Bones of Salt

Jonathan

I hadn't been completely honest with Roman.

Yes, I did lie about my Skill to some people. Though I would rather not think of it as a lie, but as a wise move on my part. 

What I didn't tell him was that, sometimes, I wished my Skill was Courage. 

When I was a child, before I turned, I liked asking adults for stories from their lives and then I took all the elements and made up my own stories, ones that I would tell myself when I was scared or lonely. In the stories, there was never me. But the main character was sometimes a Prophet, other times a Watcher. And when they were a Watcher, their Skill was Courage.

I'd heard that those who had it would never hesitate in battle, that a certain kind of glow seemed to appear around them and it gave confidence to all the other warriors, both during patrol and war. Watchers were generally exempted from military action, but then again it depended on what the leaders of each country decided. A long time ago, there are stories about war generals who had Courage as Skill.

Despite my best attempts to throw off the scent from my real Skill, I still had Knowledge. I recalled being vaguely disappointed when I turned and found out about it, but then told myself it was fitting of the boy who made up stories instead of living them.

It wasn't a concern anymore. I'd had lots of adventures since then. Still, sometimes I wished I had a Skill that could give a boost of bravery to me and others.

When Roman, Minx and I joined Aurora and I saw the Behemoth up close, it was one of those times. 

"Did you know," Roman told me, a little nervously. "That some books claim Behemoth will become our food at the end of times?"

I turned around. "What did you say that for?" I asked. "I won't be able to stop myself from wondering how it tastes now."

Roman shrugged. "I like fun facts. Sometimes something I've read comes back to mind."

"Don't worry, Jonathan," Minx added. "The writers didn't even specify which one of the eighteen thousands worlds will end first, and which one will get to eat the Behemoth. Let's put it back to its dimension."

"Speaking of that," I said, unleashing my orange-y bronze sword. "I've always wondered whether Creatures look like that, in the world they come from, or whether they get lost in translation."

Atticus had already hurried up to Aurora, who looked green in the face. I wasn't close enough to see where the Behemoth had hurt her.

While Minx was using his machete against the Creature, I tried to see its strengths and weaknesses. The loins seemed to be strong, as the belly was muscled. There wasn't a spot in his body where it seemed vulnerable. Except for...

I tried to jump onto the Behemoth's back, which wasn't easy, since it was as tall as a house. Then, my wings finally unfurled and I flew on the monster's hide. I tried to get to its head, but it was trashing around.

It looked like an elephant, a water buffalo and a hippopotamus mated only to have a offspring as hideous as one could imagine. When it trashed again and tried to shake me off its back, I impaled my sword into the Creature to stay in place.

It was a very bad idea. The flesh of the Creature was so hard it could have been made of iron. My sword bounced back. I fell off before I could figure out how to fly away.

When I landed on the street, I saw black spots blurrying my vision. I felt the Behemoth coming towards me. I braced myself for the impact. 

But the impact never came. When I looked up, the Behemoth was turning to another direction.