the other direction, and Ghorak leans back even more, transitioning into a smooth backward handspring. The move puts a little distance between the two aliens, but Venim keeps pressing the attack, charging toward him with a series of quick, stabbing thrusts.
All of this happens so fast, I haven’t even had a chance to react yet—aside from my eyes and mouth dropping open in shock.
“Hey!” I shout. “Stop it!”
I lurch toward them, hoping to break up the fight, but Scythro grabs me and holds me tight.
“Let me go!”
“Stay back,” he whispers. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“We have to stop him!”
Scythro purrs to calm me. I push one last time, but it’s clear that I am no match for his strength. I have no choice but to watch as Venim continues attacking with his sword, and Ghorak continues to dodge.
I guess that’s not entirely true. I could turn my face away, but I don’t.
My eyes are locked on Ghorak and his evasive maneuvers.
He is spinning and dodging with a gracefulness I’ve never seen him display before.
A guy as big as him shouldn’t even be able to move like that, but somehow he’s doing it.
It’s a far cry from his usual, bumbling movements.
“Why is Venim attacking him?” I ask.
“I’m not certain,” Scythro says.
But the way he says it makes me think he isn’t entirely uncertain either.
Around us, vents are going off in pink explosions, lighting up the dance of death that is taking place before my eyes. Venim’s attacks are coming faster now, his blade moving with so much speed I can barely see it.
Somehow, Ghorak’s reflexes are able to keep up. He spins away from a blade-thrust, ducks under a slash, springs away from a follow-up chop.
How is he doing that?
And how long can he keep it up? This can’t go on forever. We have to stop this.
“Venim!” I shout.
But he’s not listening. His attention is laser-focused on the horned giant dodging his attacks.
What the hell has gotten into him? Is he betraying us? Does he think Ghorak has betrayed us? What is going on?
Venim throws one last swing, and this time, instead of dodging outright, Ghorak deflects the blow with one of his horns. He catches Venim’s wrist with one hand and his throat with the other.
“You’re going to stop now,” Ghorak says.
His voice is low, but I can still hear it over the sound of the vents, and I can feel it rumbling deep down inside my core. It’s not the same slurred voice I’ve grown accustomed to over the past days. It’s smooth and deep and clear.
For a few seconds, they just stand like that, a pair of battling sculptures, lit by the intermittent flashes from the vents. Then it’s Venim’s turn to do something I’ve never seen him do before.
He laughs.
This isn’t just a slight chuckle. We’re talking full-on, head thrown back, howling with laughter, like someone’s just told him the funniest joke ever.
And his laughter, apparently, is infectious, because after a few seconds, I can feel Scythro shaking with amusement. A few more seconds after that, even Ghorak starts to join in.
Seems like I’m the only one who’s immune.
“Excuse me!” I shout over the sound of laughter. “Anyone care to let me in on the joke?”
It’s a few moments before Venim’s laughter dies down enough for him to answer me, and when he does, he’s still got a big, fanged grin smeared across his face.
“The Grangorian isn’t high,” he says, “and he never has been.”
“Wait, what?” I gasp, looking at Ghorak. “But… all that dreamweed you’ve been smoking?”
He answers with a bashful shrug.
“It’s a little-known fact about my species. We’re completely immune to the stuff.”