by Kody Boye
You know he isn’t going to stand a fight, and you know that even if you do get into one, you’re not going to win.
“All right,” Odin sighed, lowering himself into his original position. He reached up to wipe the tears from his eyes, surprised at how his heart seemed to still. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“There’s no need to apologize. You were frightened—it’s only natural.”
“Thank you.” Odin accepted the soup, the spoon the Elf offered, and scooped some of the thick offering into his mouth.
Although wary of what tonight, and possibly the following day would bring, he took pride in the fact that he could trust his knight master.
Startled, heart pounding and mind reeling, Odin woke from a dream in which he’d been chased, then violently beaten by an Ogre.
At his side, Nova breathed slowly, occasionally grunting or coughing in his bedroll, while Miko sat across him from the fire, tending its flame with a wave of his hand. He stopped the moment he realized he had an audience. “You’ve woken,” the Elf said.
“Yes sir,” Odin said, sitting up. A pain hit his stomach, nearly sending him onto his back. Instead, he set a hand over his abdomen and took slow, deep breaths. Had the Ogre crushed his chest in his dream, forcing his bones into his midsection? “I had a bad dream.”
“What about?”
“An Ogre… beating me to death.”
“Are you all right?”
“My stomach hurts.”
“Come. Sit by me.”
Pushing himself out of his bedroll, Odin crawled across the forest floor and settled down beside his knight master. He did his best to hide the grimace that came when his stomach pulsed, but didn’t bother to try and disguise the slow breaths he took.
“I hope my cooking hasn’t bothered you.”
“I don’t think it’s that, sir, but thank you for asking.”
“I’m supposed to be concerned. You’re my squire—I don’t want any harm to befall you.”
“I know.” Closing his eyes, Odin leaned against the Elf’s side, sighing when Miko set an arm across his back.
“It’ll pass. Don’t worry.”
“It’s not that… the dream bothered me.”
“Dying in a dream can be very frightening. I’ve experienced it many times myself.”
“You have?”
“I dream just as you and every other living being does.”
“I… I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I understand.”
“I just meant… I didn’t think you saw yourself dying in your dreams. I thought they’d stop coming after a time. The dying dreams, I mean.”
“No. Whether I like it or not, the dying dreams continue to persist, though I’m happy to say one graces me with its presence only once in a great while. The dreams, though… I’m happy to say age hasn’t taken away a simple pleasure of life.”
“You thought it would?”
“Once upon a time, yes. Some Elves say they don’t dream after they’ve reached a certain age. Others believe that once the dreams cease to exist, parts of your soul begin to burn away.”
“Do you believe that?”
“No, but it’s not hard to have doubts, especially when Elves thousands upon thousands of years old simply cease to exist, resting in their homes and moving only when they need to seek nourishment, if even then.”
“I don’t think that will happen to you,” Odin said. “You know why?”
“Do tell.”
“You move around. I think that if you’re trapped or forced to stay in one place for a long time, you start to lose focus with the world around you. That happened to me when I was locked in that tower.”
“They would have eventually let you go,” Miko said, closing his eyes. “The court wouldn’t have forced you to remain there.”
“Do you believe that, sir?”
“I do,” the Elf said. “Do you know why, Odin?”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve always been destined for greater and better things. One day, after our adventure is over and the three of us have parted ways—I for mine, Nova for his family and you for yours—you’ll be riding on your black horse, waving your sword and bearing the king’s banner, and you’ll go down in legend. Because unlike what several have thought—and what many will eventually think—you’re different, Odin. You’re going to change your country, and maybe even our world, for the better.”
“What’s he doing?” Odin whispered.
“I don’t know,” Nova grunted, shrugging his pack up his shoulders. “Be quiet. Let’s see what he finds.”
Before them, Miko fell to a knee and began sifting through the debris on the forest floor. Twigs, rocks, dead foliage and other organic matter—all came under scrutiny, as if every object beneath the canopy of trees meant something more than what it appeared to.
What is he looking for? Odin frowned, glancing at Nova.
The Ogres couldn’t be that hard to find, could they?
“Unless they hide their tracks,” Odin mumbled, doubting his words even as he said them.
“Hmm?” Nova asked.
“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”
The older man chuckled. Odin elbowed his side in turn.
“They’re heading east,” Miko said, rising. “It hasn’t been long since they passed through this clearing.”
“How do you know?” Nova asked.
“Look.” Lifting his hand, Miko revealed a small, rock-like object that he held between two fingers.
“What is it?”
“A tooth,” the Elf said, setting it in Nova’s outstretched palm. “See the dark matter on the one side? It’s dried blood, which means it was recently pulled from its original owner.”
“What kind of tooth is it?”
“A giant boar’s.”
Nova grimaced. Odin cast a glance behind his shoulder when he heard something rustle in the bushes, but found it only to be a blackbird dancing in the underbrush, cawing at a small companion that came running out a moment later.
“Do we have to worry about them?” Nova frowned, passing the tooth back to Miko.
“I don’t think so. Unless we come across a pair mating or stumble across a male intimidated by our presence, we should be fine. Even though there’s not many humans on this island, the animals have come to learn that men aren’t to be trusted.”
“No kidding,” Nova mumbled.
“I don’t get it, though,” Odin said, gently taking the tooth from the Elf’s hand. “Why were you looking for the tooth? And how do you know where the Ogres are heading because of it?”
“They hunt boar for food, Odin. I can tell where they went because it’s customary to leave part of a kill so it can return to the earth.”
“To keep the cycle going. All right.”
“If you’d be so kind, I’d like you to put the tooth back where I found it.”
“I wasn’t planning on keeping it.”
“There’ll be plenty of boar to go around once we settle into place,” the Elf said, nodding as Odin tossed the tooth back into its original location. “If either of you would like something while we’re here, please, don’t hesitate to ask. It’s always nice to have something other than a memory to look back on your trip at.”
“Don’t worry,” Nova said. “If we want anything, we’ll be sure to tell you.”
Yeah, Odin thought, taking place beside his knight master.
At that moment, the only thing he wanted was somewhere warm to sleep. He didn’t think he could take another night of being out in the cold.
“All right,” Miko said, turning to face them. “I don’t know for sure, but I think we’ve found them.”
“You do?” Odin frowned. “How?”
“See those mounds of dirt out in the open?”
“Yeah.”
“Depending on the area, Ogres will make home in whatever they can. Caves, tunnels, mounds of dirt and clay—anything can be a suitable home so long as it
’s large enough for them to inhabit.”
“So,” Nova said, “you think this is where they’re living?”
“Like I said, I’m not sure, but it’s highly likely that there is a tribe living here. Whether or not it’s my mother’s is up for debate.”
How are you going to look for one Ogre on an island like this?
“Sir,” Odin said, taking a step forward. He stopped when a branch snapped under his weight. Grimacing, he looked around the clearing, then past Miko, out into the open. Nothing moved near the great mounds of dirt. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right, Odin. What were you going to say?”
“I was going to ask how we were going to find your mother on an island this big.”
“The different tribes are connected to one another, either by treaty or territory. They should know where my mother is.”
“And if they don’t?” Nova ventured.
“Then we keep going,” the Elf sighed, looking up at the two of them. “Either way, we need to at least make our presence known. We don’t want any of the neighboring tribes to think we’re passing into their territory without reason.”
I knew we shouldn’t have come here, Odin thought, struggling to maintain his composure. This was a bad idea.
“Are you going by yourself?” Nova asked.
“Yes,” Miko nodded. “There’s no reason for the two of you to be put in harm’s way.”
“Do you think something will go wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Miko said, turning to face the clearing. “If something does happen and I’m unable to get back to you, please, find your way back to the beach.”
“But sir,” Odin started, “You can’t—”
The Elf entered the clearing without waiting for Odin to finish.
“It’ll be all right,” Nova said, taking hold of his arm. “Don’t worry—he’s not stupid.”
No, Odin thought. I guess not.
Miko stepped into the clearing and touched down on home territory for the first time in possibly hundreds of years. Almost immediately, the familiarity of the area assaulted him. Blackbirds sitting in the trees, cawing away at things normal beings could not see; air, hot and humid, drifting in from the sea on all sides; the trees, tall and heavy, with branches as long as his body and, in some places, a human’s dwelling—these things, and more, were of home, of peace and lives untouched by creatures who dealt in consequence rather than forgiving action. The greenery, the flora, the fauna, the smells, the textures, the dirt beneath his feet and the air whispering through his breath—everything threatened to overwhelm him, as it seemed at that point in time that he had awoken from a long slumber only to find himself in a place called home.
Why did I wait so long?
Time didn’t matter for something that didn’t age in body—in spirit, maybe, but the mortal realm did not operate on a spiritual level. Sure—spirits came, spirits went, and spirits would always be among them, but that didn’t matter when most life was created to exist in the form of flesh, a catacomb for beings bound to walk, eat and breathe until they died. It didn’t matter that a year could pass and a baby could be born, and it didn’t matter that in that same year almost a dozen could die, but when you couldn’t be born, and when you couldn’t die, time meant nothing unless one absolutely meant it to.
“Mother,” he whispered.
A solitary gray figure appeared from one of the mounds and stepped into the clearing. At a hulking height of fifteen feet, the Ogre had to be male, if only because of his height and the size of his arms. Bulging, knotted with muscle, and larger than Miko’s entire body, it turned to face him with a head rounded by creation and molded by necessity.
“Nafran,” it breathed, in perfect human and not in the least alarmed at his presence. “What are you?”
Nafran, he thought. Bastard blood.
It knew what he was.
“I am a child,” Miko said, “of one of your kind. Not in body or mind, but spirit.”
“You have come to seek one of our kind,” the Ogre continued, deep voice reverberating into his ears. “Who is it you seek, Nafran, and why have you come to seek her?”
“She is my mother, kind creature, who plucked me from the sea and took me as her own before the world changed and man became who they are today.”
“So she is a Nafran taker. What is her name, and what is yours?”
“Mikaeisto,” he spoke. “And my mother’s name is Sunskin, Talon of the Black heart.”
“He’s not even afraid of it,” Odin whispered, crouching so Nova could settle in beside him.
“What’re you talking about?” Nova frowned. “He’s not afraid of anything.”
He’s braver than I’ll ever be, Odin thought, jumping when Nova set a hand on his back.
“Be quiet,” Nova said.
“You scared me.”
“I don’t want it to think we’re watching them.”
“It probably already knows.”
“Still—no need to let it think we’re spying.”
You’ve got a point there.
Keeping his silence, Odin readjusted his footing and reached out to steady himself on a nearby tree.
With his hand pressed to the bark and the brunt of his weight balanced on the soles of his feet, he continued to watch the scene unfold.
“You are a friend,” the Ogre said, “of the Black Heart.”
“Her child,” Miko repeated, descending to one knee. “I seek to see her one last time, should my involvement with the human race bring about my destruction.”
“You should have not left the island, Nafran. You were safe here—guarded, protected.”
“I was sheltered here,” he nodded. “Too sheltered. I would not have learned what I wanted to learn or seen the things I wanted to see had I stayed here. I would not have—”
“Tainted yourself with the love of mortality.”
He said nothing.
“You have done many things, Nafran; some good, some bad. But what you have not done is realize that, in your doing, you have brought upon yourself something you cannot cure. You were safe, and you were sheltered, but most of all, you were vulnerable. You left before your mother could teach you to hide your heart within your soul. Because of that, you will forever be touched by those who will not always touch back.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Then bring your mortals from the woods and bid them my greetings. Your mother is waiting for you, Nafran Mikaeisto of the Talon’s Black Heart. She has been waiting for a long time. Please… do not make her wait any longer.”
Without a word able to pass from either of their throats, Odin and Nova watched as the lumbering hulk of creature approached Miko, keeping as quiet as they could in both their movements and breathing. A crack of a twig or a quick inhale of breath could easily alert the Ogre to their presence, as well as a possible betrayal on the Elf’s side.
Come on, Odin thought, brushing against Nova. Don’t make us wait.
He might scream if they had to sit any longer.
“They’re talking,” Nova whispered.
Odin nodded.
Yeah, he thought, they are.
“And in human, no less,” Nova added.
Though words couldn’t be heard, the vibration in the air rattled Odin’s ears and echoed inside his head. The Ogre—head huge, eyes hidden in dark sockets—shifted its bulk from one arm to the other. The slight tilt of its body allowed discernible movement in its face to be seen.
We should be able to hear them.
Had Miko cloaked them in a sound barrier even he couldn’t feel?
“No,” he mumbled. “He couldn’t have.”
“Odin.”
“What?”
Nova smacked him. “Be quiet.”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Odin nodded and bowed his head, watching the two from a slightly-lower vantage point. The curve of Miko’s sword could just barely be made out in the slight jutting fabric of his lower robe.
&n
bsp; Did the Ogre see, or even care, about the blade? Would a creature so high and mighty even cower in the face of mortal weaponry or flinch when something half its size drew a shining blade against it?
No. Something told him they wouldn’t.
Turning, Miko raised a glove hand and beckoned them with a gentle flush of his fingers.
“Come on,” Nova said, standing.
“Are you sure he wants us to—”
“He does.”
Trudging forward, Nova broke the tree line just as the Ogre turned and sauntered toward the village.
“Sir,” Odin whispered, drawing close to his knight master as he approached. “Was that—”
“No. That was not.”
“Then who—”
“You couldn’t tell that was a male?” Nova laughed. “Are you blind?”
“We were too far away.”
“I know a pair of tits when I see them, kid, and I sure as hell know a dick when I see one. That Ogre was no woman.”
“Shh,” Miko said. “Mother comes.”
Odin looked up just in time to see a figure approaching.
Skin wrinkled by time, darkened by the sun, joints white and cracked from use—the creature Miko called his mother approached. Slowly, with a stunted pace only the elderly could have, she raised her head, face devoid of emotion and eyes invisible even in the blinding afternoon light. Her color, a dark brown with a slight spattering of yellow along her arms and shoulders, seemed to blend in with the backdrop behind her, and as she came nearer, Odin took note of the skulls hanging from her neck. Mostly animal, but some human, they dangled from what appeared to be a hardened pieces of leather and clanked together with each lumbering movement, symphonic to a creature so powerful it could be felt in her presence. A crown of feather and bones tipped her head and a shawl of fur covered her body, only briefly exposing her sex when she shifted to adjust her height.
When she came fully forward, she stopped, pushed her knuckles into the ground, and craned her head to look into her son’s eyes. “Maeko,” she said.
