Wages: Chapter Eighteen

AN: This is a very rough draft. I want to publish it before Review Day in order to get feedback, but I'm very pressed for time, so much so that I don't even have time to italicize, which sucks. :(

Chapter Eighteen - Paranoia and Pain

At the sight of the gun, the strange man standing atop the stone and earthen embankment, and the glint of the sun on metal, I reeled. Death was upon me, striking in the form of these humans, this Louis Bekker whom I thought I had been able to trust. Death would come to me quickly, perhaps painlessly. Yet through this painless death would come those of unbearable torture. To Celsko death would fly, slowly through infection of her wound. It would charge towards Veexer, Mavet, and the others by way of The Provider, who would see them executed upon the meeting grounds, their blood seeping into the soil to mix with Quartzite’s.

All of it through the cowardice and ignorance of Nimbus.

The cold water of the spring shattered around me as I fell back into it. There was no way to combat Death, merely, one was forced to accept it, and accept it I did. I, a true coward, would chose the simplest and easiest way to escape the world that plagued me. In the fractured moments that dragged by, merely eons in disguise, the true final solution came to me.

I waited, eyes clenched shut, for the killing blow. Yet such a blow was withheld, pushed back by a sudden cry.

“Collin! Collin, for god's sake, don’t shoot!”

Dispite my acceptance of this final solution, despite my (Lust?) determinationto have death grasp me, my eyes opened out of sheer surprise. I looked just in time to see Louis Bekker shoot up from beneath the embankment like a startled pheasant. He splashed in the water as he stumbled out between the other man and I, waving his arms frantically. Standing there, he faced the other man with his arms outstretched, palms raised.

Unmoving, I watched them.

“Collin, d-don’t shoot!” Louis repeated, panting.

From behind the gun, a wiry face appeared. Small, sunken eyes set above a sharp nose and thin lips peered down at Louis and I. It was abstract to see yet another human. To see that they varied in appearance was something that I, unknowingly, was not prepared for. Somewhere in my unconscious mind, I had come to the conclusion that the strage beings were like that of squirrels or deer; their features lacking any real individual uniqueness. Looking at his face, my surprise had proven my unconscious presumptions wrong. This human looked not like the youthful Louis, whose skin was fair and fur atop his head and about his chin and upper lip black as night. This other human’s skin was of a tanner hue, and his fur, ruddy red in color.

Though the creature dared to show his face, the gun remained raised.

“Are you fuckin’ mad, Bekker?” the man drawled coldly. “That thing is gonna kill ya’, get down, you sonofabitch!”

“No, no, you don’t understand! He’s not going to do anything to me! J-just put the fuckin’ gun down!” Louis cried frantically, scrambling back.

I stared at the two of them. Louis Bekker, the one whom seconds ago I had thought to be a liar, fooling me in his vicious scheme to kill Nimbus, was now trying to save me? Putting himself between the man’s weapon and myself? Out of desperation I had come to him, for Celsko’s sake, caring not for my own safety. It is this feeling, this disregard for the safety (and even life) of Nimbus the Hated, that I had thought Louis Bekker would share.

Yet there he was, and here I was, crouching defensively in the icy water behind him.

“How ‘bout cha prove it.” the man with the gun retorted, spitting in the dirt. “Prove that that- that thing is fuckin’ harmless, Bekker.”

Louis stood stone still, his thin form partially blocking my view of the man, who’s name I assumed was Collin. Through the fear, anger, and hatred that I felt, a disconnected part of my mind remarked on how strange these human names are.

What a waste it all was.

The water against me rippled, and I turned my gaze to see my human ally looking away from the vicious Collin, and down at me, the strange things he wore in front of his eyes reflecting the sunlight. He stepped towards me, now standing at my side, Louis turned back to face the man with the gun.

“You need any more proof?” he called angrily, standing firm beside me. Louis then raised an arm, and I flinched in surprise as a hand was placed on my horn, the man’s strange and seemingly delicate fingers curling around it.

I could see the sunken eyes glaring. Their irises moved from Louis, to I, and back to Louis once more. The eyes of a vulture, they were. They examined, undoubtedly, a sharp mind worked, and slowly, the gun was lowered. Now, the face was fully visible. A vulture this man was indeed. Thin necked, with taut skin and high cheek bones, the man was obviously older, but still with the subtle look of youth about him.

Atop my head, my horn base had begun to tingle at the strange feeling of this creature touching me. Primal urges to pull away seeped into my bones at the thought that I was letting a human touch one of my most prized possessions.

The realization that pulling away could possibly equate death becalmed these urges.

Collin chewed a thin lip, perhaps in thought. “‘Ell, Bekker, seems you’ve trained a pet.” He paused, a look of sudden excitement crossing his face. “Th… that has to be the last god-damn dragon you got there. Jesus, I… we could get fuckin’ rich off that thing, man! I, I got a guy down in Boston, man, this guy has fuckin’ connections…” Collin slung the gun over a bony shoulder using an odd, flexible piece of material attached to the bottom of the weapon, speaking at a great speed, with excitement rather than coldness. “If we could get that thing back to, hell, anywhere outta these woods, I could get ahold of this guy and ‘e’d fuckin’ sell ‘im. Bekker, forget the fuckin’ bank, that thing could get ya a private island in the gulf!”

“Collin…” Louis said, words not breaching the man’s frenzie.

“Jesus, I mean, Jesus-Fuckin’-Christ, do you ‘ave any idea what this means?” the man continued, unhindered. “We sell that thing an’ we’ll be millionaires! Fuckin’ millionaires! Fuck Nixon, man, we’ll be living like the fuckin’ Rothschilds-”

“Collin!” Louis shouted the word, causing me to jump and the man to become abruptly silent. “Shut up! J… just shut up and-and let me talk.”

From where I stood, I could see the man’s jaw clench. “Are you mental, Lou? What, do ya think I’m going to fuckin’ offend it? Calm down, man. Animals like this, they ain’t never seen a human. Whydaya think it ain’t scared of ya?”

Louis spat to the side. “Maybe ‘cause he understands you.” he muttered. “Maybe ‘cause he can talk, maybe ‘cause I talked to him-- and his friend --around the campfire while you were out huntin’.”

The bony face twisted in confusion.

“What are you sayin’?” growled the man.

Louis chuckled, calm. “What am I saying? Why don’t I show you.”

Without turning, he gave me a gentle pat on the head. “Nimbus,” The man’s voice was loud now, powerful. “Nimbus, if you would, introduce yourself to my…” He paused. “business partener.”

I nearly yelped at his words.

What was this? To speak to this man, the man who had nearly taken my life? Why? There was no point to it! Celsko lay in the forest in pain, a mere minutes walk from where I stood, waiting for my return, waiting for her life to be saved by the man. To talk to this Collin, this volatile creature, would be precious time wasted. Oh, Louis Bekker, what shall I say to address this enemy? This one who talks of the unknown world of BOSTON, and these strange names of JESUS and NIXION? Be they friends? Demons? Gods to these humans? Whatever is Nimbus to say to one who speaks and acts so sporadically? I looked at the man, the feeling to cower away like a hunted animal overwhelming me.

Silence.

“You’re a fuckin’ loon, Bekker.” Collin cried impatiently. He slowly slid down the embankment, picking up the smaller gun that Louis had been carrying. “That… thing… ain’t nothing but a dumb beast. A wild-fuckin--”

“I am not a beast.” I nearly roared. Anger had overtaken my cowardliness, liberating me from false sanctity. I roared the words at the man, out of anger in spite of his words, however true they may be. Roared them, for Celsko.

All I heard in reply was the small gun clatter against the rocks at the man’s feet.

Silence seized, I continued, turning my head to Louis. “P-please, you… you need to help her! Need to help Celsko!” For coherence I seemed to care not, speech becoming choppy and jagged, words formulating point, not sentence or structure. “Hurt, hurt so bad! My fault! It’s all my fault! I-I tried to help her, tried to take the pain away.” Without realizing it, I had begun to tug at the clothing that the man wore, causing him to lose his balance on the rocky surface and fall back into the shallow water. I was unhindered in my conquest. “She’s dying! Dying, and it’s all my fault!”

Wailing now, I collapsed in a heap in front on the man, grabbing on to his foot. It was a surreal state of mind that I had entered. The world, my mind, Sephive, the cold water in which I lay; all of it had been washed out by the great river of emotions, which had swelled from a trickle to a torrent, washing me away in it. And this river? The cold voice of the one who had freed me.

Louis Bekker was staring down at me, surprise and confusion on his face. “Nimbus…” He gulped. “Nimbus… wha-- what do you want from me?”

I saw him glance up at the other man, who, out of the corner of my eye, I could see was gawking, astonished. I ignored him.

“You...you can heal wounds… know how treat them… yes?” I whimpered, closing my eyes in exasperation. “I saw you treat your own… you… you can heal…” Here, I realized my claws had begun to dig into the thick material of the covering he wore over his foot.

The response was delayed. “I can, uh… I know some first aid, yes.” he finally said.

Opening my eyes, I stared up at him, pleading wordlessly.

The confusion remained upon his face for a passing moment, then came what appeared to be realization, then head-shaking disbelief. “Wait, you think I can…? No! No, I-I’m not a doctor or anything. Is that what you want from me? To do some type of… uh… ‘operation’ on your friend? I don’t know how to do anythin’ like that!”

Inside me, something snapped at his words. To strike now, out of sheer anger, would feel euphoric. Thoughts though, thoughts of Celsko restrained me. I wondered, what would she do? What would Celsko do if it was I who was wounded and dying? Certainly she wouldn’t be threatening the rather fragile human in such a fashion. I pictured her sitting here next to me, telling me to calm myself, that everything was going to be all right.

I breathed, the heat of anger beginning to be quelled.

“Please,” My speech was whispered, on the verge of sobs. “Please, she-she has a bad cut.”

My gaze returned to the man. Now, his features had seemed to soften a tad. Reading these humans, though difficult, was proving not to be impossible. Beneath their alien faces there did indeed lurk actual emotion. Though their faces lacked fins to frill out, their flesh, scales to change color by mood, their ears, to raise, they still were able to let these emotions show through, subtle as they may be. I watched, scanning, decoding these features. They held pity.

Slowly, Louis stood, his clothes and black hair dripping with water. He looked past me, to the other man. I glanced over my wing at him, finding him to be sitting cross-legged on the rocks, face buried in his hands, shaking his head. “Collin!” Louis called to the man. “Collin, the hell’s Mike?”

The man looked up and cocked his head, confusion crossing his face. He raised his arm to me, palm facing the sky. After a moment of silent questioning, he replied, voice quiet and wavering. “That’s a fuckin’ dragon talkin’ to you, and you want to know where piece-of-shit Mike is? The fuck do you need him for, to show the fucker your friend here?” He picked up a stone and tossed it in the water.

Louis cast a glance at me. “Stay here.” he commanded, before trudging through the water across to Collin, where he squatted down next to the man.

He leaned in close to the other, certainly thinking that his words would be unheard by me. Much like that day oh-so long ago, when Eve and Selkut had thought they could hide their remarks from me, I heard every word that was passed, in hushed tones, between the men.

“Look, I’ve kinda dug myself into this. He… he’s really desperate, man. All he wants is our help.”

Collin was quiet, and I could see his small eyes watching me from over Louis’ shoulder.

“A dragon?” he finally whispered. “A dragon needs our help? Are you fuckin’ crazy? How the fuck do you even know this thing?”

I heard Louis sigh. “I’ll explain later, right now I just need to help him.”

“Help him?! What, are you going to saute yourself or some shit?”

“No, he isn’t going to fuckin’ eat us, you imbecil! He-his friend, see--”

“There’s more of these things?” Collin interrupted.

“Well… yeah, kinda. But-but his friend is hurt, he says. He thinks we can… heal her, I guess. I don’t know anything about treating wounds!”

“Tell ‘em ‘tough shit’ then.” Collin spat, raising his voice a bit.

“You want to go up and tell ‘em that, be my fuckin’ guest.” he paused. “Anyway, I… I kinda met his friend too. I dunno, man, it just doesn’t feel right tellin’ them off.”

“Then what the fuck do you plan on doing? Givin’ it a kiss on the head and some fuckin’ peroxide?”

I could feel the man’s eyes burning into me once more. All I could think of was Kiven, lurking in the darkest parts of Celsko’s cave, tempting me to tear at both myself, and her, with claw and tooth.

“What I plan on doing is getting Mike. The kid says he worked as an ambulance guy in the summers, called it an ‘EMT’ or some shit, I dunno. If anything, he’ll be able to help--”

Through the trees, the wind gusted, causing branches to sway and spring leaves, young and healthy, to rustle. Their words were drowned out, and I was left to wonder. Wonder, such a terrible torture. To wonder was to have questions, questions that would plague me, rip at me. Kill me. Yes, wonder was condemning, it was. I would sit here, wondering. About what? About what? To help, they say. Help, but with what? Easing her pain? Slipping her the cool comfort of a glimmering blade between her scales to let her bleed painlessly?

Never.

I had decided-- in the night, I had. In the blackness of starless skies the cold voice of absolute reason had whispered the answer to me. If she were to die, as would follow, I. Through the fields of lilac, would we wander, talking softly, playing as whelps? Loving?

Perhaps she would be there, waiting for me, my desire. Perhaps as my body slammed against the cruel earth, bones shattering, flesh splitting and offal running, I would meet her there. Beneath the great oak tree, our mother of all living, Celsko would be there. I would run, no, fly through the lilacs to her, my petty wings taking me higher than ever before imagined. There all fear would fall from me, there I could tell her what I had kept unseen beneath the awful surface that was Nimbus.

And perhaps when death grasped me, it would not be with silken arms, but wings of pain. Had my actions as a coward and a lunatic forsaken me to the Wekry’s Pit, eternal home for only the wickedest of drakes? There, Wekry, fallen mate of the great Mother of All Living, would tear my wings from my body, never to fly again. Such maligh thoughts did I wonder. Wondered, would I sit besides Gelfen the Traitor? Would I hear Wekry wail, tortured by his lusts to be with Dekrys, our Mother of All Living? The stories of old would ring true, and in his lust, in his pain, he would indulge in the release of torture upon our never-dying souls.

(But would his torture be of mere physical pain, or of something unfathomably worse?)

“Nimbus, hey!” I blinked at the sound of Louis’ voice, realizing that in my pained wondering, my eyes had glossed over and my body stagnant.

“Nimbus,” the man said again, “This is Collin.” He gestured to the other man. “Collin ain’t going to hurt you or nothing.”

I watched as Collin’s cold eyes narrowed. Harmless indeed, but the deceitful man was the least of my appalling and tortuous concerns.

“Celsko,” I growled quietly, ignoring the introduction. “S-she needs help.” The words were barely choked from my maw, such sickening fear was upon me. All that mattered was my friend, not these humans’ petty concerns, not my own safety, not even The Provider and his garrison of Trilset, though the fear of their watchful eyes was held in a compressed, spinning ball of paranoia in the back of my skull. Celsko, Celsko, Celsko… the name thundered about my head, chanting in time with my pulse.

Louis watched me for a moment, hesitating, then gave a meek nod. “Yeah, we… we’re gonna help you.”

~Post Chapter Notes~

Chapter Eighteen - AKA the best example of the worst pacing! Seriously, I don't know what happened, my pacing used to be half decent, now it's atrocious.

So in this chapter we get... swears, overacting, and, of course, poorly written internal thoughts. I tried to kinda flesh out the human characters a bit here, but it really didn't come together the way I would've liked. Anyway, it will probably be judged on technical points rather than on the overall story, seeing how these tend to stay in the greenroom for quite some time, and only get reviewed by people hungry for points (Please don't take that the wrong way, I do the same thing all the time!).

~Cirute, 2014