***
“Look at this: ‘Colonies claim independence’,” a man said in the pub. There was a lively racket in the building, swathes of men drinking away their short lives.
“Ungrateful,” someone else growled. Boelik glanced over at the two men having the conversation, but he soon turned away and walked out. He strolled calmly into the night-blanketed streets of the town.
“1776—the United States of America emerge,” Boelik mumbled under his breath. He looked around at the small English settlement. “Maybe I should go visit once everyone is done fighting in their petty arguments.” He turned as he heard a fight break out in the pub, and he shook his head. “Wonderful treasure troves of information, pubs; but not full of very good people.” He shook his head again. “I don’t even drink.”
A man passed Boelik on the street, not even giving him a glance. Still, Boelik moved deeper into the shadows out of habit. His hazel eyes scanned everything about his location, always watchful. He had had more than enough surprise attacks in his life.
“Come on, Dayo,” he muttered. “It’s been four hundred years. Where are these people that need me? Am I doing something wrong here? Did you lie to me?”
He’d asked the same questions thousands of times by now, and, naturally, he still didn’t have an answer. He had no idea why he was still waiting.
“No.”
Boelik stopped in his tracks, now on full alert. “Not one time in four hundred years, and now you finally say something?”
“Yes.” Dayo’s voice resonated in his head, familiar and strange after all this time.
“Do you have someone in mind? Is he born?”
“Yes, I have someone in mind. No, your primary pupil is still not yet born.”
“Well, will you take me to whoever it is that needs me?”
“Of course. Find me in the fields to the south.” With that, the old dragon’s deep, rich voice was silent. Boelik dashed for the fields, everything else in slow motion in comparison to his unnatural speed. He was in the fields within ten minutes at Dayo’s side.
“You were extraordinarily difficult to find for being a behemoth of fur and feathers,” Boelik huffed, bending down and putting his right hand on his knee. He let his left arm dangle limply under the cloak. The moon shone above the two, bathing them in its gentle light, turning Boelik’s brown hair silver just like his fur.
“I was wondering why you were so slow. Are you out of practice with your speed?” Dayo asked, bending his serpentine neck down to put his face at Boelik’s level.
“No: I just had to sprint around to try and find you before we both got impatient. I checked three different fields to make sure I didn’t miss you.”
“I see. Well, onto the matter at hand,” Dayo said, lying down like a patient cat.
Boelik glared at him and huffed before sitting himself, crossing his arm over his chest. “What do you have for me after all of these years? I have been patient as you asked.”
“I know,” Dayo said with a nod. “And I am glad of it.” Boelik realized then that his voice sounded more raspy—older, in a way. And he realized then that even Dayo aged faster than he did. Continuing, Dayo said, “Your new charge is in Ireland.”
“Ireland?” Boelik asked. Dayo nodded. “Great. Potatoes.”
“Was that sarcasm?”
“I don’t know,” Boelik replied sourly, wrinkling his nose. Dayo moved his tail out and flicked Boelik across the back, sending him sprawling into the grass. He laid there, still for a moment. Then he turned his head to the side so it wasn’t in the dirt.
“Ow. Sorry. I apologize,” Boelik muttered, keeping his eyes low.
“I know,” Dayo replied, his voice level. “It’s just that it’s been four hundred years since you’ve had a clear purpose. That can be hard on a soul.”
Boelik sighed and sat himself back up. “So, do I have to find my own transportation?”
Dayo shook his head, closing his golden eyes for a moment. “No. I will fly you nearby and direct you the rest of the way.”
Boelik’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Fly? You mean, on you? Like a steed?”
“The best you will ever ride,” Dayo replied, a playful glint in his eye as he ruffled his wings.
“Oh, no.” Boelik shook his head, scrambling to his feet and turning away, hands raised. “No, no, no.”
“What? Are you afraid of heights?”
“I don’t know. But I certainly don’t want to fall!”
Dayo spread his wings and shuddered in irritation. “If you fall, I will either catch you, or you will be low enough to the ground to be fine.”
Boelik sucked in a deep breath, folding his arms. “It’s been four hundred years. I don’t know why I still trust you.”
Gazing at Boelik’s turned back and folding his wings back in, Dayo said, “Because you know you can.” Boelik gave a small sigh, his shoulders sagging some, and faced Dayo. Turning his gaze up to Dayo’s equine eyes, the dragon pressed, “There you go. Get on.”
“I cannot believe that I’m doing this,” Boelik muttered, grabbing the soft white fur between his hands and clambering up onto Dayo’s back. “You’d better not drop me!” he called out.
“Hold on tight and press close to me.” Dayo shifted beneath Boelik, so he did as he was told.
The warm fur surrounded him, creating a thick insulation. Boelik looked up towards Dayo’s head as it began stretching to the sky, and he both felt and heard a joyful rumble in the dragon’s chest. “Uh, Dayo…?” he began. Before he could say anything else, the dragon thrust his wings in a downward stroke and the two started off. As Boelik glanced back at the ground and, with wide eyes, saw the world shrink, he felt nauseous. “Oh, not good,” he groaned.
“Don’t let your stomach loose, now!”
“I certainly won’t try to!”
The two soared high into the night, clouds eventually coming between them and the ground. Dayo’s fur kept getting in Boelik’s face, but it kept him warm in the cool atmosphere.
Once Dayo was confident in his speed, he slowed his wings and let the two of them glide, only adjusting his wings once in a while to keep the flight steady. The moonlight graced the clouds and made them look like snow. Boelik was almost convinced that they were, and that if he fell on one that it would catch him in a white plume. He reached out with his human hand but soon jerked back from the cold vapor.
“Don’t be fooled,” Dayo warned. “The clouds are not solid, even if they appear to be.”
“I know,” Boelik replied. “I was just curious.”
“That can be deadly.”
“Or useful.”
Dayo snorted. “Or useful.”
After a matter of a few hours, the two arrived over the land they sought. Dawn was just arriving, bathing the land in a golden light. Boelik yawned, the sun shining in his eyes past Dayo’s neck.
“Are we almost there?” he asked.
“Almost,” Dayo affirmed, banking left.
“Whoa!” Boelik yelled, gripping tighter Dayo’s fur, turning his knuckles white. Dayo’s rumbling laughter spilled into the air as he tucked in his wings and dived towards the ground. Boelik screamed and shut his eyes as they accelerated. At the last moment, Dayo whipped his wings back out and sent them at an all-too-fast glide parallel to the ground.
Boelik opened his eyes to see the green land going by in a blur; almost exactly how it would look if he ran. They were close enough now that Boelik would almost certainly live if he fell—had they been traveling slower. In his chest, his heart pounded an insane beat, now from excitement rather than fear. Sunlight shone in his eyes if he tried to peer ahead, so instead he looked down and mentally marked whatever he could. There was very little to mark—they were flying over hilled plains. There was, however, a lot of green.
Dayo slowed over a small cottage that seemed all but abandoned and landed just out of sight of it. Boelik scanned the plains, feeling small and exposed even as he sat on the dragon. The lack of
trees or buildings was new to him. As least wherever he’d stayed before there was something to break the flat horizon somewhere. Here, trees were as rare as half-demons.
He slid off Dayo’s back and immediately his face was in the grass. His legs were like honey underneath him; entirely insubstantial. Boelik growled and tried to stand again, Dayo putting his foreleg beside him so Boelik could use it to balance himself. He noticed that Dayo was laughing again and gave him a glare from the corner of his eye.
“I’m sorry,” Dayo apologized, though the rumbling continued. “It is quite humorous to see the effects of a first ride, though.”
“Oh, be quiet,” Boelik grumbled, the strength beginning to return to his legs. Dayo moved his leg and Boelik stumbled to the ground with an “Oh!”
He quickly regained his composure and stood again, still shaky. And again his baleful glare was turned to Dayo.
“I couldn’t help it: I’m sorry,” he rumbled. After a moment, he became serious once again and shifted to better face Boelik as he said, “Back to the matter at hand. You saw the cottage, did you not?”
“I did.” Boelik let himself relax, managing to stay on his feet.
Dayo nodded. “That is where the student is hiding. The nearest village is to the south. Good luck.”
“Wait, wait,” Boelik protested as Dayo spread his wings. “That’s it? No fundamental details? Not even their name? Their appearance?”
“Did I know your name, Boelik?” Dayo lowered his head to stare Boelik in the eye.
Boelik waited a moment before responding. “No.”
“There is your reason why I didn’t give you any more. I, myself, have only heard of the child. I witnessed their departure to this house in a vision. This is all I know.”
“Fine, all right,” Boelik conceded, lifting his human hand in acceptance as he adjusted his cloak with his demon one. He put his hands down then, finishing the adjustment with his human hand to cover his left arm.
“Then, good luck. Don’t let it get the better of you,” Dayo said, taking off.
“As if I would let that happen!” Boelik called to him as he left. And then he turned around and headed toward the cottage.
Boelik was within earshot of the cottage when he realized he heard snarling sounds from inside. He ran to the door, pausing for a moment outside to listen. He could tell that there were two beings inside. One was snarling like a beast, and the other was a shouting man. The two were causing quite a ruckus, banging against walls and shouting. Boelik knew as he spotted a boot print in the dirt that some villager must have come to face the ‘beast’.
He attempted to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. In an instant, he figured that the man must have sealed the door to prevent the half-demon’s escape. Thinking fast, Boelik stepped back and slammed his shoulder into the weak wood, splintering the door rather than flinging it open like he’d hoped. Inside, a man and a ragged boy turned to face him. Both looked terrified.
The boy was on all fours, naked, and his face was defected. The right side was paler than his already light skin and seemed to be permanently stuck in a snarl, the lips parted and showing canid teeth. The eye seemed to be forever dilated, making it look like there was only pupil, at least from what could be seen underneath his scraggly, sandy-red hair. His legs were pale as well, and were long and twiggy and…backwards? The joints were those of a four-legged animal, but the feet seemed right, if rather gaunt and somewhat pointy. Boelik also noticed that the boy was bleeding from his shoulder.
The man seemed normal, and a bloodied dagger had slipped from his hand. There was an overturned bed area, blood on the floor around it. He seemed to have stabbed the boy while he slept and now had him in a corner.
“What’s going on here?” Boelik roared, remembering to keep his left arm still. The man stared in shock, and the boy leapt for the door. Boelik moved into his path before he could leave, however. “I’d like an explanation,” he demanded, directing the phrase towards the man. “Why were you trying to kill this boy?”
“That is no boy,” the man spat in an unfamiliar brogue, his eyes bugging as he appeared to be scared witless, pointing at the boy who stared up at Boelik with equally wide eyes. Boelik looked between the two and finally settled his gaze on the man.
“It is indeed a boy. A strange boy, maybe, but that certainly does not change his sex.” Boelik tried to keep his tone as flat as possible regardless of the spite that was running through him.
“It is a monster, and it must be killed!” The man had picked up his knife, and his eyes were wild. The boy glanced at him and scrambled to the opposite corner as the madman came after him once more.
Boelik’s hand darted out and grabbed the man’s hand holding the weapon as he passed, and he held it with all the ferocity of his irritation. The man looked at him, his rage being replaced with fear in his brown eyes once again. He had reddish hair like the boy’s, but much darker. His beard was ragged like the rest of him, but he seemed sane enough despite his current endeavors.
In fact, Boelik knew he was sane because of them.
“Enough.” Boelik stared him straight in the eye, though he had to look down a bit to do so. The man gawped back at him and dropped the knife again. Boelik considered it for a moment before gazing back at the man and stepping on the knife, pulling it outside with his foot. “What did he do?”
“He terrorized my flock and family,” the farmer entreated.
“Did he do anything?” Boelik pressed.
“What do you mean, ‘did he do anything’? He terrorized them!”
“Did he touch them? That’s what I’m asking!” Boelik shook the man’s arm as his fury and impatience mounted.
The man paused. “No.”
Boelik nodded and looked over at the boy. “Then he’s mine.” He glanced back at the man. “Tell a soul about this, and you won’t have enough time left to live to take another breath. Understood?” He shook the man’s wrist some more as he asked, and the man was quick to nod. “Then leave, and don’t return.” With that, Boelik released the man and let him run outside, watching him go for a moment to make sure he left.
Turning his attention back to the boy, Boelik walked nearer to him before realizing the boy was practically squishing himself into the corner. Boelik stopped and crouched on the floor about three paces away from him. “Hello,” he said, keeping his voice as gentle as he could manage as his temper cooled.
The boy continued to stare at him with wide eyes from behind his hands while he held them up in self-defense, as if waiting for an attack. He was trying to keep the right side of his face turned from Boelik. “You speak English?” Boelik asked, ducking his head to try and get a better view of the boy’s face, covered in dirt and blood now. The boy nodded a little.
”Good,” Boelik said. “I’m Boelik. You have a name?”
The boy shook his head.
“No name?” Another shake of the head. “I’m not going to hurt you, you know. You can put your hands down.” The boy was slow to do it, but he brought his hands away from his face. “I’m not afraid of your face, either. Go ahead: you can show it to me.”
He shook his head.
“Okay,” Boelik relented. “I won’t press you. But you truly have no name?” Huddled in the corner, his arms now wrapped around his strange legs and his entire right side turned away from Boelik, the boy shook his head again. He stared at Boelik from the corner of his human, blue eye.
“Then why don’t you pick one? I can’t just call you ‘Boy’, now can I?” The boy just looked at him. “Okay, well, I could, but that’s no name. A name should be something that you want to be called. Go on; pick one you like.”
“Ryan?” The boy spoke, soft and vague, seeming almost to be asking Boelik’s permission.
“Ryan? That’s the name you want?” Boelik asked.
The boy nodded.
“Okay. Ryan it is. Your shoulder hurting, Ryan?” Ryan nodded, his eye flicking away from Boelik.
&nb
sp; “Let me see.” Ryan only shuffled to face the wall a little more, keeping the hurt shoulder and his face away from Boelik. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
When the boy didn’t turn around, Boelik added, “Do you want it to get infected so you have a fever tomorrow and die in your bed in a week?” That made Ryan look at Boelik again, and he turned enough so that Boelik could see his shoulder. “That’s a boy,” Boelik praised. He scanned the room for a cloth to use and saw none. So instead, he turned his attention to his trousers and ripped a long strip off in a spiral from one leg with a bit of help from his knife.
“I hate this century’s fashion,” he muttered. Pulling his water flask from his jacket pocket, he pulled another strip from his other pant leg and scooted close enough that Ryan was in reach. He folded one strip into a square and dampened it, then reached over to clean the wound. “This may sting a little,” he warned. “Don’t move, all right?” He pressed the cloth to Ryan, who shuddered immediately but did as he was told and didn’t move. “Good. Just let me clean it,” Boelik said in a soothing voice, dabbing the cloth around the wound to remove the filth as much as possible.
“There. Now, I’m going to wrap this around your shoulder. Okay?” He held up the clean strip of cloth to dangle in a straight line, and Ryan gave a tiny nod. “All right.” Boelik gently wrapped the strip around the wound and tied it with a bit of help from the boy before backing off to crouch where he’d been before. Ryan stared at his shoulder but stayed still. “Feel all right, Ryan?” Boelik asked. Ryan’s gaze shot back to Boelik, giving him a nod.
“Ryan, how old are you?”
“Fifteen,” came the small answer. He had a similar brogue to the other man.
“Fifteen?” Boelik asked. Ryan nodded. “Are you alone?” Another nod. “And you live here? …Of course you do. Well, Ryan, I’ll have to go to a village tomorrow and get you some proper bandages and both of us some proper…well, everything else. Clothes for you, dishes and food for us both.”
Boelik glanced down at his pants as Ryan did. “Okay, clothes for me, too.” Looking up at Ryan again, Boelik sat down and crossed his legs. “Ryan, what animals can you hunt here in this country?”
“Deer. Stoat. Otter. Hare. Other small things.”
Boelik rested his chin in his hand. “I see. This will make things harder. Do you know where to find these animals?” Ryan nodded. “Would you let me stay the night here with you, and show me tomorrow? We’ll need meat to make money to buy supplies. Would you do that?” Ryan hesitated for a moment, but eventually nodded. “Good. Thank you. And Ryan, do you know how to walk on just your back legs?” To answer, Ryan rose to his feet. Boelik scanned him up and down to check that it looked at least somewhat natural. “All right, good. That will help.”
Ryan sat once more and Boelik said, “All right, Ryan. I think we’re both pretty exhausted. How’s about you fix your bed, and I’ll go sleep over there.” He pointed to the other side of the cottage where Ryan and the man had had their standoff, next to a workbench. Ryan nodded, and the two separated to either part of the cottage.
Boelik laid down and pretended to fall asleep. Once he heard Ryan’s breathing become regular, he got up and walked over to the boy. Ryan was so peacefully asleep that Boelik was speechless. He was curled into a strange ball, the left side of his face up and looking gentle and innocent. How could someone attack this?
Then he peered back down at Ryan’s legs. I suppose that’s how.
Boelik turned his gaze to the open door, which he knew would invite biting air in once night hit. His eyes wandered back to Ryan, and he unclasped his cloak and lay it over the boy. Then he meandered over to the door and, silent as a mouse, lay the largest pieces over the opening; the wood plank that had blocked the door he put outside. After he finished blocking most of the wind from his new charge, he followed through on his promised sleep.
In the morning, he woke to Ryan sitting up in his makeshift bed and holding the navy cloak, staring at him. Boelik sat up and stretched his arms upward with a yawn. “Good morning,” he said after he relaxed his arms.
It took him a moment to realize that Ryan was staring at his demon arm, and he glanced over at it himself. “Oh, this.” He held the clawed hand in front of him, showing off the sharp claws. “Yes, I’m like you. That’s part of the reason your face doesn’t scare me, or your legs.”
“Like me?” Ryan asked.
“Yes, like you,” Boelik repeated.
“What am I?”
Boelik was a bit taken aback by the question, and gave Ryan a level stare for a moment before he was able to respond. He had always assumed that people like him knew what they were. “You are… half demon.” Boelik paused for a moment, letting his hand fall. He added, “But that also means you are half human, remember.”
“Half demon? Why don’t I look like you?”
“Because there are many different types of demon. From the looks of it, you have goblin blood. As for me, my father met a fox demon.”
“Why?”
“Why are we like this, you mean?” Ryan nodded. “Well, because demons and humans weren’t meant to have children. Most animals have a smooth go of it when they can have children between species, able to make something that incorporates them both without making them look like a badly done puzzle. A mule is a good example.
“But, most animals come from the same world. Demons don’t come from the land of man, and their blood and abilities often want more than their share. So we have disfigured bodies. Our bodies also mark us as something that should not be: a warning.”
“We had no choice, though,” Ryan said, his voice quiet as he turned his eyes to the floor.
“No one does. Children live with the consequences of their parents. It makes life difficult sometimes, but it does not mean we were not meant to live.”
Ryan was silent. He stood and returned Boelik’s cloak, walking on his two strange legs. They bent in an awkward fashion, but one that was obviously natural to him. He was about a head and a half shorter than Boelik was as Boelik stood to take his cloak.
“Ryan?” he asked. Ryan had begun walking back to his bed, but turned around. “Who taught you to speak?” Ryan’s eyes lowered, and Boelik quickly noted that the memories that the question dredged up were painful. “Never mind. We can talk about that at another point in time. For now, those hunting grounds?”
Ryan glanced back up at Boelik and nodded. “Follow me,” he said, motioning with his hand. He led the way out of the door, setting aside the broken pieces.
“I will fix that,” Boelik promised. Ryan cast a tight-lipped glance back at him but said nothing, instead continuing across the open space. He was headed toward the area where Boelik had landed the previous day.
The air was warm; a tell-tale sign of the late summer, and a slight breeze blew by constantly. The plains were all emerald grass, with gentle, sloping hills. Boelik never stopped looking for trees, but evidently, wherever they were, trees were a distant memory, not a whiff of the familiar scents to be had. And wherever they were headed seemed just as barren.