by Kody Boye
“You can’t blame yourself, Odin. All you did was ask if he was all right.”
“I made it sound like he didn’t care about either of us.”
Odin looked up to face his friend. Though Nova didn’t seem particularly troubled, he looked hurt, if anything.
“I… I don’t know what to tell you then,” the older man sighed. “From the way you explained everything to me, it sounds like you asked something and he got offended when you questioned his answer.”
“He told me to question him.”
“But did he to question what he told you?”
Odin said nothing.
“See my point?” Nova continued. “He got upset when you questioned what he thought was sound advice. Knowing him though, I don’t think it was just your question that made him react that way. Something’s bothering him.”
“That’s why I tried to ask.” Odin set his hands on his knees and stared at his feet. “Just look at all the good that did though.”
“You tried, that’s all that matters. If anything, he’s probably feeling guilty about what he said to you.”
“He just left though.”
“Right… after he got mad at you.”
Sighing, Odin stood, grimacing when his hip began to throb as though he’d just walked a thousand leagues and back. He said nothing, but he did reach down and set a hand over the area, if only to try and console himself of the pain that currently spiraled down his side.
“We just got to face the fact that we’ll never understand him,” Nova said, rising from his place on the bench just outside the infirmary. “He’s too old and too complex for anyone to understand him, I think. You could probably talk to him until the day you die and only know a little about him.”
“You know what, Nova? You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” Odin kicked a stone harder than he should have. It went flying into the building opposite them, leaving a small, if still-noticeable chip in the wood. “Great. Look what I did.”
“He’s right about one thing though, buddy—you do need to quit beating yourself up about everything, or thinking that something you did is going to hurt someone else.”
“I guess I’m just that kind of person.”
“And you probably always will be. But hey, look at it this way—not everyone has a heart of gold.”
Odin looked over at his friend. Nova smiled, reached back to scratch his neck, then slid that same hand onto Odin’s shoulders. “Do you really think that?” Odin asked.
“I do.”
“Thank you. It means a lot.”
As he had for the past few nights, Miko returned to the infirmary incredibly late, past the time in which the sun had fallen across the horizon and the world lay shadowed in pale grey. Nova, who had been diligently sitting up with Odin per his request, had since fallen asleep in the armchair and now lay with his head tilted to the side of the room, mouth agape and snores echoing forth from his lips. It had been intended for the man to be his companion—to, for lack of better terminology, keep him from sounding or perceiving the situation to be awkward upon the Elf’s return. However, with that plan shot out of the water, Odin could do little than stare at the creature whom had taken him in despite the outrage and the cruel torment he’d been put through.
“Hi,” Odin said when he felt the room too quiet, raising a hand in friendly greeting.
With the hood over his face, Odin had no way to tell what his master might be feeling. The Elf’s facial structures had become second knowledge after such a long time of being together, and while different from other humans, emotions were universal—true, even, for creatures who bore sentient intelligence and who could express themselves with things other than words.
“Hello,” Miko said, but made no move to continue the conversation as he closed the door behind him.
“I’m sorry if I upset you last night, sir. It… wasn’t my intention.”
“And I’m sorry I scolded you for questioning my intentions.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Miko moved to the table that sat near Odin’s bed. There, he set a foot on the wooden chair, tested its strength by applying pressure, then settled down in it. “There’s nothing to talk about,” the Elf sighed, turning his head up to face him. “Nothing you wouldn’t understand, anyhow.”
“I can try,” Odin replied, “like I did on the boat.”
“You may try, but you’ll never know the things I feel. I pray to the Gods you never feel as I do, Odin. This… this thing… it’s like someone’s tying the organs that let you breathe together and slowly making you drown in your own blood.”
“Were you thinking about me and Nova last night, sir?”
“No,” Miko sighed. “I wasn’t.”
“What was it then?”
“Do you want me to tell you, my friend?”
“If… you’re comfortable.”
Yes! he thought, hoping the pure joy of the thought wouldn’t somehow be communicated through his facial expressions.
“If you must know the full and honest truth,” the Elf said, “I’m going through a particularly difficult mating cycle.”
“Mating cycle?” Odin frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You understand how animals feel the need to mate with one another in order to sustain their species, right?”
“Yes sir. I do.”
“Like an animal, I experience these urges, though they are much more complex than what, say, two rabbits feel. Their instinct is natural, as is mine, but theirs lacks sentient thought.”
Odin nodded. Even if he knew what it was like to be with another person in such a manner, he still didn’t think he would know what to say. In that regard, he was ignorant, but he could understand it to a degree. “You’re feeling trapped then,” he said.
“Trapped would be a good way to describe it, yes. A simpler way to relate it to you is to compare what I feel to the desire of greatly wanting something. I know you’ve experienced want in your life, Odin. You know how it feels when you want, or at least believe you want something more than anything. Imagine that, but multiply it as though your life depended on it—as though, at any moment, your entire existence could come down to one single moment.”
That sort of the feeling was the reason Odin dreaded ever getting excited about anything. The sheer disappointment one felt when that something didn’t happen could kill happiness—self-esteem, even, and make a person feel less than themselves. To greatly want something and then be denied of it was a horrible tragedy, as the feelings within one’s heart for such a thing was often so great that perfect moments were envisioned only to be torn down moments later.
“I’m sorry,” Odin said, and couldn’t help but sigh. “I wish I could help take that feeling away.”
“It will pass, eventually. My only concern is if the feeling gets out of control.”
“Do you really think it’d get to the point where you’d want to rape a woman?”
“It easily could, which is why I’ve been visiting the mayor. That in itself posses a problem, however.”
“Why?”
“The mayor has a daughter.”
Odin swallowed a lump in his throat. Ok, he thought. This isn’t going to end well.
“My will is strong enough to keep me from committing such a lecherous act,” Miko continued, as if sensing Odin’s unease, “so you need not fear that. As I’ve said, though—even may own personal strength can sometimes falter.”
“Why risk visiting the mayor when his daughter is there?”
“To relieve the two of you the burden of my mood.”
This time, Odin caught the flash of teeth beneath the Elf’s hood.
“I’m glad you told me about this,” Odin said, rising from his place in bed. “This is why I want you to talk to me. It feels better if you get your feelings off your chest, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” Miko sighed. “It does.”
“Ah,” Nova said, voice filled with understanding. “
That makes sense.”
“It does, in a weird sort of way,” Odin smiled. “I’m just glad he told me.”
“I’m guessing he hasn’t invited us to come see the mayor because your hip’s bummed up.”
“I can walk, you know?”
“Yeah, but he probably doesn’t know that. He’s seen you go… what? Two, three steps away from your bed?”
“I guess.”
“Then again, he could just be up there because of that woman.”
“Yeah, but if you want to fuck, you want to fuck. Trust me—I know how that feels.”
“You haven’t said anything though.”
“Well, yeah, bud—it’s because I’m married. And because I take care of myself.” Nova grinned. Odin merely shrugged. “What?” the man asked, baffled, as though he’d just received a response that could not be taken literally. “Don’t tell me you don’t—”
“Oh, I do,” Odin smiled. “But I don’t know anything about being with a woman, so it’s not like I have much to go on about.”
“Anyway,” Nova laughed, “you probably don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Not really,” Odin chuckled. “I’m just glad Miko opened up. I try to tell you guys about how I’m feeling.”
“And you know I’m more than willing to listen.”
“Same with me.”
They stopped. Now near the side of the globe, Odin stepped forward, a desperate desire to touch its surface suddenly instilled within his mind though not sure if he should.
“What’re you doing?” Nova asked.
“Just looking at the globe,” he said. “It’s kinda neat, isn’t it?”
“If a bunch of you magic guys can keep something like this running, hell yeah it’s neat.”
Nova stepped up beside Odin. Unlike Odin’s intensions, however, Nova did reach out and touch the globe. Ripples immediately extended from the surface like water would if a stone were cast into it and echoed across its expanse all the way until they disappeared to the limits of the ground and the heights of the sky.
“I wouldn’t try to push your hand through it,” Odin muttered, tempted to reach forward and pull his friend’s fingers away. “You might get it stuck out there.”
“Touching seems wrong enough,” Nova nodded. He pulled his hand back, examined it, then wiped it on the leg of his pants. “It’s like… I don’t know… trying to touch something you’re not supposed to.”
“We were never told not to touch it.”
“Yeah, but you get my point. It’s the act of touching something you’re not sure you’re supposed to that makes it feel wrong.”
“You’re right about that.”
Odin knew the feeling more than well. The sword that graced his belt was proof enough of that sentiment.
“You ready to walk back to the infirmary?” Nova asked. “I’m starting to get a little worn out from all this walking.”
“Yeah,” Odin said. “I’m ready.”
The two turned and started back down the road.
“Sir,” Odin said, surprised by his knight master’s sudden arrival. “What are you doing back so soon?”
“The mayor has errands,” Miko said. “Hello, Joseph.”
“Hello,” the man said, looking up from his desk to smile at the three of them. “I haven’t seen you for a while.”
“I’ve been visiting with the mayor.” Miko closed the door behind him. “I’d like to thank you for the attention you’ve paid to my squire and friend. It means a lot knowing I have someone like you watching out for them.”
“It’s all in a day’s work,” Joseph smiled. “I like helping people and bringing them back to health. I wouldn’t be a nurse otherwise.”
“You’ll be a very fine doctor.”
With that short introduction out of the way, Miko stepped up to the table. Odin lay on the bed, content with his place in the room and the happenings around him, while Nova sat on the couch beneath the windows, hands behind his head and his feet on the opposite armrest.
“I’ve told Master Hakua about the two of you,” the Elf said.
“Why’d you do that?” Nova asked, turning his head to look at their cloaked friend.
“He was interested in who I was traveling with. He wants to meet the both of you.”
I wonder why, Odin thought.
Maybe Miko’s urge was starting to get the best of him. He could see no other reason for the mayor’s sudden interest in the Elf’s companions.
“Right.” Nova rolled onto his side, attention set on the Elf. “What’s the mayor like?”
“Very old and wise.”
“I take it he lives in that big mansion up on that hill in the north then?”
“Right. It takes a while to walk there, but it shouldn’t be any trouble.” Miko turned his eyes on Odin. “You’re able to walk?”
“I’ve got a little limp, but I’m ok.”
“It’ll go away,” Joseph said, then waited to see if he had interrupted their conversation before continuing. “You limp because the bone is bruised.”
“So that’s why my side is still purple,” he mumbled.
“Yes,” Joseph nodded. “If the three of you don’t want to walk, a friend of mine can take you in his carriage. He’s got a trio of fine stallions that would be able to pull the three of you.”
“That sounds nice,” Miko said. “If you will, arrange for him to come around when the sun comes up. The mayor’s invited us for morning tea.”
“All right,” Joseph said, heading for the door. “I’ll go now—unless, of course, you need something?”
After they shook their heads, the doctor’s assistant walked out the door to leave them to thoughts of tomorrow morning and the tea that would likely come with it.
A whole other side of the village greeted them the following dawn. Drawn in red wood, structured by ornately-carved columns, tipped with roofs slated and decorated with black stripes likely used to draw heat into the homes from the ever-lingering sun—housing the size of barns and with multiple living compartments bordered both sides of the roads, creating a caricature of the people that lived within the Globe Village. Amidst the bustle of early risers and horse-drawn carts, children yelled and screamed, dogs yipped and barked, men in finely-woven robes wandered the streets and women carrying upon their shoulders linens and fruits walked the sides of the roads, tending to those who’d fallen or the elderly rising from a long night’s rest to greet the day. It looked to be nothing other than the ordinary, this place beneath a magical snow globe, and it felt nothing other than homey and inviting despite the circumstance the village existed in.
“This is where the older generations live,” Miko explained, drawing both Odin and Nova’s eyes away from the outside world as they passed what appeared to be a playing field. “They were built to help withstand the cold before the mages imbued the floating rocks with heated energy.”
“Just after the land was cursed,” Odin nodded. He turned to look back out at the area, watching the inhabitants play, work or stumble about without abandon. “How long has the village been here, sir?”
“A good while. I can’t say for sure because this part of the world has never particularly interested me, but I assume it’s been here for as long as Ornala has stood, if not longer.”
“So at least a thousand years or so,” Nova said.
Miko nodded.
“Sir,” Odin said, suddenly entranced by an idea. “How has the village survived for so long? I mean, it’s not like every family manages to have a son or daughter with the gift.”
“You’re absolutely right, Odin. But as to your question, I’m not exactly sure how the village has managed to withstand the test of time. Like you’ve said: the gift is rare enough within large populations of people. How is it a small village can have so many people with magic?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ve always seen it as a thing of luck, really. But, there have been cases when older mages have sacrificed
their lives to keep the stones going for a much longer time. That’s only happened a few times, but only in the most desperate of situations. Suicide offerings, however, are not uncommon.”
Odin turned to look back out at the city. Above, on the large hill that lingered over the village, stood the mayor’s mansion, covering the surface from one side to the other in a grand, luxurious suite. The sight of the building alone made him think of how old the mayor could possibly be and just how many mages he had to have possibly employed in order to keep his people alive. It had to be more than a few dozen, because just a mere handful of men couldn’t produce the amount of energy it took to produce the globe, much less heat the village.
Unless there’s something other than men here.
Although he trusted the Elf and Nova more than anyone else in the world, of course they were going to hold secrets, possibly ones that could reveal the world and more unto his consciousness. Miko seemed to be the master of such things, as it usually took brute, mental force to get him to say anything, and for that Odin had to wonder if there was more to the Globe than was being let on.
He’s not going to get us into anything that’s going to hurt us.
Then again, the Elf had been the one to take them here, where along the way they’d run into both sirens and Kerma.
