Boelik

  ***

  Days passed, and the two continued to meet. They took strolls through the forest, and Boelik shared his favorite spots with her. Weeks continued, and Olea taught him how to dance. Months began, and Boelik’s bandages came off.

  One evening as the pair watched the sunset from the hill, sitting near one another, Olea leaned her head against Boelik’s shoulder. The light from the sun burned everything in the plains red, making it almost like a crimson sea beneath them, the trees whispering at their backs. “Bo?” Olea asked.

  “Yes, Olea?”

  “I love you.”

  Boelik started, hesitating a moment before even opening his mouth. “I think you should go home now.”

  Olea was silent. Then she rose, and Boelik walked her to the edge of the forest, silence enveloping them as even the forest had nothing to add but the scent of blossoms. Olea began walking down the path to the village when Boelik said, “Olea?” and she turned around.

  “…I love you, too.”

  Olea beamed so widely that she seemed to be a single ray of light. From there, she ran up and hugged him, and as he wrapped his arm around her she said, “You should talk to my father and tell him you want to marry me then! He’ll accept, I know he will. Especially if I tell him that I love you, too.”

  “I have nothing for trade, though,” Boelik said, furrowing his brow.

  Olea pushed herself back from him in a moment of inspiration. “The wolf’s pelt!” she exclaimed. “You didn’t sell it, did you?”

  Boelik shook his head. “No. I will give him that, then. But are you sure you will settle for this imperfect man?” he asked.

  Olea looked at him in adoration. “Every man is imperfect, Bo. None can ever be otherwise. But you are the closest there is.” Then she put her hand on his cheek as he glanced away sheepishly. “Promise me I’ll see you in the village tomorrow?”

  “I promise. Now go home, before you anger your father and he never lets you marry any man. Or worse, gives you to the next one he sees.”

  The next day, Boelik walked into the village, his beige cloak draped over his frame and hood cast over his face, carrying the wolf hide over his shoulder. He was greeted by the sight of a large crowd in the village plaza, waves of voices churning in the late afternoon air. Fortunately, he could see over most of the people with ease. In the center of the crowd was a man riding a horse that was black as sin adorned with the royal crest of a raven, followed by several sword paladins on bays. Curious, Boelik tuned into the whispers of the crowd.

  “It’s prince Mar!”

  “Captain of the King Olamis’s knights and a prince!”

  “Isn’t he a handsome one?”

  At last, Boelik tuned into something interesting. “They say he’s a hero.”

  “What for?”

  “Saving villages or something.”

  “What’s he here for, then?”

  “Patrol, I’d wager. Captain of the guard out to patrol the whole kingdom once in his life. Double if he’s prince, too. Not like it’s a big one to begin with.”

  Boelik returned his gaze to the man on the black—to the prince. “A hero, huh?” he muttered under his breath.

  The prince had pale skin and black hair, a lean build, and pale green eyes that seemed to analyze everything and find it all to be lacking. A sword was sheathed on his belt. Then he spoke, hushing the crowd. “Hello. I am prince Mar, as you may well know.” His voice resonated with a cold tone that made Boelik scowl from under his hood. “As you may not know, I am searching the land for a wife,” he said, pausing as he locked his gaze onto something. “And I think I may have just found her.” He walked his horse over to the side of the crowd and held out his hand.

  “No, no,” a woman’s voice said, bashful. She was obscured from Boelik by the prince’s steed and the crowd. “I’m quite fine here, thank you.”

  “Nonsense. You shall be my bride and have the most wonderful jewels to accent your beautiful frame and never go hungry in the winter. Does that not sound like a good offer?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not interested in jewels, and I love my life here.” The woman was quite firm now.

  Mar’s face darkened. “I’m afraid you do not have a choice, my dear. You will be my bride, and you will love your life with me.” The rat that masqueraded as a prince began trying to pull the poor woman to his horse’s back.

  Forcing his way through the crowd, Boelik growled at the man. “Leave the woman alone.”

  “And who commands me?” Mar challenged, glaring at Boelik, who removed his hood, careful not to drop the pelt draped over his shoulder.

  “I do.”

  “You?” the prince sneered, not letting go of his woman but turning his steed enough to face Boelik, giving him a good view of her. She saw him as well. “You look like a mere robber. I would bet that you have stolen from half of these people.”

  “You're wrong!” Olea cried, tugging her wrist in vain to break free of Mar’s iron grasp as she looked with pleading eyes to Boelik. “That man is fair and honest and kind! He has stolen nothing from the people here!”

  “Oh, nothing you say?” Mar said, his cold eyes boring down at her. “Because it sounds to me like he has stolen your heart; I think I shall just have to take it back.”

  Casting Olea aside, Mar trotted his steed over to Boelik and leaned into his face. “You are undeserving of such a beautiful woman. She will be mine, you filthy lowlife,” he hissed. “And then if still she is not content, I will put her to work in the kitchens until she appreciates the life I gave her.”

  Boelik’s lip turned up in a snarl as fury pulsed through him, and in an instant his fist had met Mar’s face, the pelt dropping from his shoulder. As Mar jerked back Boelik snarled, “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I mar that pretty face of yours? Maybe you should say that again so that I can make it look like it should, you vagabond.” Boelik was quivering with anger, and Mar was staring at him, wide-eyed with rage, his hand on his jaw.

  “How dare you hit me, rat!” he yelled, jerking his horse forward and attempting to grab Boelik. But, without thinking, Boelik stepped backward into the crowd as Mar grabbed his beige cloak and the navy one underneath.

  As they pulled free of him and floated to the ground, Boelik felt a breeze around both arms. In another instant, a woman began to scream and Boelik slowly looked down at his left arm as if in a dream. Then, as he realized what was happening, everything sped back up to reality.

  Bo glanced over at Olea, frightened for a moment of what she might think of him. But before either got to say anything, Mar yelled, “Monster! Men, kill this beast!” and Bo was off running to the woods, the knights on his heels.

  “Wait!” Olea screamed after them, stumbling to a run, picking up Bo’s things on the way. She ran after the knights and the man she thought she’d known, hoping to stop the absurd hunt. “Wait!” she yelled again, bursting through the hole that the men had made in the crowd and up to the forest.

  Olea made it into the woods following the horse tracks, discarding Bo’s belongings by the edge. “I can’t carry these things fast enough, Bo, I’m sorry. They’ll be there,” she muttered as she continued to run. She followed the trail of destruction the horses left behind in the forest at a pace she knew she couldn’t keep, hoping with all of her heart that Bo wouldn’t be caught and quartered before she got to him.