by Kody Boye
“Yeah.”
“What’s it like?”
“What’s what like?”
“Being on a boat so big.”
Odin didn’t respond.
Something started gnawing at his heart before he could.
Gliding across the water like a grand, paper spectacle made to float about the waves, the magicked canoe coasted the sandbars with efficient ease, inspiring hope and confidence into those who looked upon it. As one would when gazing upon a grand, exquisite thing that no mortal should see, Parfour trembled in Odin’s grasp, shivering as the ark of freedom slowly approached. It dodged low-flying birds, sent schools of fish askew, and fluttered Odin’s heartstrings like some grand musician would a chord in a choir fit only for kings.
“See?” Odin whispered, leaning down so only Parfour could hear. “I told you everything would be all right.”
“Thu-Thank you,” the boy sobbed.
“All right,” Miko said, folding his skirt up to his waist before wading into the water. “Odin, Nova, Parfour—come and get in.”
“What about you?” Nova frowned. “Why aren’t you coming?”
“I am. Just not this moment.”
“Suh-Sir,” Parfour babbled, stumbling into the water. “Thu-Thu—”
“There’s no need to thank me, young man. Come—get in the boat. It’s time you set sail for bigger and better things.”
No hesitation was necessary on Parfour’s part. With one grand jump and a kick for effort, he fell into the boat in a tangle of limbs, bawling his head off as he took his place near the center of the vessel.
When Nova settled himself at the back, and while Odin prepared to clamber over the side and into the front, a low, monotonous ringing spread across the beach and entered his ears. “Sir,” he whispered, leaning close to the Elf’s head. “You can’t stay here by yourself.”
“They’d dare not lay their hands on me, Odin. There’s no need to worry. A group of humans can’t stop me.”
“He’ll be all right,” Nova said. He set a hand on Odin’s arm, then looked down at the Elf, a grin broadening his face. “They won’t fuck with you.”
“I know,” the Elf chuckled. “You don’t need to tell me.”
“Do you want one of us to come back and get you?”
“No—there’ll be no need. My weight’ll balance out the boat. You don’t have to worry.”
“You’ll be able to push yourself back without an oar, right?” Odin asked.
“Again, Odin, you have nothing to worry about. I’ll make my way there regardless of how I do it.” The Elf lifted an oar and placed it into Parfour’s palms. He leaned forward, took the boy’s chin in his damp hand, and tilted his head up so he could see inside his hood. “You’ll do well to listen to my squire and friend. They’ll take care of you.”
“I know,” Parfour mumbled. “Thu-Thu-Thank you.”
With little more than a smile, Miko took both ends of the canoe, rotated it until the bow faced the northwest, then gave it a mighty shove.
Slowly, and with the utmost care he and his companions could manage, Odin dipped his oar into the water.
It wouldn’t be long before they were aboard the Annabelle and away from this hellish place.
Drifting endlessly, Odin thought the boat would never come into sight. Several times, he had to cast a glance over his shoulder to make sure they’d continued on in the right direction, as it seemed they were not moving and that the day was growing older. Each time he did so, he was met with nothing more than the beach, along with the lone, solitary figure of the Elf in black, who stood so still Odin considered him to be something of a statue.
“He’ll be okay,” Nova grunted, face red. “Like he said: he’s not worried, so why should we be?”
Just because he’s not worried doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be, Odin thought, grimacing as his chafed hands throbbed with pain.
Instead of focusing his energies on the beach, Odin channeled his thoughts on rowing. One oar in, one oar out; one stroke here, one stroke there; one breath in, one breath out—tirelessly, endlessly, he forced his anger at Parfour’s enslavement into his salvation, only stopping to regain his bearings.
Behind him, the boy rowed slowly and without force.
Nova said nothing.
Odin kept his silence.
The word shock came to mind.
The state in which a person, under an unideal amount of stress, begins to break down, a teacher had once said, waving his hand across a black chalkboard without need or worry. It’s what happens when fathers see their children die, my sons, and it’s what happens when knights look upon a battlefield and realize that all hope is lost.
“No.”
“Odin?”
“What?”
“Are you all right?”
Odin blinked. Parfour set a hand on his back.
“Somethin’ wrong?” Nova asked, his exhale obvious and full of pain.
“No,” Odin said, shaking his head. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”
“Look!” Parfour cried.
No more than a hundred yards away, the boat sat in silence, its deck motionless and without sound.
“There we are,” Odin grinned, raising a hand. “Hey! Icklard! Domnin!”
Two heads peeked up from below the railing.
“Pull us in!” Odin yelled.
No further words were necessary.
In less than a moment, an invisible current swept the boat asunder and carried it toward the Annabelle.
“You’re all right,” Icklard said, offering Odin a hand.
“Where’s your master?” Domnin frowned.
“On the beach,” Odin sighed. “All four of us couldn’t fit. You need to send the boat back.”
“That’s no trouble. Is it, Icklard?”
“Not at all,” the younger brother said. He gestured two ship hands forward and stepped aside so they could lower the vessel, then cast a glance at Parfour, who’d since retreated to the shade of the far wall. “Why is there four of you now?”
“The monks,” Odin sighed. “They—”
“Oh God,” Domnin whispered. “You’re saying—”
“Yeah,” Nova said. “They’re raping the kids.”
“Goddamn them,” Icklard growled, balling his hands into fists. “The fucking scum.”
“The sooner we can get back to the mainland, the sooner we can help the others,” Odin said, stepping up to the railing and raising his hand. “Help me.”
“You don’t honestly think you can help us after all that rowing you did, do you?”
“It’s better than sitting around and doing nothing.”
“Sit down,” Domnin said. “We’ll handle this, Odin.”
“Besides,” Icklard whispered, “I think the boy could use your help more than we could.”
“He’s right,” Nova said, pressing a hand on Odin’s shoulder. “He trusts you more than he does anyone else.”
“All right,” Odin nodded. “I’ll do it.”
Taking a few steps back, he watched the brothers set fire to their hands before he turned and made his way to Parfour, already dreading the person he was likely to meet upon arrival.
Even if you can’t do anything, he thought, the least you can do is give him some company.
Though matters of the mind weren’t his forte, he could offer a helping hand.
“Parfour,” Odin said, kneeling down to face the boy. “You mind if I sit here?”
“Huh?” the young man asked, blinking, his good eye hazy and confused.
“I asked if I could sit here.”
“Oh,” he mumbled. “Yeah. Go ahead.”
Settling down, Odin drew a knee up to his chest and took a deep breath.
Parfour turned his head slightly.
Odin exhaled.
The boy sighed, bowed his head, and closed his eye.
“It’s gonna be all right, Parfour. You’re safe—no one’s going to hurt you.”
“I
know.”
“It won’t be long before Miko’s back. Then we can leave and you can put this whole thing behind you.”
“If I even can.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“I… I don’t know. I don’t really even care. I’m just glad you came back for me.”
“I never wanted to leave you there,” Odin said, wanting to reach out to Parfour, but resisting the urge to do so. “I wanted to take you with us when we first got to the island, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen. I’m not sure why he brought me all the way out here or why we went all the way to Neline, but I’m starting to realize something.”
“What’s that?”
“Being a squire is about learning how to fight, how to become a knight and how to keep yourself level-headed, but I think it’s more about discovering yourself along the way. You know what else?”
“Huh?”
“I think that by leaving this place, you’ll discover more about yourself than you’ve ever known.”
“I doubt that.”
“I don’t,” Odin smiled. “You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because when that man… Elf… whatever you want to call him… pulled me from that tower and said that he wanted me to be his squire, I learned more at that moment than I had in my entire life. This whole… journey… has been filled with things I never thought I’d experience. Kerma, Ogres, people from a kingdom I’d never seen or ever dreamed of seeing—all this has come with time. And if you think that’s all I saw, you’re wrong, because I saw and learned more than I ever would have if I had chosen the path my father took and decided to be a woodcutter.”
“Is that what you really wanted to do, Odin? Cut wood?”
“Yeah. A long time ago.”
“Why?”
“I idolized my father and everything he did. I wanted to be just like him until he handed me my first sword.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Ten, eleven years—at least, I think that’s how long it’s been. I couldn’t tell you. He might’ve given me a sword before that, but if he did, I don’t remember. All I remember is the day I fought a straw dummy and nearly blew myself up.”
“With your magic?”
“Yeah,” Odin smiled. “My father was always afraid of it. I don’t know why, and I probably never will either. The night I ran away to become the person I am today, he walked into the tent and caught me mending the fabric with my magic. He said it’d destroy me and to never use it again, but something told me that if I didn’t learn how to control it, I’d probably die. My magic teacher said the same thing the day I got to the castle, when I told him that I’d run away to become a soldier.”
“Do you regret it?” Parfour asked.
“No. I haven’t regretted a day of my life since I told the king I wanted to be his knight.”
Parfour nodded. Taking a deep breath, he expelled it and turned his head up, truly looking into Odin’s eyes for the first time since he’d sat down. “Odin,” he said. “What’re you gonna do when you become a knight?”
“I’m going to come back here,” Odin said, “and make Beal wish he’d never been born.”
As night swallowed the sun and greeted the world, the boat appeared on the horizon. Phantom-like in appearance and resembling something of a terrifying fish heading straight toward them, its passenger sat with his head hung low, motionless as waves crested the vessel and kissed it with vain, innocent lips.
Rising from his place near the far wall, Odin blinked, adjusted his eyes to the steadily-declining light, and stepped forward, taking his place beside the mage brothers. “What took him so long?” he frowned, tightening his grip on the wood railing as a swell came up.
“I’m not sure,” Icklard frowned.
“He could’ve had trouble with the tide,” Domnin shrugged, leaning forward and cupping his hands over his mouth. “Sir! Sir! Are you all right?”
The Elf’s head snapped up instantly.
“He seems fine,” the older brother nodded, giving a nervous chuckle as the shrouded figure turned his head and surveyed the area. “I don’t think he’s hurt.”
How could you tell with all the black he’s wearing? Odin thought, but somehow resisted the urge to speak.
Taking a few steps back, he allowed the brothers to call a handful of fishermen over in preparation for the Elf’s arrival, only pausing to nod at Icklard when the brother turned to look at him.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” Odin mumbled, pushing the thoughts out of his head. “Nothing happened. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Regardless, the creeping sensation of doubt lingered at the small of his skull, pressing its weight against his back and taking his arms by the wrists.
Could Miko have run into trouble with the tide, like Domnin had suggested, or could something more sinister have happened?
They don’t use bladed weapons. It’s against their religion.
Could the monks have cornered him, defying their religion in more ways than one?
Something crossed his back.
The wind, the air, the presence of something powerful and far greater than he could have ever possibly imagined—it panted in his ear and licked the nape of his neck, preparing to sink its fangs into his spine in a moment’s notice.
Religion, the gilded thing breathed, is one to some, another to others.
How things invisible and dainty could speak the truth, and how evil could mask itself in folds of robes or adorn itself in crowns of gold, if only to deceive those naïve enough to be controlled.
Careful to maintain his composure despite the presence of an emotion that could have manifested from the dark energy of his thoughts, Odin watched a group of men string a rope over their shoulders and drag it to the side of the ship. Muscles heaving, arms bulging, they pushed forward, grunting and groaning as the rope balled itself around their limbs and tightened to what looked like an almost-unbearable pressure.
For a moment, Odin thought they might drop the rope, thus losing it to the sea. Only when they passed it off to another pair of men and began stringing it through a series of pulleys did he sigh his relief.
“Sir!” Odin called, leaning over the railing. “Are you all right?”
As though startled, the Elf jumped. His boat almost flipped over in the process. “I’m fine,” Miko said, steadying his rocking canoe against the side of the Annabelle. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Are you sure? I can lift you up if you need me to. I can—”
Odin stopped.
A flicker of movement below Miko’s vessel startled him from speaking.
Oh shit.
“Jerdai,” Odin whispered, grimacing as the captain came up behind him. “Do you see that?”
“See what?” the captain replied, leaning close to his lips.
“Whatever just moved below his boat.”
“Yes, my boy—I did.”
“What was it?”
“Couldn’t tell. If you ask me though, it looked like a worm.”
“A worm?”
“A serpent, lad. Though I’d be damned to say they didn’t exist this close to the mainland, I’d be lying if I said they didn’t.”
“Why would a sea serpent follow a boat?”
“Curious, maybe. We get the big ones coming off the coast of Elna because of the warm water, but I highly doubt this one’s anything like that. If anything, it’s a young’un that got separated from its pod and is following the biggest thing that moves.”
“Sir,” a nearby shiphand said. “Did you see—”
“Shut your damn mouth,” Jerdai growled. “He doesn’t need to know there’s something swimming just below his boat.”
“Then what do we—”
“Toss him the ropes and tell him to secure himself in place. We don’t want to dump him out when we’re pulling him up.”
Nodding, the shiphand returned to the pulley, where he threw the ropes overboard and began shou
ting instructions to the Elf.
“All right!” Jerdai bellowed. “Are you ready in three… two… one…”
The pulleys snapped into action.
Leaning forward, Odin watched and prepared for the worst.
As the boat rose into the air, shifting and shaking in the absence of water, Miko reached out and slid a rope in both hands, taking care to keep his body steady as the small vessel tilted to accommodate the external pull. Like his companions before him, the Elf remained calm and collected, listening to the instructions provided as his body slowly tilted at an awkward angle.
With everything going so smoothly, it seemed like nothing could go wrong.
Odin took a deep breath.
Here we go, he thought, tightening his grip on the railing until his fingers hurt. He’s almost—
A pulley snapped.
Miko’s body flew to one side and the bow of the boat plummeted toward the sea.
“Shit!” Jerdai cried.
“Sir!” Odin screamed, terrified at the sight of his master hanging by only one rope. “Are you all right?”
“What the hell happened?” Nova roared. “What’s wrong with your fucking pulley?”
“The ropes on the front end snapped!” a shiphand cried, raising his hands as Nova advanced on him. “I swear, sir! I swear! It’s not my fault! Huh-Huh-He must be tuh-too huh-heav—”
In a fit of rage, Nova pushed the man into a group of others, who made no move to step forward as the red-haired fury growled and made his way over to the broken pulley. “How do you expect to get him up now?” Nova asked, glaring at the two men who’d prepared the contraption. “You can’t pull him up with just one of them, now can you?”
“I don’t know, sir,” the other man sighed. “Icklard, Domnin—can you lift him up?”
“I don’t know,” Domnin frowned. “We’ve never tried lifting someone who can use magic before.”
“Why wouldn’t it work?” Odin frowned.
“It doesn’t work because the resisting magic usually cancels the aggressive magic out,” Icklard sighed, running a hand across his forehead. “There’s no way we could lift him. His magic would probably kill us if we tried.”
