by Kody Boye
A month after they’d stepped upon 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 sensitive—but it didn’t slow him down. Considering how bad 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. Already the Globe Village had turned out to be a strange place. If their surroundings were not key enough, then surely they would encounter more wondrous 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. The stones, though far in the distance and some dozens of feet in the air, were much easier to see, as upon their surfaces runes winked and sparkled with varying rainbows of magic.
“Yeah,” Odin said, blinking, tearing his eyes from one of the floating structures 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. One thing he questioned was the Elf’s mortality and how, because of his age, and because the world shifted so 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 to the feeling, but 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 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 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 enough 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 no lack of compassion within his friend’s body.
“Sir,” Odin said again, this time louder and more forcefully.
Miko turned 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. 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 far more 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, like the ant is with the human just before its foot comes down, and so with his heart unsure and his conscience 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.”
“Whic
h 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 safer. “You’re the one who started this conversation, not me.”
“I just…” Odin sighed. Without any 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.
“You can’t blame yourself, Odin,” Nova said. “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.
“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 tell you 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.
“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 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 the sun had fallen across the horizon and the world lay shadowed in pale gray. 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, mouth agape and snores echoing from his lips. It had been intended for the man to be his companion—to keep him from sounding or perceiving the situation awkward upon the Elf’s return. 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 cruel torment he’d been put through.
“Hi,” Odin said when he felt the room too quiet, raising a hand in 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.
“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 would 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—morals, decision making, consequence.”
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 them
selves. To greatly want something and then be denied of it was a horrible tragedy, as the feelings within one’s heart for such a crime were 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. Okay, 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 my 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.”
“You don’t think he’d… do anything, do you?”
