From Blood and Magic

by Dave Skinner

  “But how does someone know you are speaking to them specifically?” Flitter asked.

  “We look at them or use their name,” Nails replied.

  “Oh, so you do have names,” she said sarcastically,

  “Of course we have names. My name is Nails, and he is Brayson.”

  “Nice to finally meet you both,” Flitter said.

  Chapter 26

  “I need to take a break,” Brayson said. He was waist deep in the stagnant water of the marsh they had been travelling through for some time. Tossing the rope into the boat, he climbed over the side and flopped down. Nails sat down on the tiller seat. He had been pushing them along from the back of the boat, trying to help Brayson move them through weeds and grasses. The stream they were following had given out two turns of a small glass before. After struggling to move through the marsh using the oars, Brayson had volunteered to get into the water and pull them along on a rope. Flitter was sitting on the gunwale above the central bench with her small sword in hand to discourage attacks from birds and the giant dragonflies that made their homes in the marsh. There were six dead dragonflies on the seat in front of her; evidence of her ability with her sword. She glanced at Brayson and then jumped down.

  “Oh, that is disgusting,” she said.

  “What is?” Brayson asked.

  He found he had little energy and no interest in her answer, but he had realized in the short time she had been with them that ignoring her was not a good idea. Her tongue was as sharp as her sword, and she liked to have her opinion heard. He thought it had something to do with being tiny. Sylphs were the smallest of the faeries, and also the only ones with wings.

  “Those bloodsuckers all over your arm,” Flitter said.

  Brayson looked at his arms and felt a shudder crawl down his back. He reached for one of the long black leeches.

  “Leave it!” Flitter commanded. “They must not be pulled off. Do you have any salt?”

  “There is a little in my pack,” Nails said.

  “Bring it here,” she ordered. “Brayson, stand up and get out of your clothes.”

  Brayson stood, pulled his shirt off and then his pants, revealing many more bloodsuckers. He had removed his boots before entering the water to save them from ruin. The boat rocked as Nails brought the salt to Flitter. She sprinkled a small amount on a leech, and it curled up and fell to the bottom of the boat. While she went to work on the other leeches, Brayson stopped watching her and looked out over the marsh. He felt embarrassed standing naked and having a woman, no matter how small, examine his body. He glanced at Nails who had returned to the tiller bench and was sitting watching Flitter work with a big smile on his face.

  “You appear to be enjoying this, Nails,” Brayson said harshly.

  Nails laughed. “They couldn’t have taken much of your blood. Your face is redder than your mother’s coat.”

  “Is your mother far darrig, Brayson?” Flitter asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You are mixed-blood, is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, who initiated the union of your parents? Did your father force himself on your mother?”

  “No, he did not,” Brayson said. “My mother has some siren blood. She says that sometimes the blood must have its way.”

  “Siren blood. That explains why I am attracted to you. You inherited some.”

  “He’s not going to have much left after this,” Nails said. Flitter and Nails shared a laugh.

  “Okay, Brayson,” Flitter announced. “I am finished. You can get dressed but watch out while I get these bloodsuckers out of the bottom of the boat.”

  She extended her wings, stepped off the bench and fluttered down to the bottom of the hull. Flitter had shown that despite the loss of feathers she could still get some lift from her wings. Using her sword, she skewered each leech and flicked it up over the side of the boat back into the water. Birds captured three of them before they landed.

  “Your turn pulling the boat, Nails,” Brayson said as he finished dressing.

  “That smile on your face hurts me, Brayson,” Nails said, “but you’re right, my turn.” He started to pull at his boots.

  “You are getting into the water when you know there are leeches in there?” Flitter exclaimed. “I am impressed. Big, strong and brave.”

  Brayson saw Nails actually puff up as the words stroked him. He was tempted to say something cutting, but let the thought go. He and Nails had never swiped at each other before, so why were they doing it now? It had to have something to do with Flitter. As if they were jealous of each other and vying for her attention. The thought was ridiculous, but it was the only explanation that came to him. All of the fey had magical abilities. He knew little about sylphs, but it made sense that they possessed abilities. They must have something that affects men like sirens do. Not as strong as siren magic, he hoped, but still able to influence a man’s thinking. He would have to be careful around Flitter and decided to mention it to Nails as soon as he could.

  “What kind of skin is that?” Flitter exclaimed.

  Nails had brought up his scales before getting into the water.

  “Just something to keep the leeches off me,” Nails said. “You didn’t think I was going to get into the water and let them suck my blood, did you?”

  He slipped over the side before she could answer. Brayson handed him the rope and Nails arranged it over his shoulder while Brayson picked up an oar and moved to the stern of the boat. There was a removable rudder that fit over the back, but it dragged in the weeds and grasses, so they had pulled it up. When needed, he used the oar to help move the boat. They made slow progress, but eventually the trees opened up and they saw the next lake ahead. The entrance was narrow and shallow, but they pulled themselves through easily.

  “Let’s head for that small island out there,” Nails said as he pointed to a cedar-covered rock not far from shore. “The breeze should keep the nippers away, and I can sleep without my scales.”

  ***

  Sailing the lake the next morning was a back and forth effort. The wind was against them, so they had to tack one way and then the other. Nails thought it was still better than dragging the boat through the marshes. They dropped the sail and used the oars when they reached the river that flowed out of the lake. It was about four body lengths wide and had an easy current. All they had to do was keep the boat going in the right direction.

  “This river joins the Trade River up ahead,” Nails heard Brayson say. He was studying the map his mother had supplied. “There are rapids marked on here just after the junction. We will have to stop and check them out before we run them, and we will have to pull the rudder again.”

  “I see a larger river ahead,” Flitter called to them. She had worked her way up the mast and was seated on the top while Nails rowed and Brayson was at the tiller.

  The junction of the two rivers was wide and slow-moving, but the flow picked up immediately when the two bodies of water met. A shoreline of large rocks was pushing the waters together more. Before Nails realized it, they were into rapids. The boat rocked and jolted as the rudder dragged across something.

  “I’ll pull the rudder,” Brayson said.

  As he reached down to grab the rudder mechanism, the handle jerked to the side, the boat lurched sideways and Brayson lost his footing. His arms flailed as he fell backwards into the water, and Nails saw his head smack against a rock. Without thinking, Nails flicked the oars into the boat and jumped over the side just as Brayson’s body shot past. He managed to grab Brayson’s shirt with one hand and keep his other one on the gunwale. He dragged his friend closer and, with a mighty heave, managed to shove him into the boat. Holding on tightly with both hands, Nails stretched his body out along the side and let the river carry them along. His scales protected him from cuts and scrapes, but he could still break something if it hit him hard enough. The boat was picking its own course and not doing a good job of i
t as far as he was concerned. He was jammed twice between the boat and rocks, and each time water spilled over his head and into his mouth. Suddenly, he heard a loud crack as the boat lurched to the side. His hands were torn from the gunwale, and he plunged into the rapids, turning over and over in the water without any support. His body was rammed up against a rock, and the force of the current held him there until he managed to creep forward and free himself. The water instantly whipped him away, and he felt his head strike something. Lights flashed before his eyes. Strength left his body. The river took him, turning him over as it sped him along. Suddenly, he shot into the air and dropped. He saw water rushing up to meet him and he splashed into it and sunk into a peaceful watery grave. Nails knew his scales would pull him down and keep him on the bottom, so with the last of his consciousness he let them go.

  Thinking came back slowly. He was cold. He felt like he had been beaten by an army of strong men, then he realized he was lying in water. It covered him from the waist down, but his back felt warmed by the sun. Carefully, he tried to crawl. He managed a few feet before he started throwing up.

  The next time he came to was better. Nails remembered what had happened and managed to drag his body completely out of the water. It was night, a clear night lit by an abundance of stars. He activated his scales and passed out again.

  The warmth of the sun woke him. He estimated it was mid-morning, but his stomach suggested it was later in the day. He dragged himself over to a log and pushed his body up into a sitting position. Nails could see out over the river but saw no sign of the boat. Were Brayson and Flitter safe? Had the boat survived? Those thoughts kept repeating themselves over and over in his head until other thoughts crept in. Move, he told himself.

  He moved about carefully until he was sure he had no broken bones. There was a tender spot on his skull and his ribs, but they only hurt when he pressed on them, so he stopped doing that after a while. His clothes were still damp. He stripped his shirt off and hung it on a branch. The sun warmed his body and slowly he started to think again. Nails stood up and looked out over the river. He was in a sheltered cove beside a large pool of deep water. A number of boulders upriver pushed the rushing water away from the shore at this point. The pool was fed by three gushing waterfalls, created by openings between the boulders. He seemed to remember shooting through one of them. He worked his way back to the rocks and climbed onto one. There was still no sign of the boat or Brayson. Nails filled his lungs and called Brayson’s name. No sounds came back to him, aside from that of the water. He tried calling twice more before making his way back along the shore to where his shirt was drying. He sat and tried to think about what he should do, but one thought kept overpowering all others. He was alone.

  The only time he could remember being alone was when Magga and her sailor friend left him on one of the Chimney Islands. He would have died there if Brunt and Toto had not come along. Panic started to tighten his chest. He shuddered.

  “Stop it!” Nails told himself. “You were a child when Magga left you. You have passed your fifteenth name-day now. So what if you have no one to guide you.” He took a number of deep breaths and felt better. His thoughts turned to food. Food was the first thing he should work on. His hunting knife was still in its sheath on his belt, and his eating knife was still in the sheath in the top of his right boot. His sword had been in the boat. It was gone. He would worry about that later. Nails removed his pouch from his belt and laid out the contents to dry. He had flint for fire, his sling for hunting and a good amount of gold and silver coins. His woodcraft was reasonable, not that he would need it. All he had to do was follow the river. He might even find Brayson and Flitter along the way. He wondered again if Brayson was okay but pushed the thought from his mind and got up, looking for a straight sapling to use as a spear.

  Chapter 27

  Flitter sat down heavily on Brayson’s wrist. She had managed to drag him somewhat out of the water, but he was proving too heavy to move now that he was no longer floating. She got one of his arms stretched out above his head and pulled with all her strength on two fingers, but still, she could not move him. She got up and walked back to his head. Kneeling down, she yelled in his ear. It had no effect. He was breathing, she was happy about that, to lose a lovlan so soon after finding him would be too painful to bear. She had never thought she would be lucky enough to find one. Finding a mate who filled your heart was rare, but finding a lovlan—a true heartmate—was almost impossible. Finding one who was not a sylph or even a faerie was almost unheard of, but there he was, stretched out beside her. She had known from the first moment she saw him that he was the one for her. She felt the connection. It had solidified as she watched him work to free her from his glove. He was so handsome and kind and smart and everything she could have hoped for. Well, another sylph would have been nice, but a heart bond was not something you questioned.

  When Brayson had fallen into the river, she had seen him hit his head. She considered jumping from the top of the mast to be with him, to share their last moments together in the turmoil of the rapids, but then Nails had jumped into the water and thrown Brayson back into the boat. She saw Nails lose his grip on the gunwale when the boat had smashed into a rock. She had been halfway down the mast then, and the collision had thrown her to the floor of the boat, but her fluttering wings had saved her from injury. The force of the water had pushed the boat free, but the hull was holed. Floating was no longer possible, although it was a well-built craft and had managed to stay together as it was forced along, despite the holes and cracked timbers caused by its many collisions in the rapids. Eventually, the damage and the river had driven the boat over on its side, and Brayson and Flitter had been dumped into the water. She clung to him desperately as they were carried along. Thankfully, they were close to shore when it tipped and had washed up on a small stretch of sandy beach. She could see the broken boat stuck on the rocks not far out from shore some way back upriver. When Brayson awoke, he would be able to make his way out and retrieve their packs and weapons, unless the boat broke up completely. It was getting dark. She would see how it looked tomorrow. Tonight, she had to watch over her lovlan and make sure nothing harmed him. Luckily, she still had her sword to protect him.

  The next morning the boat was still there, but Brayson did not wake. The following morning the boat was gone, replaced by a large log that must have smashed into it during the night. Flitter searched for food again, as she had the day before, gathering strawberries from plants she found at the top of the bank that marked the highwater line of the river. A few mushrooms from a rotting log she found close to the bank completed her meals. She found a fern leaf to use as a fan to keep the flies off Brayson’s face. She hoped he would wake soon, although he had not stirred or made a sound. She was thinking about cutting another mushroom for a midday meal when she noticed the first raven land in an oak tree. Flitter sat perfectly still on Brayson’s chest, trying to avoid detection until the bird flew away. She asked the Mother to keep the ravens away, but for safety, she slipped down into the space between Brayson’s ear and shoulder and pulled his hair over her.

  “If you are going to wake up soon, My Love, you should do it now,” she said as loudly as she dared, but Brayson did not stir. The raven returned with friends.

  Three of the beasts landed in the same oak tree. They talked loudly, cawing back and forth. She had seen this behavior before. They were testing to see if their prospective meal was alive. She waited for them to quiet.

  “Stop that noise!” she screamed, hoping that they would think Brayson had said it.

  Her ruse seemed to work. All three birds took to the sky and circled around, but they came back.

  “Keep your bills shut!” she screamed again. The birds remained where they were, studying Brayson with one eye and then the other.

  “Brayson, wake up,” she called. He failed to stir.

  One of the ravens launched from its perch and sailed down to the ground, landing so
me way from the hand that she had been pulling on. After waiting for a few moments, it hopped forward. Flitter pulled her sword. She knew they would peck at Brayson’s hand to test his condition before attacking his eyes. They always ate the eyes first. She placed the tip of her sword against Brayson’s head just below his ear. The bird hopped forward again and pecked at a finger. Flitter jammed her sword point into Brayson’s neck. It might hurt enough to wake him up, or at least cause him to twitch, giving the bird the impression he was reacting to the peck on his hand. Neither hope came true. Flitter stood and jumped up to Brayson’s face as she screamed, and the raven hopped away but did not take off. She swung her arms and sword about, attempting to make her body appear larger. A cold look of contempt filled the bird’s beady eyes as it cawed to the others.

  “Come on then, carrion eaters,” she said. “Come and meet my blade.”

  They came. The one already on the ground hopped forward, another swooped around her and landed at her back, the third swooped low. She jumped and fluttered her wings, and her sword sliced across the raven’s breast. It fell squawking to the ground beside Brayson. She spun around and landed facing the raven that had been behind her. It was already hopping forward with its beak raised to slash down on her. Flitter ducked and swept her sword across its neck, cutting deeply. She sensed something behind her as she started to rise. She twisted away, but a beak smashed into her arm. She was knocked sideways and tripped over Brayson’s nose. The raven’s beak was coming down again, but she had landed on her sword arm. As she struggled to pull it free, she already knew she would be too late. Then, the raven disappeared in a shower of feathers as something slammed into it. Flitter rolled to her feet with her sword held out. Nails was walking towards her, spinning a loaded sling at his side.

  Chapter 28

  The aroma of wood smoke and food woke Brayson. He seemed to be lying on grass. His head hurt and he was thirsty. It was a struggle to open his eyes, but he succeeded. Nails was squatted beside a smoldering fire, tending meat that was roasting on a spit.