Boelik, Page 2

  Reaching the end of the trees, Boelik slowed. As he emerged, Olea smiled at him. “Hello, Bo,” she greeted him.

  “Hello, Olea,” he replied.

  “How is your arm?”

  “Fine.”

  “Still sore?”

  Boelik shrugged. “Not the worst I’ve had.”

  A few moments passed before Olea said anything. “Why did you look so surprised when you saw me?” she asked, an amused glint in her warm eyes.

  “Did I?” When she nodded, Boelik said, “Well, I suppose I didn’t actually expect you to come.”

  Olea shook her head, tutting at him. “I said I would, didn’t I? What, did you expect that I would lie?”

  “No, that’s not it,” Boelik said, taking a step back. “I was just…” he sighed. I was just expecting to be alone again. “Never mind. You are here. What do you want?”

  Raising an eyebrow at him, she replied, “Nothing. Well, not really nothing. I just wanted to talk, I suppose.”

  Boelik glanced around a moment, making sure that this wasn’t some sort of trap. Returning his attention to her, Boelik said, “Then talk.”

  “What?”

  “You said you wanted to talk. What about? I certainly don’t have anything to converse about.”

  “Oh. Well, um… hm…” Olea started, putting a hand to her chin. “Can we walk while we talk, then?” Boelik shrugged and followed her as she led the way down the trail between the trees, making her way to a hill where Boelik liked to sit to watch the sun set.

  “Do you come here often?” he asked as she sat on the hill, the green grass spread in fields before her.

  “No, not anymore. I did some time ago, but I’ve been staying in the village more as I’ve aged.”

  “I see,” Boelik replied, sitting on her left, some distance away from her. “That’s a shame. These woods are quite beautiful, especially around this time of year. As are the sunsets,” he added, nodding out to the horizon where the sun would be.

  “And you said you had nothing to talk about,” she accused.

  “I don’t.”

  “Hah! Liar.”

  “The forest is not a conversation topic that most would find interesting, I believe.”

  “Well, am I most? Because, the last time I checked, I was a singular woman. And I like the forest,” Olea said.

  Boelik snorted. “You like your family and your friends and your village celebrations and hunts. That is your home, after all, as this forest is for me. And in the same way that you describing the village to me would be redundant, my describing the forest to you would be redundant. We’ve shared nothing of each but for this and the plaza.”

  Olea glared at him, scrunching her nose. “Now, see here; it may be redundant to share words on one another’s living place, but we’ve shared more than this and the plaza now. We shared the orchard, the trail, the stream, and the woods between it all—in each other’s company, nonetheless.” Her eyes sparkled as she seemed to think of something. “And, speaking of village celebrations, we’re having one tonight. We could share that together, and then we’d certainly have something to talk about.”

  “I think not.”

  “And why not?”

  Now it was his turn to glare. “I am not fond of people, Olea. Least of all large gatherings of them.”

  “Oh, come on. There’s a dance as well.”

  “That is worse,” he replied, his statement blunt.

  Olea sighed, turning her gaze out to the fields. “All right. I won’t force anything.”

  “When will you be leaving for that, then?” Boelik asked after a few moments of silence.

  “Leaving?” Olea scoffed, facing him once more. “Boelik, you honestly expect that I would leave you all alone out here on a night of celebration?”

  Boelik blinked. “Yes?”

  Olea shook her head, her golden hair bobbing. “No. Now, where’s that playful, bantering Bo that I met yesterday?”

  A small smirk tugged at Boelik’s mouth. “You mean the one that suggests that you get a sturdier basket from now on?”

  Giving him a flat glare, Olea muttered, “Yes. That’s the one.”

  Laughing, Boelik guarded himself from a pebble that Olea tossed his way. “You asked for it,” he laughed.

  “You are a mean man.” Olea crossed her arms and turned her head away from him, and he laughed harder. She glanced back at him, smiling herself.

  “Ah, I suppose you do deserve some credit. After all, that basket did hold up for you,” Boelik sighed finally, his laughter fading to an occasional chuckle.

  “Thank you. I don’t know that that is actually a compliment, but I’ll be taking it as one,” she said. Overhead, the sun crept across the sky as their words filled the air, the atmosphere warming and cooling as the day passed by. The blue above paled and turned to yellow, and slowly to a harmless fire.

  Olea finally glanced up to see the sunset, and gasped at the sight. “What?” Boelik asked, glancing out to the sun as well. The fields shimmered in gold from the light and the breeze, and the forest beyond was rimmed in a bright orange.

  “It’s beautiful,” she replied, staring out at it. “I remembered it being so, but it’s been so long…the village doesn’t see this, not as it is here, now.”

  “There are a lot of things you people see differently,” Boelik said, following her gaze.

  “Why did you say that in that way?” Olea asked, turning to furrow her brow at him.

  “In what way?” Boelik asked, turning back to the forest as his ears picked up the sounds of music on the breeze. The celebration was starting in the village.

  “Like you were sad, or bitter. Why?”

  “I believe that that was your imagination, my lady.” Boelik turned to her and gave her a gentle smile. “Anyhow, I believe you’re missing your dance. I’m sure someone is waiting for one with you at your celebration.”

  “Fie on the celebration!” Olea said, standing. Boelik blinked as she approached him, holding out her hand. “We can dance right here. Or am I more frightening than a wolf?” she asked, brown eyes glinting with mischief.

  “Ha,” Boelik huffed, standing. “You, Olea, are no more frightening than a butterfly. But, you must promise me one thing if I dance with you.”

  “What?” she asked, her mischief turning to honest confusion.

  “No stomping on my feet.”

  Laughing, Olea nodded. “Do you know the steps, then?”

  “I have watched. Though you should still lead, I think.”

  “Oh, I will,” she said, taking his hand.

  ***

  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.

  ***

  Bo’s heart pounded as he ran just fast enough to keep ahead of the horses. That was the good thing his mother gave him, he’d always thought; the speed to get away from those who saw his defect and desired to rip him apart as if he were some beast. As far as he was concerned, it was the human race that was the beast—if something was unfavorable or difficult to understand, they lashed out to kill it just the same.

  Bo raced through the bushes and over rocks and branches, finding the narrowest routes he could to try and stop the horses. But they were relentless. The knights were fox hunters, and Bo was the prize that they would stop at nothing to gain and destroy.

  He remembered well the first time he had been chased like this. He had been no more than eight. A village mother had seen his arm and had shouted about a monster trying to attack her son. Then she had pointed at him. And from there, the hunt was on. The village had picked up every torch and sharp blade it had, hoping to destroy him. Bo had only wanted to have a playmate. Living with his fox-demon mother and seeing the boy play with parents that looked like him, Bo had wanted to join. But he’d left his arm uncovered, despite his mother’s warnings, unperturbed himself by how it appeared. That night he had been chased back to his mother’s side. At the sight of the villagers, she had made herself look the size of a home and had whipped her nine tails menacingly. And when she couldn’t scare them off…

  Bo had kept his mother, but the village had paid the price. As soon as he could after that, he left her side, and she bade him a tearful farewell. But Bo resolved then that he would find a way to live in coexistence with humans. “I don’t want anyone else to die because of me,” he had told her, stroking the tears from her fur.

  Now, though, he had no mother to defend him, and he was going to die.

  ***

  Olea stumbled through the woods, desperately trying to find the trail that she lost. “Bo!” she cried into the woods, branches whipping her in the face as she rushed. She finally stumbled over a root and dug into the ground. Trying for a moment to g
et up, she was suddenly tackled by despair and hopelessness. Olea began to sob then, her feelings washing over her as she curled into a ball. “Bo…” she wept, “…I’ll never make it. I can’t save you. I can’t even keep myself from getting lost, let alone stop Mar.”

  Just then, though, Olea heard a muffled sound. Her gaze shot up and she blinked away the tears in her eyes to see something she wouldn’t have noticed before; a little home. It was overgrown with plant life—so much so that it was hardly recognizable as someone’s dwelling. But there was a little light shining through the crack of a door.

  “Bo?” Olea whispered, staggering to her feet with a sniffle. She walked over to the house and knocked on the grassy door, the sound echoing in the woods.

  Soon the door was opened by a lithe, young woman. “Yes?” she said in a kind voice, gray eyes scanning Olea in a way that betrayed her tone. Her hair was a silvery white, and she wore a simple dress adorned with flowers and herbs. She smelled of them as well.

  “I’m looking…for a man named Boelik,” Olea choked.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know anyone by that name,” the woman said. “But come in. You seem like you’ve been through quite the ordeal.”

  Olea shook her head. “No, I can’t. I have to help him.”

  The woman gave her a quizzical look, cocking her head slightly and raising an eyebrow. “What for?”

  “The prince thinks he’s some monster, and so Boelik is being hunted by him right now.”

  “And is he a monster?”

  Olea paused. “He has a strange arm. But Bo is no monster.”

  “And?” the woman pried, sensing something more.

  “And I love him.”

  The woman smiled. “Now, that is worth my help. My name is Helena. Come in, and we’ll see how I can help you.”

  Olea stepped in tentatively, and Helena closed the door. There were workbenches and strange herbs and liquids in vials scattered through the house. The house itself had a hundred different scents that assaulted Olea’s nose.