by Kody Boye
“Thank you.”
Odin bowed his head.
When a pair of hands touched his shoulders, he jerked, expecting an attack.
“Now that you’ve let me hear you,” Virgin said, pressing his lips to the curve of Odin’s collar, “will you let me touch you?”
He could not deny the Halfling’s touch.
Rather than answer, he reveled in the way his body allowed him to respond.
The forest loomed above them proud and strong. The trunks of the trees thick, their needles broad and dagger-like, the ground before them darkened with brown earth—Odin reached down to take hold of his swords and tried to imagine just what his father must have felt when he stood before these woods and freed the Unclean named Shire back into the wilds of the Abroen.
It must have been amazing, he thought.
To return to a place that could be called home, to step within a land ancient and immortal, to wander its paths and to eventually step between a threshold they said was made of magic and anything but. Naturally, it had to have been something great, a euphoria that could only be described as a burning desire within one’s chest and a tickle of sensation within one’s mind, but what he felt at that moment could not have possibly compared to what Miko must have. He was no Elf, no enigma, no creature upon which wrong had been built. He could have been tortured by the alienated reality, or maybe he felt nothing at all, for he had severed his connections from beautiful things in order to retain his sanity.
Whatever the cause, whatever the reason, Odin could not dwell on that much longer.
“How do we get to Lesliana?” he asked.
Virgin stepped beneath the umbrella of foliage. “Follow me,” he said.
With a sense of not only doubt, but dread, Odin stepped into a place that could be described as his ancestral homeland.
Immediately, what felt like thousands of eyes were watching him.
“What is that?” he asked, spinning, looking first out into the Great Divide, then into the depths of the Abroen Forest.
“What is… what?”
“That feeling.”
“You mean the one of being watched?” Virgin waited for Odin to nod before continuing. “I’m sure you’re aware that this place is old—very, very old, just as the creatures within it are.”
“You said Old Ones the other day,” Odin said, pursuing his companion through the forest.
“I did.”
“What are they?”
“Treants.”
Treants?
“They’re not real,” Odin said. “They can’t be.”
“Why not?”
“Because the last of them were—“
“Killed, burned in a great fire that swept over the mainland?” Virgin asked, flourishing one foot over a knot of root before turning to look at him. “The Old Ones—Treants, as your kind must know them—have lived within these forests alongside these Elves and were here even before they crossed the Crystal Sea.”
“Have you ever seen one?”
“I have.”
“What do they look like?”
“This one in particular was old,” Virgin continue, offering a hand to help Odin pass an expanse of broken land before continuing. “It was the color of my hair and had a pair of eyes that looked to have been made by hammers.”
“How big was it?”
“Huge, possibly twenty-five feet or more.”
“Did it see you?”
“I don’t believe so, no.”
“Tell me more.”
“This thing looked to have been any regular tree shrub, its head covered in bush and its bark thick like these trees, but what first caught my attention about this particular thing was the fact that it had two deliberate hollows within what I would soon find out was its face. I thought something might have been following me—maybe one of the Unclean that are said to haunt the forests, or maybe even a wild cat—so I hid behind another tree and watched my surroundings. That’s when it rose out of the ground and began to make its way through the trees.”
“How do they move?”
“Their roots act like legs,” Virgin said, tapping a root near his foot for emphasis. “They look like insects when in flight, but they’re anything but elegant. I’m surprised they can even navigate these denser parts of the wood without falling to their deaths.”
“They don’t,” Odin said, then stopped.
“Don’t what?”
“Eat people, do they?”
“They are like any other plant. They absorb the light and moisture that falls from the sky.”
“All right,” Odin said.
“Why?” Virgin laughed. “Did someone tell you otherwise?”
“I’ve heard stories.”
“That isn’t surprising, considering what mortals have tried to instill within the minds of their youth.”
Virgin raised a hand, paused, then pressed a finger to his lips.
What is it? Odin mouthed.
The taller Halfling shook his head, then continued forward.
Odin frowned.
A flicker of movement lit up in the tree beside them.
One moment later, he saw a branch snap down, then up again as if shaking its leaves free of some object.
“Is that—“
“No,” Virgin said, “but we must keep moving.”
“Why?”
“The forests are not as safe as you would be led to believe.”
Unable to argue, Odin nodded and continued forward, taking extra care to watch the roots as he followed Virgin through the forest.
“We need to see if we can establish ourselves in one of the trees,” Virgin said, testing the bark of one individual specimen and tilting his head to look at the rising branches.
“Why?” Odin frowned. “Can’t we just sleep on the ground?”
“It isn’t safe, especially not at night.”
“Why?”
“Wild cats, some snakes, giant insects—“
“Insects?” he frowned.
Like the Blood Beetles?
The idea that such gigantic creatures could be all around them sent beads of unease across the surface of his skin and raised his pores to fine, even points. They’d be sharp, he knew, if he touched them, and for that he didn’t. Instead, he watched Virgin’s face for any sign of emotion before he turned and looked up at where the sun would have been in the sky had he the ability to see beyond the foliage.
Unsure what to think or feel, Odin shrugged his pack up his shoulder and watched as Virgin first hopped, then attempted to jump into the air. “You’re not serious,” he finally said.
“We have to be able to get into one of the trees,” the Halfling said. “Like I said, it’s not safe.”
“Can you push me up?”
“What?”
“I asked if you could maybe lift me into the air.”
“I think you might be too heavy.”
“Then let me try to lift you.”
“All right,” Virgin said.
After testing the ground and dumping his pack from his shoulder, Odin crouched down, laced his fingers together, then waited for Virgin to push his boot into his palms before he pushed up with all his might.
The Halfling grunted.
Odin swore.
Virgin locked his fingers around the edge of one branch and lifted himself into the tree. “It won’t be comfortable,” he said, “but it’ll keep us safe.”
Odin tossed his pack into the air.
After Virgin caught it, Odin jumped as high as he could—a feat not well accomplished with his stocky frame—then grabbed onto the Halfling’s hands and allowed him to pull him up and into the air.
Once seated on the branch, Odin leaned back, into his companion’s chest and took a few short, deep breaths. “Thanks,” he managed.
“No problem,” Virgin replied.
“What now?”
“We eat, then wait.”
“For what?”
“Night.”
It came swiftly and without warning. One moment light, then the next dark, Odin drew the edge of Virgin’s cloak around his shoulders and shivered when he felt something rustle on the ground beneath them.
“It’s all right,” the Halfling whispered. “There’s nothing to worry about. We’re fine up here.”
“Are we going to take watch?” Odin asked.
“It would be safer if we did, yes.”
“Do you want me to go first?”
“I’m fine with taking the first watch,” Virgin said. “Don’t worry.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why are you shivering?”
Because I’m not used to being up in trees in the middle of the fucking night.
Rather than speak, Odin shook his head, leaned back against his companion, and closed his eyes, desperately hoping that he would fall asleep regardless of the fact that his legs were around a branch and his back was pressed against the chest of a man he only barely knew.
His head dipped.
His world darkened.
A short moment later, a cackle of laughter broke out somewhere below them.
“What was that?” he whispered.
“A bird.”
“A bird?”
“A bird.”
“What kind of birds cackles like that?”
“The kind that live in the Abroen Forest.”
Though he tried not to let his thoughts get the best of him, they did regardless.
Clossing his eyes, Odin wrapped the tail of Virgin’s cloak around him as tightly as he could, then tilted his head to press his cheek into the man’s chest.
“Thank you for being here with me,” he whispered. “I have no idea what I’d do if you weren’t here.”
“You’d probably be dead,” Virgin replied, “but no worry.”
No worry?
Odin couldn’t help but chuckle.
Virgin wrapped an arm around his stomach and secured him against his chest.
Sleep was not likely to come anytime soon.
The night progressed slowly and with little to no activity whatsoever. Save for the cackle of Odin’s self-imagined red-and-black bird and the gentle rasp of breath easing in and out of Virgin’s chest, Odin heard nor felt any disturbance that alerted him to danger. Such was his joy in the matter that when shards of light began to peek through the pine needles, casting shadows across the horizon and on the ground below, he stirred Virgin from sleep with a simple shake of the hand and leaned forward to let the Halfling recuperate from the night’s troublesome rest.
“Morning,” Odin decided to say.
“Morning,” Virgin replied, stretching his arms over his head. “Anything happen while I was asleep?”
“Not really.”
“Good. You ready to get out of this tree?”
“More than you could possibly imagine.”
Taking a moment to compose himself, Odin stretched his legs out, grabbed his pack, then carefully dropped it alongside the trunk of the tree to reduce the impact of its fall. Shortly after, he threw his right leg over the side of the tree, then braced himself.
“Bend your knees,” Virgin said, setting a hand on his back.
Odin nodded and jumped.
In the few brief moments that he fell, he considered the notion that this was how some animals and birds felt when descending from such high altitudes.
There, he thought, taking a deep breath. Now.
Just before he hit the ground, he bent his knees, then rolled forward, reducing the impact of his fall.
“You all right!” Virgin called down.
“I’m fine!” Odin called back, lifting his hand and tilting his head to view his companion above him. “Toss your pack down!”
Virgin’s slight bag came down a moment later.
Shortly thereafter, the Halfling descended in one great, graceful jump, rolling just as Odin had done no more than a moment before.
“There we are,” Virgin said, helping Odin to his feet and brushing the dust off his legs.
“How much further do we have to go?”
“Another two or three days at the least.”
“Something tells me Lesliana isn’t at the end of the forest,” Odin said, vaulting over a nearby root to grab his back.
“No. It’s nowhere close to the outskirts.”
“Who lives all the way out there?”
“Settlements, farmers—“
“Farmers?” Odin frowned. “I thought Elves didn’t eat meat.”
“They don’t. They farm vegetables, cotton, silk—that sort of thing.”
“Sorry,” Odin said, offering a slight smile in response to his ignorant stupidity. “I sometimes let my tongue run before I should.”
“No need to apologize,” Virgin said, returning the smile in full. “Come. We have a full day’s travel ahead of us.”
Around noon, they passed what could only be called a grave of monstrous proportions. In hues of grey, black and silver, the bones that blanketed the barren clearing seemed to extend so far into the distance that Odin had trouble seeing what could be an end—where, at the peak of it all, stood a series of stone columns emblazoned with what appeared to be neat, Elvish writing, though what exactly it said he couldn’t tell. He could only imagine that it had to have meant something of the dead, of the living and of what came after life, though try as he may, he could not come up with a great excuse to step forward and ponder over what he was seeing.
After what felt like an eternity of silence, Odin swallowed the lump in his throat and asked, “What is it?”
“A graveyard,” Virgin said.
“For what?”
“Creatures to come and die.”
“They come to die here?” Odin frowned. “But why?”
“Some creatures prefer to leave their bodies in places where others can’t touch them—preferably, between these four monoliths that stand around us.” Virgin pointed to the columns in front of them, then to the two that stood almost directly beside them. “The Elvish text holds magic.”
“What does it say?”
“And so for I have died, I will come to rest here, where my body cannot be touched and my soul cannot be taken.”
“It’s beautiful,” Odin said, running a finger along the writing on one stone column.
Immediately, every hair on his body stood on end.
Static burst in his ears.
Shivers ran up and down his spine.
Each joint in his left hand seemed to tighten until each individual piece of bone and cartilage popped.
“Ouch,” he whispered, drawing his hand away as carefully as possible.
“It’s best not to touch them,” Virgin said, pressing a hand against his back. “I don’t think they’ll hurt you, but their wards are definitely strong.”
“I felt it.”
“The magic, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“I do too,” the taller Halfling said, reaching down to lace his fingers within Odin’s left hand. “Does that hurt?”
“No.”
“I’m glad.”
Do you care, he thought, or are you just being sympathetic?
Whatever the reason and regardless of the intent, there seemed a compassion between them that he could not deny, even though he felt trapped and encaged within the amulet that rested upon his chest. Virgin, while careful, seemed not to feel animosity toward him, and while cautious didn’t mind his company. Odin, on the other hand, didn’t particularly feel as though what was happening to him was right, but he couldn’t necessarily say he didn’t like the Halfling’s attention either.
Is this what I am? he thought, staring back into the other man’s eyes.
“Odin?” Virgin asked, squeezing his hand. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he said, tearing his eyes away from his companion’s to turn his attention on the graveyard before him. “Just… thinking.”
“About?”
“Nothing. Don’t
worry about it.”
“We should go,” Virgin said.
“Yeah,” Odin replied. “We should.”
The rain began as first a trickle and then a haze. Ever so swiftly pouring down upon them in great sheets, it skirted along the rivulets cut into the ground by upended tree roots and swam through places in the path were grass grew green. Slowly, like a monolith ascending from beneath the ground, it rose to ankle level and eventually tapered out to where only the first breath of their boots were covered, but that alone was enough to force all forms of wildlife from their homes. Squirrels, raccoons, rabbits, a few deer and even a wild cat small and not in any way threatening ran past them and to the outer edges of the wood, toward where likely the canyon-like terrain siphoned the water and fed the living plants beneath.
“Are we going to be all right?” Odin asked, having to raise his voice over the sound of water dripping from the pines so Virgin to hear.
“We should be fine,” the Halfling said. “Don’t worry.”
A roar of thunder sounded across the sky, followed shortly by a crack of lightning.
Odin looked up just in time to see what appeared to be a wolf run past them.
“What the,” he asked.
Lightning struck.
An explosion rent the sky.
“Did it just—“
Directly before them, one great, mighty branch came down.
“Shit!” Odin cried, jumping away from the branch as it began to float downstream toward them.
“Just jump over it,” Virgin said.
Odin did just that before it could hit him square in the ankles.
“We should get somewhere safe,” Odin said, grimacing as thunder growled across the horizon and threatened them with yet more lightning. “Is there anywhere we can go?”
“Not that I know of.”
Odin grimaced and lifted one foot as another clod of debris came from the north.
Shaking his head, careful to follow Virgin’s steps exactly as to not trip or fall, Odin reached forward and locked his hand onto the Halfling’s shirt just in time for the rain to bear down even harder, this time with what felt like hail descending in thick, fingernail-sized clumps.
Great, he thought. Here I am without my magic and now it’s hailing.
“We’ll keep going,” Virgin said, reaching back to take his hand, “until we find a cave or a tree to hide under.”