by Kody Boye
“I know. I’m just kidding. You look good with a beard anyway.”
“You do,” Miko agreed, voice low and painfully-plain.
Both Odin and Nova turned to look at the Elf.
“Is something wrong?” Odin frowned.
“Pardon?”
“I asked if something was wrong.”
“Oh, no.” Miko shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“You sure?” Nova asked.
“Yes, Nova—I’m sure.”
Though Odin doubted his master’s words, he continued to make the bed.
Unable to resist the urge to sigh, he bowed his head.
Now that he had permission, Miko could more than easily go and take the thing he’d been wanting for so long.
3
“Nova,” Odin whispered. “Are you awake?”
“Yes,” the man grumbled. “Why?”
“Can we go outside? I need to talk to you about something.”
“Can’t it wait until morning?”
“No.”
Muttering something under his breath, Nova stood. He waited for Odin to rise—keeping a hand on his head, as if the request frustrated him to no end—before he pushed the door open and slid out into the white night.
“What is it?” Nova shivered, turning to face him. “It’s colder than hell out here.”
“I know,” Odin said. He fumbled with his belt, then let out a long, troubled sigh. “About Miko—”
“You woke me up to ask something about him?”
“Can you let me finish, please?”
Nova nodded, but leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. His expression, though harsh, had lightened, as if he’d realized his nature and decided to correct it.
“As I was saying,” Odin said, narrowing his eyes in warning. “Do you think he’ll go after the mayor’s daughter?”
“Why are you so worried about this?”
“Because—”
“Why?”
“I—”
“Just spit it out already Odin. No use in bullshitting me around.”
“Because it destroys his honor!”
Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, Odin set his hands at his sides, but dare not release the curl on his fists for fear the aggression would only channel back into his head.
“Odin,” Nova sighed. “You gotta realize that men get these kind of urges. They’re not easy to keep bottled up.”
“I haven’t had them.”
“You’re not a man either.”
The comment stung him into silence.
“You see what I mean, bud? Just because a man can keep his emotions bottled up for months on end doesn’t mean he won’t cave when he has the chance to release some strain.”
“Why haven’t you done anything then? Why haven’t you tried to find a woman to—”
“That’s different. I’m married.”
“It’s no different, Nova! Just because you’re married doesn’t mean you can’t go find a whore and bring her back here, and just because he saved the mayor’s daughter doesn’t mean he has the right to rape her!”
“He wouldn’t—”
“What would you call it then? What would you call going and taking the mayor’s daughter against her will?”
“I—”
“It’s rape. If he goes up there, he’ll be raping her.”
“Miko said he wouldn’t,” Nova said. “He—”
“That doesn’t matter! He shouldn’t take for something he gave!”
Nova kept his silence.
After a moment of watching his friend and trying to figure out what to do, Odin sighed, ready to go back into the cottage and try and go back to sleep.
It isn’t worth it, he thought, brushing past Nova and stepping forward. It isn’t—
“Odin.”
Odin stopped, hand circled around the doorknob.
“I don’t know what else to tell you,” Nova continued. “I know this bothers you, because it bothers me too, but we can’t control what he wants to do.”
“I know,” Odin sighed. “It’s just… wrong.”
“I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“Then don’t tell me anything.”
Before he could push the door open, Nova grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back slightly, just enough so Odin would release his hold on the doorknob.
“Let go of me,” Odin whispered.
“I just want to tell you one more thing before you go back in there.”
“What?”
“If it bothers you that much,” Nova sighed, leaning in close to his ear, “talk to him about it.”
“I won’t be able to change his mind.”
“Just because you can’t change his mind doesn’t mean he won’t reconsider what he’s going to do.”
For the next several days, a lingering sense of dread hung over Odin’s head like a dark storm. He stayed in the cottage most of this time, reading and losing himself in fictional narratives or historical accuracies in the hopes that the clouds would finally pass. The birds, he knew, could shake the storm, could muster the urge, could dissuade the darkness, and the wings upon which they flew could guide the world to all its horrid or wondrous glory. For that, he knew, things should be fine—that no matter how horrible his situation and feelings seemed to be, they would simply be carried away on the wings of creatures loved and holy.
However, when his feelings did not pass—when his insecurities became holes in his heart that threatened to swallow him whole—he stood from his place on the floor and almost cast the book against the wall, which would’ve surely broken it.
I can’t.
The leather-bound tome had been included in the pack that Daughtry had especially arranged for him. Along with handwritten texts about some of the lesser-known places in the world, it also contained short tales of men in armor who saved villages from peril or maidens from monsters. Such a gift couldn’t be wasted, nor abused during a moment of passion.
Taking a moment to allow the knot of rage in his chest to loosen, Odin looked out the window and stared at the barrier that lay no more than a dozen feet away. Its magical surface slid and crawled with hidden entities—dragons made of snow and air, spiders created from ripples and whorls, men dragging women from their homes and into back alleys.
No matter how hard he tried—no matter how much he attempted to force his conscience into more pleasant places—all he could see was the Elf, naked, poised over the trembling virgin not ready to have one of her most important things ripped away from her. Would she be afraid, he wondered, as the Elf lingered before her, member taut and heavy and his mouth made of passion, or would she simply give in, for she knew she was nothing more than tradition’s fair game to a man whom had saved her life? She, the beauty; he, the beast—a crime of passion, a moment of lust, an equinox of envy: these were the things that this could be described, that could be compared, that could be spoken of, but would they ever really relate in the end?
In thinking of such things and just how much they related to his life, Odin began to wonder. Had Nova been right in his assessment of the situation? Was it right for a man who’d saved a maiden to take her back to his room and do any and everything he wanted to her? Because if it was, and if that law of anarchy really did exist, Odin didn’t want any part of it.
I don’t have to be like that, he thought, crossing his arms over his chest. I don’t have to do those kinds of things.
He could be a good man, a good squire, a good knight. He could ride upon his horse of darkest blacks and make his way across the land, saving any and all who needed his help, and by his sword he could slay those who meant harm to those innocent and pure. He need not ever commit an act of sin, of violence, of terrible greed, and he need never speak or think of such things, as in that regard he could be the best man he could be—a man whom, by all definitions, was a hero in every essence of the word.
“Odin?”
He jumped, fa
lling back into the nearby wall.
Nova stood a few feet away, a concerned frown framed by a thin mustache and a freshly-trimmed beard.
“What?” Odin asked, surprised at how breathless he was.
“Are you all right?”
“You know what’s bothering me.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“I’m not going to.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s none of my business.”
“You’re his business though,” Nova said. “He’d want to know if something was bothering you.”
“He knows what’s bothering me. He just doesn’t want to talk about it.”
“Maybe he’s sparing you the grief of a confrontation. Have you thought of that?”
“No,” he said, but his thoughts betrayed him otherwise. “I haven’t.”
“Well, think about that, then think about how much he cares about you.”
“I know how much he cares, Nova. He took me out of the tower.”
“Because he believed in you,” the man said. “Just like I do.”
“You believe in me?”
“I wouldn’t have left my wife if I didn’t believe in you, Odin.”
Odin nodded, stepped forward, and wrapped his arms around his friend’s chest. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do if I only had him to talk to.”
“You’d talk to him and only him,” Nova said, setting his hands on Odin’s shoulders. “Think about what I said though, all right? Do it for me. Please?”
“I will,” he sighed. “Don’t worry.”
That night, Odin opened his eyes to see Miko garbing himself in his black cloak. Oblivious to Odin’s actions and focused on the task at hand, the Elf continued to dress, snapping buttons up his torso and pulling gloves over his hands. It seemed anything but impractical, the thing he was about to do, and it seemed at any moment he would simply turn and leave without thinking on the matters beforehand. His goal was set, his eyes locked, his target in sight. For one to think he may turn around without intervention would have been madness. In that moment, though, Odin felt it his duty to say something—if not for the Elf, for the maiden, who would surely be scarred for life.
“Sir,” he said, raising his head from his pillow.
Miko turned to face him. “Yes?” he asked.
Though he could not see the creature’s face, he sensed a disturbance—a tremble, possibly, within his voice, weakened to the point where the deep baritone sounded no more than a child’s tenor.
I did it, he thought, pleased, but not yet willing to collect his reward. I actually made him think.
“You’re going,” he said, sinking his teeth into his lower lip. “Aren’t you?”
They exchanged gazes for several long moments—Odin’s direct, the Elf’s shrouded. Regardless, that did not matter, because in his heart and mind Odin could feel what it was the Elf was doing. An eye, clever and docile, traced his body, from his shrouded waist to his long-sleeved shirt, producing the sensation of hundreds of bugs crawling across his skin. Some bit, causing gooseflesh, while others simply dug in and forced themselves into his bloodstream, in turn causing unease so deep and horrible it seemed his heart would explode out of his chest.
Come on, he thought. Let what I said have affected you.
To his surprise, and to his unholiest disturbance, the Elf continued to dress.
“Tell me,” Odin sighed, his voice sad and resembling something of a wounded dove. “I don’t want to worry.”
“I’m going to see the mayor’s daughter.”
“I thought you said you could contain your urge?”
“I lied.”
The sigh that escaped the Elf’s lips instilled the revelation that Miko did realize his intentions and how wrong they were. But unlike what Odin expected, and contrary to his beliefs, Miko continued to dress, only further loosening the restraints he’d kept for so long.
“Why would you give in like that?” Odin asked, standing, wanting to go to his master’s side but unsure how he would react. “Why would you just let everything you told me go?”
“Even I have weaknesses.”
“But you don’t have to have them.”
“You have to realize, Odin, that all men experience urges they cannot simply shrug off. When given the option to release that urge, it’s better to let it go than keep it locked inside.”
“Even if it makes the man feel like he’s done something wrong?”
“Yes, Odin—even if he feels like he’s done something wrong.”
“If you go up there,” Odin began, this time taking a bold step forward, “I hope you know you’ll be raping her.”
“I’d do no such thing.”
“What else would you call taking a woman against her will?”
“Look, boy,” Miko growled, turning his head to glare at him from beneath the shroud of his cloak. “You will not question my intentions.”
“Sir—”
“Put yourself in my place. Would you keep one of the most powerful urges you’ve ever felt locked inside, or would you release it any way you could?”
“I wouldn’t rape someone just to make myself feel better!”
“There’ll come a day when you want a woman just as badly as I do, and when that day comes, you’ll realize that you won’t be able to control that urge. At least I have been given permission to take the girl. I could do it against her will.”
“You will be doing it against her will.”
A hand lashed out.
A brute palm struck his face.
Sent to the ground, blood trickling from the side of his lip, Odin could only look up, mind reeling and face throbbing in pain.
For a brief moment, he thought he saw the most terrible anguish light his knight master’s face before he slipped out the door.
Lying on the floor, bleeding and hurt, Odin curled into a ball and closed his eyes.
There was nothing he could do.
A woman was going to be raped tonight.
Odin didn’t get out of bed until late in the afternoon. Having woken not only at dawn, but to a day where things seemed impossibly-dreary, he dreaded the day and what it would bring so much that he simply lay in bed with his eyes closed, not in the least bit inclined to get up and face the demons that surely lurked nearby.
Finally, when the sun lay high in the sky and pierced through the overhead windows, Nova came to his side and shook him up. “Odin,” he whispered, reaching out to touch his face. “What happened last night?”
“We talked,” Odin said, pushing himself into a sitting position.
“You talked?”
“Yeah. I took your suggestion and talked to him about what he was going to do last night. He hit me when I told him I would never rape a woman just to make myself feel better.”
“That bastard,” Nova growled.
“It doesn’t really matter,” Odin laughed, reaching up to rub his bruised face, “because he went anyway.”
“I haven’t seen him all day.”
“He’s too afraid to come back and face what he did to me.”
Placing a hand on Nova’s shoulder, Odin rose and faced the eastern windows. A mere sliver of the mansion lay visible on the hill, a single drop of blood atop a virgin’s skin.
“I’m going to talk to him when he gets back,” Nova said, voice thick with anger. “Only a coward hits a boy, especially a boy who’s only concerned about him.”
“I knew it was a bad idea to try and talk him out of it.”
“No it wasn’t. You didn’t do anything to deserve what he did.”
“I insulted him.”
“He deserves to be insulted, Odin. Don’t you get it? He said you would end up raping someone when you got the urge to fuck just because you wanted to. How pathetic is that? You acted more like a man than he did last night.”
Odin said nothing.
In the silence that followed, Nova drew close and set a hand on his shoulder. �
�Come on,” he said.
“Where are we going?” Odin frowned.
“To the bar. We’ll get some lunch and forget about this whole incident for now. Okay?”
“Okay.”
With a sigh, Odin followed his friend to the door, only just realizing how much it hurt to touch something the Elf had no more than a few hours before.
They ate a variety of breads, cheeses, meats and vegetables and tried to forget about the earlier conversation and the emotions it had stirred. Throughout this time, and during the duration before and after the meal, men sitting at the bar or tables glanced at Odin when they took notice of the bruise slowly flowering across his face. They, however, said nothing, and whether they glanced at him due to the bruise or something more Odin didn’t know. He suspected the former held a very strong hand in this game—the one who owned the king.
I don’t think he’ll be coming back to the cottage for a while.
Sliding cheese rolled in meat into his mouth, Odin looked up at Nova, watching him tear a chunk out of his thick sandwich. A quick look at his plate showed he’d tried to stuff most, if not everything between the bread.
“Is that good?” Odin asked, not sure whether to copy his friend.
“I think it is,” Nova said, swallowing his mouthful before swigging it down with a light alcohol. “I promise not to drink as much as I did last time.”
“It’s all right,” Odin said. He, too, sipped his beer, in favor of the numbing sensation it created in both his heart and face. “As long as you don’t get drunk, you can order another glass. I might order one myself.”
“I thought you didn’t like the stuff?”
“So did I,” Odin mumbled.
Nova frowned, but returned his attention to his food, as if unnerved at Odin’s sad eyes.
I really need to cheer up.
Why drag Nova into his bad mood?
“Sorry,” Odin sighed, setting his glass back on the table. “I mean, for being so depressing.”
“It’s all right. If I were you, I know I’d feel bad.”
“Thanks for taking me out to lunch.”
“You don’t have to thank me, bud. I know it’s not a lot, but considering I’m using some of the money my father-in-law gave to me, it’s all I can afford, since I’m not digging into our journey’s stash. I used most of my money trying to find you.”