by Kody Boye
Where the hell are you? he thought, taking a few steps back as the animals began to advance on him.
If Virgin didn’t suffocate by the time he found him, surely he would freeze or be crushed beneath the snow.
One of the wolves snarled, then jumped forward.
Odin swung his father’s silver-coated blade forward.
Though no direct hit was made, the resulting, harmonious hum caused each of the wolves to falter.
Father? he thought.
The hilt began to tremble, as if cold and willing to be placed in its sheath.
The wolves snarled.
Odin raised his head.
From the tip of his black-bladed sword he fired a concentrated shot of flame.
The plume of fire struck the ground at the wolves’ feet.
The ground exploded.
Snow rained down.
The wolves cried out in either surprise or fear before high-tailing it back down the road.
Directly beneath his foot, Odin felt something shift.
“Virgin!” he screamed.
A lone protrusion appeared in the snow to reveal the quilt.
After thrusting his swords into their sheaths, Odin threw himself onto the ground before tearing the quilt off Virgin’s body.
“Virgin!” he cried, grabbing the Halfling’s face as he sucked in a gasp of air. “Virgin! Virgin!”
“What?” his companion managed.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he said, pushing himself into a sitting position before leaning forward and coughing his lungs out. “Damn this weather.”
“There’s wolves nearby.”
“Wolves?”
“They tried to attack me after the snow fell in on you.”
“What took you so long to find me?”
“I don’t know,” he said, bowing his face against Virgin’s when he was unable to resist the urge to cry. “I don’t know, Virgin. I thought you were right there, but… when the snow fell down, I must’ve fell back a few steps because I thought… I thought…”
“You thought what?”
“I don’t know!” he cried, tearing his eyes from his partner’s face. “Goddammit! I thought I’d lost you.”
“I’m fine, Odin. Here—help me up.”
With little more than a passing breath, Odin reached forward, took Virgin’s hand, then helped him to his feet, careful not to trip over the quilt as his companion bent to retrieve the pack from beneath the snow.
“Thank the Gods you’re all right,” he sighed.
“We should’ve known that the snow would’ve gotten worse,” Virgin said, shaking his head as flakes began to develop atop his skull and around the hair framing his face. “Dammit. There’s nothing we can do or nowhere we can go.”
“We should keep going,” Odin said.
“In this weather? We’ll freeze to death!”
“What else are we supposed to do?” Odin sighed.
A wicked gust of wind tore around the now-covered rock formation and shifted their cloaks.
“If there’s nothing we can do,” Odin said, turning his head to look where the road had once been, “then we’re better off heading to Drianna.”
“We can find shelter,” Virgin said. “I know we can.”
“There’s no point, Virgin. It’s just…” He paused, then shook his head before reaching up to finger his brow. “If we try and settle down, either the weather will get us or the wolves will.”
“How many were there?”
“Three.”
“Three?”
“Yes. Three.”
“All right,” the older Halfling sighed. “Come on.”
“Are we going to Drianna?”
“We’ll damn well try.”
Much of the next few hours were passed in silence. Thankfully, as the night progressed and the moon became visible in the far eastern sky, the snow settled and eventually began to fall in light, even flakes, which did little to deter them or their pursuit toward the Point town of Drianna.
So cold, Odin thought, jamming his fingers into his armpits. So, so cold.
He couldn’t complain. Once upon a time, he’d experienced true cold in a land far away, in a place where old creatures died young. In walking along this route, across this arctic wasteland that had grown peaceful now that the storm had settled, memories of the past seemed to fly forward with each flake that kissed his skin and added to the overall misery that dwelled within his body.
To think that was all those years ago, he thought, unable to suppress the laugh that followed.
“What’s so funny?” Virgin asked, voice calmer than it should have been in their predicament.
“Just remembering the past,” Odin said.
“Your father?”
“And my best friend.”
“They must be great men. Both of them.”
“They are,” Odin said.
And were.
The words sharp like a dagger penetrating deep into his kidney, he bowed his head and saw that the snow had risen past a mere breath off the ground. No longer did it seem insolent and without consequence. Now nearly as deep as the heel of his boot, it appeared all the more willing to rear its ugly head and thrust them into yet another horrible predicament.
“Can I ask you something?” Virgin murmured, lifting his head.
“Anything you want,” Odin replied.
“This might be inappropriate to ask, considering our circumstance and all, but…”
“But… what?”
“You and I… well…” Virgin paused, then stopped in midstride, causing Odin to grind to a complete halt.
“What is it, Virgin?”
“I’ve been wondering about something for a little while now, and… well… I wasn’t sure how to express it without sounding childish or unsure of myself.”
“But you’re still not completely sure.”
“Right. Which is why it makes me feel awkward to ask whether or not we plan on staying together after we get back to your homeland.”
Whether we plan on staying together? Odin thought. How could he—
It hit him, slowly, but fiercely, as if he’d just been struck a mortal blow.
“You don’t think we’ll be together when I return to Ornala?” Odin frowned, unsure what to say.
“It’s something I’ve been considering for a while now. You as well as I know that most of humankind doesn’t take kindly to our kind.”
“What kind?”
“Queers,” the Halfling said.
“That’s such a dirty word,” Odin sighed, sliding his hands into his pockets and waiting for Virgin to follow suit before he continued up the road.
“It’s what we are, Odin.”
“I know, but—“
“But… what?”
“I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks about me or who I sleep with, if you want my honest opinion.”
“But there will be speculation.”
“I know.”
“And there will be harsh consequences. You know this.”
“Why is that?”
“Because a king’s champion isn’t supposed to bed another man, Odin—he’s supposed to bed a woman.”
“Who says?”
“History. Tradition. Custom.”
“Damn them,” Odin said. “I don’t care what anyone thinks about me. I never have followed custom and I never will.”
“Surely your king will.”
“The king—”
“Even you don’t know what the man you serve thinks, Odin.”
“No.”
“Then you know it’s hard for me to keep my heart so open when I’m not sure I’ll still have the person I consider truly special in the coming months.”
“Do you love me?” Odin asked.
He’s not going to answer that, his conscience whispered. He didn’t answer it the first time. What makes you think he will now?
Fate, perhaps, maybe even a shroud of
dignity that hadn’t been there previously—he didn’t know, and honestly didn’t care where the source did or didn’t come from, but it would be nice to have an honest answer this time around.
“Virgin,” Odin said.
“I can’t answer that question, Odin.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not sure.”
“I know. You’ve said that before. Because you didn’t know.”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you feel?”
“Intense, personal connection.”
“Between us?”
“Yes.”
“We lived together, we ate together, we slept together. You didn’t kiss me that often because… well… I guess kissing isn’t your thing, but that doesn’t really matter—at least, not to me, anyway. What I would like is a straight answer, if you can give me that.”
“Does what we have now not satisfy you?”
“How can it when I’m unsure of everything all the time?”
“I wouldn’t say you’re unsure,” Virgin said.
“Oh?” Odin asked. “What would you say then?”
“You’re uneasy because I haven’t directly answered your question. That’s understandable. I’ve tried to answer it in my head dozens, maybe even hundreds of times the past few months that we’ve been together, but I’ve never been able to figure it out. It isn’t a simple question to answer, Odin.”
“All right,” he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his head up to look at the mute scenery before them.
“You’re not… mad at me, are you?”
“Not mad.”
“Upset, then?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You can’t be sorry for something you didn’t do, Virgin.”
“I hate to see you hurt.”
“That means a lot to me.”
“I know it does. Just as you mean so much to me.”
Just as you mean so much to me.
Could he, in the end, really be satisfied with that, affection and all?
Odin closed his eyes.
As they continued into the darkness, it seemed all the doors in the world were closing and yet one window remained open. Through it, he knew, light would stream, but never would he be able to crawl through its confines, for suffocated by its maker it was.
They continued through the night until they saw beacons on the horizon. Wavering forth as if beckoning them toward their presence, illuminating the vast darkness that placated the world madly and without respect, giving hope to any looking upon them and instilling within them a sense of ease which could be compared to the greatest thing in the world—in spite of everything they had endured throughout the night, Odin couldn’t help but take their presence as a sign that, finally, their suffering would be over.
“You see that?” Odin asked, extending a finger. “I’m not just seeing things, am I?”
“No,” Virgin replied, somberly, as if unable to relate. “That’s Drianna all right.”
“I didn’t realize it was so close.”
“We’ve been walking for hours, Odin—it’s been anything but close.”
Regardless of how close they’d been or not, and despite the fact that Virgin looked ready to collapse, the knowledge that civilization lay in the near distance was enough to give birth to a shining glory in Odin’s heart. Given the circumstance and the temperature, he shouldn’t have felt the way he did—like his heart was on fire and his veins were laced with venom—but either way, he couldn’t discount the fact that this was the best thing that had happened tonight.
No wolves, he thought, assembling his mental checklist to be marked by the imaginary pen that existed in the sky. No Harpies, no bandits, no one to bother us or give us shit.
Nothing had hindered them after they’d departed from their place beneath the rocks. For that alone they’d practically won life’s greatest lottery, especially given all the hell they’d endured over the past few hours.
Lowering his hand and sliding it into his pocket, Odin bowed his head to look at his feet and found that the snow had risen above the tail of his pants, decorating his trousers like exotic fur wrapped around a nobleman’s boot. How he hadn’t noticed he couldn’t be sure. He’d been paying attention to the landscape and hadn’t once seen the snow rise. However, with Drianna on the horizon and lights signaling them forward, he decided it mattered little and shook his head, freeing flakes from his hair like dandruff.
Beside him, Virgin bowed his head and let out a sigh. The Halfling’s breath appeared on the cold wind before snuffing out entirely.
“Are you all right?” Odin asked, reaching out to press a hand against his partner’s back.
“I’m fine,” Virgin said, raising his eyes to regard him. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you cold?”
“Of course.”
“Do you want me to—“
“Conserve your energy. There’s no point in wearing yourself out when we’re so close to town.”
All right, he thought, drawing his hand away when he felt his touch had strayed one moment too long.
With his heart hammering and his mind alight with unease, Odin raised his eyes to look at the distant village.
Soon, they would be passing into its borders and sequestering themselves within its inn.
Not a single window was lit as they passed into Drianna and began to make their way up the street, toward the only visibly-lit settlement that could possibly be an inn. It seemed, as far as Odin could tell, that the lights that had beckoned them had come from outpost towers aligned upon each of the four corners of the settlement—all of which appeared, for the most part, to be constructed out of nothing more than wood. Faintly, judging from the ones they’d just passed behind them, they were suspended by nothing more than wooden poles holding a box-shaped platform about twenty to thirty-feet up in the air. Whether or not fires were truly lit within their confines could be debated, as Odin couldn’t help but wonder how such mechanisms would allow something to burn. As much as it stifled him to think about such things, he chose to ignore it and instead set his attention on the building before them, which lay no more than a few hundred feet away.
Beneath the silence of the falling snow, Odin thought he heard something resembling crackling fires.
Maybe they are going.
Though in the current atmospheric conditions he could not tell if the houses were emitting smoke, he could easily see that the building ahead was broadly lit and producing an orange glow that could only come from a fire. The sight forced tendrils of excitement along his bones and up into his head.
“We’re here,” Virgin said.
The Halfling’s voice, out of the cold blue, had regained some semblance of emotion, though what little there was drowned in the near-earsplitting silence that ruled their world.
You need sleep, Odin thought, tempted to reach out and touch his companion, but not sure if he should. And warmth.
Hopefully the following days’ travel wouldn’t be hindered by such horrible weather—or, at the least, wouldn’t be filled with too much snow. Maybe they could even buy a tent and take it with them after they secured horses for the rest of their travel.
Directly before the building—which Odin deduced was an inn by its interior layout—he took a deep breath, reached forward, then pushed the door open.
Almost immediately, what few eyes there were in the bar turned to look at them.
“Hello,” a woman said, drawing Odin’s attention to where she stood at the bar.
“Hello,” he replied. Both he and Virgin stomped their boots off at the door before closing it behind them.
“I imagine the two of you must be travelers, given that you’ve come in so late and all.” The woman crossed the distance between them before extending her hand. “I’m Yolanda. I own this establishment.”
<
br /> “My name’s Odin, ma’am.”
“Welcome, welcome. Here—come sit. The two of you must be cold. I’ll pour you each a drink on the house. Is cider fine?”
“Anything warm,” Virgin said.
Odin reached out to pat the older Halfling’s back before leading them to the bar, upon which they sat away from the individuals drinking stronger liquor or wine.
A short moment after they took their seats, Yolanda placed a pair of steaming mugs of cider before them. “They’re hot,” she warned.
Virgin ignored this, blew into his mug, then took a deep sip before wrapping his still-red fingers about it.
Poor Virgin, Odin thought, taking a sip of his own mug of cider.
To think that his companion had been buried beneath the snow was enough to dampen his spirits, but to know that he’d been silently suffering the whole night without so much as a word of complaint? Given his frostbitten hands, the swollen tip of his nose and his trembling lower lip, it was any wonder he hadn’t broken down during the night.
In knowing that he had such a strong companion, Odin couldn’t help but grieve for the fact that so much had happened over the past few hours.
“Where might you boys be coming from?” Yolanda asked, raising her eyes from her work at lifting and replacing mugs along the back wall. “It’s not often we see strangers in these parts.”
“We’re merchants making our way from the Abroen Forest,” Virgin said, filling the lapse of silence before Odin could even begin to speak. “We’re heading to Ornala.”
Merchants? Odin thought, frowning, but offering a slight nod of agreement.
“What might you be selling?” Yolanda asked. “And might you be Elves?”
“No. We’re not.”
Racial stereotypes?
Rather than say anything, Odin lifted his mug and sipped it again, only giving a partial nod to the barkeep when she turned her eyes to look at him.
“Can I ask what you’re selling?” she asked.
