Paarsisoq’s breathing labored toward his next sentence. “She always knew you’d come back, you know. ‘Our Orluvoq,’ she’d say. ‘She’s such a good girl. She’ll be back here, you can mark me.’”
“She knew me better than I did. I just wish…” Orluvoq trailed off. How could she possibly expound all that she wished before her father fell asleep again?
“Don’t think on that now. You’re here. You know, you haven’t hit forty yet. My life didn’t even begin till I was almost forty-five. You’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.”
His breathing got heavy, then steadied. Asleep. Orluvoq treasured the moments of lucidity. It seemed she’d have to wait till tomorrow for another. She pressed her hands to the floor and began to rise.
“Thought you could sneak away on me, Orluvoq?” he said with eyes still closed.
She fell back to her knees. “Oh, I would never dare sneak away on you.”
“Do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Hold my hand. No gloves.”
Orluvoq peeled off both gloves and reached under the blanket to cup her father’s hand.
“Now. Tell me your fondest stories of Mama.”
Not quite expecting that, she filled her lungs with cozier air than the castle had ever offered and broke into a maundering recounting. He nodded along, laughed when he could, and squeezed her hand with what drops of pressure he could muster. Sometimes the stories ferried him out of consciousness. Orluvoq kept up the narration, and always her voice ferried him back awake.
As the words poured out of her, a resonance mounted within. A small, contented hum laden with gratitude for this man who had taken her in a second time. Who had decided that every person was good enough to be his brother or sister. Who spent his life at the world’s black end catching those who would fall. Who, amidst all the responsibility he had found for himself, claimed her as his own daughter.
Tears flecked her vision. She let them flow, uncaring of the hitch they sometimes injected into her voice. The hours rolled by and the girl spoke softly to the father of days long past, carrying them both to fair and pleasant pastures of the mind. To joy-enameled seasons with her lovely mother. To laughter-sodden winter nights between this very igloo’s walls.
After tales in their multitudes had taken them well into the night, for the first time in days, Paarsisoq’s eyes cracked open. Orluvoq’s dry voice caught, and her story tumbled into silence. “Dad?” she asked.
Eyes glinting from the igloo’s single candle, he held her face in his gaze; his gaze which suddenly pierced through the nigh lightless room.
“So beautiful,” he whispered.
His hand gave one final squeeze, then he breathed no more. Orluvoq’s tears poured as from an endless field of melting snow, but the thrum of gratitude that pulsed through her body entire could have lifted her off the floor.
“I love you,” she said.
Pain followed the love, as always. But this pain was different.
It was beautiful.
The candle reached the last of its wick and guttered into darkness.
Author’s Note
You finished my tome, for which I plaster you with thanks and pandering. Before you evanesce into a cloud of paisley and sapphires and withdraw your readership to warmer climes, I must impose one thing upon you. The internet is a fraught place, full of basilisks, ne’er-do-wells, and search algorithms. In a rosy-cheeked author’s struggle against these titans of opposition, the silverest bullet I can discharge is a cornucopia of reader reviews, particularly the doting variety. If your benevolence so moves within you on this holy day (the day of your finishing Orluvoq), I importune you to galavant to the realms of Amazon and Goodreads and scrawl your screed. Make known your passions red and undying of your love for Orluvoq. Pen a manifesto, so that all might be enlightened and taste the same joy you did consuming this novel.
This book was a beast of process to get across the finish line. Back in 2016, I had an idea for a novella, and that became Part 1, finished January 2017. I was going to publish it and be done, but I realized it could be grander with Parts 2 and 3. So, I set about writing those and finished in December 2019. Beta reader feedback and rewrites took the next half a year (blame my day job). Then I got overzealous about artwork, and the book is more copiously illustrated than your average fantasy novel. If you didn’t notice, there are a few sections written in poetic meter (parts of 16, all of 31, plus a few paragraphs here and there). I encourage you to go back and read those out loud to get the full effect.
I’d like to thank Isaac, Mom, Dad, Robb, Zack, Cooper, Steven (who narrated the audiobook), JJ, Hannah, Crystal, Keller, Luke, and my editor Austin Gragg. Can’t not mention the incredible artists as well: Abel Klaer (the cover, where Qummukarpoq pulls the aurora down through Orluvoq), Davide Edoardo Cassano (young Orluvoq at Nunapisu), Luke Wilmitis (narwhals in Arsarneq), Jonathan Elliot (young Orluvoq fights a bluebody), David Michael Wright (teenage Orluvoq steals beauty from Sinngup), Allen Hinrichs (young Orluvoq stumbles upon Nalor working blue candles), and Arina (the chapter headings).
Maybe someday I’ll write the sequel, Qaffa, which follows Qaffa and her adventures in the Rapai’ian heaven above the cloud wall. But for the time being, Olruvoq is a standalone novel. It was a very prose-intensive process, which takes longer than windowpane prose. If I wrote a sequel, I would want the tone and prose to match. For now, I’m going to focus on other projects.
Speaking of which, my next release is a satirical short story collection about university in a fantasy world. If you’re interested in getting an advance reader copy, contact me through social media.
If you want to experience Orluvoq again, I encourage you to pick up the audiobook, narrated by my brother Steven. He smashed it.
Again, thanks for reading, and please leave a review!
Until next time.
Check out this other crap I wrote.
Young adult duology about a kid who gets caught in a lucid dreaming gang war:
The Oneironauts 1: Schools of Thought
The Oneironauts 2: These Apparitions
Novelette about a guy who makes plagues for a living:
A New Plague
Satirical short story collection about the horrors of higher education (coming late 2021):
The Jewel of Tusco
https://www.bennyhinrichs.com
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Orluvoq Page 35