by Kody Boye
“Oh, no—I didn’t. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“What about Miko? If he all right?”
“You should’ve seen him kill those Kerma. It took hardly any effort at all. And the way he blew the side of the hill up—”
“He blew the hill apart?”
“Yeah. He shot a huge beam of magic at the area and everything just exploded. Thankfully we didn’t get hurt.”
Odin nodded and slid his hands behind his head. He almost pushed the blanket off until he realized he’d been stripped of his clothing, likely in some sort of pre-examination of his body.
“Yeah,” Nova chuckled, “I got a big surprise when I crawled out of bed.”
“How long have you been up?”
“Not too long. I only just got up.”
“Do you know where Miko is?”
“I asked that Joseph guy if he knew. He said he’s visiting with the mayor.”
“Again?”
“Again?” Nova frowned. “You were awake earlier?”
“I’m… not so sure. I don’t know if it was earlier today, yesterday, or—”
“Well, all I know is that we’ve both been out of commission for a while. Doesn’t surprise me much though, considering what all we went through.”
“Yeah.”
Nearby, a door opened. Joseph, garbed in a thin coat, stepped into the building. “Excuse me,” the man smiled. “I had to step out for a moment.”
“That’s fine,” Odin said. Nova nodded his approval. “How long have we been asleep?”
“Days. I started to get worried, but your knight master assured me that you were both all right.”
“He knows us pretty good,” Nova grinned, sliding an arm around Odin’s shoulder. “Huh, bud?”
“Yeah, he does.”
“I trusted his decision even though he wouldn’t take his cloak off,” Joseph said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Is something wrong with him?”
“No,” Odin said. “He… just prefers not to be seen.”
“Which is why I asked—”
“His skin,” Nova said, “it’s sensitive. He’s very pale. You can see the veins under his skin, so he tries to keep himself covered so others don’t have to see him.”
“Oh.” Joseph nodded, seemingly-pleased with this answer. “All right. It’s none of my business. I’m just trying to be helpful. You three have come a long way.”
“Yes sir,” Odin smiled. “Thank you.”
Joseph turned and walked back to his desk.
In the short lapse of silence, Nova reached up and scratched his beard, then turned and looked out the nearby window. “I wonder what it’s like out there,” he muttered.
“You haven’t been out there?”
“I only just got up, remember? The first thing I did when I got out of bed was wake you up.”
“All right,” Odin said. “Just wondering.”
“No worries,” Nova grinned. “Besides—I’ll be more than ready to tour the area once you get to feeling better.”
Later that evening, just as the sky began to darken and the people wandering the streets began to return to their homes, Miko returned, hunching his back and tilting forward his left shoulder to fit through the door.
“Hello sir,” Odin said. “I hope your day was good.”
“I’m glad to see the two of you are awake. I was getting worried.”
“Joseph said so.”
The cloaked Elf turned, scouring the room. He reached for his hood, but stopped before he could loosen the strings.
“Probably not the best idea,” Nova muttered.
“Which was why I stopped.”
“You know,” Odin started, “if you want to get out of your cloak, you could go get a room at an inn or something. I know I’d want to get out of it if I were you.”
“Odin’s right,” Nova said. “You should go get a room, get that damn thing off you. When was the last time you bathed anyway?”
“Not in a good many days,” Miko sighed. “I’m all right though. I’m concerned about the two of you more than I am about myself.”
“It’s not good to worry about someone other than yourself for too long. A man’s gotta look out for himself too.”
“I assure you, I’m fine.”
While Miko crossed the room, toward an armchair that seemed large and heavy enough to support his frame, Odin pushed himself up a little more, grimacing at the throb in his hip. He ignored it, instead pulling a blanket around his body. “Why’d it get so cold all of a sudden?” he frowned.
“The village runs off a magical heating system made up of stones that float in the sky on the four sides of the village. The mages that live here share the burden of keeping the barrier up, though that in itself requires little actual magic. The heating aspect, however… it requires much more work. You realize how much energy it takes just to heat yourself, Odin.”
“Right, sir.”
“But imagine heating a whole village for an entire day. It would kill a dozen mages to do it, let alone a handful. So, like they share the task of keeping the barrier up, they share the work of imbuing the stones to provide warmth. They don’t channel the warming magic at night because it would be too big a task.”
“That makes sense,” Odin said. Nova nodded, but didn’t seem too interested, even though he had given Miko his full attention. “It’s best to just stay inside and under the covers at night then.”
“Yes,” Miko nodded. “You’ll be fine. You have nothing to worry about. The wood is thick and the cracks are filled with plaster. Even if it does get cold in here—which, obviously, it has—the blankets alone will keep you warm.”
Nova rose from his chair and settled down onto his bed. Though he didn’t get under the covers, he grabbed the spare blanket at the foot of the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders.
“This is where I leave the two of you for the night,” Miko said, standing to his full height. “I’m going to take your suggestion and get a full night’s rest without my cloak. A bath would also do me some good.”
“All right,” Odin said.
“See you in the morning,” Nova added.
Raising a hand, Miko bade the two of them goodbye before he headed out the door.
Odin’s leg recovered quickly. His hip, however, showed slow signs of healing, and the first time he’d seen the actual scar on his leg was when Joseph stitches some two or three weeks after they were inserted. About the length of his palm from middle finger to wrist, the gash stood out on his upper thigh in the quick between his pelvic bone and upper leg, but seemed to have little bearing on his overall mobility. Joseph said that, because of his age, it would most likely heal and disappear altogether—not that it particular mattered, as Odin could care less whether or not he had scars of battle and because he’d fought nobly, but it gave him peace of mind to know that his leg wouldn’t be a particular hindrance for the rest of his life.
It’s good to fight your battles when you’re young, the doctor’s assistant had laughed, his stitching tongs and scissors carefully in hand as he’d removed the stitches. I sure wish I’d fought some of mine when I was your age.
About a month after they’d entered Neline and taken refuge within the Globe Village, he walked the streets with Nova in a slow but otherwise-natural gait. He limped a little—preferring his left, uninjured side to the leg that still felt stiff and a bit sensitive—but it didn’t slow him down much. Considering how bad off his hip was, it was a miracle he could even stand, much less move.
At least the ground is flat, he mused.
What surprised him most about the material beneath them was that it was not snow or any kind of ice. If anything, the white material felt like dirt upon a normal road or path—blessed, one could say, in appearance, and resembling something of miniature globules of rock that had hardened over time. Already the Globe Village had turned out to be a strange place. If their surroundings were not key enough, then surely they would encounter m
ore sinister opportunities along the road.
“You see the barrier?” Nova asked, speaking up for the first time since they’d disembarked.
Odin nodded. Though not clearly visible, if one stared long and hard enough, they could make out the pattern of snow and sleet sliding around the globe—embracing, it seemed, the village, but failing to do so entirely. The stones, though far in the distance and some dozens of feet in the air, were much easier to see, as upon their surface runes winked and sparkled with varying rainbows of magic.
“Yeah,” Odin said, blinking, tearing his eyes from one of the floating structures in order to look at the barrier in front of them. “I’ve seen it.”
“Kinda weird, being in a place with so much magic.”
“I guess.”
“You don’t feel strange?”
“No. Why? Do you?”
“Not really. I just feel more alert, that’s all.”
Maybe that’s how magic affects him.
Not wanting to dwell on the specifics, Odin gripped his friend’s arm and pulled himself forward a few steps. “Sorry,” he said, taking a long, deep breath. “I can’t walk as fast as you.”
“Is your hip feeling all right?”
“It’s fine.”
“We can stop whenever you want.”
“I know. You’ve said that ten times already.” Nova grinned and slid his hands into his pockets. His attention fell to a large tavern that lay on the side of the road, complete with a sign that hung over the porch that read ‘bar’ in bold red letters.
“We’re not going in there,” Odin asked. “Are we?”
“Maybe for lunch, not beer.”
I didn’t think so, he thought, nodding and smiling at his friend.
“What?” Nova laughed. “You thinkin’ about a little while ago, back when I was dog-ass drunk?”
“You were more than dog-ass drunk,” Odin chuckled. “Miko had to drag you up the stairs. I think you were more horse-ass drunk than anything.”
“Pretty much.”
The bigger man slid his arm around Odin’s neck and messed with his hair. In response, Odin pushed him away, a ball of laughter rolling through his chest. “Oh God,” he smiled, leaning against a nearby wall. “It’s good to finally be somewhere where we can just fool around and be ourselves, don’t you think?”
“Hell yeah I do.”
Nova joined him on the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them, gaze set on the buildings opposite them. “We’ll be here for a year,” the man nodded. “It seems like a nice place, don’t you think?”
“From what little I’ve seen, I’d say yes.” Odin’s attention fell to the ground. A single, white rock rested at the end of his shoe. He kicked it, sending it soaring over the road and onto the other side of the street. “At least we don’t have to worry about being cold, and it seems pretty big.”
“I had no fucking clue when he said we were staying out here for a year. I thought he meant there, outside.” The two fist jabs that followed made Nova’s point more than clear.
“He wouldn’t take us anywhere he didn’t think we could go. He already said that.”
“Maybe to you, but not me.” Nova took a deep breath and expelled it. A smile perked his lips soon after. “Anyway, let’s keep walking, if you’re up for it.”
“I am,” Odin smiled. “More than up for it, actually.”
“Sir?” Odin frowned. “Are you all right?”
Since returning to the infirmary from his excursion at the mayor’s house, the Elf hadn’t said a thing. Instead, his attention had been set on the series of windows that lined the wall near Odin’s bed.
He’s always looking out the window, he thought, frowning.
Though he’d come up with a few ideas as to why Miko looked out windows so much, he couldn’t be sure of any of them, as each and every idea that entered his head seemed clouded and off-center. One thing he questioned was the Elf’s mortality and how, because of his age, and because the world shifted to rapidly before him, he might possibly like to lock things into his mind, to instill within himself a sense of purpose that would make his life knowledgeable. Another, and the horrendously more sinister of the two, was how Miko could, possibly, be thinking about the ones he loved and just what he would do when they died. It seemed perfectly reasonable to have such thoughts with an indefinite lifespan, and for that Odin tried to relate the feeling mutually, if only so he could try and understand it himself, but he found himself unable to do so.
Just when he thought he’d made a connection, he sighed, realizing Miko’s sudden turn of his head was because of something he had seen outside and not, in fact, because of his own or Nova’s presence.
Come on, Odin thought, turning his attention to his sleeping friend. Why aren’t you awake when I need you to help me with him?
Did Nova know about the Elf’s doubts, his worries, his insecurities and his trials, or did he just not try and help because he figured he couldn’t? He knew Nova to be a caring man—a person whom, in all respects, would help another should he or she be in need of such things—but he couldn’t necessarily be sure, as he hadn’t seen him interacting with too many people. However, he’d seen such interaction to know that he wasn’t unfriendly. From his kindness to his father, to respecting Miko and being friendly with the bartender back in Elna, there seemed to be little lack of compassion within his friend’s body.
“Sir,” Odin said again, this time louder and more forcefully to press the matter beforehand.
Miko tuned his head. “I’m here,” he said.
“I just asked if you were all right. You didn’t answer me.”
“I’m sorry, Odin. I’m lost in my thoughts.”
“Do you—”
“No.”
Odin said nothing, instead drawing his blankets up to his waist and leaning against the headrest. After a moment of waiting for any further response, the Elf returned his attention to the window, eyes hidden beneath his hood but more than obvious with their intent.
I don’t think I’ll ever really know what goes on in his head.
The fact that Miko suffered so was enough to unsettle him so much that he thought for a moment he would begin to shake. Here he was—a young man, only sixteen, trying to find his way in the world whilst attempting not to fall—having to deal with a creature who was so superiorly advanced than him both physically, mentally and possibly spiritually. It seemed impossible to even try and consider such things, and to even think he could alleviate his master’s problems seemed completely out of his abilities. Such was the way in the world, Odin figured, when relating to such creatures, and so with his heart unsure and his conscience all the more tainted, he finally said, “I don’t want you to suffer.”
Miko turned his head. “Suffer?” he asked.
“Remember the night on Jerdai’s boat, when I sent Nova the message to his wife? You told me about the things Elves do when—”
“I know, Odin. There’s no need to say it.”
With a long, drawn-out sigh, Miko seated himself on the bed beside Odin and spread himself out lengthwise. He set his feet—bare, but seemingly-clean—on the footrest so he wouldn’t get the bed dirty. “You said I suffered,” the Elf said, his voice low possibly so only Odin could hear. “Why do you think that?”
“Because of what you told me back on the boat.”
“I don’t suffer, Odin—I live with those thoughts.”
“Which is suffering, isn’t it?”
Miko said nothing.
“I want you to be able to talk to me,” Odin continued. “I… I don’t like seeing you looking out the window at something I can’t see.”
“Have you stopped to consider the things that maybe I can see?”
“Yes.”
“And you still have doubts about me looking at the outside world?”
“I don’t like thinking about things I can’t see,” Odin repeated, closing his eyes and taking a
few deep breaths. “I know it sounds bad, but… I grew up not knowing a whole lot about a lot of things—me, my magic, the world outside of Felnon and what was going on around me when I was locked in the tower.”
“It’s natural to think about such things when you’ve been sheltered your whole life.” Miko draped an arm over Odin’s back. “You need to weaken the empathy you feel towards others, Odin—it will save you much pain and suffering.”
“I’m not going to stop caring just because you tell me to.”
“I never said—”
“Yes you did, sir!” he hissed. “You said I need to weaken the way I feel about others because it will save me the grief of wondering how they feel.”
“It’s sound advice—”
“For who? Someone who doesn’t care about the people around them?”
“I do care about the people around me, boy.” Miko stood and walked around the bed. Odin found himself drawing back into the corner, in the space where the headrest met the wall and the world seemed all the safer. “You’re the one who started this conversation, not me.”
“I just…” Odin sighed. Without any way to reply, he simply hung his head and tightened the blanket around his waist. “I’m sorry.”
The Elf turned, crossed the room, and left the infirmary.
Odin didn’t look up to watch his knight master leave. He was too ashamed of what he had done.
