Date: Mon, 12 Sep 2016 05:37:11 -0500 From: Kody Boye <boyekody@gmail.com> Subject: His Touch of Ice - Part 34 DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction, and contains scenes of graphic violence and explicit male/male sex. If you are not of the legal age to read this, or are uncomfortable with this sort of content, please turn back now. HIS TOUCH OF ICE (The Ice Men, Book 1) is copyright © Kody Boye. All Rights are reserved. ______________________________________________________________________________ He paced the room in a pair of loose-fitting sweats while I lay on the bed. Tired from running and worn out from the morning's activities, I curled onto my side and drew a sheet about my naked body, only vaguely aware of Guy's spectral presence by the occasional expletive when he bumped into something. "Why don't you lay down?" I asked. "You could use some rest." "You need something to drink?" Guy asked. "No, I—" Guy disappeared out the door and into the deeper parts of the flat. Frowning, I chose not to fight it and set my attention on the wall. Like in Guy's apartment in Austin, there were a number of artifacts which presented themselves in a nondescript manner that the casual visitor wouldn't think twice. Globes beneath which were trapped snowy, eastern European continents; barbarian and Viking figures engaged in war; men and women dressed in historical regalia—of times and places described only in history and preserved scarcely in museums. Those that took particular precedence over the others were far stranger than the rest. I stared at their shapes, trying to discern the quality of their make. These things—whatever they were—were nothing like I'd ever seen. Easing my legs over the bed, I tentatively approached the dresser upon and above which they were assembled, cursing my overambitious ideas after the morning's worth of fun. The objects, which I could now see in detail, appeared to be pieces of jewelry—hewn jaggedly by hand. From what stone they'd been made I couldn't be sure. The blue was similar to sapphire, yet the highlights resembled beryl, and they obviously were not made of different stones, as there was no unnatural split that indicated a binding. They also appeared to swim beneath the light in a way that was not indicative of such jewelry. I frowned. The pieces, so strange in their formation, eventually drew my eyes to the ensemble above. It looked primitive in most respects—resembling Native American craftsmanship in that the clothing had been made from the skin of animals and stitched upon certain sufaces were the stones I'd just marveled over. Long threading hung from the tunic and its sleeves, beaded with yet more stones. And the pants— My eyes centered on one item that I had only just discovered. A glove—fingerless, extending only to the top of the second knuckle. Upon its surface lay a symbol—which, when compared in its most primitive form, resembled a ribbon. "What in the," I started. "Back," Guy said. Startled, I jumped, spinning to face him only to run into his chest. "Sorry about that," he said, holding me steady as I regained my bearings. "You ok?" "Yeah," I said. "I was just... looking." Guy's eyes trailed past me. "Oh," he said. "That." He passed the bottle of water into my hand and stood before the display of objects. Arms crossed, his gaze took much of the same path I did before they came to rest on a particular fixture over the bathroom door—the same symbol displayed on the glove. "This is," Guy said, without bothering to turn and mind my attention, "my legacy." "Legacy?" I asked. He inclined his head toward the bed and then gestured me out of the room when I indicated that I was fine. He led me into the living room with the panoramic windows and settled down on a loveseat, his sigh giving no indication of where he wanted me. "My father," he said as I settled down beside him, "was one of the original descendants of the Kaldr people who fled Norway after Vikings took control of their settlements." He turned his head when I snapped the lock off the bottled water and watched me drink until bowing his head. "There is... hierarchy, here, in a way. As you may have noticed." "Your father's king?" I asked. "Hell no," Guy laughed. "What makes you think that?" My unwavering stare was reply enough. He frowned. "It's... confusing, to say the least. My father, he... was merely a steward for much of his time in the Americas. It wasn't until the Kelda arrived that the positions split." "The Kelda?" I frowned. "The Fountain. Our leader. Our Mother." "I'm not sure I understand," I said. "If your father isn't king, and if this was his operation until the Mother—I mean Kelda—arrived, then who is—" "She is one of the original Kaldr." I frowned. "What?" "My father, myself, the people here on this ranch—none of us are firstborn. We bear the name because it is our heritage—ancestry in the sense that we have continued the legacy. But we are not pure. No. We are merely byproducts of human copulation." "She isn't human then." "No one knows what she is. Most consider her a goddess. I think of her more as... the bitch that lives beneath the ranch." "That doesn't explain how you fall into all this." "My father is one of the few Kaldr spawned by humans in the first generation. Therefore, his blood ties are stronger—more defined, concrete. Therefore, when my forefathers fled their homeland, they considered him their better—closer to the Kelda that arrived thousands of years later." "Which explains his status over the property," I said. "And which makes me his legacy." "His prince." Guy shrugged. "It doesn't matter what I am," he said. "All that matters is that I'll be forced to copulate to continue the pureblooded generation." "But you're gay." "My point exactly." I snorted. I couldn't help it. The absurdity of it was almost too much to bear. "I understand why they would care about continuing your father's line," I frowned. "If your father is first generation and you're second, that means any child you have would be the third." "Which was my argument exactly. The Kaldr of today are not the Kaldr of Norway. We're descendants—bastards." "But if you're able to have children, then that means—" I trailed off. "Yes," Guy said, as if amused at the prospect of a biology listen. "That means my come has sperm." "I kinda figured that," I said. "But if you can't catch or give anything, why'd you wear a condom that first time?" "Because I was under the guise of a human, remember? The point is to appear as unobtrusive as possible. Someone finds out I had sex with a positive partner and, well... there you have it. You've got someone who's immune to AIDs." I nodded. "That's why you left," I said. "Because even though I was trapped out there," Guy said, "in a world full of humans, governments, laboratories and the innate need to make a buck, I was still far more free than I ever was here." "What're you going to do now that you're here?" "Become prince. That's all I can do, right?" Though the expected response was to nod, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Something had yet to be answered. If there would never again be a true Kaldr, then why was the Kelda so intent on continuing a diluted legacy? ____________________________________________________________________________ If you enjoyed this installment of HIS TOUCH OF ICE, consider emailing the author with your thoughts or donating to him via Paypal at boyekody@gmail.com. You can also download the novel for free on Smashwords, Amazon Kindle, or any other major eBook retailer, or buy the Audible version online via Amazon.com. You can visit the author online at www.kodyboye.com.