Mated to the Manticore

Chapter 1

Kiara

“Load up the cargo!” A loud voice rings over the docks. “We need to have sails up by sunrise!”

My heart pounds hard in my chest, beads of sweat run down my temples while I watch the dozens of dark elf voyagers move about the port. It’s hard to see them with the night sky so dense and without stars. The cloud cover overhead has even dimmed the bright moon to a dull glow.

They carry only a handful of torches among them—not surprising seeing as dark elves have better vision in the night than I do—passing them back and forth while a line has formed to move crates of materials up the plank and onto the bulk of the ship.

I strain to see past the bow of the ship where I know a small passenger boat should be tied.

Ever since escaping the mines a week ago, I’ve been biding my time until another ship from Pyrthos came sailing in to dock for supplies. It’d been a long and agonizing wait that had forced me to sleep in forgotten alleyways and steal any scrap of food that I could in the meantime.

I clutch the strap of my bag, the heavy weight of it comforting against my back. Since the ship had docked two days ago, I’d spent almost every waking moment since then gathering as many supplies as I could cram into this thing. From food, to water, to even a stray medical kit.

I’d need all of it for my journey to Milthar.

From the stories that I’d heard while working in the mines, plenty of people that worked around me had talked endlessly about the freedoms granted to the humans that lived there. I’d longed for the days to be free from being worked to the bone—or worse, with the looming threat of being forced into the sex trade if I got too mouthy with one of the guards.

I’d never had a fair chance at life in the beginning, and the older I grew, the more I began to realize that I needed to take my destiny into my own hands or suffer for the rest of my remaining days.

Looking at it that way, made for an easy decision in the end.

A few of the dark elves collect around a heavy-looking palette, their bodies straining to rope it up and haul it towards the hull. It gives me enough of an opening to sneak away from my hiding spot and make a break for it.

I run quietly and quickly to the bow of the ship, sticking close to the edge of the docks in the off-chance that I need to jump in. I’m a fairly good swimmer, but the waters at the port are calm and nothing like the currants past the retaining wall.

I’m thankful that I decided to swipe my dark colored clothing at the last minute this afternoon before hunkering down in my final hiding spot. It gives me the added advantage, even with the dark elves’ stellar night vision.

Once I reach the bow of the ship, I spot the tether hooking the small sailing raft to it and check to see if there is anyone close to me before slipping my bag from my body and dropping it down onto the small bench.

Next comes my paring knife, swiped from one of the guards in the mines that had beaten us all once it’d been discovered missing a few weeks ago. I’d taken the bruises with a smile on my face, the first part of my plan having been successfully obtained at that point.

It wasn’t the first time I’d been hit by the dark elves but I made sure it was the last. I’d kept my head down since then went unnoticed until my escape earlier this week.

Lucky for me,

Pulling it from the holster strapped to my leg, I carefully slice the sharp edge along the thick rope, slowly unraveling it piece by piece. It comes away easily, forcing me to quickly grab onto the loose rope before the boat drifts away from me with my supplies on it.

I shove the knife back into the holster and carefully balance myself over the edge of the docks before jumping off and landing. It rocks unsteadily with my added weight, causing me to gasp and my heart to lurch.

Throwing out my arms, I grapple for the side of it and quickly shift the boat back from the wall. The last thing I need is to either capsize before I can leave or scrap the wood against the wall loud enough to draw attention my way.

Beads of sweat run down my back, tickling me.

Using the rudder, I guide the boat back from the docks and the ship. It’s so hard to see out here without the moonlight overhead. I wish I could light some kind of torch to see, but I can’t risk being spotted still so close to the port.

I doubt the dark elves would care about one lowly human’s escape attempts, but stealing their boat is another thing. Dark elves have always been over-protective of their goods, even if they weren’t using them

It’s what made working in the mines so frustrating at times. They worked us till we keeled over from exhaustion and barely fed us at all. Yet their surplus of food, water, and the alloy we were harvesting for them had an overabundance every single year.

Selfish creatures, all of them.

I float along the sea until the port is far enough away from me that I feel comfortable lighting up the small lantern attached to the front of the boat. As soon as it illuminates, I look around the small space and spot two oars, a flagpole for a sail and a few ropes tucked under the bench.

It makes me grin.

When I was little, my father would often read me stories of sailing the great seas and navigating using the stars to guide the way. He’d point out the great star in the sky, telling me to always follow it if I were ever lost.

It’s one of the only things I have left that remind me of him. When he and my mother had died, I’d been forced into the mines soon after with nothing but the clothes on my back to take with me. I’d begged my master to let me take anything with me that I could carry, but had been swiftly denied with a cruel laugh.

I swear, dark elves get off on causing misery.

Fond memories and the great star, that’s all I have left.

I crane my neck up to the sky, smiling a little when a cool breeze drifts by me. It’s a calm night out on the waters, a good sign for my journey ahead. I’ll need the good weather to keep me in high spirits.

The journey to Milthar shouldn’t take long. I’m only about a three days journey from the mainland, two if the winds can carry me faster.

Turning towards the flagpole, I hoist it up and anchor it before spreading the sail and letting the wind do the rest for me.

  It’s around the sixth day of sailing that I realize something is wrong.

The clouds had cleared up right as the sun rose on the first day, giving me a guiding point to follow before the sky had become much too bright for me to see anything. I’d made sure to keep the bow of my boat pointed towards the great star, knowing that Milthar would be headed in that direction.

Thankfully the waters had only been a little choppy on the second day and smoothing out on the third day, giving me hope that I’d be arriving at shore soon. But that all came crashing down once a small storm hit and seemingly completely knocked me off course.

I’d run out of food around the fifth day and by the sixth—today—my stash of water had run dry.

Panic soon set in.

“Shit,” I mumble to myself, standing up in the boat and looking around for anything that could resemble a land mass.

I’d been out on the open sea for so long that my usually olive-toned skin had reddened and burned. It hurt, especially on my cheeks where I’d been getting the most sun from looking up to the sky in hopes of being able to see something else other than a stray cloud.

A sinking pit settles in my stomach. I can’t die out here like this. Not after every pain-staking measure I’d taken to give myself the best chance to leave for a better life. I have to make it to Milthar, I have no other option.

Moving my hand back, I grab onto the ropes securing the sail and twist them around my hand. I pull on them as tight as I can, dislodging the mount and swinging the sail to the other side of me. The wind catches it immediately, taking me off at a pace that has my heart racing.

I’m tired from not sleeping well, and on top of that, my stomach hasn’t stopped growling since I ate my last piece of fruit late last night. It all seems too unfair, my plan having been dashed before it could even properly begin.

All I wanted was to live a life free from the torment of my masters. To be able to create my own path and not be forced down the one paved for me. My parents had lived their entire lives in servitude and died not knowing a better life.

I can’t accept that for myself.

I need to know what it’s like to be free. Even if it’s for only a moment.

The boat jerks under me, splashing water into it and spraying me with the cold remnants of it. I shiver and hold the ropes tighter.

In the distance, a small spec appears on the horizon. I blink my eyes a few times, trying to get the salty water to clear from my vision, focusing on that spec like my life depends on it. Though I suppose, in this case, it actually does.

I head right for it, the waves crashing underneath the boat hard enough to make my teeth chatter. Strangely enough, the closer I grow to the spec, the hard it gets to focus on. Almost as if it is blinking in and out of existence.

I have to laugh to myself. I’m clearly so hungry and thirsty that I’ve begun to have delusions of mystical islands far off and forgotten from the main islands. How stupid. Only my mind would come up with such a thing, anyway.

My father had always teased me about having an overactive imagination, but perhaps he’d been onto something at the time.

The island is a lot more lush than I remember the people in the mines telling me about. Its massive greenery and sandy beaches aren’t what I expected to see at all. From the accounts in the mines, Milthar’s port was usually bustling with activity.

Maybe I’m on the wrong side of the island?

I shake my head. Who cares, at least I’ve made it.

I grin, my heart soaring.

I’ve made it.

Chapter 2

Rikran

I steady myself as I head out of my house and down to the city of Byzar.

The sun crests overhead, hot and beating down on my wings as I walk. It’s beautiful out, the perfect weather for outside activities as well as lounging in the sun all day. Something that, in time’s past, I liked to do.

The streets are packed with manticores from all over Osiris.

Most of them are merchants and vendors, toting their wares as they head to set up in the bazaar before the festivities. It’s a great time to sell goods, especially to those that have traveled from the outer regions of the island to come here.

The Festival of Firelight is one of my favorite celebrations on Osiris. Honoring the Matron—who, as part of the Triad, shrouded our island in secrecy from the outside world—by the lighting of the torches and a joyful celebration.

This year, I’ve been lucky enough to secure myself a place as one of the torch lighters and the speech giver. The King has always been picky about who he chooses to fill those roles, but I’ve been making my strides cozying up to him and it’s paid off immensely so far.

I’ve been working at this over the last few years, biding my time and working my way up to become an advisor for the King. It hasn’t happened yet, but as long as I stay on this path, I have a good shot at it.

“Rikran!” one of the vendors, a manticore with dark colored wings, calls out to me as I pass by. “You heading to the temple?”

I nod, heading over. “Right now, actually.”

“Good, you can take this with you.” he hands me a wrapped bundle that is warm to the touch. “Let them know it’s a gift.”

“Of course. They’ll appreciate it.”

“They must be running around frantically by now.”

I have to laugh as the idea seems completely insane. Growing up as an orphan—a rarity in our culture—I’d spend a lot of time with the Priests and Priestesses who raised me. I’d been left on the steps of the temple, only a few days old at that point.

They’d taught me all sorts of things that I never would’ve gotten growing up on the streets alone. Giving me a love of knowledge and wisdom, just as the Matron had bestowed onto us all those years ago.

Holding up the warm bundle, I nodded to the vendor. “I’ll see to it that they get this.”

“Thanks!”

I held it in my arms, making my way through the busyness.

I’m sure that whatever gift the vendor had given me to give to the temple would be much appreciated. They were constantly getting themselves wrapped up in studying the words of the Triad, to the point where sometimes they’d forget to feed themselves.

Plus, judging by the aromatic smell wafting through the linen, I can tell that it’s fresh bread of some kind.

The temple comes into view only a moment later, standing proudly among the city as the golden sides of it glint in the slowly setting sun. It’s a beautiful monument, meant to honor the Triad for the gifts they’d given to us.

If it wasn’t for them, we’d still be enslaved.

I head up the temple steps, taking them two at a time. My shoulder brushes against the door, forcing it open with a bit of weight added to it. The inside is beautiful, with high ceilings and mosaic paintings of our escape from the dark elves and how we’d gained our freedom.

As a child living in the temple, I would stare at them for hours, wondering about all of the stories that I could see painted onto the walls with such passion and fervor for our fight against the tyranny that enslaved us.

I’m still amazed at them, to this day.

A few worshipers greet me as they pass by, heading out the doors to the busy streets outside. I catch sight of one of my favorite Priests, an old manticore named Syles who helped raise me.

Lifting the bundle up in my arms, I grin. “I come bearing gifts.”

His eyes light up. “I can smell it from there. Quickly, bring it here.”

Following him down the hall to another part of the temple where a few other Priests and Priestesses are, I set it down onto one of their tables and untuck the knot at the top.

It is indeed fresh bread and it smells divine.

“Rikran! What have you brought, it smells amazing!”

A Priestess, Vivhani, grabs my shoulders to shake me slightly.

“I can’t take all the credit. I’m simply the messenger.”

They crowd around me, picking through the pieces with vigor. It has me laughing to myself, of all the festivals not to eat before, this one of course would be the worst one. Not for any particular reason but for the fact that the ceremony generally takes quite a while.

It’s a good thing I’d been walking by that vendor when I did…

“Are you excited for the speech tonight?” Vivhani nudges me.

I will admit—only to myself, of course—that I am rather nervous. But not because I believe I will mess up, but for the simple fact that I hope the King will notice.

Since my plan to worm my way into one of his advisor roles has been a long time in the making, getting to the tipping point of where he’ll now actually start seeing my work is a cause for a little bit of apprehension.

I know once I’m by his side, I will be the best advisor he’s ever had. The problem is the ‘getting there’ part.

“Yes, I’m sure it will go well.”

She snorts softly. “I didn’t ask you how you think it will go.”

I flash her a smile. “I know. They’re one in the same.”

“Of course you would say that.”

As a Priestess, Vivhani hasn’t been at the temple long. Since I’d been raised here, my knowledge usually far surpasses hers most days. It gives us a friendly bit of competition that I haven’t had with anyone before. Plus, it also gives her motivation to keep studying.

I like to see her as my pseudo-little sister.

“Rikran will do fine with his speech.” Syles chimes in. “He’s always been one for his words.”

“That’s true.” Vivhani stuffs a piece of bread into her mouth.

The words truly touch me.

As an orphan, I’ve always struggled with my self-image. It isn’t often that a mother abandons her young, especially when it’s so hard to conceive in the first place. Growing up and knowing that I’d been left had taken a huge toll on me.

I’ve overcompensated for it all my life, trying to constantly prove myself to the people around me. I want to be someone that people can turn to in times of crisis—hence my want to serve the manticore of the highest position in our society.

I’m sure, to an outsider, it may seem superficial and a bit self-important. But deep down, it comes from a place of wanting to belong in a society where I’ve never felt I could.

In my mind, I’m constantly looked at as the one that was thrown away. Of course, no one has ever said that to me, but the staring as a child would always get to me.

Now that I have control, now that I’m an adult that can forge my own destiny, it’s time to do so.

To finally get what I want.

Vivhani nudges my ribs, jostling me out of my thoughts. “Don’t forget your mask tonight. The Matron would be unhappy to see you unshrouded.”

“May she strike me where I stand,” I tease.

Syles gives me a pointed look. “Be careful, she just might grant that wish of yours.”

I bow to them both, mostly to hide my smile and also to show them my respects. I may joke with them quite a bit but they are the only ones that have cared for me through everything. I owe them my life and all of the success there after.

“I hope to see you after the torch lighting tonight.” I say while straightening up.

“Of course. We wouldn’t miss congratulating you.”

“Now, now. That’s being presumptuous.” I hold up my hands, even though the compliment tickles me.

Overhead, a chime sounds, signaling that twilight is upon us very soon.

I’m quickly shooed away soon after, the Priests and Priestesses scattered to finish their duties before the King arrives to start the ceremony.

Pulling in a deep breath and relaxing myself, I head back to the south side of the temple to where most of the ceremonial masks are stored. I have one at my home, but it feels more right to take one from the place that has helped me so much.

There will be a piece of them with me as I present myself to the entire island and pay patronage to the goddess that helped keep our enemies at bay.

I grab one of the half-face one’s and stroke the ribbons on the back of it. On the front it has a beautiful painting of a manticore with a fierce and just expression on his face, slaying water beasts that look terrifying and horrific.

I smile to myself.

This one will do perfectly.