Nova growled, tightened his grip on his scythe, and screamed, “Come and get us you furry little fucks! We’re not afraid at you!”
Odin slung his sword free of its sheath, grimacing at the metallic hum that followed.
This will be the first time I’ve used you to fight,
he thought.
In that moment, he closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the hilt of the weapon, knowing more than well that it would not be much longer before his first real battle would begin.
The Kerma, now no more than a few feet away, stopped when the third barrage of arrows soared through the air.
Odin cut the first shaft from the sky before it could hit him, then caught the second and third with his magic and threw them back with a flick of his wrist. The creatures on the hill had little time to react in the moments before the arrows buried themselves in their skulls.
“Stay back!” Odin screamed. “I’ll kill you myself!”
“You will try, child, but you will fail.”
The head Kerma flew forward. Odin caught the head of the pickaxe with his sword just before it connect with his chest and briefly glimpsed Nova as he ran at the other group. Miko, too, charged, raising his magic-sparked hand.
“Die, boy,” the Kerma growled.
Odin flung his sword into the air to dislodge their weapons. The Kerma lunged, swung the blunt edge at Odin’s side, and almost managed to make a connecting blow before he ducked.
With a twirl of his hand, he cut the flesh of the creature’s shoulder and sprayed blood into the air.
They’re so small,
he thought, panting, jumping back to avoid a forward thrust to his gut.
While the height difference would prove troublesome, especially due to the fact that the creature stood at least a full foot shorter than him, Odin ignored it and instead threw three more blows out. The Kerma blocked or dodged each one, pouncing through the air as if it were an animal, before it came forward and slashed at Odin’s thigh.
Odin screamed as the blade parted the fabric of his pants and sliced his leg open.
“You spill my blood, I’ll spill yours,” the Kerma breathed, rising, slamming the axe’s blunt edge into Odin’s hip.
Both hits sent him staggering back.
With a limp preventing him from both fighting and moving his best, he held his sword steady and began to reach into his magic.
Is it fair,
he thought,
to use magic when no one else has it?
“Stay back,” Odin gasped, setting his free hand on fire. “I’ll use my magic on you.”
“Try it, boy.”
Odin threw the flame forward.
A plume of steam parted the air as fire met ice.
The fireball met a barrier in front of the Kerma and briefly lit a sphere of energy in white light before extinguishing entirely.
They have magic too.
“Leave us alone!” Odin cried. Nova roared in the foreground and slammed his scythe into one of the Kerma’s back. Blood exploded form its torn spine as the man sliced the creature in half from groin to head. “We’re going to kill you if you don’t run!”
“There’s no reason to live when we’re already dead.”
The creature threw his head back, freeing its hood from its head.
Death, destruction, chaos, extinction—it revealed itself in a maleficent image that, on first glance, could not be truly comprehended. It seemed to impossible, too
unreal
for such a thing to be displayed upon the form of flesh, and for that when Odin stumbled back and looked directly at the creature’s head as he realized, with cruel and utter mercy, that this creature was really, truly
dying.
A patchwork of mange coated its head, its face revealed in shades of pink and brown; flesh—rotting, splitting and oozing pus—cracked along its face; and bone, the color of the moon and back again, radiated red scars that could have been filled with blood or even marrow should one have been able to look at it properly. What might have been the most horrifying feature of this creature’s destruction, however, was a tumor the size of Odin’s hand. Pressed to its cheek, pulsing in tune to the raw, fleshy beat of its heart, it seemed to have one eye—an eye that, unbeknownst to Odin, judged him with each and every passing moment, and threatened to expel from its surfaces the cruelties of the world were he to take one step closer.
Distraught, unable to believe his eyes and ready to cave in to his lesser emotions, Odin allowed his sword arm to dangle limply at his side, then screamed, “We didn’t do this to you!”
Humans destroyed us,” the Kerma said, thrusting its axe forward as it advanced. “Humans deserve to be treated in kind.”
“Odin!” Nova cried.
The Kerma lashed out.
Odin, just barely managing to catch the axe on his sword, took his chance and snapped his blade up.
He fell forward.
The sword pierced the Kerma’s chest and killed it on impact.
Lying in the snow, leg bleeding and hip throbbing, Odin prayed his friends had killed the rest of the Kerma, especially the final archer that stood atop the hill.
Pain blotted his vision and drove him into darkness.
*
Nova had just killed his third Kerma when he saw Odin fall. Arms burning, face and beard drenched in blood, he turned to see the creature he had come to know as the tribe leader impaled on Odin’s sword, lopsided in its posture on the blade’s shaft and its head hung forward, obviously deceased. The other two lay dead near Odin’s feet, while a third lying nearby had just been liberated of its head.
“Odin’s down!” Nova cried.
Miko raised his hand and shot a beam of purple light at the western peaks.
A flash of light lit up the sky.
Nova’s vision clouded over.
When it cleared, an explosion shook the hillside and made the ground quiver as if it were trembling. Rock, snow and ice flew into the air and rained down around them as if it were the stuff of stars making its way into the atmosphere. Nova only managed to throw himself from the immediate area just in the nick of time to avoid being struck by a falling piece of ice.
“Odin!” Nova said, gasping, crawling toward his friend. “Odin! Odin!”
He rolled the young man over, saw the cut on his leg and immediately inhaled a deep breath. While the wound bled, it didn’t seem life threatening, and for that he took to scanning the boy’s body for other injuries. When he found none, he closed his eyes, tears coursing down his face.
We almost lost him.
“Is he injured?” Miko asked, falling by his side.
“His leg got cut, but I don’t think he’s hurt anywhere else.”
“Get his sword.”
Nova stood and slid the hilt of the blade out of thedead Kerma’s chest. The sword, slick with blood and chunks of flesh, looked even more ominous than it normally did.
Is your blade black because you’ve tasted more blood than any other sword that’s ever existed?
He cleaned the weapon as best as he could in the snow and on the Kerma’s cloak before sliding it back into Odin’s sheath. Miko, meanwhile, continued to kneel by the boy, a hand over the wound. Blood slicked the Elf’s pearly flesh and slid through his fingers to create a tapestry of spidery veins.
“We need to get him to the village,” the Elf said, raising his head. “You’ll need to carry him.”
“I don’t think I can,” Nova replied, only just realizing how worn out the battle had made him. “His pack, his weight, his sword…”
Miko unbuckled the black blade and set it at his side, then grabbed Odin’s pack, which had been cast aside sometime during or before the battle. “There,” he said. “Take him into your arms. Be careful though—I think more than his leg was wounded.”
“Why—”
“Because the side of this coat is damp.”
Nova swallowed. “How—”
“The blunt edge of his pickaxe. I assume that’s what caused the injury.”
“How bad do you think it is?”
“I’m not sure. Please, be gentle.”
“You know I will.”
Sliding his hands beneath the boy’s body, Nova lifted him up, instantly surprised at how much the young man weighed.
Almost immediately, the boy started thrashing. He groaned, cried, then stilled his protest.
“It’s ok,” Nova said, holding Odin close to his chest. “It’s just me. You’re safe.”
“It hurts.”
“It’ll be all right. Don’t worry. I got you.”
Miko stepped forward, set a hand on the young man’s face, then said, “Sleep,” in a soft voice, before continuing, “until your body begins to wake.”
For a moment, the air tingled with static. Then, just as quickly, it left. The boy’s body went slack in Nova’s arms. “Did you—”
“It will help keep the pain away,” Miko sighed.” Come, Nova—I will try to keep the three of us warm.”
“How much further do we have to go?”
“A few short days.” The Elf turned. “Now… come. We must get our friend to safety.”
Closing his eyes, Nova watched the giant bend, attach Odin’s sword to his belt and his scythe to his back, then slide the two extra packs onto his belt.
“I’m sorry I can’t carry anything else,” Nova sighed.
“The boy is burden enough. Do not worry.”
Miko took a few steps forward.
Taking a deep breath, Nova started walking, all the while holding his friend close to his chest.
You’ll be ok,
he thought, stroking Odin’s hair.
Have faith.
*
When a baby is born, it sees everything there is to see—the past, the present, maybe even the future. It sees the Elves that came from the distant lands that lay across the sea and the corruption humanity and others brought with them. It sees the way wars raged and how blood spilled across the horizon, feeding crows a feast that would last them for years to come, and it sees men strewn across the battlefield: bloodied, bruised and crazed from the atrocities of war. It may not realize what exactly it is seeing, for it is only freshly-born and is ignorant of the world, but there is a reason newborn infants cry. The world is harsh—unbelievably-cruel, even, for it burns those who are young and scars those who are not meant to be touched. And it was like that baby, whom was very much ignorant of his surroundings, that Odin woke from a nightmare of storms—of snow and blood in a way that can only be described as memory. He saw before him a wooden ceiling deeply-tinted and worn by age and was instantly blinded by the light from the outside world.
Where am I?
he thought, setting a hand over his eyes.
Why is it warm?
For several long, doubtful moments, he lay there trying to muster the urge to at least open his eyes. Silence clouded his thoughts and confusion rumbled throughout his conscience, echoing across his ears and reverberating along the lids of his eyes. It seemed too peaceful, too
normal
even, for it to be outside, in the cold, barren world completely unforgiving and without respect. It was this feeling that overcame him for quite some time, trapping him in blissful melancholy, before he heard a man growl nearby.
Nova?
“Nova?” he managed, moving his arm away from his eyes and turning his head only to find that his friend wasn’t there. “Where are you?”
“It’s ok,” someone said. “You’re safe.”
The new, unexpected voice jarred him upright. Odin nearly screamed when pain shot through his leg and spiraled into his hip.
“You got hurt pretty bad,” the strange man said, setting a hand on Odin’s shoulders. “You ok, buddy?”
“I—” Odin blinked. The man, dressed in a sleeveless blue jerkin and pants the same hue, bore tan-colored skin, as if he were an individual pressed into the sun and meant to work in the fields for long periods of time. How this could be Odin didn’t know, as all there happened to be in Neline was snow and clouded skies, but that didn’t necessarily bothered him. What troubled him was the presence of another man, of a person other than a nearly-dead, rotting Kerma. “I’m in the Globe Village,” he said, dumbstruck, his heart flickering in his chest and strumming peace across his ribcage. “Aren’t I?”
“Yes, you are. Your friend—Nova, I believe you called him—is over there.” The stranger pointed at the opposite wall, where beneath a window Nova lay in bed, sweat gleaming through the thin layer of dark-red hair on his chest.
“Is he all right?” Odin asked. “Did he get hurt?”
“No, he’s not hurt. You, on the other hand—” Odin reached down to grab the blankets, instantly all the more aware of his injuries, but the man caught his hand before he could do so. “You can’t see anything anyway. Besides—even if you could, I wouldn’t let you.”
“Who are you?” Odin frowned. “A doctor?”
“A doctor’s assistant, actually.” The man smiled and reached back to scratch his neck. “I’m Joseph. The big man in the black coat said your name was Odin?”
“That’s right. And that’s my friend Nova.”
“You three have come a long, long way.” Joseph stood, crossed the room, and pulled a skin-wrapped case off a desk that stood near the wall before offering it to Odin. “Water,” he said.