by Kody Boye
Shivering, Odin crossed his arms over his chest and continued to watch his knight master assemble himself into his cape, lower robe, hood and gloves. It took but a few moments for the creature to garb himself before he turned and flourished across the room and to the door. “Are you coming?” he asked.
Unsure what to do or say, Odin stepped forward.
He said he’s come for me, he thought, nodding, double-checking to make sure that the Elf had assumed his darken appearance before he opened the door and waited for his master to step out.
What could that possibly mean, especially considering that he’d already been taken into service by a creature notably considered as a knight?
After Miko locked the door behind them, he began to lead them slowly down the hall, through the varying side corridors that branched throughout the western side of the castle, then down a stretch of area where no windows lay on both sides of the wall.
The whole while they walked, Odin couldn’t help but feel uneasy.
Who is he? he thought. Why did he come all this way?
It took but a few short moments for them to step forward and into what was most obviously an infirmary, flushed with beds on all sides of the room and lit by high windows that cast shards of light across the western side of the room.
“Master Unisto,” a rail-thin man said, stepping from behind a desk to acknowledge them with his presence. “Master… Karussa?”
“That’s me,” Odin said. “Where is he?”
“There.” The man pointed to a lone bed in the corner of the room—where, contentedly, a man slept, unaware of his surroundings or just where he could possibly be.
“Why was he brought into the castle walls?” Odin frowned, tempted to step forward but unsure whether or not he should. “I thought—”
“One of the officials were summoned last night. We considered him notable enough to be brought within the borders.”
“Does anyone know who he is?”
“No. We don’t."
While waiting for his knight master’s permission to step forward and toward the sleeping man, Odin remained steadfast and tried not to imagine just why a man would be venturing forth through the darkness to find him, much less through the dangerous downpour if rain. If he could’ve gone for so long as to develop the chill, just what might his purpose be?
You won’t know until you talk to him.
“He hasn’t woken up?” Odin asked.
“No,” the frail man said. “He hasn’t.”
“Can I, sir?”
“Go ahead,” Miko replied.
Odin took his first few steps into the room carefully and as quietly as possible. Not wanting to wake the man, he drew close to the stranger’s bedside and tried his hardest to remain quiet, but to no avail. Instead, he cursed himself for tripping over what appeared to be nothing and for stabilizing himself on the sides of the bed, which depressed and inflated back into place upon his touch.
“Hello?” Odin asked, reaching down to set his hand over the man’s. “Are you awake?”
No sound of response came.
Odin trailed his eyes down the man’s body—first from his waist, which remained hidden under the thick sheet, then to his right hand, where upon his one finger lay a ring that sparkled in gold that had to obviously merit some form of higher wealth that could not possibly be found in a common man.
But who is he?
His eyes continued up the man’s chest until, finally, it came to rest upon his face. The strong jawline, the heavily-exposed skin, his proud nose and his thin yet-pink lips did little to demerit his overall attraction, and while his cheekbones resembled something of an angled shape and created the stark impression that the man had not been well-fed in a while, he seemed perfectly content in sleep—peaceful, even, despite what all he had just gone through.
“Sir?” Odin asked, leaning forward. “Can you hear me?”
The man’s eyes shot open.
A pair of pure-amber orbs looked up and at Odin.
Initially startled at the sight, Odin took a few steps back, but stopped when he realized his actions.
“Wha-Where am I?” the man asked, deep voice reverberating out of his chest and into Odin’s ears like sweet sugar across the lips.
“You’re in Ornala, sir. My name is Odin.”
The next Odin knew, he was pressed to the man’s chest in a tight, near-bone-breaking embrace.
“I’ve been looking for so long,” the man sobbed, burying his face against Odin’s shoulder. “God. God! Almost two whole years.”
“It’s all right, sir. I‘m here.”
Odin set his hands on the man’s back and allowed the stranger to revel in whatever comfort he gleamed from the embrace. Stubble scratching his neck, saliva sticking to his skin, Odin closed his eyes as a brief moment of happiness traced his chest from rib to heart, then turned to seek out Miko—whom, at that moment, was nowhere to be seen.
Where are you? he thought.
Odin shook his head and returned to the experience. Such a moment rarely, if ever, occurred. If he could do something to allow the man a pause of respite, he would.
“What’s your name?” Odin asked, gently pushing the man away from him to once more take in his handsome features.
“Nova,” the older man choked out. “Nova Eternity.”
“Why were you looking for me?”
“Something told me to,” the man sobbed, furiously swiping at his eyes. “Some kind of light.”
“A light told you to find me?”
“Because I had to help you.”
Odin blinked.
Help me?
“Help me?” he asked.
“I don’t know much about it,” Nova said, then followed his statement with a series of long, throaty coughs. He wrapped his arms about himself just in time for his teeth to begin chattering. “Still cold,” he smiled.
“Why were you out in the rain for so long?”
“There was nowhere to go. I tried to find a bar or even a lodge, but I couldn’t. I even thought about trying to find a cave to get some sleep, but even then, everything I had was soaked. I wanted to try to get somewhere warm.”
“So you risked freezing to death?”
“I had no choice.”
The smile Nova offered stirred one of Odin’s own. He sat down on the mattress beside the man and set his hands on his knees.
All right, he thought, frowning, unsure what to say especially because he’d only just barely met this man who’d seemed to have been on a lifelong mission to find him. What do I do?
Choosing to use the most direct approach instead of skirting around the question, Odin sighed, took a deep breath, then asked, “Why were you looking at me? I know you said something told you to, but why did it tell you to?”
“I have the Sight,” the man said, setting a hand behind his had. “I was having visions about you.”
“You were?”
“Yeah. You were in that tower, right? I had two visions before the figure of light came to me. It said that I needed to help you because you would need me in your time of need, then said I would need it in my own time.”
“That’s it?”
Nova nodded. “I’m sorry for bringing this on you,” he sighed. “I had to find you.”
“I’m sorry you had to come all this way, sir, but I don’t need any help. I’m fine now.”
“The figure said you would need me in your time of need.” Nova threw his legs over the bed, then started to rise before, likely, he realized he was naked. He adjusted the sheet over his lap upon the revelation.
“I’m not in my time of need anymore,” Odin said. “Maybe the figure thought I needed your help two years ago, but not now.”
The stare Odin received in turn made his flesh crawl.
Come back, he thought, trying his hardest not to ball his hand into a fist as he desperately wished for his knight master to return. Please. Now.
“You’re not about to turn me away after I’ve come this way,”
Nova frowned. He waited a moment for Odin to respond before adding, “Are you?”
“I never said that, sir, but no—I’m not going to tell you to turn around and go home. You’ve through too much just to be sent away.”
“I’m glad you think so. I’ve only been away from home for two years.”
“You never went back?”
Nova shook his head. “No,” he said. “I haven’t. The only way I’ve been able to speak to her is by writing letters, and even then, that’s not enough.”
“Your wife?”
“Yeah. I haven’t seen any part of her for two years, not even her handwriting.”
Odin couldn’t imagine such a feeling, but didn’t say anything in response. One word could upset the man more than he already was, especially in his fractured state of mind.”
“I’m sorry,” Odin said, only after the silence began to overwhelm him.
“It’s not your fault.”
A figure shifted behind him.
Odin looked up.
Miko stood no more than a few feet away, lingering black form ominous despite the light that pierced through the windows above them.
“Sir,” Odin said.
“Is this,” Nova began, then swallowed a lump in his throat.
“My knight master. Yes. He is.”
“Hello,” Miko said, extending a long arm up over the bed to offer his hand. “I hope you’ve been treated well.”
“I’ve been treated fine,” Nova replied, clasping the Elf’s hidden hand carefully before returning it to his lap. “Are you... uh… all right yourself?”
“That is a matter for another time,” the Elf replied, turning his attention to Odin. “We should perhaps leave and let this gentleman rest.”
“I want to go with you,” Nova said, once more attempting to leave the bed, but stopping before he could do so. “Please… I’ve gone through too much. Have mercy on me.”
Odin frowned and turned his attention back to his knight master, whom appeared placid even beneath the shroud of black that covered the entirety of his face. While he couldn’t see up through the shadowed portion of the hood and at his face, he imagined there had to be a guise of content in his eyes—a look that, while not blind to this poor man’s agony, knew the risks and possible benefits of taking a complete stranger into their care.
Finally, after moments of unbearable silence, the Elf nodded and cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said. “You can. Let me call for the healer. You’ll need a fresh pair of clothes.”
The smile that appeared on the man’s face nearly broke Odin’s heart.
“I’m going to reveal myself,” the Elf said. “So do not be alarmed.”
“Are you…” Nova swallowed. “Not human?”
“I am not.”
Odin stood near the doorway watching the scene unfold before him. Nova lying prone in bed, propped up by several pillows that seemed to have been alleviated from the plush cushions; Miko standing before him, gloves cast aside and to the floor—it appeared a moment in time where a great crime of passion was about to be committed, one of which would end in blood spilled upon the chestnut floor panels. Regardless, though, it appeared in that moment—when Nova merely sat there stunned as Miko began to relieve himself from his black visage—that Nova would simply pass out from stress.
It’s all right, Odin thought. Don’t worry.
Rounding the room, Odin crouched down at Nova’s side and watched as the Elf first parted the skirt of his cloak, revealing his firm and muscled legs, then as he tore the cape from his shoulders and, eventually, moved to reveal his face to the world.
At his side, Nova trembled.
Odin reached forward and set a hand on the man’s hand. “He’s not going to hurt you,” he said.
Nova said nothing.
When Miko tossed his head back and revealed his androgynously-handsome face, Nova merely stared. The trembling ceased, the quivering breaths were freed from his chest, and his uneasy fingers stopped drumming on the mattress below them.
“Wow,” Nova said. “I don’t… I can’t even—”
“That’s what I said,” Odin laughed, nodding as Miko crouched to gather his façade, then as he strode to the cabinets, where he pulled one of the drawers free and began to stuff his clothes inside.
“Do you have food?” Nova asked. “I haven’t eaten for the past day. My pack got wet and everything spoiled.”
“Yes. We have food.” Miko turned his attention to Odin. “Please, bring the platter.”
Odin stepped up to the table and looked at the two silver plates. One untouched, the other with pieces missing, he pulled the spare aside and brought it to the bed.
He must’ve already ate, Odin thought, handing Nova the platter.
The aroma of bread, meat and cheese tightened Odin’s stomach.
“Thank you,” Nova said. “I’m sorry to burden the two of you.”
“You’re no such thing,” Miko replied. “Eat.”
Nova ate with fervor Odin had never seen in his entire life. Eyes alight, fingers just as fast as his attention to the food, Nova’s hands darted over the feast laid before him and ate as though he were a starved animal fresh to a kill. Just the way he shoved the food in his mouth spelled the days of hunger he had to have endured out in the field, when his provisions spoiled and he’d not a single thing to eat.
“When was the last time you ate?” Odin frowned once he realized half of the platter was already devoured.
“Three days ago,” Nova said.
A pang of hurt in his heart for the man who had come all this way, Odin retreated to the vacant bed and seated himself without another word.
In watching Nova eat, he couldn’t help but wonder just what might happen come the next few days.
Would his journey be postponed, he thought, and would Nova possibly come with him?
Unsure what to say, do or think, Odin merely sat and watched the man continue to eat.
He paced the training field in silence and without any real destination in mind. Though the bright, afternoon sun had done its job in drying the dirt practice area, it hadn’t completely hardened the soil, making the trek all the more troublesome. Every time he took a step, the ground would shift under his foot, sucking the bottom of his boots into the mud. Several times, Odin nearly tripped and stumbled, but always managed to remain upright despite himself.
Oh well, he thought. It’s not that bad.
For the first time in days he’d felt good enough to venture further than the castle halls. Maybe he’d finally overcome the cough that had plagued him for the past two weeks.
I can only hope.
Shaking his head, Odin shoved his hands into his pockets and continued around the sparring circle, content with the relief in his lungs and the moisture in his throat. Such quiet wandering eventually led to thoughts of Nova—which, once again, summoned a terrible deal of guilt and apprehension.
Now we just have to decide what to do with him.
The thought made him sigh. While he appreciated the man’s concern, he didn’t need the help Nova was trying to offer.
In my time of need, he thought, trying to remember any situation in which he’d needed dire help.
The only real time that came to mind had been a few weeks ago, during which he’d been trapped in the tower. However, with Miko’s arrival and his decision to bring him along as a squire, he could see no reason for help.
He looked for me for two years.
Could he really turn the man away after all the time he’d spent looking—now, especially with his state of mind and the way he’d cried when holding him in his arms? Could he honestly, truthfully return to their room, take a deep breath, then tell Nova to pack his bags, get dressed, and take the long, hard road back home?
No. He couldn’t. Even the idea of doing such a thing shook him to the core, to the point where he began to tremble in place.
Movement pulled Odin from his thoughts and toward the distant rim of the sparrin
g wheel—where, in the threshold leading from the castle and to the training grounds, stood Jordan, dressed in a plain jerkin and trousers.
Why is he—
“Odin!” Jordan called. “What’re you doing out here?”
“Nothing, sir. I… I’m not causing any trouble.”
“I didn’t think you were,” the weapons master laughed, then frowned when Odin didn’t reply. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes sir.”
“Something’s bothering you.”
Odin continued walking. While not normally disrespectful of disapproving of authority figures, he didn’t feel like talking. Jordan could understand.
“Odin,” the man said, voice firm and authoritative.
Odin stopped.
Guess he doesn’t understand at all.
“Yes sir?” he asked, turning as Jordan began to cross the distance between them in but a few steps.
“Why aren’t you talking to me?”
“I’m sorry,” Odin sighed, tightening his grip on his trousers. “I…. I wanted to be alone. To think some things out for myself.”
When Jordan didn’t directly reply, Odin turned and continued down the sphere of dirt until he came to a growth of grass, which eventually extended toward the hill and the dormant pond beneath it. Here, he looked at the greenery, unsure whether to step on it and continue forward or turn around and resume walking along the training grounds.
In but a moment, the former seemed right.
