Chapter 14
It wasn’t the tone of Ul’s voice; it was the slight change in his expression and posture that made Dawson think he’d said the wrong thing. Or done the wrong thing by placing the island in the middle of the map from when the Norsemen had found the island.
When they’d arrived, they’d still had all the things they’d taken from towns and monasteries along England’s coast. While he’d been to museums and such on school excursions, he was getting to see a piece of history up close.
He wanted his phone so he could search up if there were stories of missing Viking ships…
or if Vikings had returned home and told tales of strange lands with blue-skinned people.
It seemed ridiculous, and two weeks ago, he would have laughed, but he’d seen the videos online of what was happening in the rest of the world.
The scientists talked of accidentally collapsing the mythological into the human world, but they hadn’t explained how people had traveled between the two worlds before the collapse.
Was it accidental?
Or were there portals?
Not that the portals mattered now, as they’d go nowhere.
Ul canceled library time after the map incident, and Dawson spent the rest of the afternoon following him around. And the soldier followed him. What the soldier made of the books and maps in the library, Dawson had no idea.
But every time he stopped talking, Ul asked him to continue.
Or motioned for him to continue. While Ul changed, Dawson was offered a drink and a piece of fruit from the king’s snack table.
It was the best fucking apple he’d ever eaten.
It was like the fancy heirloom ones that people grew themselves, crisp and bursting with flavor, not like the watery, tasteless ones in the supermarket.
So when Ul stepped out of what Dawson assumed was his bedroom, he made sure to sing the praises of the apple compared to the ones he ate at home.
He spent the next five minutes labeling every piece of fruit that he recognized.
There were a few that he didn’t, and he still wasn’t too sure about the berries, even though Ul ate a few.
The clothes Ul wore were less formal, though a higher quality than Dawson was wearing.
This time, two additional soldiers followed them as they made their way down winding stairs and eventually through a gate that opened to a path that led to a beach.
It wasn’t much of a beach. Only ten meters long by a meter wide and covered in rocks.
Ul sat on one of those large rocks and tugged off his shoes. He undid his cloak and left it on the rock before walking over the sand to stand in the waves. Dawson didn’t know what he was supposed to do.
Did he stand in the water, or wait with the soldiers?
He figured it was best to wait until he was invited, though he half expected Ul to strip off his tunic and dive into the water.
It was the first time Dawson had seen the king without a cloak on.
Like the librarian, four tentacles grew out of his back.
They were quite different from the ones that formed his arms and legs, as the ones on his back were more flexible, and they had little suckers.
At the moment, they hung limply to where his ankles should be.
But there were no obvious anklebones, just as there were no obvious elbow joints.
The librarian had touched him briefly when drawing his attention to something, but the librarian’s freckles hadn’t changed color; they had remained dark unless he was excited, and then they had become a pale yellow.
Did their freckles change color depending on mood?
He was half tempted to turn around and touch the blue soldier to see what would happen, but he didn’t fancy a sword to the gut either.
One of Ul’s back tentacles lifted and beckoned him forward. Dawson glanced at the three soldiers to make sure that the instruction was for him. The man who’d been following him around all day waved him forward.
Dawson walked over, the sand cold and wet beneath his feet. He gathered his cloak around him so it wouldn’t get wet, but unlike Ul, he wasn’t willing to take it off. The breeze was too cold for that.
He stood to the side and slightly back from the king, the way others did. Unfortunately, he’d chosen the side of the king’s injured arm, but it was too late to change.
Ul turned his head to look at him, and spoke softly as though this was a private conversation, even though Dawson didn’t understand a single word. Beneath the words, there was a tiredness and an unexpected longing. Though Dawson wasn’t sure he was interpreting the king’s mood correctly.
One of his tentacles brushed against his arm, drawing Dawson forward and closer. While they touched, the freckle circles on his tentacles changed from inky blue to pink. The freckles on Ul’s cheeks that traced over his ears and slid down his neck did the same.
Feeling a little braver, Dawson touched one of the freckle circles. “What is this? What does it mean?”
They had so many books in the library, but they couldn’t read what he wrote and translate it into their words.
But the Bible was written in Latin, not English.
And the English that had been spoken a thousand years ago was not the same as the English of today.
For all he knew, the language Ul spoke was closer to what the Vikings had spoken.
Ul didn’t speak as he motioned for Dawson to continue.
“Why, I don’t understand. What is the point? I don’t know what you’re trying to do. Also, my feet are freezing. Do you not feel the cold?”
He glanced up from the water to see Ul watching him.
“Am I some kind of oddity? Am I the mythological being here? If humans have myths of your people, do your people have myths of mine? Do you tell stories about the Vikings who ended up here?” He kicked at the water, wondering how long Ul planned on standing in the cold sea.
This little island was avoiding the troubles that much of the rest of the world was experiencing. But how long would that last? How long until humans realized it existed and came to explore?
“I’m running out of things to say. Do you want me to describe the sky?” He pointed at the clouds and the darkening sky. “Or would you like me to complain about the gritty sand and the cold water?” He shrugged. “It makes no difference what I say, does it?”
Ul faced him. He tapped Dawson’s ear with one tentacle and shook his head as he spoke.
He continued talking as his tentacle tapped Dawson’s chest. Every time they touched skin to skin, his freckles changed color.
Perhaps Ul didn’t turn yellow. And perhaps he was excited because he was beginning to understand what Dawson was saying.
Ul kept talking. His tentacle remained on Dawson’s chest. The suckers moved against the cloth of the tunic. Unable to resist, Dawson lifted his hand and placed one finger against a sucker. The sucker moved, kissing the tip of his finger like a little mouth.
Dawson pulled his hand away, not sure what to make of the thought or the sensation. It wasn’t horrible. Should he try again?
The king continued to talk, his voice no louder than the waves lapping around their calves. And since he hadn’t pulled his tentacle away, Dawson lifted his hand to boop another sucker.
He glanced up to catch the freckles turning from pink to dark blue since they were no longer touching.
“You have a very melodic voice, but I don’t know what you’re saying or what you’re trying to tell me.
” He touched another sucker, liking the way it moved against his fingertip.
“And I probably shouldn’t keep doing that. ”
The tentacle tapped him harder on the chest as Ul continued to speak. He was missing something important, even though he felt the gap and sensed the expectation. Ul wanted him to understand. It was like Ul was telling him the answers to all his questions if he listened hard enough.
Ul tapped him on the ear again and shook his head.
Was he not supposed to listen?
“I know you are expecting something from me. But I’m not sure what. And it’s frustrating. You want me to listen to you speak, but I can’t use my ears?” He touched his own ear. The tentacle tapped him on the chest. “What? I don’t listen with my heart.”
Perhaps the pointed ears on Ul’s head were only for decoration, or perhaps they weren’t ears at all. Maybe Ul’s ears were in his chest, or he heard vibrations like a snake or something.
Two of Ul’s back tentacles reached around and covered Dawson’s ears. Panic lodged in his throat, not sure if he was about to be drowned or have his neck snapped, only that the words were muffled and he was aware of the suckers moving against his skin like a lover’s lips.
Thank fuck he put underwear on beneath the tunic; otherwise, there’d be a very unfortunate tent forming on the beach. It felt wrong to be hard while standing in cold water with octopus tentacles on his head and neck.
Ul’s lips continued to move.
How the fuck was he supposed to understand anything now?
The tentacle on his chest tapped again.
Dawson drew in a breath and exhaled slowly, trying to release some of the frustration. He needed to remember he was talking to…listening to…a king. And if he fucked up, everyone on the platform would suffer.
The freckles on the king’s face were pink, and when he spoke, his lips revealed pointy little teeth. Dawson couldn’t hear the words, and maybe that didn’t matter. Was that the point? If he couldn’t hear with his ears, what was he supposed to be doing with his heart?
With no words to focus on, all that was left was the tone of Ul’s voice and his expression. Once again, he was struck by the deep sadness…the need to be understood.
The tentacles that had been covering his ears wrapped around his wrists and brought his hands to Ul’s pointed ears. He didn’t have a third hand to place over Ul’s heart.
Ul smiled and brought one of Dawson’s hands to his chest, using his own hand to cover his ear.
Dawson didn’t need to be told to talk. “I think I get it. You don’t learn a language by listening to the words.
You’re listening for something else. Yet when I was naming the fruit, you copied my words, and I copied yours.
Were you playing along?” He licked his lower lip, tasting the salt spray on his skin.
“My feet are freezing, and my cloak is now wet. It’s also getting dark, and I don’t want to die getting back up the cliff.
” He shivered as a wave slapped his knees. “Can we go in?”
Ul’s tentacles fell away, releasing him. He dipped his hand in the water and ran it over his head.
“You want to swim, but you can’t because of your arm. That’s why you’re sad.”
Ul drew in a breath and sighed as he glanced at the bandage on his arm. He pointed at the cliff, as if to say it was time to go back.
Dawson lifted his chin, taking in the cliff, which wasn’t all that high, unless one was falling, and then the palace perched on top. Behind the castle, the sky was pink from the sunset. As pink as the king’s freckles when they touched.