Chapter 21.5 The Scent
Do they? I scrutinize the men once more, and the taller one offers me a smile that I'm sure is meant to be charming. It doesn't do much for me, I have to say.
But Marton climbs up to his knees, and then ducks out from under me to get to his feet. He faces me, his back to the men. Places one palm between my nostrils, and touches the tip of one of my sharp, bared teeth with a finger of his other hand, his expression chastening.
"Tarah." He says it soothingly, steadily.
I growl at him, narrowing my eyes. Over his shoulder, I can see the two men shift on their feet with concern, but Marton just smiles and pats my nose.
Idiot. He drops his hands and backs up a step.
Closer to the men, with his back to them.
He really is an idiot. I growl again, unhappy at his maneuvering.
But Marton grabs the pack off his back, digging through it until he comes out with my tunic.
He shakes it at me meaningfully. "Shift. "
I shoot the men another mistrustful glance, but they haven't advanced, haven't shifted forms. I look back at Marton, who waits patiently for me to make a decision. He thinks we should talk to them.
Talking to my fellow Dragomira hasn't done me much good in the past, I think bitterly. But I remember how full of mistrust for all other beings I was, back when I was living in the tower with Cherry. Then Marton showed up, and I took a chance on him. Spoke to him. Heard what he had to say.
And then I did the same again with Vakhrin, even after I had fought him.
Both of those were good decisions, which led to the only two friends I have had in my life, besides Cherry.
But that new attitude of trust also led me right into the valley where the wyverns stole two of the three people who mattered to me in all the world.
What will I lose now, if things go wrong?
What might I gain, if they go well?
It is the latter voice, whispering in my mind, that ultimately wins me over. A chance. Everyone deserves a chance, to be judged for who they are, and not for their species or for my own prejudices for or against them.
Exhaling a frustrated puff of smoke from my nose, I close my eyes and shift into my human form.
The world looms large as I shrink, and then Marton is towering over me, holding my tunic and leggings up between us, his eyes on my face. I take the top first, pulling it on over my head as quickly as I can, to keep my eyes peeled for danger.
"It'll be alright," Marton says quietly, as I pull on my leggings.
"It will be," I agree. Or someone is going to pay.
Then I step around Marton, my gaze going to the two dragon men. I keep the wide space of the clearing between us, ready to shift again if I have to. It will probably mean ruining my clothes, but I don't care about that.
As I face the men, Marton comes up beside me.
Wrapping an arm around my waist, he pulls me close against him.
Then he wraps his other arm around me, holding me almost protectively in front of him as he stares across the way at the men.
This rattles me, and I can't figure out what kind of strategy he thinks this is.
His soft human body, strong as it is for a human, is no kind of protection against a dragon. And holding me like this only serves to make things more difficult if I need to shift.
But maybe Marton isn't thinking about that. As he stares out at the dragon shifters, their attention goes from me to him, assessing who and what he is. One of them sniffs the air.
I loose a rippling snarl, and their eyes dart back to me immediately. Good.
"Don't look at him," I warn, just for good measure.
He isn't theirs to look at or to think about or to try and take. Mine.
Their eyes seem to register this fact, and the shorter, grayer one nods, while the tall green one smiles. "I am Raku," he says, loud enough for his voice to be heard even by Marton. "This is my brother, Jeksu." He indicates the shorter man.
I stare at them. If these dragons are from the Trove, then they might know Inobar and the others, and they might have heard my name.
"Why did you drop down on us?"
Raku chews a lip. "Do you not know where you are, dragon?"
Where I am? I share a glance with Marton over my shoulder, and his eyes are bright with understanding. Bending down, he whispers in my ear, as quietly as he can, "The Trove. Near."
I pull back, startled, but Marton looks certain. I nod, turning my attention back to the others. Might as well leap, I decide. "You speak of the Trove?"
Jeksu's brows go up, and Raku narrows his eyes at me. He lifts his nose into the air, sniffing again. Shakes his head, meeting my eyes. "I have never smelled you here before. You are not of the Trove." Raku braces his hands on his hips, waiting expectantly.
Do I offer lies? Or truth?
Lies have never done much good for me before. The lies of others have only hurt me, and my own have been easily seen through.
No, I suppose if I am leaping, I will leap full tilt, eyes squeezed shut, hoping for the best.
"I have never been here before. I come seeking something that was taken from me."
Raku's mouth drops open in surprise. He looks quickly at his brother, who appears no less startled.
"You mean," says Jeksu, voice slower and deeper than his brother's, "that the human girl in the tower...belongs to you?"
Everything in my body seems to freeze, and then it swirls into a vortex, focused around that single phrase. The human girl in the tower.
"Human...girl," I croak out, suddenly clinging to Marton because I need him to hold me up. His arms keep me steady, hands clutching once, tightly, to show that he is here, feeling it with me. That he heard it too. "In the tower?" I repeat, almost growling.
"The tower." Jeksu nods. "It is what we call the highest cell in the Trove."
Cell. My chest aches, breath gone from my lungs
My Cherry, locked away in a tower once again.
But alive. She is alive.
"There was another with her as well. A man. One of the kin." I speak in a rush.
Jeksu winces, and my heart speeds sickly. Dead, dead, he is dead, isn't he?
But Raku speaks, his face full of sympathy, "You mean the manticore? Poor bastard was in rough shape the last time we saw him. When..." Whatever he was about to say, he thinks better of it, shaking his head.
"But you have seen him? He was alive?"
"He was alive. About four days ago." Raku's words are spoken haltingly.
I breathe out a shaky breath, and my whole body begins to tremble with relief. All this time. All this time, we have been looking for them, and I realize there was not a large part of me that really expected to see Vakhrin alive again.
Vakh. Brave Vakh, who was only our friend for a short time, and has suffered so much because of it. My heart hurts.
But Marton's arms tighten around me, and then a whooping noise of happiness slips out of him. He lifts me up, whirling me around like I don't weigh significantly more than your average tree stump. When he sets me down again, I cling to him, dizzy from his display of joy.
He is grinning at me, and when he sees the tension in my face, he cradles my jaw. "Alive, Tarah. They are alive."
"Alive," I whisper. Hardly daring to put too much hope into the thought. But Marton's smile works on me like alchemy. My fingers dig into his arms. "Alive."
"Alive."
I take uneven breaths. Alive. Alive, alive, alive.
If they are alive, there is hope. All the hope in the world. Every chance to get them back.
I turn my attention back to the dragons, who are watching our display with expressions of surprise, with a hint of confusion and doubt. So the usual, really.
But who are they? What do they want? And could they be our allies in this?
I set my jaw. It is time to find out. Leap, Tarah, leap. "We have come," I enunciate, "to recover what was taken from us." My hands tense against Marton, ready to shift and make a run for it, if I have to. Or to shove him behind me if I have to fight.
Raku's mouth works on nothing for a moment, apparently in a welter of shock at this proclamation, and then his brother elbows him in the side.
"We should get Araine," Jeksu murmurs, and I hear it. I don't know if he means to keep it secret.
Raku nods. His eyes track from his brother to me. "Araine," he says, "our friend. She—well, she is better with...You should speak with her."
With that vague statement, Raku shifts into dragon form and hurls himself into the sky. He flies off without a backward glance, and I watch him disappear around the edge of the mountain we stand beneath. He heads to the east, but I can't tell how far he has to go.
We still do not know the precise location of the Trove.
Jeksu hesitates in the clearing for a moment, and I think he will stay here to watch us, but after a beat he shakes his head. "Stay here?" he says, like it's a request. Then he, too, shifts and launches into the air, heading in the same direction as his brother.
And Marton and I are left alone.
"Should we...run?" Marton asks, lowering his arms. Releasing me.
"You are the one who wanted to speak with them," I remind him.
"And we did. We spoke. It went much better than our conversations with—that is—we seem to have made out rather well, for once. Maybe we shouldn't push our luck?"
"You want to leave now? When we are finally getting information?" I can hardly believe it of him.
"I don't want to leave. I just wondered if you thought we should. Did you...sense anything?"
I think about it, and I realize that I didn't. I shake my head.
I hadn't received so much as a whisper of warning from my sixth sense. Maybe it was because I already knew that they were dragons when I faced them, so my senses had nothing to warn me of. Or maybe it had something to do with them being the same species as me.
My kind, for the first time ever.
The realization hits me all at once. I just met other dragons, and they didn't try to kill me—yet—and they didn't seem evil or cruel or shriveled with greed.
It feels...good. For a second, it feels wonderful. To have stood face to face with people who are really like me. Other dragons.
But the rosiness wears off all too soon. They've both flown off to bring back another, maybe to ensure their quick victory when they move to crush us. Because I just told them that I meant to steal their prisoners back from them. I'm such an idiot sometimes.
It seemed like the simplest course of action at the time. With the two of them standing across from me in human form, I felt safe enough to do it. Now they're dragons again, gone off somewhere in secret to confer.
Marton might be right. It's possible the safest plan now is to fly out of here as quickly as we can, then scout the area in secret. Try to get eyes on the Trove, figure out a way to extricate Cherry and Vakh without calling too much attention to ourselves.
But we don't even know which direction the Trove is in exactly. Raku and Jeksu might have taken a circuitous route on purpose to confuse us, and if we ran from here, we might fly right into more trouble. Maybe head right into a nest of Dragomira who would not be so friendly.
No, I've already leapt, now. Hoping for the best, that was why I did it. If I can manage to keep doing it, the best might just happen.
But...
"Maybe you should hide," I say to Marton. "Maybe I should take you somewhere. Up a—"
"Tree?" Marton guesses. Wincing, I nod. Marton sighs. "No."
"But—"
"No. If you're in danger, I'm in danger. It's not like I'd be better off hidden up a tree if something happens to you. They could find me. Smell me, maybe? It wouldn't help, and it would just make the dragons jumpy if they came back and I wasn't here."
I have a hard time arguing with this logic, but I still don't like it. I'm scowling so hard its practically a pout, and Marton reaches up to touch my face with something like amusement in his eyes. His fingertip ghosts across my lips.
I stare up at him, fully distracted by the heat and the light in his eyes. By the strand of golden hair that falls across his forehead, tangles in his lashes until he blinks it away. Frames his cheekbone.
"Want to kiss me yet?" Marton offers.
And I really, really do.
"No," I say weakly, eyes on the human-pink bow of his lips.
Looking disappointed, Marton nods. He dips his head, pressing the lightest of kisses to my forehead, between my brows. Then he release me, stepping away.
And I wish he would have kissed me anyway, at the same time as I'm glad he didn't.
I'm such an idiot sometimes.