by Kody Boye
“Yes,” Miko nodded. “That’s right.”
“But where does that leave my other year?”
“Ah.”
Expecting more, Odin stopped, waited, and gently nudged a rock out of the road. Miko set a gloved hand on his shoulder, leaned into his side, then whispered, “It’s a secret.”
“No,” Odin laughed, taking a few steps back and away from his sire. “You’re not doing this to me again.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not waiting weeks to find out where we’re headed once we leave here.”
“What’s the fun in waiting to go somewhere?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
“So,” Odin paused, drawing the word out to gain his master’s attention. “Are you going to tell me?”
“No.” The Elf chuckled and continued walking down the road, only gesturing Odin along when he stood his ground. “Come, Odin.”
“What if I don’t move until you tell me where we’re going?”
“Then you’re going to be standing there for a very long time, possibly forever—that is, if you’re capable of persisting without food or water.”
When Miko started walking again, Odin stood his ground, hoping that the Elf would give in and reveal to him their next destination. It wasn’t until the much older being turned the corner that Odin sighed, took a deep breath, and continued following his knight master, knowing the secret would eventually come despite the circumstance.
In one year, they would be leaving Neline and the Globe Village behind.
He might as well enjoy his time while they were here.
Part 7
1
“Odin!” Nova called. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Pull ups!” Odin laughed, pulling himself up onto one of the cottage’s metal bars, then swinging his legs up onto a second before he pushed himself into a sitting position atop it. “Why? What’s up?”
“Miko’s ready to leave.”
“He is?”
“Yeah, so get off there. We need to get going.”
“Okay.”
Odin looked down at the ground. After a moment of consideration, he tilted his body back, grabbed the opposite bar, then slowly slid down the one he was sitting on until he had his hands on the bar behind him. He dropped down shortly thereafter.
“How’d you get up there anyway?” Nova frowned. “It’s three, four feet higher than you are.”
“I jumped.”
“I’m not even going to ask how. Let’s go.”
Laughing, Odin slid up against Nova’s side and followed his friend into the cottage. Miko, across the room, was stooped over his pack, pushing and rearranging it as he saw fit. He only looked up as the door closed behind them. “Hello,” he said. “Are the two of you almost ready?”
“I am,” Nova said. “What about you, Odin?”
“All I need to do is pack.”
“All right,” Miko said. “Get packed, then we’ll leave.”
“These are for all of you,” a young woman whom had introduced herself as a Gate Guardian said, turning and grabbing three thick fur cloaks out of a wooden dresser before returning her attention to them. “The mayor’s asked that the three of you garb yourself in them before you leave.”
“The mayor is very kind,” Miko said, but didn’t reach out to take the cloak.
“He wants you to have them, sir. He’s asked me to keep you here until you do.”
The mayor sure is stubborn, Odin mused.
Not knowing what to do but not willing to reject the gift, Odin stepped forward and accepted one of the cloaks, drawing it over his already tightly-bundled body. Nova, too, took a one, painstakingly shoving it over his thick, fur-lined coat and pants before snapping the buttons together.
“Sir,” Odin said, looking up from his progress of securing the coat in place. “You should take one too.”
“The mayor’s asked for you too,” the young woman said, pushing the largest of the cloaks forward. “He had it custom made for your size.”
“Thank you. Please, give the mayor my regards.”
“He wants you to be as safe as possible,” the gate guardian said, crossing her arms over her chest. She turned her attention to the distant windows within the tunnel and let out a brief sigh. “As a gate guardian, I should warn you—the spring storms might be surging this time of year, especially considering how severe our winter has been.”
“You don’t think anything will go wrong,” Odin asked, “do you?”
“I highly doubt it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if something did. The mayor’s said the two of you are mages. How you crossed the land I’m not sure, but do as you did before and make sure not to wear yourselves out during your travels.”
With that said, the young woman nodded, then made her way to the gate, where she positioned herself along a group of other Gate Guardians before they began to slide locks, bars and gears out of place.
“We’ll go slow this time,” Miko said, sliding the second hood over his head just as a colossal groan began to reverberate throughout the tunnel. “I sent a message to the brothers some two weeks ago. The boat is on its way as we speak.”
The gate opened.
A storm of snow blew in.
The following days brought them to the location where they’d been attacked by the Kerma. A once-grand chain of hills, now lying in ruin, bore the children of rock and ice, jagged across the landscape and appearing as though a clod of dirt had been ground by a mighty hand. Somehow—by sight, memory or revelation—old wounds flared up along Odin’s thigh and hip, slicing unease throughout his body and forcing him to grip the hilt of his sword.
You’re there, he thought, sighing. “You really did a number on that hill,” he said, imagining the purple beam of light that his knight master had shot at the hills.
“I couldn’t believe it either,” Nova said. “You’ve really got a lot of power, Miko.”
“I was concerned about more archers. I would not recklessly destroy something so beautiful without ample reason.”
“I know. You just wanted to make sure me and Odin were safe.”
Miko nodded. Through the fur hood and the cloak, the Elf appeared to be a Kerma—a lost, dying species afraid to show its true face. While one rotted in agony, slowly-but-surely decaying away, the other suffered in beauty, one so terrible it struck more fear than awe into the eyes of his beholders.
“You think they’ll leave us alone?” Odin asked, releasing hold on the hilt of his blade.
“I don’t think there are any around these parts,” Miko said, pointing to the toppled remnants. “Unless they’ve somehow carved shelters through the ice, which I highly doubt they have, they’ve moved on.”
“We can take `em,” Nova nodded. “We’ve already proved that.”
“Let’s keep going. I don’t like being at a standstill.”
Neither do I, Odin thought, sliding up against his knight master.
Last year’s attack had been his first real test of power, and while he hadn’t escaped unharmed, he’d survived, a testament not only to his strength and prowess with his magic and might, but the luck he’d been blessed with. Something with as much magical power as that Kerma could’ve easily killed him, but somehow, someway, he’d managed to fend off the onslaught of blades and kill the chieftain.
In the distance, a blue cloud skirted across the horizon, trailing the far eastern sky. With it came lightning in shades of electric blue and hot pink, forewarning of a violent storm that would soon be headed their way.
“How long do you think until it gets to us?” Nova asked.
“Not too long,” Miko said. “Come, let’s keep moving. We want to cover as much ground as possible before we stop for the night.”
Outside, the world exploded in sound. The wind howled and the snow pounded against the exterior of the shelter, shaking even Miko—whom, while normally grounded, trembled in spite of the fact that
they were safely within their frozen dome. Even his hands—which, for the past year, had showed little unease—shook, his knuckles popping and his fingers flourishing to the beat of the earthly sound.
“Sir,” Odin said, raising his voice for the first time since they’d stopped for the night. “Are we going to be all right?”
“Don’t worry,” Miko said. “We will.”
Though the Elf smiled, Odin knew it was forced—an artificial replacement to a natural reaction.
Even he’s scared.
From the way the Elf had just expressed himself, Odin couldn’t help but wonder whether or not his knight master had said they would be all right just to put him and Nova at ease. It wouldn’t be completely outside his behavior, as he’d done it before, but that didn’t necessarily mean he’d lied, did it?
Did he?
“Could the Kerma get in here if they wanted to?” Odin decided to ask.
“No,” Miko said. “The Kerma may be bold, but they aren’t stupid. They wouldn’t dare wander in a storm like this.”
After lying down and scooting back against Nova, Odin pushed an arm up and set his hand against it, watching the purple-pink flames dance and lick at the domed ceiling. Their vain attempts cast Miko’s barely-visible face in dull light.
“Is the flame duller because you’re tired?” Odin asked.
“Pardon?”
“The fire’s not as bright as it usually is.”
“Yes, I suppose it is,” Miko said, then frowned, watching the curious flames. “I am tired.”
“I can keep the fire going if you want. It doesn’t take that much energy.”
“I know, Odin, and thank you. I appreciate your offer, but I’ll be fine.”
“Besides,” Nova mumbled, setting his head just above Odin’s on his own outstretched arm. “Wouldn’t the energy just lessen after you fell asleep?”
“Yes. It would.”
“All right,” Odin sighed. “I was just offering. I don’t want you wearing yourself out.”
“Don’t worry,” the Elf said, spreading out along the length of the shelter’s floor. “Besides—traveling this way hardly wears me out at all.”
That’s good, Odin thought, closing his eyes, because I’m ready for all this to be over.
He got his wish three days later.
Rising up from the frigid depths of the sea, much like a lost icon to the world whom had been resurrected by the arts of magic, the boat drifted to shore like a wanderer in the night, three large anchors keeping it in place and a series of sails slowly tilting to accommodate the slight wind that tore from the north. Amidst the few men tending the anchors, wiping down the deck and navigating the boat with the sails, a twin series of lights lit up the pale, gray sky—one green, one orange.
Icklard! Odin thought. Domnin!
“We’re back,” Odin smiled, looking up at Nova and Miko.
“We sure are,” Nova laughed, thrusting a hand into the air. “Hey!”
“Hey!” Odin called, laughing and running forward, but careful to keep his distance from the shoreline. “Hey!”
As he neared the boat, the twin lights stopped moving, as if taking notice of the figures making their way toward the boat. The brothers appeared at the side of the boat a moment later. “Hey!” they both called, raising their hands in greeting.
“Call the captain!” Domnin yelled, breaking the chorus of his and his brother’s cheers. “Tell him they’re back!”
“So,” Icklard said, leaning back in his seat. “How was the trip?”
“Cold and miserable,” Odin sighed, nodding when Domnin offered a cup of tea. “I’m just glad it’s over.”
“How long were you out there?” Domnin frowned.
“I… I’m not sure.”
“Your cheeks are windburnt.”
Somehow, by miracle or chance, he resisted the urge to feel his cheeks and instead lifted his cup of tea. Honey tickled the inside of his mouth and the bottom of his tongue as he set it to his lips. “Thank you for the tea,” he said.
Domnin smiled and reached up to scratch a messy tuft of unshaven beard at his chin. “It’s no trouble,” the darker-haired brother said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like honey or not. Icklard said he doesn’t.”
“I never said that,” Icklard smiled. “I just said it was too sweet.”
“And this is coming from someone who eats the most chocolate whenever it’s made.”
Icklard chuckled, raising his middle finger just slightly. Odin smiled and sipped his tea. “So,” he began, “anything new between the two of you?”
“Not really,” Domnin shrugged.
“We went back home for a month or so,” Icklard said, kicking his feet up onto the table.
“How was that?” Odin asked.
“I got to see my girl,” Icklard said.
“And I,” Domnin started, but stopped a short moment after. “Well… I didn’t do much of anything. I mostly just hung around the dock and helped Jerdai.”
“At least the two of you got off the water for a little while,” Odin said, taking another sip of his tea. “I’m surprised you don’t get sick of the sea.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Icklard laughed. “We do.”
“You can count on that,” Domnin added.
As the last of his tea disappeared between his pursed lips, Odin set the small cup down and brought his feet onto the couch. He waited for either of the brothers to say something before he spread out across it.
“Tired?” the younger brother asked.
“A little.”
“You can sleep in here,” Domnin smiled. “We don’t care. Do we, Icklard?”
“Nope.”
“I just don’t want to bother you.”
“You’re not bothering us, Odin,” Icklard said, sliding his feet off the table. He reached over and set a hand on Odin’s shoulder. “We’re your friends.”
“All right,” Odin smiled. “Thank you.”
“We’ll wake you if your master or your friend comes looking,” Domnin said.
With one final nod, Odin closed his eyes.
Darkness swallowed him.
“There you are,” Nova chuckled.
Odin jumped, nearly slamming the door in the process. “Sorry,” he muttered, closing the door as quietly as he could. “I fell asleep.”
“Hey, I don’t mind. I was just wondering where you got to.”
Odin turned to see Nova spread out along one of the far beds directly beneath the window. Seemingly-freshly-washed, the man’s skin gleamed in the faint light piercing through the window. “You look different with lighter skin,” he smiled, crossing the room to sit on the opposite bed.
“I know,” Nova said, pushing his back against the headrest. “It’ll be good to get back to the mainland.”
“It will,” Odin nodded.
Glancing around the room, he took everything in—from the small, rounded dining table to the bathing room tucked in the corner. It hadn’t changed a whole lot, though something about it seemed different.
“Does it seem different to you?” Odin asked.
“What?” Nova frowned.
“The room. Does it seem different?”
“Not really. Why?”
“Something seems off.”
“Probably because we haven’t been here for a while. Don’t worry—we’ll get used to it.”
Yeah, but for how long?
While he liked the idea of going to a new and possibly-wonderful place, the fact that Miko preferred to keep the location secret bothered him. Did their next destination involve a rough, unstable climate like Neline, or were there dangers untold present? Was that why Miko hadn’t revealed their destination before? To ensure that they would have to go, regardless of any uproar it might have caused?
He wanted to make sure we would go to Neline.
If Miko had told them outright that they’d be going to Neline, Odin doubted he would’ve agreed to go, much less Nova. The man had thrown a big e
nough fit when they’d arrived—what would he have done if he’d known in advance?
“Nova,” Odin said, looking up. “Where do you think we’re going?”
“I don’t know,” the man shrugged. “Why?”
“Because I was just thinking about how Miko hadn’t told us we were going to Neline.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think he kept it a secret because he was afraid we’d fight him. I know I wouldn’t have been eager to go had I known what Neline was like.”
“You think he’s got another place like Neline in mind?”
“I don’t think so,” Odin said. “I—”
He stopped speaking when the door opened.
“Hello,” Miko said, looking between the two of them. “I was starting to worry, Odin.”
“I was with Icklard and Domnin, sir.”
“No need to worry about Odin,” Nova said, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “He won’t wander off on us.”
“I’d hope so,” Miko said. “We’re leaving now. A storm’s coming in.”
“A storm?” Odin frowned.
“Yes,” the Elf sighed. “It would be best if you stayed with us, Odin. I have a feeling it’s going to be a rough night.”
He’d never been more scared in his life.
Outside, waves higher and larger than the boat itself surged, casting the Annabellele to and fro as if it were a demon. It could be said that Death had begun the motion of execution, as from the sky fell water that resembled coagulated drops of blood. They snaked along the windows and thundered down from the heavens as giant creatures of searing heat lit the sky, roaring infernos that cracked the air like whips against a horse’s hide. The air itself was quite terrifying, and completely unforgiving in all respects. Below, however, was even more frightening. The violent beauty of the sea seemed to rebel against the common fisherman as with its waves came the scratching of nails against wood, of silent banshees who could not scream over thunder and a tremor that rocked the entirety of existence.
