Chapter 9: Chapter 9 – A Triumph Unto Itself

Roaring, biting, scalding flames lashed Bo's back like the ends of a burning whip. He winced and curled up in a ball as the fire scorched him - in a moment that seemed to drag on into eternity.

When it was done, and the flames had burned out – what remained was the figure of a cowering young boy whose back was in tatters and the charred remnants of what was once a monster.

Gale hobbled over, crouching down beside Bo in worry.

"Are you alright!?" He yelled – the explosion having deafened him.

Bo couldn't tell what he was saying. The ringing in his ears was too loud, and the whole was spinning on some unknowable axis.

"hu?" He managed to mumble incoherently.

Gale ground his teeth, "Damnit, this looks serious,"

He quickly hobbled over to the dead vesper and kicked at its corpse - making sure that it was actually a corpse. The creature's blackened remains crumbled under the weight of Gale's foot, scattering like ash on the breeze.

Once the light of the explosion had left the mountain and the darkness returned – all that could be heard was Bo's shallow breathing.

Each strangled lungful of air was a triumph unto itself.

And all Gale could do was watch.

He watched as the boy fought for his life.

Watched and felt his stomach sink like a stone.

All it took was a peek at Bo's back to know his life was on the line. It was shredded and charred as though he had been dragged through a bed of coals. Covered in bloody welts and blackened skin.

What could Gale do?

He had just used up his only prototype and was left defenceless. But if he didn't act soon… Bo would die.

Grappling with himself, he tried to rationalise it.

Bo would probably die anyway – he thought as he picked up the injured boy and began hauling him down the mountain.

He would be better off just gathering more Borealis and abandoning the tribe entirely. After all, what had they ever done for him?

In spite of this, Gale carried Bo down the ridge and towards the cave where his massive backpack lay against the rock wall. That backpack weighed almost the same as Bo did.

He stared at it. At his life's work.

"I should just leave him…." He mumbled, making no moves to do such a thing.

Rather, Gale held the injured boy tighter.

Bo groaned, blood staining his robes red. He wouldn't last the journey back to the tribe. Probably wouldn't last the night. The thread that was his life frayed with every moment that passed.

And Gale did not set him down.

"Bo," The old man whispered hoarsely.

"Ug," Bo grumbled, his eyes distant and unseeing.

"Can you hear me?" Gale rasped, his hands shaking as he held the boy's limp body.

Bo's head tilted, and he stared in Gale's direction. His eyes were unfocused and cloudy, but for a brief moment, they seemed lucid. "Y..e..s," He wheezed.

Gale's heart tightened. How could he save Bo? The boy's body was too weak. He was bleeding out. If only he had a guardian god… if only…

A crazy idea struck him, an idea that just might work.

He hurried over to the cave and set Bo down near the entrance – hoping that the nearby presence of Borealis would keep any predators away. After laying Bo down, he hurried to his bag, sifting through the endless heap of odds and ends until he found bandages.

With shaking hands, Gale wrapped the bandages around Bo's torso - gritting his teeth as the white strips of cloth were quickly stained a bloody red. He could feel the boy's life slipping away, one drop at a time. It was excruciating to watch, and he could only imagine the pain Bo must have been feeling.

When Gale had lost his arm, he had already gone through his own communion, and his body was as tough as an old leather boot. Even then, the pain had been beyond compare. He had almost gone mad and would have - if not for a spot of luck.

He could only imagine what Bo was enduring.

And it would only get worse.

"Bo," He whispered. "Please hang on,"

Bo didn't reply, but his head jolted slightly in what might be construed as a nod.

"I'll be back soon," Gale rasped, "We'll do your communion when I return,"

“…”

And with that, Gale disappeared into the night – rushing to where he had last seen a Horus plant.

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All he could do was pray.

Pray that Bo wouldn't be dead by the time he returned.

 

***

 

Slipping in and out of consciousness, it was all Bo could do to keep breathing.

But something was nagging him, a quiet tug drowned out by blinding pain. He couldn't pinpoint what it was, but the feeling had appeared when Gale mentioned… communion.

Communion…

Why had he cared so much about that? Even on the brink of death, it just wouldn't leave his mind. There was some significance to it that he just wasn't getting.

Then again, he had more important things to worry about. For example – Bo was pretty sure his back had fallen off, and in its place was white hot, screaming agony.

That was far more important than anything else.

Every second he was conscious was a hard-fought battle, and every second he wasn't left him a little closer to the abyss.

That darkness, the endless sleep. It was so close he could taste it, so tempting, welcoming, peaceful… quiet. None of the agony would follow him there. He could finally rest; he could…

Bo bit his tongue – tasing iron and bile. He wouldn't die like this, not when he'd accomplished nothing at all.

Dragons.

The desert.

Just past the salt flats was a land of endless possibilities. And he was going to see it all.

His whole boy spasmed, wracked with pain that wouldn't loosen its steely grip. But he rode out wave after wave, clinging to consciousness, to sanity. Soon, soon Gale would be back, and when he was - Bo could finally…

"Uh," It hit him like a fist.

Gale wanted to complete Bo's communion early. Which meant he wanted Bo to acknowledge Oasis as his guardian deity. How else could Bo survive his current state?

He almost growled at the thought of it. After all this, after everything, he would end up with the same god as everyone else. It just wasn't fair. He wouldn't let it happen.

Clenching his teeth so tight that they groaned under the pressure, Bo dragged himself along the ground – his legs trailing uselessly behind him. He clawed through the sand towards the backpack that lay on its side, with a vast array of mechanical gizmos spilling out.

Every inch he crawled was accompanied by a piercing spasm of agony, but that didn't slow him down.

He just kept dragging himself towards the bag, pushing through sand and dirt. Hand over hand, second by second, he crawled, and he crawled.

Finally, his hand hit something metal rather than sand. It was a tin cup lying just beside the open bag. Setting his jaw, Bo squirmed the rest of the distance to the bag and reached inside, rummaging around for something paper, something he could write on.

It wasn't long before he found an unused strip of leather – which he dragged towards him, clenching in shaking hands.

Next - was the hard part.

Bo pulled a sharp piece of twisted metal from the bag and pressed the tip against his back – where the blood was beginning to soak through his bandages. The piece of metal returned dripping red, and he held it over the strip of leather while his hand shook.

Hundreds… no, thousands of times. Bo had poured over the scroll that described Qui's tattoo more times than he could count. But right then, as his hand shook over the strip of leather, he wasn't sure he could actually remember what the tattoo looked like.

It was seared into his brain. He dreamt about the tattoo, about what he would look like when he finally got it.

But in that moment, his memory was fuzzy… uncertain.

"Fu-" Bo hissed, gripping the twisted piece of metal so tightly that it dug into his hand.

He knew this.

He had to.

With a trembling hand, Bo began to draw.

Flowing, dark red patterns appeared on the strip of leather, rising and falling like flickering streaks of fire. They wound together in an intricate dance that made the image crackle with warmth and life.

Bo's lines weren't as smooth as he would have liked – but the endless hours of tracing and reading Qui's scroll had paid off.

When he was done, the tattoo was passable.

All that remained was to convince Gale that he should actually put it on Bo's body.

Something that didn't seem likely.

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