Man & Beast

By Lauren Hildebrand

“I’m warning ye Elial, if it happens again, I’ll destroy yer vermin pets meself!”

“My wyrms didn’t touch your sheep, Malchi.” Elial fought down his irritation. This was the second dead ewe found mangled in Malchi’s fields, with neighbors suffering similar losses. No one knew the culprit, but many placed the crime squarely at Elial’s doorstep.

Elial glanced at the suspects. Three half-grown wyrms, each a yard long and covered in pale green scales, lay sprawled in a pool of sunlight. One lifted its head, blinked at the shouting men, and flopped over to sun its other flank. Sleepy contentment tingled in the back of Elial’s mind.

“An ‘ow do ye know that? They’re wild creatures, Elial. Born killers. Ye can make ’em into pets, but ye can’t change their nature.”

Elial clenched his teeth.

Malchi nodded. “Aye, I’ve seen ’em hunt. Saw ’em take down a gazelle as easy as killing a rabbit.”

“Have you seen them in your flock?”

“Nah, but I don’t need to. Get rid of those beasts. Or else.” Malchi stormed off.

Elial sighed. He could hardly blame the man. The farmer’s flock was his livelihood—his few, death-prone sheep all that stood between him and starvation.

He squatted down and clucked to his wyrms.

Ready to go, lads?

A head shot up from the scaly pile, followed by a mad scramble as the wyrms tumbled over each other, vying to reach their master first. Elial chuckled. He rubbed their rough chins and unhooked a set of claws from his tunic. He’d raised the trio from hatchlings—wet, squealing reptiles no longer than his thumb—after stealing their eggs from a wild nest. He could sense their emotions, and they understood his commands, the perfect companions for a wandering hunter. True, they were dangerous. Their lazy habits belied their speed. But he couldn’t imagine them sneaking off and attacking sheep.

“What do you think, fellas? Time to catch ourselves a sheep killer?”

Elial pulled his cloak closer about his shoulders. Above the quiet pasture, the moon shone fitfully between scudding clouds. Two of Elial’s wyrms dozed in his lap. The third nosed through nearby clumps of brush. Suddenly, the scavenging wyrm lifted its head and stiffened. Elial rose to a crouch, dumping the wyrms in an irritated pile, and grasped his spear.

Something moved across the field, obscured by the long grass and poor light. Follow quietly, lads. Elial snuck forward. A bleat broke the silence, then abruptly cut off. Elial sprang into a crouching run. Ahead, he glimpsed a dark bulk standing over something white. Within ten yards of it, moonlight broke through the clouds and lit up the creature’s head.

Elial stopped and dropped his spear. “A goat?”

The goat shook its horns and looked at him.

“Not a monster, just a silly goat.”

The wyrm at his feet hissed sharply. All three crouched tense, bellies pressed to the ground, necks extended. Suspicion, edged with fear, radiated off them.

“What’s the matter? It’s only a—” The goat moved slightly, and a second head, huge and tawny, rose in front of it. Two heads, one body. “Oh no.”

The lion head stared at Elial, then opened its jaws. The goat head bleated. Sparks glowed in both their mouths.

“Not. Good.”

The wyrms scattered. Elial ran, but the chimera reached him in two bounds. He flung his spear as it pounced, driving the shaft through the loose skin on the chimera’s neck. The creature slammed him against the turf. Claws dug into his chest. The spear shaft struck the ground, twisting the lion head away. Flames blasted the ground beside Elial, scorching his neck.

The chimera released him and clawed at the spear. Elial scrambled from under the flailing paws and struggled to draw his knife. Something stabbed his shoulder. He rolled over and flung up an arm as the chimera’s tail whipped toward him. Its snake head sunk its fangs into his wrist.

Protect! A blur streaked over Elial and fastened onto the snake’s neck.

The other two wyrms leaped for the lion head. The chimera ripped the spear from its neck, turned, and swatted one wyrm out of the air. It hit the ground with a sickening crunch. The second wyrm sank its teeth and all four claws into the chimera’s shoulder.

The lion head roared and twisted, trying to shake the wyrm loose. The first wyrm bit through its tail, and the goat head bleated in agony, spitting flame. Releasing the dead snake, the wyrm leaped for the lion head and tore at its ears and eyes. The chimera, maddened by pain and rage, clawed wildly at it. It tore the wyrm loose and slammed it to the ground, just as the last wyrm twisted from its shoulder and bit deep into the lion’s throat.

The chimera roared and thrashed, flinging the wyrm about like a rag. The wyrm held fast, working its jaws deeper and deeper. It found the jugular, tore it open, and clung tight as the life blood drained away.

Elial rose slowly. Blood caked his chest. Raw wounds screamed as he limped to the carcass. But he wasn’t concerned about himself. Only two emotions flickered in his mind—grim triumph and fading pain.

One wyrm lay dead where it had fallen. Another—He gave the wyrm a last caress, and it licked his finger before he released it from its suffering. The third lay beside the fallen beast, its jaws still locked about the throat.

“You can let go now. It’s done.”

The wyrm released its hold and crawled to Elial. He gathered it up and tucked it into his cloak.

In the early morning darkness, Elial pounded on the farmer’s door. Malchi opened it and started back. The chimera’s giant carcass lay across his threshold.

“There’s your pest, Malchi.”

The farmer gaped at the beast.

Elial turned away, cradling his cloak, then paused. “You got your wish. My wyrms won’t ever bother your flock.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Lauren Hildebrand is a Kansas farm girl who loves being creative with words, food, and a sewing machine. Her passion is telling stories, either through helping authors refine their craft or creating her own wacky, character-driven adventures. She spent time with Splickety Magazine and is thrilled to continue working on flash fiction with the awesome team at Havok. She is also a freelance editor and an associate editor with Crosshair Press.

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