by Kody Boye
“Hardly at all,” Icklard said.
“They must be coming from the islands then.”
“Why do you ask?” Domnin frowned.
“Just wondering,” Odin said.
With gulls so close, he couldn’t help but long for home.
The Elf’s eyes fluttered beneath their lids as he slowly came to. Like a dormant vessel awakening for the first time in over a thousand years, his body transformed into a construct of movement. His lips pursed, drawing breath of the living world; his fingers flexed, strumming chords of unsought agony; his chest rose, then fell as lungs expanded, then contracted. Throughout this, the movement beneath his eyelids continued to intensify. What was once only a slight tremble soon became a flurry of activity. Every part of the sleeping being’s body started moving. Muscles flexing, extremities flushing, nostrils flaring, lips pursing and eyes twitching—Miko’s tongue darted from his mouth to wet his lips, greasing dried, cracked skin, while his teeth clicked to match the taut stretching of his neck.
While Odin continued to watch his knight master react to the happenings of his body, unsure what to do and unwilling to leave his side, Parfour and Nova stood at the ready. Parfour stole into the washroom to run and purify water. Nova remained near the threshold, hand on the doorknob for fear something worse would happen.
“Odin,” Nova said. “We need to go get someone.”
“We?”
“You know what I’m talking about!”
“No I don’t!” Odin snapped.
The Elf convulsed and was nearly thrown from the bed.
“Parfour!” Odin screamed. “PARFOUR!”
“Get water!” Nova cried, thrusting the door open and throwing himself out of the room.
The boy ran into the room with a bucket of water dangling from his grasp, nearly tripping in the process. A rag in hand, he wet the cloth and passed it to Odin. “What’s happening to him?” Parfour asked, grimacing as Odin pressed his weight onto the Elf’s chest.
“I don’t know,” Odin said. “Here—hold it.”
“What?”
“What do you think? The cloth!”
Commotion in the hallway drew Odin’s attention from the frantic activity beneath him. “HELP!” he screamed, desperately fighting to keep Miko from throwing himself out of the bed. “SOMEONE GET A HEALER!”
The men in the hall—strangers to Odin, but possibly saviors to Miko—peeked into the room, saw a man thrashing about on the bed, then took off.
“Sir,” Odin said, taking slow, deep breaths to try and calm himself. “Sir. Sir. Listen to me.”
Miko bucked. Parfour caught a blow to the side of his head and went tumbling into the walls, screaming as his swollen eye impacted into the ship’s hard wood.
“STAY BACK!” Odin screamed, straddling the Elf’s waist. “Get out of here Parfour!”
“But—”
“GO!”
The boy took off without another word.
“Sir,” Odin said, taking hold of his knight master’s wrists and pressing them to the bed. “Listen to me. It’s all right. Nothing’s going to happen to you. It’s me: Odin, your squire, your friend!”
For a brief moment, Miko’s protests ceased.
In the time that Odin let his guard down, he loosened his hold on the Elf’s wrists and sighed, content with the knowledge that things had settled down.
The Elf bucked.
Odin let out a startled gasp as Miko’s chest slammed into his own, driving the breath from his lungs and making every part of his upper body go numb.
“Pease!” Odin cried. “It’s me! Stop fighting!”
Nova burst into the room. “Get off!” the man roared, throwing Odin off the bed with one arm. “MIKO! STOP! YOU’RE HURTING PEOPLE!”
The Elf’s eyes shot open. A quick burst of air entered his lung before he collapsed into the bed. “What happened?” Miko breathed.
Nearby, Jerdai, the healer and the mage brothers looked on in question.
“I don’t know,” Nova said, shaking his head.
Miko closed his eyes.
He slipped into sleep.
“Sir?” Odin asked, grimacing as his knight master’s eyes began to flicker. “Can you hear me?”
“Hmm?” the Elf mumbled.
“I asked if you could hear me.”
The Elf opened his eyes.
Odin blinked. All right, he thought, taking a deep breath. Does he know what’s going on?
“Odin?” Miko frowned.
“Are you all right, sir?”
“Yes. I’m fine. Why?”
He doesn’t remember.
Odin set his hands on his thighs and leaned back in his seat. All previous forms of tension erased from his mind, he took a moment to console himself before he leaned forward, heart fluttering and hamstrings loose. “Do you remember anything?” he asked.
“About what?”
“About anything,” Odin said. “Anything after you fell asleep?”
“No. I… I’m afraid I can’t say I do.”
“All right.”
“Did something happen, Odin?”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“If something happened,” the Elf said, starting to push himself up, “you need to—”
“Not now, sir.” Odin pressed a hand to Miko’s chest to prevent him from rising any further. “Please, lay down. You’re still hurt.”
“As I can tell.” Miko settled back onto the bed and pressed an arm against his forehead. His eyes scanned the ceiling, as if searching for something, before they returned to Odin. “Will you tell me what happened if I stay still?”
“You—” A movement in the corner of the room distracted him, but only for a moment, as he soon realized it was only Parfour. “Earlier,” he said, “around noon, you woke up. At least, I thought you did. Nova was worried that something was happening to you, but I was convinced everything was all right, that you were just waking up because of the way you were stretching. Then… when you arched your back and nearly threw yourself off the bed, I screamed for Parfour to get a bucket of water and Nova bolted out of the room.”
“What happened then?”
“You wouldn’t stop. I put a hand on your chest and pressed my weight against you while Parfour held the wet rag against your head. I thought you might’ve just been overheating and trying to get the blankets off, so I thought the water would work. Then, when I tried to tell you everything was all right, you lashed out and hit Parfour in the head.”
“His eye,” the Elf whispered. “Is he—”
A second, briefer movement caught Odin’s attention.
Easing forward as though something horrible would happen at any moment, Parfour emerged from the shadows of the darkened room and edged toward the bed.
In the waning light of the mid-afternoon sun, the beginnings of a fresh bruise could be seen blossoming out from his eye, curving around his skull until it disappeared into his sand-blonde hairline.
“I’m sorry, Parfour,” Miko said, extending a hand toward the boy. “You know I would never intentionally hurt you.”
“I know sir,” Parfour whispered, taking the Elf’s hand. He kept his head bowed, as if he were afraid of the creature’s intense gaze, before returning his attention to Miko. “You took me out of that place.”
“It was Odin who told me to.”
“It was you who said you’d take me as your assistant. Odin may have thought I shouldn’t be there, but you’re the one that freed me.” A tear slipped from Parfour’s bad eye. A mix between a grimace and a smile contorted his face before he let out a single laugh. “Look at me,” the boy said, wiping the tear from his eye. “I’m crying.”
“Release is a powerful thing.”
“You’re hurt because of me.”
“Say no such thing.”
“If I wouldn’t have been there, you could’ve come back with Odin and Nova. Because of me… you got stabbed.”
“Parfour,” Miko said
. Grimacing, he pushed himself into a sitting position despite Odin’s protests and set his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “I was stabbed because I’d revealed someone’s deepest secret and their truest weakness, not because I took you away from that island.”
“Sir—”
“Don’t cry for me, boy. I’m fine. You have been hurt far worse than I have. I have nothing to complain about.”
Nodding, Parfour took a moment to gain his composure before stepping away from the bed. From there, he made his way to the door, only looking back once before he left.
“Is everything going to be all right?” Odin asked, returning his eyes to his knight master.
“Everything will be fine,” Miko said, setting a hand on Odin’s shoulder. “You have nothing to worry about.”
4
“He woke up,” Odin said.
Nova and the mage brothers looked up. “What?” Icklard asked.
“He woke up,” Odin repeated, stepping forward.
“When?” Nova grinned.
“Not too long ago. I think he’s still awake, but he’s resting. I want the healer to come down and check on him if he’s available.”
“I’ll go find him,” Domnin said, stopping to clap Odin’s shoulder as he made his way toward the upper deck. “That’s great, Odin! He’s all right!”
“Yeah,” Odin said, looking down at his feet as Domnin bounded up the stairs. “He is.”
“Something wrong?” Nova asked.
“It’s just… I don’t know. This whole thing with Miko being stabbed, taking Parfour away from the island… it just seems like a little too much right now.”
“It’s not gonna be any easier as a knight, kid—I’m telling you that right now.”
“I know, Nova. I’m well aware of that.”
Neither spoke in earnest. Icklard, who had remained silent throughout the conversation, let out a breath. “You know,” the younger mage brother said, leaning against the railing. “You could always look at it this way: at least they’re alive.”
“I know,” Odin said. “I’m not—”
“Being out here, at sea, it’s hard to know what’s coming next,” Icklard continued. “One day, everything could be fine—the sun could be out, the birds flying overhead, the water cool and calm. The next it could be absolute hell. The waves could be twice, maybe even three times as large as the ship, whipping us around like we’re something that can just be used and abused. Or, even if the sea is calm, we can jump over the side for a swim to cool off after a long, hard day only to have something go wrong. You two are more than aware of what can happen then.”
A splash of tails, flailing limbs and blood splashed across Odin’s vision. He brushed his arms as memories of Nova’s nails sinking into his flesh stirred old wounds to life.
“We know,” Nova said, wrapping an arm around Odin’s shoulders.
“You have to think of it as a day-by-day thing,” Icklard said, glancing at the two of them. “We’re here to do something whether we like it or not. Me and Domnin guide a ship, you three journey across the country so one of you can become a knight. It’s all a matter of how you take the bad that’s happened to make it into something better.
Icklard pushed away from the railing. He arched his back, turned, and started for the upper deck, but not before stopping to glance at the two of them. “You’ve done well,” the brother smiled. “Now you just have to put it to use.”
Later that night, after Nova and Parfour had fallen asleep and Odin lay awake, Miko struggled to rise from bed and fell against the wall. Unsure what to do at first, Odin watched his knight master through thinly-opened lids, waiting to see how he would respond to the sudden reality of his weakness.
He knows he needs help, so why is he trying to get up by himself?
Sighing, the Elf raised a hand and ran his fingers through his hair. A short exhale passed from between his pursed lips and echoed across the wall as a whistle. The sound, as slight as it should have been, multiplied inside Odin’s ears, bouncing off the drum and reverberating across the fleshy inside walls. The pained sound soon turned into a scream heard not outside his head, but inside.
After several moments of indecision, and after waiting for the Elf to finally realize he could not move on his own, Odin rose and made his way across the room. “Are you all right?” he whispered.
“No,” Miko sighed. “I am not.”
Draping an arm across his shoulders, Miko pressed his weight into Odin’s side and burdened him with the weight of his body. Eyes downcast, hidden behind a fine sheen of hair, there would be little chance of reading his face, if at all.
Proud creatures rarely showed such emotion. The fact that Miko felt the need to do so now forced Odin into an awkward position.
“Do you want your cloak,” Odin whispered, pausing at the door.
“There’s no need for it.”
“Are you—”
“Never corner an injured animal, Odin—it always strikes out.”
A shiver of unease passed down Odin’s neck before he opened the door.
Outside, only a flicker of light from the outside world penetrated the hallway to allow one sliver of sight.
“You’re sure, sir?”
“Yes, Odin—I’m sure.”
Shaking his head, Odin pushed his way out into the hall, then waited for Miko to duck under the doorway. Once situated, the Elf reached out, closed the door, then let out a deep breath, obviously-troubled and in dire straits of pain.
“Miko?” Odin frowned. “Do you need something?”
“Fresh air,” the Elf said. “And to relieve myself.”
“I could have brought you a bucket.”
“I would have asked for one had that been what I wanted.”
He’s more stubborn than either of us will ever be, Nova had once chuckled, a faint memory stirred within Odin’s mind in the face of an Elf. No reason to fight with him. Just do what he says and everything will be just fine.
“Excuse my ignorance, sir.”
Miko said nothing. The Elf merely leaned into Odin’s side and allowed him to assist him down the hall and up the stairs.
Up top, in a world dark and full of sea-born mist, Miko broke away from Odin’s hold and stumbled to the railing. Odin nearly pursued, but stopped when he heard the steady stream of urine hitting the water below.
“It’s quiet out tonight,” Miko whispered, readjusting the waist of his lower robe. “Peaceful… unlike some things during the day.”
“The birds aren’t out tonight,” Odin nodded.
Miko smiled.
Stepping forward, Odin took hold of the railing in front of him and looked out at the ocean. Though nothing but glowing mist could be seen, warping amidst the water into shapes of beauties and horrors, he expected something to reveal itself—a lone gull, a flash of a fin, an ancient, mythical dragon. He looked at his knight master to see if he, too, felt something was amiss, but found nothing more than the demure expression he’d worn since the day he woke.
“I want to talk to you about something, Odin.”
“Yes sir?”
“Do you remember what I told you about being attached to mortals?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember what else we talked about?”
Odin had no choice but to nod. “Yes sir. I do.”
“Then you know that I could have easily died in that bed.”
“But you didn’t. That’s all that matters.”
“No, Odin. It isn’t.” Turning, Miko set a hand on Odin’s shoulder and bowed his head. It took the Elf a moment to regain his bearings, but when he did, he set his other hand on Odin’s opposite shoulder and looked him straight in the eyes. “If something ever happens to me,” the Elf began, “I’ve taught you all that I thought was necessary. I will not lie though—I was ignorant, foolish, indecisive. You should know how to treat a wound and look for poison. You should know how to look at a bird and tell which way is north. You should know how to do many
things, yet I haven’t taught you any of them.”
“What are you saying, sir?”
“You’ll always be able to learn something new. If something happens to me, don’t blindly run off on your own—seek someone who can help you. That’s the only way you’ll ever guide your way through grief.”
“Sir?”
“Yes, Odin?”
“Are you afraid something’s going to happen to you?”
“This is the first time I’ve been injured in as long as I can remember. I doubted my mortality. I exposed my weakness. I forgot I could be killed.”
“That doesn’t answer—”
“There isn’t an answer to the question you’ve asked. I am no seer. I can’t tell the future.” Miko paused. He turned his head up to look at the barely-visible stars, then returned his attention to Odin. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes, then said, “Take me back to our room. We’ve spent enough time out in the cold.”
Odin nodded.
He couldn’t help but catch a faint glimmer of doubt in the Elf’s eyes before they descended into the ship.
A faint rustling drew Odin from sleep.
At first unaware of the source of the sound, he opened his eyes and scanned the room, panic thrumming the chords in his chest and adrenaline pounding the base of his lungs. A fire started at the pit of his stomach, then rose into his chest, threatening to drown his throat and force a gasp of air from his lips. Somehow, he managed to contain the strained exhale, trapping it behind the flap of his throat and sealing it with a purse of his lips as he listened for the slight noise to start again.
A floorboard creaked.
A faint whisper of fabric deafened the silence of the room.
One slight breath raised the hairs on Odin’s neck.
It’s coming from the end of my bed, he thought, desperate to move, but unwilling to reveal his state of consciousness. It’s—
“Odin,” the voice whispered. “Are you—”
“Dammit Parfour!” he hissed, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Why?”
“I thought someone was in the room with us.”
