Boelik (5 page)

“
You cruel man,” Olea
squeaked, indignant, though a grin was breaking out over her face.
“That is five years past!”

Bo laughed. “But I clearly remember. That
basket was certainly quite durable for the situation.”

“
Well, now I have you, I
don’t need to worry about that, do I?”

“
Not anymore.”

It wasn’t long before dinner was finished. In
fact, it was just in time for the two to take the path out of the
forest and sit on the hill at the edge of the forest as the sun
set. Olea rested her head on Bo’s shoulder as they basked in the
light of the blazing sky. A breeze made the trees whisper behind
them and made the grass ahead appear as though it crashed in waves
like a great, fiery ocean.

“
You realize I wouldn’t
trade a day of this life for anything, don’t you?” Olea
whispered.

“
I know,” Bo replied,
putting his arm around her and pulling her close. He gently laid
his other hand on her belly. He couldn’t help worrying if he would
be a good father, or if his child would be twisted like
himself.

And Olea was very good at picking out his
doubts. “You’ll be just fine,” she said. She put her own hand over
Bo’s. He sighed. “She’s almost here, you know.”

“
She?” Bo asked, blinking
at her. Olea was still gazing out at the sunset but nodded against
his shoulder.

“
Maybe a he,
too.”

“
Two?”

“
Yes, Bo. Two.
Twins.”

“
How long?” Bo was getting
excited, and Olea could hear it. She laughed.

“
Around a fortnight,
perhaps? I don’t know exactly; they’ll come when they’re ready,
whether or not
we
are.”

“
Then I suppose I should do
this now,” he grinned, standing and bringing her to her feet with
him.

“
Bo?”

“
May I have this dance with
you?” Bo asked, pulling her close.

“
I’m not sure. Can you keep
up?” Olea challenged, brown eyes sparkling. The two separated and
wound around each other, Bo’s voice humming a melody for their
steps. They moved lightly as birds as they danced, Olea’s laugh
rising in the air. The wind wound around them, leading them in
their joy.

As the sun disappeared completely, Bo pulled
his tired wife to him. He kissed her, showing his love as she’d
taught him how. “You realize,” she said, pulling away from him,
“you weren’t this good when we got married.”

“
Well, that was my first
kiss.”

***

It was a week later when Bo went hunting
again. He sensed that ground animals were becoming something of a
mindless tedium at dinner, so he decided he’d go find some nesting
quail for both fowl and eggs. He headed out to the fields where he
and his wife would watch the sunset to search. The sun was
beginning to set, and still Bo had not found his quarry. He
wandered further still, out to the plains where he was sure he
would find some of his prize. The trees groaned from the woods as a
howling wind began to stir, and thunder cracked overhead.
Determined to find something, he continued a bit further.

Sheets of rain began to fall before Bo
decided that the hunt was off for today. Thunder cracked again, and
he thought he heard something else in the rumble. He paused for a
moment, letting himself get soaked as he listened under the wind
and rain. The sound came again and sent him into a sprint for
home.

His wife screamed.

Bo was a blur through the trees. He prepared
his claws for a fight, and emerged in a moment at his grove to find
the door of his house splintered on the ground and a creature
stalking around outside. It looked like a large lizard, with black
fur and red eyes and long legs that gave it an ungainly
movement.

Bo shouted and leapt at the demon, catching
it behind the head. He realized, as it attempted to snap back at
him, that its muzzle glinted a damp scarlet, and its breath stank
of decay.

With a well-placed strike to its throat, Bo
dispatched the creature before running into his house. He stopped
at the door frame as if it were a wall, putting his hand on it to
support himself as his stomach flipped. “No,” he managed after a
moment.

There was blood all over the kitchen.

“
No.”

The stew put was boiling over.

“
It can’t…”

Black fur was scattered around.

“
You can’t…”

Olea was lying on the ground.

“
You can’t leave
me.”

Her eyes were open and blank.

“
You can’t just leave like
this.”

Her belly was ripped apart.

“
You can’t just leave me!”
Bo wailed. His knees gave out and he slid to the ground and stared
at his wife, at the cavern in her body where his children once
waited, through wavering vision. He wailed to her, the wind and
rain drowning out his cries. He felt sick, from the sight, from the
blood of his wife’s murderer on his hands.

“
Why do I have to be
alone?” he asked in a trembling whimper.

Because you were never
supposed to
be
in the first place,
something inside of him hissed back as thunder clapped.

He stared at Olea’s pale corpse, her
beautiful face, once full of life and warmth, contorted in horror.
He looked at her open belly and the blood that seemed to be
everywhere, even on himself. The beast hadn’t just killed her; it
had
devoured
her in the most barbaric way
it could, ripping her apart from the center. It had only feasted
from there.

His children. Twins. Like Olea, and like
him.

He didn’t even have the bodies to bury.

Bo cried himself to sleep in the doorway,
letting the storm drown everything out. When he woke, the morning
was cold and gray. No birds sang. He looked at the kitchen;
everything was as he’d last seen. He staggered to his feet and
walked outside. The beast he’d killed was where he’d left it.

He passed through the woods without a word.
No tears bothered him as he staggered through the trees, and his
gut was tight. Even the air was stagnant.

Emerging through the forest at the hill where
Olea and he so often watched the sunset, Bo let himself slide to
the ground. He sat there, legs crossed, his blue cloak still over
his back, and stared out toward the fleeing darkness of the night.
It was some time before he dimly realized that something was poking
him.

Bo reached into his boot to remove the
irritant, finding his carving knife. The blade was sharp as he held
it in his hand, fingering the tip with his thumb as he looked at
the sky. The sun crept slowly across the heavens from behind him.
I was used to being alone once. I don’t want to
get used to it again.

Finally Bo came to a decision as he heard
something like thunder approaching. He pressed the tip of the knife
over his heart and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he drew
it away from him. As he readied to break his own heart for the last
time, the land shook beneath him, and his eyes flung open, the
weapon falling from his hand.

Before him was a large beast, a huge golden
eye on par with Bo’s hazel ones, an equine’s pupil in the center,
its head turned like a bird’s. A single horn graced the middle of
its forehead, an undulating ivory spear. The beast was covered in
white fur, a long tail swishing behind it; not as though on a hunt,
but more as in patience. Two large, feathered wings emerged from
its back, arched peacefully. The only revealing feature of what lay
beneath the behemoth’s fur was its lower jaw; it had no fur, and
instead lay beset with black scales.

Bo sat like a statue and looked into the
dragon’s eye. They stared at each other for some time before one
spoke.

“
You are sad,” came a
breathless voice. Bo started. The beast had not moved its mouth,
and the deep, calming voice had seemed to come from everywhere.
“Why? What has moved you to believe your life has no
worth?”

“
I am alone,” Bo replied,
his voice trembling. A tear fell from his eye as his heart ached.
The dragon tilted its head.

“
I am also alone. Why is
this so sad? Many creatures live alone.”

Bo shook his head, closing his eyes. He saw
Olea’s face, alive and happy. “I am not alone by choice. My family
was killed.” Never again would he see that smile.

“
That is sad. But, you are
not your family.” Bo looked at the dragon, furrowing his brow and
scowling. “You have a purpose.”

“
What? To be a monster, and
to live my life alone? I would rather finish what I started.” Bo
turned his gaze to the fallen blade for a moment.

“
No!” The dragon said,
attracting Bo’s gaze again. Then, “I have seen it. You have a duty
to fulfill. It is why I am here.”

“
A duty?” Bo
asked.

“
Yes. Do you think I would
be here otherwise, talking to you in daylight where humans can see
me?” Bo just blinked at him, skeptical.

“
What duty do I have? Could
I
possibly
have?”

“
That of a mentor. There
are others like you, you know. Others who do not understand
themselves, who fear themselves. Who need to understand how to
control what they’ve been given rather than hide from it. One in
particular will need your guidance.”

“
How can I help anyone? I
am broken: look at me. Do I look like I can train anyone in
anything but misery?” Bo clutched at his heart with his furred
hand, his eyes pleading for release.

“
Do not pity yourself. You
had a family; that is more than some can say. Do you
understand?”

Bo lowered his gaze to his lap. The dragon
was right, as much as he was loathe to admit it.

“
You knew joy, and you know
control. Others need that. And would your family want you to join
them so soon?” Bo thought back to the conversation that seemed
lifetimes past already.
I would wait. I am
patient. And I could watch over you.

Olea would not want to watch Bo kill
himself.

Finally, Bo shook his head. “No.”

“
I expected
not.”

Curiosity began to prick at Bo as he returned
his knife to his boot, glancing up to the dragon. “Who needs
me?”

“
One who is not yet born.
You will meet him if you look for him, but you will have to live
until then. Do you understand?” Bo nodded. “Good. This boy will be
important. He will be a new breed; an alteration to the
rule.”

“
Rule? What
rule?”

“
The rule of mixed blood.”
The dragon seemed to gather its thoughts for a moment, closing its
eyes. “The rule that says that a half-breed will show both sides.
The rule that says that if demon blood fights for its place, it
will always win.
This
rule—the one your
body so obligingly accepts.” Bo removed his left arm from his lap
as the dragon opened its eyes again and turned them to
it.

“
So, he is… not yet
born?”

“
No. And he will remain as
such for a long, long time. You will need patience.” The dragon’s
eye seemed to search Bo for something—seemed to
expect
something.

“
I will wait.” The dragon
lifted its head and nodded, content to simply lie beside Bo and
look at the sky. Bo finally heard the birds in the
trees.

“
Good. Now, what is your
name?” The dragon glanced at Bo and swiftly turned away, avoiding
eye contact.

Bo gave him a skeptical look, but was mildly
amused, despite the new emptiness that still throbbed within him.
“You know so much about me and my future, but you do not know my
name?”

“
I am prophetic, but this
does not mean I am omnipotent.”

“
Then, I am
Boelik.”

“
Boelik? You seem as though
the name is estranged.”

“
I have been
called…something else by my wife these last five years.”

“
I see. So you are
returning to who you were before, are you?” The dragon stared him
down now, anticipating his answer.

“
For now. But I will
remember what she taught me.”

The dragon nodded. “Remembering is good.
Never forget, even the things that hurt. In fact, those are the
most important to remember.”

“
I know,” Boelik sighed. He
then turned his gaze up to scrutinize the beast before him. “And
who are you? And, after that, what are you? You seem like a
dragon…almost.”

The beast snorted. “My name is Dayo. I am a
unicorn-dragon.”

“
A unicorn-dragon?” The
very thought of such a creature made Boelik snort in
amusement.

“
Laugh if you please. But
my mother was a dragon and my father a unicorn.” Dayo shifted in
place, and seemed to set his jaw. It was difficult to tell under
the fur.

“
I’m sorry,” Boelik
apologized, though now he was more amused—if only by the dragon’s
pouting. He saw Dayo relax some. The two sat and watched as the sun
burned through the dreary clouds, bits and pieces of its rays
reaching the ground near them. Eventually they both fell
asleep.

Boelik woke underneath of a heavy layer of
feathers. He shimmied his way out and saw the dragon sleeping.
“Dayo?” he asked softly. It was getting to be evening. “Dayo?” The
dragon’s eyes flew open and darted to Boelik, their gaze
immediately softening.