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

about to escape, another mailed hand grabs him by the hair.  Rael screams in pain and horror, but he cannot escape now.  The grip on his tunic releases and takes one of his wrists instead.  The demon lifts him from the water and drops him unceremoniously into the bottom of the boat.
    The demon puts a foot on Rael’s chest and says, “Stupid boy.  Do not do that again.  I saved you from fire and murder.  I shan’t lose you to the Narrow Sea.”  His voice is no less disturbing now than Rael remembers it from the previous night.
    Rael watches intently as the armored figure moves to the bow of the boat, heedless of the dangerous rocking caused by the commotion.  Holding onto the side with one giant hand, he reaches down into the water to retrieve one wooden oar, which he then uses to corral the other that has started to float away on the calm water.  Last night he seemed as a giant, and he is still huge to be certain.  Rael now thinks he must be close to seven feet tall, and as he watches the demon sit back at the bow to row, he starts to realize that the skull is actually a stylized steel helm of some kind.
    “You should sit towards the middle.  It would be easier,” Rael says, and near black eyes just stare back at him from within the skull helm.  As the demon returns to his rowing Rael adds, pointing to the mast, “And I could help you rig the sail.  I’m not… I am not very good at it, but it would be better than rowing.”
    “I rowed all night.  I’ll keep rowing.”
    “At least take off your armor.  You will bake when the air gets hot.”
    “Shut up.  I’m fine,” the demon replies harshly.
    “Would you at least tell me why you took me from home?  Where we are going?”
    “You are stupid, aren’t you,” the demon replies, though he takes Rael’s advice and moves to a bench near the center of the fifteen foot long boat.  “Those men would’ve killed you in your home like your parents.  Would you rather have died there?  I can accommodate that now, if you’d like.”
    Rael ignores the threat and repeats his question, “Where are we going?”
    “To someplace safe.”
    Realizing that his savior (captor?) isn’t prone to conversation, Rael decides to introduce himself.  “My name is Rael Jameson.”  The man continues rowing with no answer.  “What is your name?”
    “My name doesn’t matter,” replies the strangled voice, and it is now accompanied by a huffing as the man rows.
    “But you do have a name,” presses Rael.
    “I have forgotten it.”
    “I must call you something.  Would you be offended if I called you Demon?” Rael asks.
    “Demon?”
    Suddenly fearful that he has angered the armored giant, Rael’s tongue trips over itself as he explains, “I do not mean anything by it.  It is just that… that is what I thought you were when I first saw you.”
    “Demon,” the voice behind the skull helm whispers thoughtfully, and he has stopped his rowing for just a moment.  “Yes, I like that.  If I am not a demon, then who is?”
    “What land do you hail from, Demon?  Your accent is peculiar.”
    “It is no accent, boy.  I speak the way the gods made me.  Damn Them, it is getting hot.  Look boy, look on the face of a demon!”
    Demon raises the oars to rest them along each side of the sloop, and he reaches up to slide the skull helm from his head.  Steel scrapes on steel as it does so, and one of his hands flicks back a chain mail cowl meant to protect the soft tissue of the neck.  Rael inhales sharply at the horrible visage before him, as the man he now sees looks like no other man he has ever known.  His round scalp is nearly hairless – just a few strands of curly black hair protrude here and there, but it is Demon’s face that nearly freezes Rael in terror.  His left eye sits almost a full inch below its partner, and his triangular nose sits between them looking almost like the end of a pig’s snout.  One cheekbone is bulbous and over-formed,