Chapter 6.5 The Monster
I rear back in surprise, and the—very naked—man springs to his feet, doubling over. He paws at his face, and for a moment I can't tell what he's doing. Then I see he is sticking two finger down his throat, almost like someone trying to make themselves throw up.
I stare in confusion, but I can't ask the question in this form. I hesitate for a second, but the man seems to have completely forgotten our battle, as well as his desire to attack my friends. He is vomiting in the grass, stark naked, with his exposed throat not five feet from my jaws.
I shift to human form, ignoring the fact that I, too, am very naked. "What are you doing?" I ask the man in bafflement.
Done vomiting, he is sticking his fingers down his throat again.
"Hello?" I cry, surging forward. I grab his wrist and pull his arm away. The man gives a snarl that is only half-human in sound, wrenching his arm out of my grasp with a strength that startles me, though it shouldn't. It's just that I am so used to dealing with humans.
The man sticks his fingers down his throat again.
Just then, the crackling of grass alerts me to the fact that my friends are approaching. I whirl to find Marton coming at me with his eyes squeezed shut, holding out a blanket. His blush is almost as red as the skin of the lion-man's human form.
I accept the blanket, wrapping it around myself, and spot Cherry beyond Marton's shoulder, her eyes fixed with horror on the naked man in the middle of the clearing.
I clear my throat, stepping between my friends and the doubled-up figure of the man. Because although preoccupied, he's still dangerous...I think.
We all take a moment to stare at him as he continues puking.
When he seems finished, straightening up with a nauseous look on his face, I step forward. "What was that?"
The man's eyes focus on me, slightly woozy. His brows lower in a scowl, as he looks from me to the torn up clearing. Back to me. "You attacked me." His tone indicates he thinks this is an answer to my question, and also that my actions were shockingly offensive.
I frown. "You threatened us." Didn't he? "And I...didn't like the way you were looking at my friends. You tried to attack them."
"I did not." The man wipes at his mouth with the back of one hand, tone stringent.
I growl from low in my belly. This is beside the point, anyway.
"I meant what was that." I fling out a hand to indicate where he has just been sick in the grass.
As I do, the wind picks up, and I feel the moisture on the side of my face again, cold and hot at the same time.
I dab at the spot with a corner of my blanket, wondering how badly I am injured.
The man's eyes widen in horror. "Be careful! Don't get any of that into your eyes."
"Into my eyes? It's blood. Of course I'd prefer it in my body where it belongs."
"It's not blood." The man takes several striding steps forward, and then his hands are on my blanket, and he's carefully wiping away the red substance, brushing it away from my eyes.
"Not blood?" I jerk back, glaring to indicate his proximity is not welcome. I take over wiping at my face like before, and as I do, I notice that there doesn't seem to be an open wound beneath it. The spot is sore, like it will bruise later, but I'm not cut.
"It's venom," says the man darkly. "Poison. From my...tail. Be glad I didn't pierce your skin."
I snort. "Like you could have if you wanted to."
He glares at me, but he doesn't seem to have an argument for that. I'm grateful for that, at least.
Marton is suddenly next to me, eyes sharp with worry on my face.
He holds a waterskin in one hand, and he impatiently tells me to "Be still," as he fusses with pouring water on the side of my face, blocking it from my eyes with the side of his hand.
He brushes it away with another scrap of the blanket as he puffs impatiently at Cherry, "Where's her bag? Bring her a dress."
Cherry makes outraged noises at being ordered around, but she's already walking back towards the forest to retrieve my pack. The strange man's eyes watch her go, and I hiss a warning at him.
He eyes me warily.
"What's your name?" Marton asks him, a little defensive, but aiming for politeness.
After a beat, the man responds, "I am Vakhrin."
"What are you?" I ask, more to the point. I stand stiffly, holding my blanket closed, and I'm very aware of how fast Vakhrin can move when he wants to. We are not safe, and this human-looking man has been killing travelers in the woods.
Vakhrin studies his bare feet. When he speaks, it is to the ground. "I am a manticore." With a roll of his eyes, he adds, "A shifter." I think we all inferred that last part. But—
I glance at Marton. "Have you heard of manticores?"
"Mantichora," Marton corrects, almost reflexively. I give him a pointed stare. "Right," he winces. "Yes, there are legends of the mantichora in the Academy libraries. They were always...stranger, more mysterious than the tales of dragons. The manticore's prey hardly ever survives to tell the tale."
Vakhrin laughs huskily, his eyes on me, slightly superior.
"That's hardly something to boast about," I growl.
His humor evaporates. "You attacked me," he reminds me.
"I did not! Mine was a warning shot—" Cherry interrupts me, bringing me a dress.
I let her hold the blanket while I change, but I keep my eyes focused on Vakhrin over the blanket edge the whole time.
He doesn't seem interested in my nakedness, no more than he is his own, but his gaze is glued to me all the same.
Keeping an eye on the threat. Marton, by contrast, has his back turned towards me politely.
"If fire is your warning," says Vakhrin to me as Cherry tosses the soiled blanket to the ground, and I step forward, clothed, "then I would hate to see what you consider an attack."
"The shot would have gone above your head if you weren't too busy fleeing in terror—"
An affronted snarl rips out of Vakhrin's throat, and Marton spins around to face us. "Let's not—"
"Do you want to go again, dragon?"
"Do you want to lose again, manticore?"
His mouth twists in disgust, and his voice is nearly prim as Cherry's, frigid with dislike. "I did not lose."
"Who shifted back to human form and spent ten minutes vomiting?" I look quizzically at my friends as I ask the question. Cherry obligingly sniggers, but Marton looks worried.
"Manticore poison causes paralyses in small doses," growls Vakhrin. "In large doses, it causes full body seizures and death. Even among our own kind."
"You can poison yourself with your own tail?" I'm baffled.
"It's never happened before," he assures crossly. "If my strike had pierced your skin, it wouldn't have happened now."
I touch my cheek, thinking of the staggering pain of the strike, the red venom running down my face. Poison. If had gotten in my mouth, perhaps it would have killed me. I wonder if Vakhrin would have warned me, before it did?
Abruptly, I'm not in the mood to be circumspect and friendly. "So you've been luring villagers to their deaths in these woods." I gesture around. "Want to tell us why?"
Vakhrin's face goes utterly blank in an instant. Without a word, he turns on his heel and strides away. I gape at his back, and share disbelieving looks with my friends.
Did he just—?
Vakhrin crosses the clearing, going over to his clothesline where he was, in fact, hanging garments up to dry earlier. He pulls down a pair of trousers with a snap of his wrist, dressing himself with stiff motions.
With his back to us, he speaks, "You should all leave this place at once."
"Yeah, you said something like that before." I'm annoyed, and I pursue him across the clearing. I stop beside the pool, glancing down into the crystal clear water for a moment. Small fish move in the depths, and down there everything looks peaceful and easy. "What do you mean?"
Vakhrin yanks a tunic over his head. "There is a danger in these woods. As you clearly know." His tone is bitter. "You should leave, before the monster gets you."
"You mean to say that you are not the one doing the killing?"
He spins around, and his eyes are ablaze as he looks me over, takes in my friends behind me. His lip curls back from his teeth.
I can't imagine what it is he see in this moment, what he thinks, but I try.
He sees a dragon, with an ordinary human girl and boy at her back.
Friends. He sees accusers, like he probably has before.
Just more people calling him a monster. He sees.
..people who should have understood him, but didn't.
"What is killing the villagers?" I ask, making an effort at a conciliatory tone.
"Why don't you just decide that it's me and move on with your life? Attack me again, or leave me alone. I don't care." He holds his shoulders rigidly, like he's waiting for a blow and trying to pretend it will not hurt.
I deflate, the tension leaving my body.
Unconsciously, I have been bracing to attack him, or for him to attack me. And isn't that just the way everyone has always treated me? Like a senseless monster that can't possibly do anything but destroy and kill?
I clench my jaw. "My name is Tarah. These are my friends, Marton and.
..Cherry." Safer to call her Cherry than Shireen.
I might be trying to trust the manticore shifter, but I'm not about to trust him with that.
"We came to see about the monster in the woods.
Not to kill it," I emphasize, "but because I am looking for more of my kind.
I have...never met another dragon," I admit.
"Nor any other...thing like me. I am glad to see you.
" That's almost true. It is true, only I'm disappointed that he's not a dragon.
It means our quest isn't over, our problems are not solved.
Vakhrin frowns, looking from me to my companions. His tone is incredulous, "You came chasing stories of murder because you're looking to make a friend?"
"It's a bit more complicated than that."
Cherry breathes an exasperated breath. She's been quiet all this time, but it seems she's reached her limit on how much conversation that is not about her she can bear. "This is pointless! He's not a dragon. He can't help us. Let's just go."
I hesitate, glancing from her to Marton.
Marton's expression is more difficult to read.
He looks uncomfortable, braced for more conflict.
His eyes are anxious when they rest on the wounded side of my face, and full of flack and curiosity in equal measure as he watches the manticore.
He doesn't look ready to leave yet, though. Neither am I.
I focus on Cherry for a moment. "There's something killing travelers in these woods. Vakhrin says it isn't him"—well, he didn't precisely say it, but I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt—"You don't think that's something we should do something about?"
"We're not the Olion Guard," Cherry argues. "This isn't our problem." I frown at her, and she heaves a sigh. "Tarah—"
I smile, turning away from her. I know reluctant acceptance when I hear it.
Vakhrin's expression is wary. He tugs on the end of his sleeve. "You wish to help?"
"That depends," I say carefully. "What are you doing out here in the woods?"
He glances away, eyeing the darkening forest. "I am looking for my grandfather.""
"Your...grandfather?"
A nod, frowning. "When a manticore ages, grows near to their time of death, their venom glands.
..rebel, spitting poison into the bloodstream.
It drives our kind mad with killing rage.
Bloodthirst. It's usually consider the nearest relation's job to hunt down a venom-mad manticore and put them to rest, to keep them from exposing the rest of us.
Only my parents are...far from this land.
And I didn't know it was my grandfather doing the killing here until very recently, when I ran into an old friend who warned me of it.
I've been out here for weeks now, looking for him, but he moves too quickly for me to catch.
And I'm just one man... There's no way to set a trap. "
I do nothing but stare for a moment, digesting all of this information. Marton does the same beside me, and only Cherry seems unconcerned, picking at her nails and eyeing the clearing with distaste.
I exhale a breath. "But you...have a plan to catch him?
If you had, say, a dragon to help you?" I guess this is what I'm doing now.
I can't very well leave Vakhrin alone to deal with this, nor let a manticore, pained and wild, run loose in these woods.
Killing innocents and giving the rest of us monsters a bad name.
"I...do," says Vakhrin, looking like he hardly knows what to think at this blatant offer of help.
"I can locate him, chase him into a closed-off pass, but I need someone to be there.
To catch him before he can fly away. In his state, his nature tells him to run rather than fly—we're faster on the ground—but when he does take to the sky, he's as good as gone from me. "
"Okay," I say, and then, "Okay. I can do that. I can," I tell Marton's flashing eyes. "I just need to pin him?" I ask Vakhrin, clarifying. "Then you'll...?"
"I'll ease him on into the next life." Vakhrin's eyes are distant.
"Good. Great. Excellent. Let's do that." I brace my shoulders, looking around, wondering where he wants to set his trap. Not here, surely?
"What—now?" asks Vakhrin, blinking.
"Is now not a good time for you?" Some of my earlier competitiveness bleeds into my tone, cajoling, "Do you have more underthings to wash? Need to braid your pretty red hair first?"
Vakhrin growls. "Watch your mouth, dragon."
But humor is how I'm dealing with the intentional death I'm about to be party to. "Why should I, manticore? Is your aim that bad?"
Marton makes a choking noise, and my face goes abruptly hot. "I meant with your tail—your venom!"
Vakhrin's serious expression cracks, and he guffaws, laugh booming as it echoes off the mountains. Oral sex jokes. Hilarious. Even Cherry snickers, the traitor. Although she does remember to turn up her nose and look affronted a moment later.
"Nevermind! I'm going to go hunt down a rogue manticore. You lot stay here and crack crude jokes all you like." I start to walk off, aiming for the forest.
"Not like that you won't," Vakhrin informs me. "We'll need to fly to locate him, and then you'll need to fly on to the trap site while I chase him down."
"Well, come on then." Irritated, I stride into the forest, hiding behind the trees as I strip my dress over my head. Having strange men around makes shifting so much more inconvenient.
In dragon form, I launch into the skies.
Vakhrin joins me there a moment later, aiming for the west. But I pause, hovering as I look down at my friends.
They both have their faces tipped up at me, and I realize I left them without any parting words.
Marton's mouth moves, shouting something, and I imagine he is telling me to be careful, though I can't catch the unfamiliar pitch. Cherry just lifts a hand in farewell.
I give them a parting roar as I soar off after Vakhrin.