Omphalos (Hiccelsa)

Chapter 38

Calder sat outside the medical tent at the first break he got, head below his knees. As of so far, they weren't telling him anything about Ophelia's condition, more than a brisk 'No change' when he inquired.

Since the war had ended, in just a hour or so, he'd tried to heal more than fifty Vikings that came waddling in with lacerations, missing appendages, or wounds leaving guts hanging by a thread and holding in their palms. And they'd lost some too that he'd tried to save. With little medical background, he was a pretty awful medic, but caught on quickly. A mother who knew much more assured him that sometimes not even the best medic could have saved some of those souls and Odin was entertaining them in Valhalla for sure.

A cold tin glass pressed against his face, and he shot up to see Einar standing near him, holding out a goblet for him to take. Wordlessly, he scooted over on the bench and took a sip. Cool, pure water. It slithered down his throat uneasily, in the way that made his body clench at the unexpected treat of relief.

He noticed Einar was already bandaged in some places, but generally looked okay.

"You survived." He said.

"It was awful, you know? Most of those guys I grew up with. But..." He trailed off, frowning, "They didn't even hesitate to kill me, or try to. That's what made it bearable. Knowing I wasn't doing anything they wouldn't have done. You look unscathed though."

"I left early to help out here. After..." Calder's throat dried, even though he took a long drink of water, and his eyes slid to the side to where the entrance to her tent was. Einar nodded twice.

"Ah, yeah. Sorry, you know?"

Calder felt bile rise in his throat. He knew what Einar was sorry about. He wished he hadn't been so obsessed with finding Ull for all those years, but kept the time he had with Ophelia and all the rest of the kids living around there for as long as he could.

Instead, he just locked his jaw, resting his chin on the palm of his hand, staring out at the people still streaming into the middle area. Soon he'd be summoned to help again, and he felt a little bad he had few battle scars to show off. Yet he was well and alive, no question about if he'd make it or not. Which was really more important to have?

Both Einar and Calder startled as a man approached them. It took Calder a moment, but he recognized the man as the one who had met him when he was taking Ophelia off the field.

"You took Ophelia off when she was dying." He said evenly to Calder, who only managed a nod, "I'm Kristoff." He said, holding out his hand, and Calder shot up.

"You're her real father." It clicked, and he gingerly took the man's firm grip, "I"m Calder. Did you ah, find that man I told you about?"

"Who?" Einar whispered, curious.

"Yes." Kristoff paid little attention to Einar's question. Calder felt afraid to ask, like a feeling of anxiety bubbling up inside of him, but he did anyway.

"What did you do to...Unn?" He paused, trying not to look at Einar, but the boy's whole body tensed up too with anticipation, a mingled look of hope and terror switching rapidly between his eyes. It was similar to what Calder felt, honestly. He understood it. Even if Einar wasn't really his son, he'd been brought up as though he was, and they had a connection because of that. It would be harder for Einar to hear if this was bad news, though, since Calder did want him dead.

"I killed him." Kristoff said without missing a beat, and Einar swallowed thickly. He twiddled his thumbs, and Calder saw his eyes water with a bit of sorrow, and Calder no longer judged. You could tell yourself your father, or your brother, was the absolute scum of the earth but knowing they were dead, gone forever...you still were allowed to miss them. To feel sorry you wouldn't talk again. Thinking about how Einar felt brought back the image of Ull's body, his open-jaw and pale hands, and Calder felt sad and mad all at the same time again.