Bloodlines (ON HOLD)

Chapter Five

“I accept this challenge, and will protect her, even if that means sacrificing my life for her.”

My father nodded his head grimly. He then took the bow from my hands and set it in the grass.

“We will not be hunting today son.”

I then had to run to keep of with my father’s brisk pace. He stalked through the woods, like he was worried we might get attacked. I took a quick look around to see nothing, and hear nothing but the whisper of trees brushing against one another.

“Where are you leading us father?” I asked, genuinely becoming a bit scared by his behaviour. It frightened me all the more when he refused to reply.

Not much later I started see mountains rising in the distance. We were headed straight towards them. I shot a questioning look at father but he did not even turn his head. Finally he led me up the side of the mountain and into the mouth of a dreary cave.

I hesitantly stepped inside, avoiding a dripping substance falling from the damp ceiling. Where were we? When my eyes finally adjusted to the dark cave, I saw drawings. All over the walls, floors, and ceiling. People, monsters, death, life. It made me nervous, and I tried to ignore the one closest to me, which was a drawing of a man getting speared through his head brutally.

“What is this? Why are there drawings on the walls?” I stuttered, my fear getting the best of me.

“Come here, son.” He waved his hand to me, and I saw he was standing by a small table. On the table there was a large assortment of bottles and dusty books. My father took a small vial filled with a red liquid. I took a few doubtful steps towards him and stumbled to a stop.

“This is a vial of princess Atira’s blood. I need to mix it with yours, then you need to drink it. I know this may look scary, but it is necessary for the connection to stay sustainable. Do you trust me?”

I timidly nodded my head and swiped a hand across my sweaty forehead.

“Think about her. Think about when she is happy, think about when she is sad. Try to picture her in your head. Picture protecting her.” His words were almost inaudible as I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt the sharp pain of a blade on the palm of my hand, and heard my blood drip into the vial.

“Keep picturing her, and drink this.” My father says harshly and shoves the vial into my hand that wasn’t cut. I gulped it down and gagged. Not because it tasted bad, but because it tasted sweet. A mixture of lilac and mint. It reminded me instantly of Atira.

Then my head exploded with images of her. Her, standing in a meadow playing in the grass. Her mother, thinking of what Atira would wear to the next ball. My father, wondering if her and I’s connection was complete. I pressed my palms to my temples, trying to block out the images.

Suddenly they stopped. I was on the floor of the cave, my face bloodied from my hand and my breathing ragged. My father stood over me, watching my face closely.

“I am proud of you.”

I resurfaced out of the ice cold water again and tried to pull Atira to shore. She was my main focus right now, but I was wary of the other boy and girl. They were wearing strange clothes. The boy was indecent, for he was without a shirt and the girl was wearing an improper dress, being too short to be proper for our land. I tried to avert my eyes from their obscenity.

I finally dragged Atira onto the gravelly sand, my limbs exhausted from hauling her through the water. It wasn’t like she couldn’t swim, she was like a fish in the water. It was her heavy burden of a dress she wore for the ball.