Blood Loss: The Chronicle of Rael Read Online Free Page A

Rael’s home, on a direct path with some specific intent.  As the demon drops Rael hard onto the sandy ground, the boy thinks he can make out the shape of buckets in their hands.  The men stop short as the demon charges them, swinging his greatsword with both hands.  The three assailants never have a chance as they are cut down in moments by the giant steel blade.
    The demon steps quickly back to Rael’s side, retrieving a huge brown leather sheathe from the ground into which he slides his blade.  This armored thing is going to take him from his home, from his village and from his parents.  As the realization hits him, Rael begins to yell and scream, his voice cracking and reaching heights that a man’s voice could not.  He kicks, but his legs are far from the ground and strike nothing.  He pounds his palms and fists against the demon’s plate armor, but it has only the effect of making his hands hurt.  In this manner, the demon stole off with Rael into the night as more men and women came to fight the fire.
     
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    Orf narrowly manages to parry every strike of Rael’s stick sword, but the bigger boy cannot seem to return the attacks.  They have fought many, many times, and Rael has consistently improved every time, whereas Orf still fights with nothing but his brute strength.  The sword no longer shed splinters into Rael’s hand, as it has become well worn, worn smooth in fact where he grips it.  Orf recovers just enough to bring a diagonal blow down at Rael’s midsection.  Rael sees his chance, knocks the weapon to the side and rams his own straight into Orf’s chest.  The big boy howls with the pain of it and staggers backward.
    Rael waits patiently for his opponent to recover a bit, and the two boys stand staring each other down.  Just as Orf looks ready to continue, both stop and listen at the oddest of sounds.  There’s a swishing sound in the air, not unlike that of oars moving through water.  It’s quiet at first, like a hint or a whisper, but as Rael focuses on it, the sound grows in volume.  He looks around, but they are standing in the middle of their village road.  There’s no sign of anything that could be causing the noise.  I am dreaming , Rael suddenly realizes, and the island with its village and Orf suddenly dissolve from view.
    Rael opens his eyes to find himself overlooking water.  It’s vast.  All he can see is water, and the sun has just fully risen past the horizon.  His head rests on crossed arms on a wooden bench seat of a sloop.  He lifts his head, ignoring the trail of drool on his arms, and looks out over the sea.  Where am I? , he wonders. 
    He sits up, blinking several times to clear his eyes, and the figure at the bow of the sloop brings it all back to him in frightening clarity.  A small, sail less mast is between him and the armored demon that sits and pulls two massive oars through the water, propelling the small boat forward.  He’s huge, and his bulk weighs down the bow, no doubt forcing him to expend more effort as the boat tries to go down into the sea rather than across it.
    Rael stares at the demon for a long moment, the events of the previous night playing out in his head, and once complete, he can only think of one thing to do.  His movements are sluggish, as he still hasn’t shaken off sleep, and as he tries to clamber over the side, he realizes that his arms and legs will not quite respond to his demands.  He manages to half climb, half flop over the edge toward the sea.  Rael hears two small splashes.  The demon moves frighteningly fast, despite his immense size and steel armor, and just as Rael reaches the water, an armored hand grips him by the back of his tunic.  He hangs there for just an instant, the front of the tunic threatening to choke him, and he straightens his arms to try to slide out of his clothing.  He hears a word he doesn’t understand, and just as he’s