by Kody Boye
Shit, he thought, hopping back only to stumble. So he’s not as bad as he looks.
“Didn’t expect that, did you?” the boy chuckled, spinning the staff over his head. He jabbed the bulbous end at Odin and laughed when he jumped back to avoid it.
“No,” Odin laughed. “I didn’t.”
He continued to block and dodge Parfour’s attacks, more than convinced he would not win a fight like this. With each step he took it seemed his body would sink—first slowly, then more quickly as his legs gained weight on looser, less-compact sections of sand. Occasionally, when Parfour struck outward, Odin would return a strike of his own, but any time he did the younger boy would deflect it, using his momentum in order to retaliate. The staff came so close to his head and feet so many times he thought he would surely lose, felled by a clunk to the head or a trip of the feet.
Parfour spun his staff.
Odin blocked the hit, but didn’t expect the opposing end to flip back around and knock his weapon aside.
The tip of his staff flew up, over his shoulder, and struck the sand at his ankles. He was forced to drop the weapon when Parfour swung his weapon around his body and then in front of him with one hand.
Odin ducked.
Parfour’s staff passed inches over his head.
Damn, he thought, panting, grabbing his weapon and trying desperately not to lose his footing. He lunged, throwing both his head forward and his staff at the boy’s ankles, but was once again deflected with a simple downward thrust.
“You keep going for my feet,” the boy said, retaliating with another one-handed swing of his own. “You’re not going to beat me that way.”
“I’ve always been told to go for the feet,” Odin gasped, sweat trickling down and over his forehead.
“That doesn’t work when you’re fighting a Tentalin Monk.”
Odin smirked.
Parfour faked a lunge, then spun and swung his weapon in a complete circle. Odin brought his staff up just in time to catch Parfour’s weapon between the two bulbous orbs at the center of his staff.
Could’ve broken my fingers there.
“Your hands aren’t supposed to be that close together,” Parfour scolded, flicking the bottom of his staff up, then the top of it down, consecutively knocking the tip of Odin’s weapon into the air and then onto the sand. “You’ll break your fingers.”
“I know,” Odin chuckled.
He kicked a leg out, spraying sand at Parfour’s feet.
On instinct, the boy threw an arm over his eyes.
Odin lunged, then lashed out at the boy’s feet.
Wood met flesh.
Parfour lost momentum and fell on his back—startled, but otherwise unhurt.
“Damn,” Odin gasped, letting his staff fall from his grip. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No,” the boy breathed, accepting the hand Odin offered. He waited to be pulled up before he brushed sand and spittle off his face.
“I didn’t think you would be that good.”
“Neither did I,” Parfour smiled. “Well… I mean, I didn’t think you would be that good with a staff. I figured you knew how to use a sword, but I wasn’t sure if you’d been trained with other weapons.”
“Most of the pages at Ornala are trained with wooden swords,” Odin said, seating himself on the solid edge of the arena. “If they train with staves I wouldn’t know.”
“You wouldn’t?”
Odin shook his head. “Long story short,” he said, “I ended up being accused of something I had no intention of doing and was locked in a tower because of it.”
“I’m sorry,” Parfour frowned. “At least you’re not in there anymore, right?”
“I owe my freedom to my knight master. The man in the black cloak.”
“He scares me a little,” the boy confessed, running a hand through his short, sandy-blonde hair. “His voice makes my chest shake.”
“It did the same thing to me when I first met him.”
“Is it true, what Master Beal and the other monks are saying? That he’s not human?”
“That’s not something I can answer without being disrespectful,” Odin sighed, looking up at the boy. “You understand, right?”
“I do.”
“It’s not like I don’t want to tell you, Parfour. It’s just that I can’t.”
“Don’t worry. I understand.” The boy stood, arched his back, and scratched the curve of his spine, casting a glance over his shoulder at Odin when he didn’t immediately rise. “Are you coming?” he asked.
“Where are we going?” Odin frowned, pushing himself to his feet.
“The beach,” Parfour smiled. “We can go swimming or something.”
“The water’s too cold to swim,” Parfour sighed, rising and shaking the liquid off his hand. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Odin said, setting a hand on the boy’s back. “Don’t worry. I’m not disappointed.”
“That’s good. I was kinda looking forward to it.”
“There’ll always be tomorrow,” Odin smiled, patting Parfour’s back. “Right?”
“I guess.”
Parfour looked up, eyes trailing to the woodline. The same groups of monks Odin had seen yesterday paced the length of the beach, waving their hands at the woods. This time, however, he noticed something new—a low, harmonious hum, like some kind of metal was being hit by another to produce a sound akin to a gong or a bell going off in a town square.
“What’re they doing?” Odin asked, as the sound filled and vibrated within his ears.
“Warding the Ogres away,” Parfour shrugged.
“Warding them? What do you mean?”
“The monks use something called Dangil Orbs to keep the Ogres away. They’re not exactly magic, but from the way it was explained to me, the sounds the orbs make keep certain kinds of animals and lesser sentient creatures away.”
“Do they really work?”
“I doubt it,” Parfour chuckled. “I mean, the Ogres aren’t stupid. They probably just think we’re a bunch of dumb humans making music or something.”
“Probably,” Odin smiled.
“We better go, though,” the boy said, taking hold of Odin’s wrist. “If they catch us out here, we could get in trouble.”
“All right,” Odin said, looking up at the monks. “Let’s go then.”
The two of them continued on their path toward the monastery, but not without looking at the Tentalin Monks and their strange warding ritual one last time.
“You’re back,” Miko said.
“About time,” Nova chuckled, sitting up and arching his back. “We were starting to worry.”
“Sorry,” Odin frowned. “I was with Parfour.”
“You were?” Miko asked.
“Yeah. You should’ve seen him, guys. It was amazing.”
“What was?”
“I…” Odin paused, glancing at Nova out of the corner of his eye. “I know I shouldn’t have, sir, but I asked Parfour to duel me. I’m sorry for breaking the rules.”
“Parfour agreed to this?”
“Yes sir. I asked if he would, and he didn’t want to at first, but he finally did.”
“It’s fine,” the Elf said, lacing his long fingers together. “What was amazing about the duel, Odin?”
“He nearly beat me,” he said, leaning against the wall. “I don’t think I would’ve won if I hadn’t made that running lunge at him.”
“The monks are quite good with their staves,” Miko agreed. “I assume you weren’t dueling all that time?”
“No. We were going to go swimming, but we had to sneak back because the monks were walking along the beach.”
“Warding the Ogres off,” Nova grumbled, rolling his eyes. “That’s about the biggest crock of shit I’ve ever heard.”
“Nova,” Miko sighed, shaking his head. “I agree that it’s not the best course of action, but that doesn’t mean you should mock their ways.”
“Are you kidding me
, Miko? They think the Ogres are going to run off just because they’re waving a bunch of metal—”
“Parfour doesn’t think they work either,” Odin said, pushing himself away from the wall and taking a few steps forward. “Sir… can I ask something?”
“You know you can, Odin.”
“He doesn’t belong here.”
“Who? The boy?”
“He’s too good a fighter to stay here. He should be at the castle, training to be in the army.”
“What are you suggesting?” Miko frowned. “That I ask the monks to allow us to take him with us when we leave?”
“He’ll be fifteen then,” Odin said. “He doesn’t like it here. I don’t know what they do or say to them, but whatever it was has completely changed his personality. He doesn’t act like someone his age should. He acts like—”
“You?”
Odin blinked. Nova had been the one to speak, not Miko. “What?” he asked, looking over at his fire-haired friend.
“He acts like you,” Nova repeated, throwing his legs over the stone bed. “Haven’t you noticed that? He hardly talks, doesn’t like to look people straight in the eye, and he’s worried that he might disappoint someone.”
“I’m not like that,” Odin sighed, looking down at his feet. “At least, I don’t try to be.”
“You do have a reserved personality,” Miko agreed. “But that’s not a bad thing.”
“But he isn’t like me, sir—he’s worse. He won’t even look me, a squire, in the eye.”
“He’s probably just shy,” Nova shrugged.
“He’s not shy, Nova. I don’t know what he is, but he’s not shy.”
“If you’re that worried,” Miko said, turning his dark eyes on Odin, “I’ll speak to Beal.”
“You will, sir?”
“I will,” the Elf nodded, “but only because you believe something is wrong, Odin. I don’t doubt your ability to judge a person’s behavior, but I do want to say this: don’t think that just because a person seems shy and a little reserved means they hate the situation they’re in.”
“I know, sir.”
“If anything, I’ll request Parfour come along as my apprentice. This island is no place for a boy. It’s too… too clouded in the midst of things.”
“Sir?” Odin frowned. “Are you—”
“Nothing’s wrong, Odin.” Miko smiled. “By the way—I want to let the both of you know that we’ll be leaving for the forest tomorrow.”
“We will?” Nova grunted.
“We will.” Miko stood. “I hope you don’t mind a little walking.”
“How come?” Odin asked.
“Because we’re going to be doing a lot of it.”
2
Don’t be afraid, Parfour whispered. There’s nothing in that forest that will hurt you.
Odin swallowed a lump in his throat.
Right now, he wasn’t so sure he believed that.
Around them, the stillness of the forest threatened to swallow him whole. Not even the wind, which occasionally shifted the trees and the needles at their feet, assured him that everything would be fine, as upon its wings existed nothing more than the faint smell of pine, wood, and the occasional breath of ocean water.
To Odin’s right, Nova grunted, unbuttoning his jerkin with one violent thrash, while to his left Miko remained silent and stoic, examining the area around them with hidden eyes. Odin, meanwhile, felt too indifferent to believe he could understand the fear he felt.
“You all right kid?” Nova breathed, running a hand through his hair.
“I’m fine,” Odin said. “Are you?”
“Just hot, that’s all.”
“I’m afraid to say that it won’t be getting any better,” Miko said, gesturing them along. “It’ll only get hotter as we go further in.”
“The trees lock the air in place,” Odin nodded, glancing up at the sweeping arms of the pine trees above. “Are the nights just as bad?”
“They’re better in the forest than they are on the beach. At least the dirt doesn’t trap the heat like the sand does.”
“I was about ready to die when we went to bed last night,” Nova said. He undid the final buttons that held his leather breastpiece together before ripping his jerkin open all the way. “Sorry—it’s too damn hot for me.”
“It’s fine.” Miko set a hand on Nova’s arm. “Would you like a rag or something?”
“No, but thanks.”
Odin turned and jumped over a log, just narrowly avoiding a creeping tree root in the process.
“Gotta be careful,” Nova laughed, brushing off his somber mood. “You’ll trip and fall on your face here.”
Odin nodded. The rock formation no more than a foot away needed no explanation.
“I’m not saying you can’t liven our adventure,” Miko continued, “but please, be careful—you don’t want to fall on something, or worse: step on a snake.”
“There are snakes here?” Odin frowned.
“What forests don’t have snake?” Nova laughed.
“I don’t know. I was just thinking that because this was an island so far away from the coast that there wouldn’t be any here.”
“They migrated with many other creatures eons ago,” Miko said, sliding up alongside Odin. “Like I said, be careful.”
“I will, sir.”
Nodding, Miko continued forward, stepping over protruding tree roots and around thick rocks. Occasionally, he would stop, point at something, and move it aside with his magic. It soon became apparent why he did this when an army of ants about the size of Odin’s thumb rushed from a hole in the ground. “The insects are bad too.”
“We can see that,” Nova grimaced, watching the thumb-sized creatures with wary eyes. “They’ll leave us alone, right?”
“Step over, not on them, and we should be fine.”
Odin and Nova glanced at each other. Odin took a moment to consider what his knight master had said, then stepped over the ants after Miko. They turned to find them disappearing into the trees.
“Guess we weren’t expecting much when we came here,” Nova mumbled. “Huh, kid?”
“I wasn’t sure what to expect,” Odin said, turning his eyes on Miko. “Will we have to worry about a lot of ants?”
“As long as I turn over whatever rocks we might knock over, we should be fine.”
“All right,” Nova said, wiping sweat from his forehead. “You ready, kid?”
“Yeah,” Odin smiled. “I am.”
Turning his head, Odin took one last look at what remained of the beach in the distance and continued along after Nova and his knight master.
He hoped Parfour could survive another year in that hellish monastery.
That night, after the sun fell, Odin, Nova and Miko huddled around a campfire, the only light in their seemingly-eternal darkness. Miko, hood down and normally-dark eyes brighter than usual, stirred soup in a pot, stopping every few moments to look at them. “Are you two all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” Odin said, drawing the folds of his bedroll around his shoulders. “Nova?”
“I’m all right,” the man shrugged. “It’s just fucking cold, that’s all.”
“You buttoned your shirt back up.”
“Yeah, but like I said: fucking cold.”
“At least it’s not hot anymore.”
“Speak for yourself, kid. I don’t have any long-sleeved shirts.”
“I’ll make you one once we settle into our location,” Miko said, letting the wooden ladle rest in its pot.
“Where are we stopping?” Odin frowned.
“Our location is not set. We’ll have to find it.”
“Find it?”
“Find what?” Nova asked.
“The Ogres,” Miko said.
Neither of them said a word. Nova’s face scrunched into confusion, while Odin—whose heart had been calm—panicked. Eyes wide and breath quickening, he looked up at his knight master, stricken with panic so harsh
he felt his heart hammering in his chest. “Suh-sir?” he gasped, reaching up to part his jerkin. “The-The Uh-Uh-Ogres?”
“I was raised by them as a child, Odin. My mother still survives.”
“Your mother?” Nova laughed. “You mean to tell me that you were raised by Ogres?”
“They’re not as stupid as the common man makes them out to be, Nova. She was—and, I believe, still is—a shaman, the leader of her tribe.”
Regardless of whatever relationship his knight master held with such creatures, Odin couldn’t help but tremble. Instantly memories of horror came back—of how, once upon a time, when men were but young creatures in this world and the Leatherskin family was still on the mainland, they were beaten and brutalized, snapped in half or killed outright by a simple wave of their fist. These things had haunted his life—when, as a child, he’d read of them and knew instantaneously that they weren’t meant to be trifled with—so for him to be utterly terrified could not be questioned.
It’ll be ok, he thought, taking slow, deep breaths.
“Suh-So we’ll be staying with thu-thu-them?”
“There’s no need to be worried, Odin.”
“Besides,” Nova said. “Miko wouldn’t take us somewhere we couldn’t handle.”
“That’s a lie!” Odin cried, standing. “What about Neline? Huh? What about that?”
“Odin—”
“That Kerma nearly killed me. I would’ve died if I hadn’t stabbed him through the chest!”
“Did you die?” Miko asked, calmly stirring the soup.
“That’s not—”
“Did you die?” the Elf repeated, this time turning his eyes up at Odin.
“But… but…”
“I asked if you died in Neline, Odin. The question is simple. Answer it.”
“No. I didn’t.”
“Then there is no reason to believe that I would put you in any intentional danger, is there? Nova carried you through the storm while I held our supplies at hand. We both made sure that no harm befell you. Right?”
“Ruh… right.”
“Then please, sit and act decent. Supper is almost ready.”
Unsure of what to say or do, Odin merely stood, watching Miko as he first took the pot off the fire, then poured soup into two bowls for himself and Nova. Once he came to the third and final serving, he poured it slowly, as if taunting Odin to say more.
