by Kody Boye
“Stop that!” one of them cried, raising her arms in laughter before she, too, reached down and threw a snowball at one of the children, immediately initiating a war between the parents and children in one deft move.
Despite the distance, Odin could still hear the children’s giggles and the dogs frantic barking. Even the women could be heard upon the wind, swift notes of pleasure on a cold winter day.
“It looks like there’s nothing wrong here,” Virgin said, turning his attention to the east, where the houses began on the side of the road, then to the west, where they started a further ways up.
“Like there never was a war,” Odin said.
In response to this statement, Virgin let out a breath and looked up the road, toward where the grand gate lay closed and with guards poised atop its high walls.
“It should be a straight way in,” the older Halfling said.
Odin nodded and stole a quick breath of air.
From an alleyway, pursued by children, appeared a dog so large it would have come up to Odin’s waist had he been standing firmly on the ground. Upon its shoulders, pressed into place and secured by only hands themselves, was Carmen Delarosa, riding the creature Odin had so dreamed about in recent past.
“It’s her,” Odin said, gasping, his heart hammering in his chest. “It’s her, Virgin! It’s her!”
“Who?” Virgin asked.
Before he could respond, Odin threw himself from the horse and began his desperate run up the road.
Behind Carmen and her giant dog, children emerged from the alleyway, fresh snowballs in their hands.
“Lady Carmen!” one of them cried. “Come back!”
The Dwarve’s clear, pristine laugh echoed out from atop the dog. “Catch me if you can!” she cried. “Catch me, catch me, catch me if you can!”
Snowballs flew through the air.
Some impacted with the dog’s hindquarters.
The dog barked in glee.
A short moment later, it stopped in place as it took notice of the lone figure running up the road.
“Carmen!” Odin cried. “Carmen! Carmen!”
“By the Gods!” the Dwarf cried. “Is that who I think it is?”
Odin hurled himself onto the ground just as the Dwarf fell from her mount.
When she fell into his arms and wrapped her fists around his neck, Odin couldn’t help but laugh.
After all this time, he was finally home.
“Where have you been?” Carmen asked.
“I have so much to tell you,” Odin said. “So much.”
Chapter 9
“God damn,” Nova said, taking Odin into his arms immediately upon answering the door. “Where the hell have you been, Odin?”
“Gone,” he whispered, tightening his grip around his older friend’s body as the door opened further to reveal Katarina. “Katarina,” he said.
“We’ve been so worried about you,” she said, pressing a kiss to Odin’s cheek as she stepped forward.
“Who’s here?” Nova’s father-in-law asked from the other group.
“Odin’s returned, Father!”
“By the Gods,” the aging man said, stepping from what might have been the kitchen and into the living room. “We’ve been worried about you, boy.”
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” Odin said, looking to each of his friends. “It was… a bad decision on my part.”
“Hell yes it was.”
“But… I met someone while I was gone.” Odin reached down and took Virgin’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together and offering the brightest smile he could manage. “Guys… this is Virgin. He’s my…”
“Lover,” Virgin said, clearing the lapse of silence Odin had committed with but one word.
Though no one said anything in direct response, Carmen stepped forward and into the house, followed shortly by her massive red dog, who promptly shook the snow from its fur before settling down near a loveseat.
“It’s good to meet you,” Nova finally said, reaching forward to shake Virgin’s right hand. “Any friend of Odin’s is a friend of mine.”
“Virgin,” Odin said. “This is Nova. He’s the one who came from Bohren to find me in the tower.”
“Odin’s told me so much about you,” the older Halfling said, shaking both Nova and Ketrak’s hands before reaching out to take Katarina’s. “All of you.”
“I can only imagine what he told you about me,” Carmen chimed in.
“Other than your penance for hitting things in the balls?”
At this, everyone laughed. Carmen hopped up and down in place and balled her hands into fists. “Hey! I hit what I can reach!”
“No problem with that,” Virgin smiled.
Behind them, a group of children whom had been playing snowball wars with Carmen and her dog gathered about the stoop and looked in on them. “Lady Carmen?” one of them asked.
“I’m sorry, guys. I can’t play anymore today.”
Every child within the near vicinity instantly cried out in disappointment.
“I’ll play tomorrow,” Carmen said, craning her hand around the door as she pushed it forward, then almost into place. “I promise.”
When the door closed securely behind them, Ketrak gestured them into the living room, taking extra care to step over Carmen’s dog before settling himself down on the loveseat.
“So,” Nova said, seating himself next to his wife in a large armchair and looking directly across a sitting table. “Tell us what happened.”
In details brief, Odin told of his flight from Dwaydor shortly following his father’s death and then on to his journey to Sylina—where, from there, he crossed the expanse of the Whooping Hills and came to find himself in the Great Divide outside of the Abroen Forest. He did not bother to elaborate on how he and Virgin had met, merely saying that they’d happened across one another while Odin was camping, and did not think to tell them that he had been attacked by a morally-driven creature and was hospitalized for several days. He did, however, with humility he found almost impossible to believe, say that whilst in the great, Elven capital of Lesliana, he had attended several formal meetings with a sexless Elven creature known as a Neven D’Carda and had learned formal magical training from the Elven court.
When he completed his story—after explaining their trip back and everything they’d encountered—not a mouth in the room remained pursed.
“Wow,” Carmen was first to say. At her place on the floor, her dog raised its head and offered both Odin and Virgin a curious look.
“That’s a real story,” Katarina smiled, setting her conjoined hands in her lap. “You’re quite the adventurers.”
“It would have been easier had our lives not been endangered through the Divide,” Virgin sighed. “But at least we made it out alive.”
“That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”
Virgin nodded, set his hand over Odin’s, then tilted his head back up at Katarina, offering a smile perfect with porcelain white teeth.
“Can I ask you something, if you don’t mind?” Katarina asked.
“Go ahead,” Virgin replied.
A shrill cry from the other room cut Katarina off before she could continue. “Nova,” she said. “Can you get him?”
“Him?” Odin frowned. “Do you mean—“
“She sure does,” Nova laughed, clapping Odin’s shoulder as he rose. “Baby boy. Just like I thought he would be.”
“Congratulations,” Virgin smiled, nodding first to Nova before setting his eyes on Katarina. “What was it you wanted to ask?”
“Oh, yes. You… don’t happen to be an Elf, do you?”
“I’m a Halfling. So yes—I am an Elf, if only partially.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“I appreciate that very much, ma’am.”
“So you’re one of those wood-people,” Carmen said, then giggled as if she’d just asked a silly question. “Sorry. That’s what we Dwarves call the Elves who haven’t expande
d south of the forest’s border.”
“It’s quite all right. But yes—I am one of those ‘wood people,’ if you would like to refer to myself as that.”
Ketrak craned his head back to examine Odin. “Say, lad… when were you planning on going and seeing your king?”
“As soon as possible,” Odin said. “Why? Is there something wrong?”
“It’s just that the guards have been very, very finicky about opening the gates as of late.”
“The people here are doing their best to not depend on the supplies from the castle,” Nova elaborated as he walked from the room, carrying the baby in one arm. “We’re trying to be as self-sufficient as we can, which means hunting.”
“You hunt?” Virgin asked.
“Rabbits, mostly. Some deer. Elk when there are some, though game’s been hard to come by. Why? Do you not?”
“I eat meat just as you do, my friend. I was merely interested in your proficiency with a bow.”
“Oh, I can’t shoot for shit.”
At this, Virgin chuckled, then gave a light smile. “It’s a skill learned in time.”
“I’m about as smart with a bow-and-arrow as I am with my writing.”
“You write just fine,” Katarina said, slapping Nova’s wrist as he settled himself beside her. “Besides—like Virgin said, you’ll get better.”
“Do you think there will be problems with me entering the castle grounds?” Odin asked, desperate to draw the conversation into more pressing matters.
“You shouldn’t have a problem if you just state your business and tell them who you are,” Ketrak said.
“I don’t see why they wouldn’t let the champion in,” Katarina added, “even if you’ve been gone for nearly a year.”
At this, Odin’s nerves began to blaze and his blood felt so hot it might scald his insides. Such were his fears that when his heart began to hammer within his chest he leaned back in his seat, hoping to combat the panic that threatened to overwhelm him.
It’s all right, he thought, sighing, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to where the top of his skull now lay pressed against the loveseat’s plush fabric. Just remember what Virgin told you. Calm, relaxed, even.
If he did such things, then there would be no problem in him visiting his king and requesting an audience. It would, likely, not take more than a simple declaration of his name for him to be led to King Ournul’s office, though whether or not he would be disarmed upon entering the castle grounds was up for anyone’s interpretation.
“If I go now,” Odin said, cracking his eyes open to mere slits, “could I leave my belongings here?”
“You’re more than welcome to stay with us,” Katarina offered. “I mean, if the king has problems with your absence and you’re not able to stay within the castle.”
“Odin’ll be fine,” Carmen said. “What all could the king say about him being gone?”
So many things, Odin thought.
He’d rather not think about it.
“Hail citizen!” one of the guards cried, lifting his hand to his mouth to amplify the sound of his voice. “What business do you have approaching the gate?”
“My name is Odin Karussa!” Odin called back. “I am the king’s champion and member of the royal court. I request permission to enter the castle grounds.”
“Are you armed?”
“I am not.”
Almost instantaneously, the gears hidden behind the castle’s walls began to rotate and the mechanisms that pushed the gate open began to contract behind Ornala’s second perimeter.
As the door continued to open, offering the first glimpse of a royal ground he had not seen for nearly a year, Odin found himself desperately wishing that Virgin was at his side.
Remember, his companion had said shortly before he left, after taking his face in his hands and locking their eyes together. Be yourself, be honest, but don’t be crass.
He would be none of those things, especially when facing the man he had sworn his life to no more than two years ago.
When the gate fully opened and a set of four guards came forward wielding swords at their sides and bows on their backs, Odin gave each of them a respectful nod and started forward, almost unbeknownst to his surroundings, before he was stopped in place and asked to spread his arms and legs.
“Just as a precaution,” one guard said.
They went so far as to cup his balls and prod his ass before they pulled their hands away.
All this security, Odin thought, grimacing but nodding as they gestured him toward the massive front doors.
Surely the kingdom could not have fallen to such extremes as to check every person who entered, could they?
Rather than think risk troubling himself further, Odin straightened his posture, took a deep breath, then continued on with the guards until they came to the front doors—where, after the guards engaged in a brief dialogue with the men guarding the front doors, the entrance to the castle was opened and he was allowed inside.
“You’ve been gone for a long time,” one of the guards said, though made no move to reach out and shake Odin’s hand even as they progressed through the castle and toward where Ournul’s office stood. “Where’ve you been?”
“Gone,” Odin said.
“Where?”
“Does it matter?”
The guard offered no reply.
It could matter, his conscience whispered, if your king is infuriated.
Would the man who rightfully owned his life be difficult when it came to this regard?
Odin shook his head.
He would find out soon enough.
He stood before the king’s office feeling much like a man who had committed a heinous crime. Scared, unsure, completely ignorant to what could be waiting on the other side of the door and what might happen come the time it opened and revealed the king—even the grandest poet would not have been able to describe such a mixture of emotions, such melancholy of the human mind, yet while standing there, Odin couldn’t help but wonder just how he would explain himself. He could simply say he was afraid, like he were a child waiting to be scolded, or he could go to grander lengths and say that he really felt like he was awaiting an execution. Either way, he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted, especially not in the presence of such honorable men.
“Do I,” he began, then stopped when one of the guards who’d been stationed at the office reached forward and tapped the door three times.
Odin waited.
His breath caught in his throat.
For one brief moment, he felt he wouldn’t be able to breathe.
That’d be the day, he thought, chuckling, a stolen breath returned. The king’s champion, dead before the very man whose service he was drafted into!
How quickly would that rumor spread?
At either of his sides, the guards shifted, laced their hands behind their backs, then waited.
Odin closed his eyes.
A deadbolt being unlocked rang into Odin’s ears. The sound, though not harsh, could have deafened him in the silence that placated the castle.
The door opened.
A figure garbed in a white cloak came into view.
Immediately, Odin felt a sense of pride and fear well up within him.
“Sir,” he said, voice gnarled within his throat.
The king of the Golden Country merely looked upon him with a look of shock and awe. “Odin?” Ournul asked.
Odin fell before his liege and bowed his head, no longer sure what to expect or consider in a moment where he felt alone with the world before him.
A hand graced his shoulder.
Odin looked up.
Ournul looked down at him with strength in his eyes Odin had not expected. “Come in,” the king said. “We have much to discuss.”
He, along with the three guards accompanying him, entered the office and positioned themselves along the back of the room after the door was closed by the guards posing sentry. Odin himself was motio
ned to sit in the chair opposite the desk, while Ournul set his hand on the shoulder of an articulate-looking page boy who sat copying notes before seating himself behind his desk.
“So,” Ournul said, then laced his hands together.
When the king made no further move, Odin fidgeted, suddenly feeling much more vulnerable than he had initially anticipated.
So… what? he thought, staring into the king’s chocolate-brown eyes.
Did Ournul simply mean for him to respond by saying what he had done over the past few months, or was he waiting for a response to tailor the situation to his own accord, much like a man sewing thread through a torn shirt?
Ournul placed both hands flat on the table.
The page seated no more than a few feet beside him turned his head up.
Odin acknowledged him briefly, then set his eyes back on Ournul.
“I’m sorry,” Odin said, unable to take the silence any longer.
“For what, my son?”
“For abandoning you and my country.”
“Nova told me that Miko passed some months ago.”
“Yes sir. He did.”
“He also told me that the Elf was your father.”
Odin made no move to reply.
Ournul sighed, leaned back in his seat, then braced his hands behind his head, watching Odin with calm yet sad eyes.
Come on, Odin thought. If you’re going to punish me, at least make it straightforward. Don’t sugarcoat it.
“Your absence was necessary considering your circumstance,” the king finally said. “However… I should say that running away from your kingdom is never a solution to your problem, no matter what it is that’s going on in your life.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Were you not someone I considered truly important to our kingdom and its service, I would have thrown you in jail for desertion. The past has shown that men who willingly abandon their lords, even in great fits of frustration and sadness, have succumbed to the law. I don’t want that to happen to you.”
“How am I being punished?” Odin asked.
“You technically aren’t. Considering all you’ve gone through, I would find it completely unacceptable for anyone to push any restriction on you. I can, however, see that you don’t have your swords with you, as you’ve probably been told not to have them within the grounds. That is a new law that has been established to keep the men and women within the castle guarded against possible assassins.”
