by Kody Boye
“Oh no,” Domnin breathed.
“What?” Odin asked, panicked. “What is it?”
“Tentalin.”
Uncertain, Odin turned to look at the islands, tightening his grip on the railing as a wave came up. Whether that action had been physical and caused by the ocean or metaphorical and created by his emotions he didn’t know, but didn’t particularly care.
At that moment, he realized why Miko had kept their destination a secret
“No,” he whispered.
“Odin?” Icklard asked. “Is something wrong?”
“He kept it a secret because that’s where we’re going.”
“Where?” Domnin frowned.
“Tentalin,” Odin said, looking back at the two of them. “We’re heading toward those islands, guys. And I’m going to be leaving for one of them.”
Part 9
1
Uncertainty rose in his chest as he followed Icklard and Domnin down the net, plaguing him with fears, doubts and worries. His first dealt with the islands and which one they would be staying at, while his second and possibly most important beckoned to question where they would be sleeping. They couldn’t stay out in the open on any of the islands. Goblins, Orcs, Ogres, Trolls—each inhabited an island of their own and posed a danger in their own way.
It’s going to be all right, he thought, taking slow, deep breaths. The wind came up, tousling his hair over his eyes. He thought he would fall when his fingers slipped from the rope, but managed to keep a strong grip with his other hand. As long as I don’t kill myself before I get down.
At the bottom of the net, Odin joined the brothers and descended onto the first deck. Already a group of men had congregated near the railing, balking at the sight of a new and possibly-dangerous place. Among them stood Jerdai, who kept a fair distance away from his frolicking shiphands if only to maintain a level of superiority.
“Sir,” Odin said, pushing his way through a group of men who stepped in front of him. “There must be some mistake. We shouldn’t be here.”
“You shouldn’t,” Jerdai agreed, “but we’re in the right place.”
“What?”
“Your master has asked me to bring the three of you to the Tentalin Isles.”
“No fucking way in hell am I going there!” Nova roared, nostrils flaring as he pushed two shiphands out of his way. “Turn this boat around, Jerdai.”
“I can’t do that, Nova.”
“You could always leave.”
Odin looked up. Miko offered a comforting touch to one of the men Nova had pushed out of his way and gently nudged him out of the path. The hulk in black stood before Nova, staring him down with eyes no one could see.
“What’re you talking about?” Nova growled. “I’m not leaving.”
“If you’re not leaving, then why are you refusing to go to the location I have chosen?”
“Because it’s this!” Nova cried, throwing a hand in the air. “Are you out of your fuckin’ mind? You’ll get your squire killed if you take him there!”
“You shouldn’t question my actions, Nova.”
“Why shouldn’t I? We’re goin—”
“There is no need to argue about this. I have already made up my mind. We’re going to the Tentalin Isles.”
“But sir,” Odin started. “Are you—”
Miko turned and strode away, disappearing into the boat.
“I’m sorry,” Jerdai sighed, setting a hand on his forehead. “This is where he asked me to take you.”
“You could’ve refused!” Odin cried.
“No, Odin—I couldn’t have. When a man takes your hand and puts more money than you’ve ever seen in the base of your palm, you can’t refuse what he asks you, no matter what it is.”
“But—”
“I’m sorry. The Lady Annabelle is going to the Tentalin Isles… whether I like it or not.”
Sighing, Jerdai shoved his hands into his pockets and took the stairs, disappearing from sight as he ascended the second deck.
“What do we do now?” Odin asked.
“Nothing,” Nova sighed. “Nothing at all.”
Back in their room, Miko busied himself with packing their supplies—first his, then Odin’s, followed by Nova’s. He set all three by each applicable bed, pausing only to make sure he had packed something the correct way before returning to his work. Steadfast and not in the least bit willing to step forward and assist his knight master, Odin watched the Elf from the safety of the far wall, afraid that what he had said earlier might have caused a stir.
It did, he thought, brushing his suddenly-cold arms.
The hair follicles stood on end, creating a gooseflesh-like affect that could have been compared to the thin, wiry hairs on a dog afflicted with mange. He thought of how he’d experienced such sensations only a few times in his life and realized that, like Neline, they would soon be venturing into unexplored territory.
“Sir,” he said, frowning when the Elf turned his still-cloaked head up at him. “Have you been here before?”
“I would not take you somewhere I have not been.”
“If I can ask… which island it is?”
“Ohmalyon.”
The island of the Ogres.
Trembling, he summoned the image of such a creature in his mind. At about twelve feet high at the smallest and anywhere from fifteen to twenty at its highest, such a creature towered over any man and even the tallest Elf, dwarfing him in stature and minimizing him in scope. Their arms would be thick and knotted with muscle, their backs hunched at the shoulders in order to bear the weight of their body on their hands, while their knuckles, naturally hardened as they broke and scarred over, would cushion them as they supported themselves on their limbs. He imagined coming face-to-face with one and wondered what exactly would happen. Were they intelligent, like their ancestry claimed, or were they stupid—dumb, as men would call them, of emotion and speech?
Should I ask why he’s been here? Or do I keep that to myself?
Maybe it would be better not to ask.
Stepping forward, Odin nudged his knight master aside, smoothing out the blankets on the bed the Elf had been making. He fluffed the pillows and tucked the quilts under the mattress, careful not to squish his fingers with their impressive weight, and flattened the corners of the quilts as best as he could. When he finished, he made both his and Nova’s bed, then turned to face the Elf, humility alight in his mind and unease fluttering about his heart. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he sighed.
“You reacted in a much better manner than Nova.”
“Nova’s just worried about our safety.” Odin paused, glancing at his hands. “And besides—he just wants to get back to his wife. That’s all.”
“That’s no excuse for causing such a stir.”
“I… I guess.”
Odin chose to remain silent, allowing Miko to continue through the room, tidying and arranging things as he saw fit. He pushed chairs in just slightly, rolling them on their safety bars even when they had been pushed out of harm’s way, and aligned a sweet dish so it would rest directly in the center of the table. He even brushed what Odin thought was dust off the sitting chairs.
“Arm yourself,” Miko said. “We’ll be leaving soon.”
“Are you sure?”
“There’s no point in carrying your sword by hand.”
The wicked weapon sat in the corner, near where Nova’s scythe stood propped against the wall. Still in its sheath, but covered with a protective sheet to keep its sheen, Odin unwrapped the weapon and attached it to his belt, making sure it wouldn’t interfere with his gait before taking Nova’s scythe in hand. “It’s heavy,” he grunted, setting the shaft against his shoulder.
“Did you expect it to be light?”
Odin shook his head.
“No matter,” Miko said. “Come—we must calm Nova before we dock.”
“Why is that, sir?”
“Because there are some very special people I want yo
u to meet, Odin. Some very special people.”
Pine trees rose in the distance as the ship steadily progressed toward the largest island in the Tentalin chain. Ohmalyon—wicked, sharp, shaped like a dagger and located closest to the second, southeastern peninsula that jutted out from the kingdom of Kegdulan—called to them in the form of colorful birds that tipped the surface of the trees, as if warming them to turn back or risk the repercussions they would surely face. They cried out and disbanded, spreading wings and taking flight before disappearing into the forest that lined the beach.
“Look at it,” Odin said, bracing himself against the railing.
“It’s like a long-lost home,” Miko agreed.
Odin glanced at his knight master, surprised at his choice of words. Was that why the Elf had brought them here—because it held some greater significance?
Of course it does, he thought, running a hand through his hair. Everything he’s done has helped us in some way.
Ornala, Elna, Neline, and now here, Tentalin—he’d learned something from each. Regardless of how trivial or strange their locations may have seemed, Miko had brought them to each for a reason, even if it didn’t seem immediately clear. Like those places, Ohmalyon would be no different.
“We’ll be docking soon,” Miko said, setting a hand on Odin’s back. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he sighed.
Nova, who’d since recovered from his fit, stepped forward and set a hand on Odin’s back, just below where Miko’s palm graced the area beneath his shoulder blades.
“Everything will be fine,” Miko said, drawing Odin’s eyes toward him. “You have nothing to worry about.”
“We know,” Nova said, taking a deep breath. “Right, Odin?”
Nodding, Odin turned his eyes on the island in the distance—not to avoid the question, but to face it head-on.
He hoped that no ill would come out of this next part of their journey.
Peach sand parted under the ship’s belly as they coasted the sandbars and prepared to depart for the island. Several men ran back and forth across the deck, securing sails and tossing anchors over the sides. Icklard and Domnin raised their hands, sparking magic from their palms, to hold the ship steady as both the tide and the rush of activity rocked the boat to and fro. Even Jerdai, who normally stood aside and made sure nothing would go wrong, stepped forward to help. He joined a group of five men in lifting a small, arrow-shaped canoe, hefted it over his shoulders, and carried it to the stairs that would soon collapse into the ocean.
“Sorry to say,” the captain grunted, rolling his shoulders after he and the other men secured the boat in place, “but this is as close as we can get to the island.”
“Understandable,” Miko nodded, glancing at the water that lay between the island and the sandbar. “This will be no trouble to cross.”
“I’m just worried about the ‘bars. You think you can navigate them, or do you want one of my men to sail across with you?”
“How would he get back?” Odin frowned.
“That’d be his problem, son.”
Odin swallowed a lump in his throat.
“There’s no need for that,” the Elf said, turning just in time to see the stairs slam into the sea. Water soaked a group of nearby men, several of whom nearly slipped and went overboard. “Thank you for your service, Jerdai. It is much appreciated.”
“No, thank you.”
The captain shook Miko’s hand, then Nova’s. When it came time for Odin to shake, he reached out and tentatively gripped the older man’s hand, not sure what to say. He met Jerdai’s brown eyes a moment later and smiled when the captain offered him a grin.
“You’ll do great out there, boy,” Jerdai said, slapping his naked shoulder. “You’ve got a great man leading you and a good friend at your side.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“No, Odin—thank you. I’ve realized a few things in the time I’ve met you, and I think they’ll make me a better man because of it.” The captain released hold on his hand. “Good luck, son—you’ll need it out there.”
“Thank you.”
With one final nod, Odin bade Jerdai goodbye and followed Miko and Nova across the deck, avoiding seawater, piles of rope and anything else that might cause them problems. Once at the stairs, Miko took their packs and passed them down to two other men, one of which stood holding the canoe in place, the other evenly distributing supplies throughout their transport. Icklard and Domnin stood nearby, watching Odin with sad eyes.
“Guess this is goodbye,” the older brother said, forcing a smile when Odin stepped forward.
“For now, anyway,” Odin sighed. He, too, forced a smile, not wanting their last meeting for the year to be filled with sad memories.
“Don’t worry,” Icklard said, reaching out to punch Odin’s shoulder. “You’ll be back.”
“You know I will,” he laughed, wrapping an arm around each brother. “Thank you, guys. I don’t think I could ask for better friends.”
“No need to thank us,” Domnin said. “Right, Icklard?”
“Right”
“Good luck out there, Odin.”
“Even though you don’t need it,” Icklard chuckled, smacking the back of Odin’s head when the three broke their embrace. “You’ve done so much for the both of us in such a short time. I don’t think we’ll ever be able to repay you.”
“There’s no need to,” Odin smiled, reaching back to rub his neck. “That’s what friends do, right? Friends help friends.”
“Friends help friends,” Icklard agreed.
“They sure do,” Domnin said.
“Goodbye, Odin. We’ll see you when you come back.”
“You’ll almost be a knight by then.”
“I hope so,” Odin said, sighing when Nova set a hand on his shoulder. “Bye guys.”
“Bye,” the brothers said.
Odin gave the two a final nod before he followed Nova down the stairs, careful not to slip on the water that perforated their surfaces. At the bottom step, Miko gestured Odin into the center of the boat, offering a hand on which to stable himself as he stepped over the half a foot that separated the stairs from the boat. Once he settled down, Nova stepped in behind him, then Miko, who took the helm and accepted an oar one of the men offered. Nova, too, received an oar, following Miko’s lead by setting his to the right while the Elf positioned his own to the left.
“When winter passes?” Jerdai asked, crouching to look at the Elf.
“When winter passes,” Miko nodded, reaching out to shake the captain’s hand one last time.
Raising his hand in friendly goodbye, Odin watched the men cheer, whistle and yell encouragement, Jerdai only pushing them away from the boat when he saw fit. Behind them, Icklard and Domnin released sparks of light into the air, willing them to explode into a comical display overhead. Bolts of green and orange brightened the air, sparking and flying around and above the boat in a friendly, victorious parting as if the magic were birds, butterflies and dragonflies sending them off to the world.
“Goodbye!” the brothers called, waving their magically-brightened hands in the air. “And good luck!”
“Goodbye!” Odin called back.
As the brothers disappeared from sight, and as they became harder to see, Odin thought back on his last year and what the journey had brought him—how, in Neline, he had learned that even the greatest of beings had weaknesses, and how, despite the odds, and the fact that your race was slowly disappearing from the face of the earth, you could still fight for the things you believed in.
This would be the last year he spent as a squire.
While he had time, he had to make it last, if only to secure his memories for the lifelong journey ahead.
Stone buildings appeared as they neared the beach. Men dressed in long, tan cloaks walked the water’s length in a perfect line of seven, waving hands toward the woods as if beckoning something to appear. Odin, who’d been left to sit while M
iko and Nova pumped the boat, leaned forward, squinting to try and see the figures better. “Who are they?” he frowned, setting a hand on Miko’s back.
“Tentalin Monks,” the Elf said, glancing over his shoulder at the two of them. “These are the people I wanted you to meet, Odin.”
“Why?”
“Because they are very wise men who have sacrificed everything in order to better their lives.”
To better their lives.
Would these men, these monks, serve as an allegory for what was to come, as a metaphor for the future and just what he would have to sacrifice for his own destiny? Had Miko implied that in order to become a good knight, he, too, would have to give something up in the process?
I’ve already given something up, he thought.
Did his childhood really mean anything? He’d accomplished nothing in those two years in the tower, nothing except growing closer to a high mage of the court and developing his body into a perfectly-structured fighting machine. Even then, those relationships couldn’t mean anything more than two men’s’ pity to a misunderstood boy, could it?
No. They didn’t.
Taking a breath, Odin crossed his arms and bowed his head until his chin met his chest. The sight of the beach and the men walking across it nauseated him for reasons he couldn’t understand.
“You okay?” Nova asked, squeezing his shoulder.
“Yeah,” Odin said, expelling a breath. “I am.”
The older man patted his back before returning to his work. Odin continued to dwell on his thoughts on how knighthood would affect the rest of his life until he felt Miko stir in front of him. He looked up to find that the Elf had raised a hand and that the men on the beach had stopped to give them their attention.
“I come to the island of Ohmalyon with my squire, Odin Karussa of Felnon, and our guardian, Novalos Eternity of Bohren,” Miko said. “I ask for permission to come into your land.”