by Kody Boye
How could he be so cruel?
“I… I think I understand now,” Odin said, forcing himself to look up at his master and face his hard, unruly eyes. Thu… Thank you for explaining it to me.”
“There’s no need to thank me.” Miko stood, rounded the table, then set a hand on Odin’s chest to guide him down onto the bed. “You need to rest now. You’ve too much on your mind as it is—I don’t need to fill it with anything else.”
“Sir—”
“I’m not asking you to sleep, Odin. I’m asking you to rest.”
“But—”
“If you ask me something else, I won’t answer.”
Miko seated himself on the bed. After turning to look at the end of the mattress, he spread out alongside Odin and drew up his legs so they wouldn’t be dangling in midair.
“Sir?”
“Goodnight, Odin.”
Miko closed his eyes.
Though Odin thought of saying goodnight, he thought better when he realized the Elf had already fallen asleep.
It was the first time he had ever seen the Elf breathe so smoothly.
He sat in a chair—book balanced against one knee, eyes downcast to look at its text—when the door opened without any prior warning. Startled to the point where he nearly jumped from his chair and arms screaming with pain, Odin turned to look at the threshold with eyes hard and unforgiving. Whom he found, however, was Nova, standing in the threshold and the rough hair at the stem of his neck
“Nova,” he breathed.
“Hey,” the older man said.
Odin glanced over his shoulder. Miko turned his head to look at the two of them before returning to his window-watching.
“Hey,” Odin replied, standing. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Nova said, stepping into the room and closing the door with the heel of his foot. “How do you feel?”
“Fine.”
“That’s good.”
Nova slid his hands into his pockets. After a moment of silence, he looked down at the floor, as if something had caught his attention, and bowed his head. In response, Odin sighed and set the book down. “Nova,” he said. “I’m sorry about what happened last night.”
“Why are you telling me sorry? I’m the one who hurt you.”
“It’s not your fault. The sirens, they—”
For reasons he couldn’t immediately interpret, he could not finish his sentence. Instead, he took his first few steps forward since Nova had entered the room and wrapped his arm around his friend, bowing his head into the jut of his collarbone and trying his hardest to resist the urge to cry. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not hurt.”
“Yes you are. I tore your arms up.”
“You didn’t mean to.”
Nova set his hands at Odin’s lower back and rested his head against the curve of his neck. Odin closed his eyes when he felt his breath’s hot breath against his collarbone. He hadn’t realized until that moment that being in a friend’s arms felt better than anything else in the world.
“That tickles,” he said, unable to resist the urge to smile.
“What?” Nova asked.
“I said that tickles.” Odin pulled away. A smile lit Nova’s face. “There. That’s what I want to see.”
“What?” Nova laughed.
“You smiling and laughing.”
“I was up half the night worrying about you. I didn’t think we’d make up.”
“Why?”
“Because I tore your arms up.”
“I’m ok. Really—don’t worry about it.”
“If you say so, kid.”
Nova set a hand on Odin’s shoulder .He smiled, then leaned closer. “Thank you for saving me,” he whispered. “And thank you for reminding me that I’ve got two incredible friends that care about me.”
Nova made his way over to the bed and collapsed upon its surface.
“Get some sleep,” Odin said.
“I will, “Nova replied.
When Odin looked over, their eyes met.
At that moment, he began to realize just how much he loved both of the men he was with.
Cold air bit his skin.
Outside, snow fell.
“How damn far north are we?” Nova asked, hamming his fingers into his armpits as he turned away from the window. “And where the hell is Miko?”
“I don’t know,” Odin said.
He joined his friend at the window to watch the snow fall at sea, wishing he knew where they were. Maybe then that would tell them why it was snowing.
I wonder if he’ll tell us where we’re going now that it’s starting to snow.
“You don’t think,” Odin began, then stopped before he could finish.
“I don’t think what?” Nova asked.
“You don’t think he’s having us aimlessly wander for no reason, do you?”
“Miko? No. He’s taking us somewhere.”
“Where?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
I don’t have a guess, Odin thought, then chuckled. You probably don’t either.
“What’s so funny?” Nova smirked.
“I don’t have a guess. I laughed because you said my guess was as good as yours.”
“Oh.”
Odin resisted the urge to laugh. Apparently, Nova hadn’t understood his joke, as soon after he asked, “What’re you looking at?”
“Nothing,” Odin smiled. “I just enjoy your company.”
“Sure you do.”
This time, Odin laughed. Nova punched his shoulder.
“Did you sleep better last night?” Odin asked.
“I’ve been sleeping fine. What about you?”
“Fine.”
Odin looked down at his arms and rubbed the freshly-changed bandages. Though the horsetail stitching had looked a little bad upon his first impression, Miko had reassured him that the scars would be barely visible.
I’ll be able to get rid of them, if you so desire, he’d also added.
Odin planned on having his master remove them as soon as the stitching came out—not for vanity, but pride and for reasons of friendship. He didn’t want Nova to shake his hand, grip his arm or look down at his skin and see scars that he himself had once caused. If Miko could remove them, he would request he do so as soon as possible.
“Hey,” Nova said. “Something wrong?”
“Uh… no. Sorry. I was just thinking.”
Nova shrugged and seated himself on his bed. “You have no idea where he went?”
Odin shook his head. “No. Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. He’s been gone since I got up.”
“Did you want me to ask him something?”
“Other than to know where we’re going?”
I should’ve thought of that.
With nothing better to do than yawn, Odin jumped on the bed and rolled onto his back, tracing the patterns on the wood that made up the ceiling. “Are you starting to get bored?” he decided to ask.
“Of being on the ship?” Nova closed his eyes. “A little.”
“I can only imagine how much longer we’ll be on it.”
“We’ve only been sailing for a couple of weeks, if even that.”
Rolling over onto his stomach, Odin closed his eyes and suppressed a sigh. Of all the times to get bored, it had to be when he had literally nothing to do.
I can read.
Then again, he’d already gone through most of the fables in the tome he’d been reading, so that wouldn’t work. The rest of the books, however, hadn’t seemed interesting upon first glance. Maybe if he looked over them again he would find something worth reading.
“What’ve you been doing to entertain yourself?” Odin asked.
“I’ve been trying to write a letter to my wife so that when we get back to the mainland, I can have it sent to Bohren.”
“What if where we’re going isn’t anywhere near the mainland?”
“Well… then I’ll have s
omeone deliver it for me when we get back.”
“You said trying, Odin frowned.
“Yeah,” Nova replied, matter-of-factly. “I did. Why?”
“I thought you said you’ve written to your wife before?”
“I have, but writing isn’t one of my strong points. I was born and raised farm boy.”
“Oh.” Odin tried not to frown, but did anyway. “I’m not trying to make you feel stupid or anything, but if you need help, you can ask me.”
“I appreciate the offer. I might take you up on it.”
“What do you have trouble with?”
“Letter writing, mostly, but it’s not hard if I go slow. When I start writing a letter, I make an effort to finish one part before I stop. I try to write it in my head first so I don’t have to waste time rewriting it, you know?”
“I know.”
Nova slapped Odin’s shoulder and looked up when the door opened.
Miko slid inside, pulling his hood back to reveal his face as soon as the door closed behind him.
“Hello, sir,” Odin said. “Where were you?”
“Speaking with the captain,” the Elf said, locking the door before he began to disrobe. “We’re on schedule to arrive within the next few weeks.”
“Why is it snowing outside?”
“Because we’re moving to the north.”
I know that, he thought.
“What he means,” Nova said, “is where are we going?”
Miko smiled. Odin and Nova groaned.
“You won’t give us a hint?” Odin asked.
“Come on,” Nova said. “We’ve been playing along so far. Why can’t you tell us?”
“It’ll be better if you see for yourselves. That way, you’ll appreciate the wait.”
“We’ll appreciate the wait if you tell us now,” Odin mumbled. Nova reeled back with laughter, reaching up to pound his chest. Miko’s smile brightened.
“I promise it won’t be too much longer. The days go by quickly out here on the ocean.”
“All right,” Odin sighed. “Thank you for telling us why it was snowing.”
Even if it doesn’t give me any clue as to where we’re going.
Odin settled down into the chair he had grown accustomed to, picked his book up, and opened it to where he left off.
Only a few more pages left, he thought, licking a finger so he could turn a page. Then maybe I can finally force myself to look at a few of the other books.
Hopefully, whatever lay between their bindings would entertain him until they reached their destination.
“Hey, Odin,” Nova said. “You want to help me with something?”
Looking up from the history book he’d only recently acquainted himself with, Odin found Nova sitting on the floor, cross-legged and bent over a piece of parchment that lay on the sitting table that sat near the sofa spread against the far wall.
“I’ll help,” Odin said, knowing more than well that Nova wanted advice on his letter. Sliding out of the chair, he set his book aside and walked around the table to kneel by Nova’s side. There, he examined the careful but scratchy handwriting before turning to look at his friend. “What do you need help with?”
“Does it… well… sound all right?”
“You don’t care if I read it?”
“No. I don’t.”
Odin pulled the parchment forward.
Dear Katarina, it began.
I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long, and I’m sorry I haven’t written to you sooner. We, the boy I told you about and an Elf that chose him as his squire, crossed the Ornalan Plains before we made our way west, down the lowlands that lead to Elna and along the ‘Ela Alna Pass that leads onto the peninsula. You don’t need to worry, because we arrived safely and soundly.
I’m writing to you from the confines of a large ship. We set sail from Elna to somewhere northeast, though where we’re going, I don’t know. The Elf has assured both myself and the boy that we will soon reach our destination.
I don’t know when this will reach you, and I’m sorry to say I don’t know when I’ll be home. I’m sorry for leaving you, Katarina. Every waking moment I breathe is filled with thoughts of you, and every night before I fall asleep, I think of how it feels to lay in a bed with a woman as beautiful as you.
I’m sorry I haven’t come home.
I’m sorry to say I don’t know when I’ll be home.
Please, know that I love you, and remember that no matter what happens, I’ll come home to you one way or another.
Your husband,
Novalos'
By the time Odin finished reading the letter, he found a slight tear sliding down his face. He reached up to wipe it away knowing it hadn’t escaped Nova’s gaze. “You love her very much,” he said.
“More than anything else,” Nova sighed, setting an arm across Odin’s shoulders and leaning close. “It helps that I have such great friends to keep me grounded.”
At that, Odin pushed the parchment away just in case one of them started to cry. He didn’t want all of Nova’s hard work to go to waste.
“It reads all right then?” Nova asked.
“I wasn’t sure how well you could write,” Odin said. “It’s perfect.”
“The man who raised me taught me how to read and write as best as he could, though I think my writing is much better than my reading, regardless of my penmanship. I try my best to write so my wife can read it.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about her not being able to read it. I can read just fine, so I don’t see why she shouldn’t be able to.”
“Thanks, Odin. And thank you for looking at it for me. I just hope that when she does get the letter, she’ll understand why I’ve been away from home for so long.”
“Do you regret coming with us?”
Odin looked up. At first unsure whether or not his friend had heard the question, he sat there and watched Nova for any form of expression that could have clouded his face and revealed his true feelings. When none came, however, he shifted in his seat, all the more aware of just how the words had sounded upon second thought.
Great, he thought. That’s what you get for asking such a personal question.
“I’m sorry, Nova. I shouldn’t have asked you that.”
“No,” Nova said. “I mean, no—you didn’t offend me. And no, I don’t regret coming with you.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
“You don’t regret that you’ve been away from your wife for so long all because of me?”
“In all honesty, Odin, I don’t. Before I found you, I’d been plagued with doubts that, if I returned home without completing my mission, the ‘light,’ or whatever it was, wouldn’t help me in my time of need.” Nova stopped to take a breath, as if troubled by the words he had and were about to speak. “I’ve told you this before, but because I didn’t know when my ‘time of need’ would be, I was desperate to find you. And, to add on to that, I was worried that if I didn’t find you, something would happen to my wife or father-in-law.”
“You were never worried about yourself then.”
“I wasn’t. I keep my friends and family above all else, even if that means risking myself in order to do it.”
“It shows,” Odin said. “You wouldn’t have come all this way if you didn’t think this was important.”
“And you know what?” the man asked. “It’s turned out to be important. I didn’t have too many friends back in Bohren, but look at me now—I’m friends with a boy with red eyes who can cast magic and an Elf-creature that few people so far north have ever seen, a fucking Elf, Odin. What more could I ask for?”
“I don’t know.”
The two looked at each other for a moment before they burst out laughing.
Through all of this, Odin realized how much Nova had sacrificed. Here, two years after he had left his wife to come in search for someone a vision had proclaimed to him through a number of weeks, he had done what many would hav
e considered little—mad, even, for the fact that he’d left all behind in order to search for someone that possibly wasn’t even real. In a way, it made him realize how important it was to hold on to the things you loved dearly—because, in the end, if you didn’t hold onto those things, and if those things suddenly disappeared without the chance to hold them dear, one would always regret they never had the chance to appreciate them.
Fourteen long days later, ice started clouding the windows.
Because of the frigid cold that plagued them day in and out, a monster of which could not be described or related to in physical terms, Odin and Nova had succumbed to wearing long-sleeved shirts and underwear that Daughtry had specially provided for them on the trip. Nova, now suffering from the beginnings of a cold, sat in one of the chairs, fingers jammed into the armpits of his wool shirt, while Odin stood near the window, watching the crystals of ice form and expand across the panes of glass over each passing moment as if they were insects crawling acoss the greatest of looking glasses.
