Boelik

by Amy Lehigh

  Bo was back at his cabin in a matter of a few moments. He gathered his things, staring for a moment at Ryan’s hat on the chair before heading to where Dayo waited in the field. Then he left for his newest assignment.

  ***

  “Damn it!” Bo cried as a demon dog bit into his arm, his voice drowned out by the drumming of heavy rain. “Get off me, you stupid mutt!” Bo had just gotten back to Ireland after two years, and he found a demon squatting in his house. It leapt at him as soon as he opened the door.

  How it had gotten in there in the first place, Bo was sure he could answer—the cabin was beginning to fall apart after two hundred years of occupation and desertion, after all. Why it was there, he had no idea. No one came around the cabin, and there weren’t many travelers to feast on in general. Nonetheless, Bo and this demon dog were having it out on the ground, rolling in the mud. The mutt with five toes and very sharp claws on each paw had Bo pinned to the ground, its ugly, stout muzzle gripping Bo’s left arm by the shoulder. Its huge canine teeth sank into his flesh like it was nothing, eyes shining like hungry coals.

  “I said, get off!” Bo yelled, using his other hand to jab his thumb in the beast’s eye. It howled, and Bo managed to jam his other thumb into the opposite eye. The mutt scrabbled backwards, tripping over itself to escape. “I don’t think so,” Bo snarled, raking his claws across its belly.

  The beast fell over with a scream as its lifeblood poured onto the ground, and Bo finished it off. He got a good look at it then, even in the dim light. It was like a mastiff with much larger canines and a larger body, and it had those strange toes. Its legs erupted in erratic scales. Bo reached out to grab the beast when his shoulder started to burn. Wincing, he covered the wound where he had been bitten, the bloody fur slick under his hand.

  “I’m a fool,” he said through gritted teeth, staring at the beast’s strange canines. Every beat of his heart seemed to pulse fire through his veins. “I am a fool,” he repeated, heading toward town. He left the serpent-fanged mutt where it lay.

  As Bo walked to the village, he cursed himself for paying so little attention. He had been in such a glad hurry to get back that he had been careless. “How the hell did I live six hundred years like this?” With each step he took, his body felt like it was going to erupt in flames, and he struggled to take another. “You can’t even beat this without help, fool. Better hope the Quirkes haven’t stopped their training sessions or you’re a dead man.” Though he had to admit…the idea had some appeal to him.

  Of course, he remembered how sad Kian was to see him go. And he remembered his first conversation with Dayo. His memories were what kept him determined to get to the village, to get help. Not to die.

  But he didn’t make it there. Bo collapsed on the road, just within sight of the forest’s edge. The rain stuck his clothes to him and plastered his hair to his face as he tried to crawl forward with his good arm. “Get up,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Get up, get up, get up!”

  He managed to get to his feet for a moment, but soon collapsed again. “You’re almost there,” he pleaded with himself, gazing with desperate eyes at the edge of the forest, blinking the rain from his eyes. He could hear the town, just out of sight. “Almost…”

  The venom was paralyzing him in pain. Alone, it wasn’t enough to kill him; he had too much demon in himself for that. However, he had no clue how long it would last or how sick it would make him as he tried to fight it off. He might just starve to death before he beat it. “Should have at least died in your own house,” he chastised himself in a murmur, managing to curl himself into a ball before lapsing into unconsciousness.

  Bo wasn’t sure how long it had been when he awakened. “Bo!” came a voice. Someone was shaking him.

  “Ryan?” Bo whispered. He was parched and burning.

  “Kian!” the voice replied.

  “Kian?” Bo said, his gaze fuzzy as he peered up at the face with brown eyes. It was still raining, but it was darker now.

  “Bo, are you all right?”

  “I think…” Bo began before trying to get up. His limbs wouldn’t take his weight. “I can’t get up,” he admitted. “Demon.” His stomach rolled.

  “Let me help you,” Kian said, putting Bo’s left arm over his head and putting his own underneath Bo’s right. He lifted him with ease, and Bo realized that Kian was taller than he was. If he hadn’t been in pain, he might have laughed.

  “Bad idea,” Bo replied, releasing that day’s meals. “Sorry,” he grunted.

  “It’s fine,” Kian replied, turning around.

  “Take me back along the path,” Bo said.

  “But the doctor—”

  “Can do as much as you can, and is probably a human. Take me back.”

  Kian tried to do as he was told, but Bo stumbled. So Kian picked him up in both arms just as Bo had once done with him and followed his rasped directions. Soon, Bo was in the cabin trying not to writhe as the venom worked.

  Kian looked worried. “What do I do?”

  “You wait with me while my body kills the venom,” Bo replied through clenched teeth, trying to sound calm. “Meanwhile, help me wrap this arm.”

  Kian rummaged around for bandages and, finding them, gently did as he was told. “How long will you be paralyzed?” he asked.

  “Well, the paralysis part seems to be over already,” Bo hissed as another wave of pain hit him. “Now it’s just in my system and moving through.”

  “Will you be all right?” Kian asked.

  “Not a clue. I’ll probably be ill a few days.” He stifled a groan as his stomach lurched. “At least.”

  “I’ll stay with you, then.”

  “Thank you, Kian. But you should at least tell your father.”

  Kian looked unsure for a moment before replying. “Bo, my father’s dead.”

  “What?” Bo demanded, sitting up. He immediately regretted that, retching up the remains of what was in his stomach and wincing in pain at both actions. His body fluxed between fire and ice as a fever was emerging to take care of the demon’s little gift.

  “He died last month,” Kian said, stepping over the pile on the floor and gently pushing Bo back down.

  “I’m sorry,” Bo said.

  “You didn’t know.”

  “What happened?”

  “He got ill.”

  Bo regretted his earlier choice of words. “At least tell your mother.”

  “Not until you’re resting.”

  Bo sighed, wincing as pain pulsed through him again. Deep breaths were a no-no. But for Kian, he let sleep overtake him.

  When he woke, Bo found Kian sitting at the table, staring out the only window Bo had put in the cabin, after Ryan had gone. It was about mid-afternoon. “How long?” he asked, his voice rasping.

  “Just one night. Do you need anything?” Kian asked, looking at him.

  “First, water. Second, the demon—you saw it?”

  “The big dead mutt?”

  “Yes. I need you to burn the carcass.”

  Kian stared at Bo for a minute before taking a lighter from his pocket and heading out to do as Bo had asked.

  The next few days were slow. Kian took care of Bo as fever struck, cleaning the cabin of his messes and changing the bandages on his wounds. Half of the time Bo was asleep. Still, he was proud of Kian, who never complained even once.

  At last, one morning when Bo awakened, he found his fever broken. He sat up in bed, looking over at Kian, who’d fallen asleep at the table. Bo shook his head, but smiled. He got up and draped his cloak over the boy’s shoulders. Then he made breakfast.

  Eventually Kian awakened—just in time to eat. Bo put a plate of meat and berries in front of him, but Kian only stared at him. “Are you sure you should be moving?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” Bo replied, sitting in Ryan’s chair. “I heal quickly. Eat your breakfast.”

  Kian glanced down at the plate made of polished wood, then up and around the cabin. It was practi
cally falling apart, with cracks in the walls and holes in the roof that led to leaks that pooled on the floor. “Why are you living here?” Kian asked.

  Bo noticed now how deep the boy’s voice had become. “Because there’s no place else for me to be,” Bo replied, biting into his bit of venison.

  “You could live with me and Ma, I’m sure,” Kian said, his brown eyes fixed on Bo.

  “Kian, that would be a disaster waiting to happen,” Bo sighed, leaning back in his chair and bringing out his left hand. “Remember?” Kian looked down at his plate. He popped a blackberry into his mouth, furrowing his brow in thought.

  “What about if we at least repaired this place?” he suggested, swallowing.

  “I don’t know that I’d bother. I only have about twenty years left in this place at the maximum,” Bo said.

  “What? Why?” Kian asked, his eyes wide. “You aren’t leaving, are you?”

  “Probably then.”

  “What about me?”

  “Well,” Bo said, “we’ll see.”

  Kian kept his gaze on Bo a moment longer before looking back around the cabin. “Twenty years is a long time, though.”

  “Shorter than you might think.”

  At that, Kian returned his gaze to Bo. “Bo,” he started, his voice wary, “how old are you?”

  Bo sighed. “Oh, about six hundred and fifty-four. Roughly. Honestly, I’m not sure that I should even bother keeping track but I do.”

  Kian simply blinked at him for a moment, stunned.

  “I’m old, I know.”

  “Ancient would be a better word for it,” Kian replied. He quickly put another berry in his mouth as Bo glared at him flatly.

  ***

  Kian began making a habit of visiting Bo. He would discuss his schoolwork and his friends with Bo as if he were his father. Bo would listen patiently and offer suggestions when he could as to how to fix problems, and then the two would go out and train.

  One day, as Kian was talking about his school years being over, Bo asked, “What about your mother?” He threw another log into the fire.

  “Huh?” Kian asked, looking over his shoulder at him.

  “You’ve come to me with this sort of thing quite a bit. What about your mother?”

  “Oh,” Kian said, glancing away again. “Well, Ma’s been sort of…off, since Da died. She goes to work and cooks dinner and all, but she doesn’t really ever feel like talking anymore. I don’t…I don’t really know what to do,” he admitted.

  “I see,” Bo said, throwing a final piece of wood to the hungry fire before sitting in Ryan’s old chair across from Kian, making sure not to knock the hat off. “Well, I wish I could help somehow, but I can’t. Grief is something that she’ll have to overcome on her own.”

  Kian nodded. “That’s all right. It’s not like it’s your fault, anyway,” Kian said.

  Bo nodded and the two were silent for a while.

  “Kian, what year is it, exactly?” Bo ventured.

  “You don’t know?” Kian asked, bemused.

  “I haven’t asked anyone in a while.”

  Kian looked at him. “It’s nineteen ninety-five. June, if you want to know that, too.”

  “I think I could have figured that much out.”

  Kian grinned. “Well, either way, it’s getting to be about sunset,” he said, looking out at the golden light that filtered through the forest. “Will we train today?”

  “There’s nothing preventing it,” Bo replied, standing from his seat. Kian followed him out of the door, and they went to the normal spot.

  ***

  “Come on, Bo, hurry up! I’m going to beat you today!”

  “Thirty-three years old and impatient as ever,” Bo muttered, walking patiently to the training grove as Kian jogged ahead of him. “You haven’t beaten me once all this time,” he said, raising his voice. “So what makes you think you can do it today?”“No clue! But I’m going to try!”

  Bo rolled his eyes. “So much energy,” he muttered. Then, “You aren’t even changed yet! Get ready to start!”

  “Right!” Kian said, going behind a tree to take off his clothes and change, his deer form spreading out from behind the tree. He galloped over to Bo, dancing in place and snorting, his great rack blocking quite a bit of sun.

  “Are you going to fight with me or dance with me, Kian?” he said. Kian snorted and held still, lowering his head so it was level with Bo’s rather than three heads higher. “Ready?”

  The elk snorted.

  “Then…go!” Bo shouted, leaping out of the way to avoid the immediate charge and dashing behind the elk.

  “Predictable!” he called. Kian reared and turned back around, leaping at Bo and trying to plant his hooves on Bo’s head.

  Bo ducked and rolled to the side, letting Kian’s enormous weight plow the ground instead. “If that’s the best you can start with in all this time, you’re going to need remedial lessons!” he called as he swiped at Kian’s shoulder, but Kian sidestepped just in time and lowered his head in the same moment, turning his rack to catch Bo in the jaw.

  “Good,” Bo praised, leaping back. He rubbed his jaw. “Good thing we aren’t hitting any harder,” he grumbled before leaping back at Kian, who was simultaneously charging at him.

  Bo intended to take hold of Kian’s throat, but Kian lowered his head in time to catch Bo in his antlers. Kian continued charging ahead with new vigor, and Bo knew the boy was aiming to catch him between a tree and his enormous rack. Managing to find a handhold, he leapt off in time for Kian to plow into the target without him.

  Kian shook his large head and turned back to Bo, stomping the ground. Bo was very tempted to laugh at his pupil’s frustration.

  Once again Kian tried to charge at Bo, but Bo was prepared and stepped aside, ducking as Kian tried to hit him with his rack. As Kian missed and began to turn, Bo managed to run and leap onto him, using the antlers as a handhold as Kian tried to buck him off.

  “Use more of your front,” Bo directed. “I’m not sitting on your rear!”

  Taking his advice, Kian began using more of his shoulders. He also decided to add a lot of spinning to the mix. However, Bo had a good hold on Kian’s side with his legs and a good grip with his right hand. Using his left arm, he quickly stretched and took a jab at the soft part of Kian’s throat. The game was won.

  Kian stopped bucking, his breaths heaving. Bo straightened on his back, patting his damp neck. “Good fight. Try being a little less predictable, though.”

  Kian snorted.

  “Also, don’t leap at an opponent as fast as I am or as vicious as I can be. I could have ripped open your chest, which you left open, or your throat, and managed to get away before you hit the ground. And if something’s on your back, try backing up and rearing them into a tree. It’ll at least drive the air out of them and make it easier to shake them off.”

  After Bo finished doling out advice, Kian knelt and let Bo get off. Then he went back behind his tree, donning his clothes once more. “Well, I tried,” Kian sighed, emerging from behind the old alder.

  “You did. I still won.”

  “Yeah, well, either way, I planned on visiting Ma and Da’s grave before night set in, so I’ll see you tomorrow,” Kian said, giving Bo a lopsided smile.

  “All right. Have a good night,” Bo said, giving Kian a small wave before the boy turned back and walked away. Bo looked up at the sunset sky through the trees and turned to head back home.

  As Bo lay on his bed staring up at his tattered roof that night, he felt Dayo join him. Hello, Dayo, he greeted.

  “Hello, Bo,” Dayo greeted, rather happily.

  Is it time?

  “He is ready.”

  Where is he?

  “America. Michigan, roughly.”

  I don’t have a clue as to where that is. My maps are a bit outdated.

  “Well, that’s fine. I’m going to be the one to fly you there, after all. But to find him, I would recommend some espionage.”r />
  Spy?

  “Yes, spy. On dragons, to be specific. We don’t actually hoard physical treasure, after all—that’s fallen rather out of style, considering so many were killed for their jewels. We do, however, hoard knowledge. And such a special case is a special treasure to know of.”

  All right, I suppose.

  “You suppose?” Dayo huffed. Before Bo could retort, however, he continued. “Well, anyway, shall I pick you up in the morning?”

  Yes—wait, Bo thought, having a realization. Actually, could we do it in the evening? I’d like to say good-bye to Kian.

  “I can manage that. At sunset, then? At the boy’s grave?”

  Yes. At Ryan’s grave.

  Dayo fled from Bo’s mind then, leaving him alone with memories.

  “So,” he whispered to himself. “I guess we’ll be leaving Ireland for the last time tomorrow, won’t we? And we’ll have to burn all of this,” he said, gazing around in the dimness at the cabin he and Ryan had built. His eyes stopped on the old gray hat that rested on the corner of the chair. “Time to go,” he murmured, closing his eyes and falling asleep.

  ***

  In the morning, Bo got up and packed food for the trip. He stored his cloak away as well, and when he was finished he looked toward the window. The day he’d awaited for more than six hundred years was here.

  Bo went outside to listen to the birds. He sat in front of his cabin, his back to the graying, decrepit wall, holding Ryan’s hat in his hands. He regretted not keeping something of Olea’s as he stared at it, his heart aching with all of the things he had had to give up over the years. But before he could dwell on any of that for too long, Kian showed up with a beaming smile on his face.

  Giving him a skeptical look, Bo asked, “Why are you grinning?”

  “Because I feel like today is going to be fantastic, Bo!” Kian said, plunking next to Bo in the grass. He was a good head taller than Bo, sitting or standing. Bo didn’t look at him.