by Kody Boye
The scene, so vivid in Odin’s mind as if it had just been replayed before him, made him grimace. He imagined the patron—white, possibly, or as white as one could be in such an area—being accosted by a group of men who had nothing but trouble in mind. There would have been blood, he knew, and spit, and possibly a few missing teeth by the time was done with it, though he knew more than well that such a thing likely did not happen very often. The few black men he’d met at the castle hadn’t seemed bad, but maybe that was because they were royalty—refined, some could say, in tastes of etiquette and manners. He couldn’t be sure of plain fishermen, sea-travelling men or even nomads who were said to cross the borders every so often.
“So,” Acklan said, once again tilting his head back to examine Miko, “if you’re worried about someone saying something about you being black, don’t worry—they won’t. I’ll make sure of it.”
“I’m not worried,” Miko said, “because I’m not a Kadarian.”
Shrugging, Acklan turned to serve another patron.
“We don’t need anything stirred up,” the Elf said, setting a hand on Odin’s back.
“I don’t want you to get into a fight.”
“I doubt anyone would try and fight with me, Odin. And should they decide to try, I will subdue them without violence.”
“I thought it was immoral to use magic on someone—”
“Unless you are defending yourself.”
Though he couldn’t see his master’s face, he imagined a smile perking his lips.
Odin returned to his food with little more than a shrug. Occasionally, he’d look up and glance at Acklan, particularly when he filled Nova’s glass, but looked at little else than his food, his friends and his server. Such a wandering gaze would likely only cause trouble in the long run, especially if they considered Miko to be a Kadarian and a likely threat.
With his mind in place and his emotions secured, Odin paced himself with his meal. When he finished, je pushed his now-empty bowl of fish up the counter, sipped the last bit of his liquor, then pushed that up as well.
“Are you feeling well?” Miko asked.
“I’m fine. Why?”
“I didn’t expect you to finish your drink.”
The Elf lifted his glass, slid it under his hood, and swallowed the last little bit before setting it to the bar. Nova, though already finished with his meal, ordered yet another glass. Miko stood and walked to the man’s side. “That’s enough for now, Nova.”
“I’m still thirsty.”
“You’ve had enough.”
“Leave me alone.”
Miko gestured for him to rise, but Nova didn’t budge. Odin slid off his seat just as Acklan returned.
“You need something,” the bartender asked, the bitter tone in his voice reminiscent of something much more uneasy than a simple man with a prospective goal in mind.
“My friend’s had too much to drink,” Miko explained, “and I don’t have the money to pay for more.”
“That’s fine. All I need it three more copper pieces.”
Nova started to complain, but Odin took his arm and managed to pull him away from the bar. The Elf set the coin on the counter and began to lead the pair of them to the stairs.
“I don’t need to quit,” Nova said, trying to break out of Odin’s grip. “I’m not drunk.”
“Yes you are,” Odin muttered.
“Fuck off, kid.”
“That’s enough, Nova.”
“Leave me alone.” The much bigger man lunged back, trying to tear Odin’s hand from his shirt. Despite the force, however, Odin managed to hold on. “Let go, Odin.”
“No, Nova,” Miko said. “I don’t mind when you say you want to go back for more alcohol, but I don’t admire you using such language with my squire.”
Before Nova could even begin to say anything more, Miko gripped the back of his shirt and literally began dragging him to the top of the stairs and to the end of the hall. Once in the room, Miko cast him across the space with one simple flick of his wrist.
Nova, in his drunken, disoriented state, immediately fell onto the bed. “Come on,” the man said, deciding to switch tactics as he stood and began to make his way back toward the doorway. “I’m sorry for what I said to Odin. Just one more drink, just one.”
“Don’t tell me you’re sorry,” Miko said. “Tell Odin.”
“Really, sir, that’s not necessary,” Odin said. “I know he didn’t—”
“I’m sorry, Odin,” Nova wailed, falling to his knees in front of him and pawing at the knees of his trousers. “I’m an ass.”
“You’re not—”
“Yeah I am.”
Although he did his best to try and stand, Nova did no more than fall back to his knees each and every time he attempted to. Such a sight was pitiful—akin to a toddler attempting to take its first steps but unable to because his equilibrium was off. That alone was enough to make Odin reach down, hoist his friend up under his arms, then push him back onto the bed.
“Just go to sleep,” Odin said, removing his friend’s shoes with but a few simple tugs before throwing a blanket over his body. “I know you didn’t mean it.”
He expected a reply, but none came. It took but a single tug of the blanket off Nova’s face to find that his friend had fallen asleep.
“He doesn’t need any more alcohol,” Miko grumbled, disrobing. “It’s a poison to the mind and body when abused as he has. Would you close and lock the door, please?”
Odin grabbed the nearby key, slid it into the lock, and turned it. A click later, he set it back in place beside the door.
“I knew a man could get drunk,” Odin said, “but I didn’t know it made him mean.”
“Some men are different,” Miko shrugged. He looked around the room, then slid his cape off. He unfurled it until it was at its full length, then laid it across the floor.
“Here.” Odin grabbed the second pillow off his bed. “I don’t need two.”
“Thank you, Odin.”
After double-checking to make sure that the premises was secure, Odin crossed the short distance between him and the bed and bent to take his boots off. He glanced up at Miko to see him untying his lower robe and turned away on pure instinct.
“You’re not bothered, are you?” the Elf asked, standing there almost-nude with his robe hanging from one hand.
“No,” Odin said, turning his head up to face his knight master. “I just don’t think it’s polite to stare.”
“You’re not staring if you’re just glancing.”
Truth be told, he was staring, and couldn’t help it as a result. Just the amount of muscle on the Elf’s torso would have made any man envious, for his physique was carved in calculated training and exercises he performed each and every morning just after he rised. The bulging muscles under the man’s legs, the cords along his lines, the defined but smooth lines of his abdominals that, beneath the sheer breath of skin and no fat, appeared like monuments to the greatest envy of man—there was nothing that couldn’t be admired about his entire appearance. In the end, however, it all came down to one thing—that Odin, as envious and mystified as he was, couldn’t be prouder to serve beneath such an inspiring creature.
When he drew his eyes up Miko’s body, along the jutted peaks of his ribs and to the proud stature of his neck, the Elf smiled, lifting both arms to bring some of his hair up and over his chest. “It’s not as troublesome as it seems,” he said, stooping to finish arranging his bed. “It keeps me warm.”
“I can only imagine,” Odin said.
Not wanting to draw any further attention to himself, Odin slid under the covers and rolled onto his stomach. “Goodnight,” he said.
“We may leave in the morning if the boat arrives.”
“Do you think it will?”
“No.”
Miko settled down on his makeshift bed of his cape, covered himself with his lower robe, an closed his eyes.
Odin watched the Elf until he fell a
sleep.
Odin woke to Nova moaning about how badly his head hurt. His first instinct was to roll over and tell the man to shut up—to take the pillow atop which his head lay and throw it at him—but all thoughts of violent or even distasteful behavior immediately left him when he heard the patter of footsteps on the wooden planks.
“I told you not to drink too much last night,” Miko said, drawing his hair over one shoulder to begin to arrange it in a braid.
“Isn’t there anything you can do or give me to make my head feel better?”
“No. Even if there was, I wouldn’t give it to you. This is a lesson well-learned. Maybe next time you won’t squander away our money on meaningless alcohol.”
Odin grimaced. Upon opening his eyes to mere slits, he found Miko standing near the window and looking out at something he couldn’t see. Nova, on the other hand, continued to lay in bed, hand pressed against his forehead and inane dialogue spewing beneath his breath.
I’m glad I only drank my one glass.
While his head didn’t seem to hurt as much as Nova’s appeared to, a slight ache existed behind his eyes that immediately dissuaded him from looking at any form of harsh light.
“Are you awake?” Miko asked, turning his attention to Odin.
“Of course I’m awake!” Nova barked. “I’m—”
“I’m talking to Odin.”
Nova growled in response.
“Yes sir,” Odin said, pushing himself into a sitting position. “I’m awake.”
“Are you hung over as well?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve got an ache, but it doesn’t bother me unless I look at the windows.”
“I wasn’t sure how well you would hold up to the liquor, especially since it was so strong.”
“I only drank one glass.”
“You’re very wise for your age.”
Odin managed to keep from chuckling when Miko smirked and cast a look over his shoulder at Nova. “Have you learned your lesson?” the Elf asked.
“Yes,” the man moaned, rolling over onto his stomach to face the wall opposite them. “Can you please just leave me alone now?”
“We’ll leave you be, but let this be a reminder of what can happen when you overindulge.”
This time, Odin couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Yeah,” Nova mumbled. “Laugh as you want. Just wait until you get as bad a hangover as I have.”
I won’t get one as bad as you have, Odin smiled. I don’t have a taste for the stuff.
“Will we be leaving today?” Odin asked.
“Oh please no,” Nova begged. “By the Gods and all that is good, please don’t let us—”
“Nova will be pleased to hear that the boat hasn’t arrived yet,” Miko smiled, his voice a dagger in the air. “You’ll know which boat it is when it comes into the dock.”
“Is it a big boat?” Odin asked.
“Large enough to hold a small army.”
“Why such a large vessel, sir? Where exactly are we—”
“We’re going a ways,” the Elf interjected. “To answer your most obvious question, however: we’ll be much safer on a ship than we would be on a smaller craft. The boat has been built to withstand the tests of the ocean’s dangerous winds, rains and waves. We’re as safe as we can be on that ship.”
“What if something tries to destroy the boat?”
“You mean like a monster?” Miko smiled. “Many ‘monsters’ you hear about are no more than mortal man’s fantasy.”
“So… there isn’t anything out there big enough to destroy the boat?”
“Oh, there is. Said creatures don’t bother boats too often though, so there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
With little more than a shrug, Odin climbed out of bed and reached for his boots. He slid his feet into them and began the process of tying his laces when he stopped for seemingly no reason at all.
“Are you sure you’re well?” Miko asked once more.
“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”
Miko gestured him over with a simple wave of his fingers, then set a hand over his forehead, sliding a thumb under his ear and applying the flat of his palm along the side of his ace. “You’re a little warm, but that’s probably because you just woke up.”
“I feel fine.”
“Our friend won’t be up for a little while longer.”
Nova had since dozed off. He snored in a tangled mess of sheets, blankets and pillows.
“Probably better on his part,” Odin laughed. “I think it would be a good idea if wone of us brought the food up here this time. I don’t think Acklan would mind.”
“If you want to do that, that’s fine, but I’d prefer you go over me.”
Miko had not a reason to explain. Last night’s events had proven more than well that men, even so casual as they seemed or presented themselves to be, did in fact hold a black heart to those they could not see or understand, especially when it came to foreigners.
“I’ll go,” Odin said. “I’ll wait until Nova gets up though. Then we won’t have to make two separate trips.”
“That’s fine.” Miko turned to look out the window, idly toying with the end of his braid as he did so. “I’d much prefer if our stay in Elna was spent in our room anyway. At least here, with only the three of us, we have no reason to worry about fights.”
That was reason enough to remain in their room.
Odin shrugged, stepped up to the window beside his knight master, and watched the newest batch of fishermen carry nets up from their boats.
He stood near the dock with Nova at his side and occasionally allowed his eyes to wander back to the stables—where, on the face of a horse he could barely see, a pang of regret filled his heart. It would be quite a long time before he would see his trusty mare again. Given the boat travel and the stress that would likely come with it, Miko said there was no use in taking Gainea where they were going.
Which he still hasn’t said anything about, Odin thought, reaching back to rub his neck.
Nova, while no longer hung over, was not at his best. He’d occasionally reach up to rub his forehead as if pained by a great ache or finger the bags under his bloodshot eyes. Each and every time Odin looked into them, he shivered at how many lines ran across the surface of his friend’s scleras and made a mental note never to drink that much alcohol.
“What’re you looking at?” Nova smirked.
“Nothing.”
“I know what you’re thinking.” Nova reached out and gently punched Odin’s shoulder. “Don’t be like me and drink so much you get sick.”
I won’t, he thought, but only nodded.
“There.” Miko pointed.
Even from so far away the boat’s size towered over any of the other ships in the harbor. Tall, eclectic, with huge boards that seemed to have been pulled from the mightiest of trees wrapped around its body and gargantuan flaps of fabric that clapped like thunder when met with air adorning the several masts that rested along its back—it appeared to be something of a monstrosity, this ship sailing toward the Elnan coast, but perhaps the greatest thing was the face of the ship: where, upon its mantle, a wooden woman stood, arms clasped in front of her and long carved hair spilling over her face to shield her from the mist that splashed from the oncoming waves. She appeared something of a deity, this wooden creature, who stood so readily in the face of such hardship. It begged to question whether she, a wooden mannequin, possessed a soul, and if so, did she watch these waves and sing of them late at night in words so silent that no mortal creature could hear? Did she, in times of worry, guide terrified men in their time of need, pushing through storms so horrible that many would not think they would survive, and did she fight back the encroaching darkness that lay upon the horizon each and every time the sun fell across the sky, toward the endless infinity of the world beyond? Whatever the reason, regardless of the purpose, her majesty could not be captured in but a few simple words—and, Odin imagined, upon one single look.
“It is,” Miko nodded.
Nova grunted, offering no further reply.
“I know you said it was big,” Odin continued, taking a step closer to the end of the dock, “but I didn’t know it was this big.”
Miko stepped forward and raised a hand. A man at the head of the ship acknowledged this gesture in turn.
“That must be the captain,” Nova grumbled. A false step led to a slip that nearly cost him his clean clothing to the murky waters beneath, but he managed to catch himself on Odin’s shoulder before that could begin to happen. The resulting action nearly sent the two of them sailing off the dock, but Odin managed to steady them before that could happen. “Sorry,” Nova then mumbled, brushing his hands on his pants.
“It’s ok,” Odin said.
He saw a group of fish appear from under the dock and dart out ahead of them, pursued by what appeared to be an otter or some other creature who chased in rapid haste.
I don’t care if you catch yourself on my shoulder, he thought, swallowing a lump in his throat when the creature and its prey disappeared. Just don’t let me fall in.
If an otter could grow to such a size, what else could be under there?”
“It’ll take it a little while to get here,” the Elf said, falling to a knee to survey the ship’s progress. “I suggest you sit and wait.”