The Brotherhood: Blood

by Kody Boye

  “Here,” Ectris said, voice soft and calm. “Odin.”

  The baby’s eyes focused, dilated, then watched him.

  Such an unruly stare from a child so young made the hairs on his neck rise on end.

  It’s all right. He’s just different.

  Without so much as another word, he took the baby in his arms, offered his thumb once more, then watched the young child suckle his digit before turning and making his way toward the door.

  “Don’t cry,” he whispered, closing his eyes when the child once again started whimpering. “We’ll go get you some milk.”

  Outside, the rain turned into a fine mist.

  The baby whimpered.

  Ectris reached for his cloak, pulled it tight around his body, then made his way toward the door.

  He’d go and get milk, if only for the baby.

  The baby close to his chest, Ectris walked down the road in the faint sheen of rain and tried to ignore the protests coming from the child wrapped within his arms. The crying fit much worse now that he’d stepped back into the cold, his limbs protesting beneath the bundled blanket, Ectris could do no more than shroud the baby within his cloak in order to protect him from the rain until he got to the house.

  Will Joseph have it? he dared to think.

  Of course the young farmer would—the cows in his enclosure numbered aplenty. They produced more than enough milk for the man himself and the neighbors who lived around him. Surely he could spare enough for a baby.

  After what seemed like an eternity of walking through the rain, he came to the young farmer’s front door.

  “Here goes nothing,” he whispered.

  Knocking, he kicked the mud off his shoes, stepped up onto the first two stairs, then waited, occasionally whispering to the baby in an attempt to calm him down.

  Shortly after it seemed as though Odin’s wails would not calm down, the door opened, revealing the blonde-haired, stubble-bearded farmer. “Ectris?” Joseph frowned. “What’s wrong? What are you doing out in the rain?”

  “I’ve become… a caretaker.”

  Joseph’s eyes fell to the lump at Ectris’ breast. “A baby?” he asked.

  “The man said he couldn’t care for it.”

  “So you said you would?”

  Ectris sighed, but nodded. “I need milk,” he said. “He’s been crying for the past little while.”

  Joseph said nothing. Instead, he watched Ectris with calm, cautious eyes before waving his hand. “Come on in.”

  Inside, Ectris slid out of his muddied boots, followed Joseph into the kitchen, then stared at what appeared to be the pail of milk he knew the farmer would have.

  “Sit,” Joseph said. “Let me heat it up.”

  “You know how to make it, right? I don’t want to hurt him.”

  “It’s a boy?”

  Ectris nodded. He pulled the baby out from under the cloak and showed him to Joseph, careful to keep the child a fair distance away for fear that some form of revulsion would slight the young man’s demeanor.

  “He’s got red eyes,” the young farmer said.

  “I’m not judging him for that. We know he’s not wrong.”

  “Do we?”

  Ectris said nothing. Instead, he settled himself into a chair, pulled his cloak off, then gave the baby his thumb. “The milk, please.”

  While Joseph busied himself with the task, Ectris took into consideration the fact that much of his physical interaction with the farmer had been few and short-to-none. He knew, however, that the boy was good for his word. If he said he’d offer milk, he would offer milk.

  “It’s supposed to be lukewarm,” Joseph explained, stoking the fire and hanging the pail over the flames. “Not hot enough to burn you, but cool enough to make your fingers tingle.”

  “All right.”

  “It’s not hard. I had a child too, once.”

  Ectris chose to remain silent. It was no secret that Joseph’s betrothed had run off with the baby shortly after its birth.

  Though Joseph offered no word in addition to his comment, he occasionally dipped his finger into the milk and tested its warmth. After several long, painstaking moments of waiting, he pulled the pail from the fireplace and retrieved a glass bottle from one of his cupboards. It took him much longer to locate a nipple, but he soon found one and filled the bottle with milk. “There,” he said, even managing a smile despite the awkward situation. “I’ll let you take that home with you. You’ll be feeding him for the next long while.”

  “What about the milk?”

  “It’ll be good for a few days, but I imagine the little one will be drinking most of the pail. All you have to do is come to me if you need milk.” Joseph paused. “Well… actually, wait. You’ll be busy with the baby and your own housework, so I’ll bring the pail over.”

  “You’re much too kind.”

  “I’m not kind. Just helpful.”

  Ectris lifted the bottle and put it to Odin’s lips.

  The baby drank.

  He fell into a routine within the next few days. Rising early in the morning, changing the child’s diaper, feeding him milk, and, occasionally, if willing, a vegetable ground to mush—he’d spend much of the early hours of his day managing the baby before he fell in line with his own chores in and around the house. Always he stayed close, allowing himself the chance and ear to hear the baby’s cries, and when night came he’d feed, burp, change, then rock him until he fell asleep before settling him down into bed beside him. With this he took extra precaution. His greatest fear was that he would roll over in the middle of the night and crush the baby to death. To remedy that he had, essentially, created a cradle out of spare blankets and pillows, but took extra care to make sure that the child wouldn’t roll over and smother himself to death.

  The following morning, before he even rose from bed, he woke to a pounding at the front door.

  After crawling out of bed, pulling a pair of shoes onto his feet and checking to make sure that the baby was still asleep, he walked from the room, down the hallway, then into the living room, where he crossed the brief distance between the fireplace and the window before looking out to make sure no one unwarranted had arrived.

  Outside, Joseph stood on the porch in full winter attire—shivering, arms over his chest, and with a cradle standing on its twin legs nearby.

  He didn’t, Ectris thought.

  He unlocked and opened the door before leaning out and looking at the farmer.

  “Hey,” Joseph smiled, allowing his arms to fall slack at his side. “I brought you a cradle.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “What? Have you been sleeping with the baby?”

  “Yes.”

  Joseph shrugged, heaved the cradle into his arms, then brought it into the house, taking extra care to set it on the middle of the floor before turning his head up and examining him. “I hope you’ve been careful,” he said.

  “I have. I made a bed for him out of my spare blankets and pillows.”

  “He hasn’t complained?”

  “No. He hardly cried at all.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “In the bedroom, still sleeping.”

  The young farmer stepped into the kitchen and settled into a chair. When he realized what he had done, however, he made way to stand, but Ectris shook his head and gestured him back down.

  “Sir,” Ectris smiled, taking his place across from his friend. “I appreciate you bringing the cradle out here, but you didn’t have to do that.”

  “It’s all right. I spent all night making it for a reason.”

  What?

  The lapse of silence that followed raised the hairs on both of his arms.

  Of all the things people had ever done for him throughout his entire life, no one had shown him so much kindness.

  “Thank you,” he said, bowing his head to look down at his hands.

  “Don’t thank me. Everyone needs a little help every once in the while. Jose
ph slid his hand across the table and gripped Ectris’ wrist. “You’ve helped me before. I just wanted to return the favor.”

  “What I did when your wife left is nothing compared to this.”

  “Are you serious, Ectris? You’re the main reason I stayed sane after Julia ran off.”

  “I—”

  Ectris paused before he could finish, then listened for a brief moment.

  Is that—

  “The baby’s crying,” he said, standing. “Let me go tend to him.”

  “I’ll be here when you get back,” Joseph said. “Or I can leave you alone. Whichever you’d prefer.”

  “No, stay. I brought a thing of alcohol from the last caravan that came through. We can drink some of it.”

  Ectris turned and made his way for the bedroom.

  “Hey there,” he said, reaching into the pile of blankets to take the child into his arms. “It’s ok, it’s ok. I’m here.”

  Almost immediately after being bought to his chest, the child calmed down, as if Ectris had completely extinguished the fear within the young boy’s heart.

  He’s ok now, he thought, closing his eyes.

  After patting the baby’s diaper to make sure nothing was inside of it, he grabbed the little boy’s blanket, wrapped him up, then carried him out of the room and out into the kitchen, where he looked over at Joseph as he turned his eyes up to look at him.

  “Would you hold him for me?” Ectris asked. “I need to make the bottle.”

  “If you trust me with him.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Joseph offered no response. He took the baby into his arms when Ectris offered it, then trained his eyes on the child, careful to keep him close to his chest.

  After pursuing the kitchen for both the pail, the bottle and the nipple, Ectris crossed the distance between him and the oven, grabbed a few pieces of kindling, then stoked the fire, careful not to burn himself as he struck stone to flint before setting the pail above the brimming flames.

  Good, he thought, nodding as he made sure the pail was secure on the hook.

  He’d expected the embers not to burn—or, at the very least, not spark to life.

  “Do you need help?” Joseph asked, walking into the room with the baby still in his arms.

  “I’m fine,” Ectris said, watching the fire glow as he fed it more kindling.

  For several long breaths, he waited, letting the milk warm and trying to decide just whether or not it would be worth it to have Joseph continue this daily ritual. Though he knew the young farmer seemed not to mind in the least, it would, eventually, become an inconvenience, and for that Ectris tested the warmth of the milk carefully and with a single index finger, as within his mind he considered their relationship taxing and not in the least bit friendly. It took much less for it to begin to heat than he’d expected, and when his finger began to tingle beneath the liquid, he pulled it from the fireplace, then set it up and onto the counter.

  “Is it ready?” Joseph asked.

  “Yeah,” Ectris said. “Come on. Let’s feed him.”

  The personal responsibility of having to take care of a child had changed him surprisingly so within only a few short days. Before the cloaked figure had come—bearing, within his bloodied hands, a baby whom he could not care for—Ectris seemed not to have purpose in life, save for cutting wood when the weather was decent and distributing it out and to the families. That alone had counted his life as something less than important—as something that, without any regard, could have made him seem plain and boring. Now, however, with this baby, the entirety of his focus had changed and therefore had begun to mold him into a much different and even stronger person.

  The baby sleeping at his side, his breaths coming in and out of short births, Ectris stared at the ceiling and smiled at the fact that, when the young boy snored, he sounded much like a freshly-born kitten meowing to its mother.

  I’m going to have to find someone to sit for me if I want to continue working, he thought, sighing.

  Whomever he found would have to be a trusted source. That in itself would be a problem far beyond the scope of any normal limitations, given his child’s eyes and the fact that he was not normal beyond the standard definition. A pair of red peepers would scare off most any sitter whom he managed to find—if not because of the old legends, then the superstitions that surrounded such children—and while he knew that his son would not harm anyone at this current stage in his life, he knew stupidity ran in many a person, especially those who maintained their lives as farmers, woodcutters or even as common yet perfectly-independent housewives.

  But what about the person who came with Odin? How could he just leave his baby in the hands of a complete stranger?

  While pondering over this question, almost to the point where he fell into a haze of sleep and lost himself to the world, he listened to the baby’s soft breaths at his side and smiled whenever the boy offered a snort or even a slight giggle in his sleeps. What Odin could be dreaming he couldn’t be sure, but he hoped, at the very least, it was of good, normal things, not of something that could have harmed him from past experience.

  Then again, just what was he thinking? This baby had come to him but a short two days ago, freshly-born and therefore immune to the world. What possible thoughts could he have of anything other than his stay here, in Felnon, within this house?

  Whatever it is, Ectris thought, closing his eyes, he left me with his son. I won’t just abandon him.

  With that thought in mind, his thoughts consumed him.

  He drowned in darkness.

  The following morning, he woke to the baby crying and immediately took him into his arms.

  “It’s ok,” Ectris whispered, grimacing at the raging storm outside, which lit up the sky and even the distant houses beyond the street. “It’s just thunder, Odin.”

  The baby threw his head back and let out a squeal. In response, Ectris brought the child to his chest and rubbed his tiny back. “Don’t cry, Odin. It’s ok, son.”

  A short moment later, he closed his eyes.

  Thunder rumbled overhead.

  He’d just called the child his son.

  The man left him to me, he thought, a few tears escaping his eyes when the baby stilled within his grasp and stopped crying. He wanted me to take care of him. He’s mine now.

  Sooner or later, he knew, he would have to face the fact that the baby in his arms would eventually come to call him father. Along with that, he would have to train his mind to realize that when the boy addressed him as such, Odin would be speaking to him, not some strange man or creature that would have since become a distant but all-too-close part of his caretaker’s past.

  “Come on,” Ectris said, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and beginning his trek across the house. “Let’s get you some milk.”

  And a change.

  Stepping into the kitchen, he set the baby on the table, cleaned his mess up, then opened the door to be buffeted by rain before throwing the dirtied diaper out along the clothesline.

  “There,” he said, dipping a rag in water to clean the baby before sliding a new diaper up his legs. “Better, right?”

  The baby didn’t do anything, much to Ectris’ relief and disappointment. In response, he washed his hands, stoked the fire currently burning out in the oven, then set the pail of milk over its surface, nodding as he took the child into his arms and held him close to his chest.

  “It’s scary out there, huh?” he asked, smiling at the baby as he turned his attention outside, at the world that currently lay shrouded in darkness but occasionally offered its own bout of light when lightning struck and lit the world in blue. “It’s ok though. We’re inside. You’re not going to get wet.”

  The child watched him with an unrelenting stare. His eyes widened at Ectris’ words.

  “I’m going to feed you,” he said. “Then we’ll go back to sleep.”

  A short moment after checking to make sure the milk was a safe tempe
rature, he dipped the bottle into the pail, filled it to the brim, then capped the nipple on top before offering it to the baby, who grasped it almost immediately.

  This is what he wanted.

  Although having been thrust into the role of a parent with little choice in the matter, Ectris thought he did a fair-enough job, all things considering. It felt good, even remarkably-peaceful and settling to know that he was caring for something that would otherwise die without his help and guidance.

  Odin stopped sucking.

  “Full?” Ectris asked.

  The baby burped in response.

  “All right,” he said. “Let’s go back to bed.”

  Over the course of the next month, Odin grew to the size of a normal baby, and while the increase in weight pleased Ectris to no end, it still puzzled him, given the fact that it had taken the boy so long to grow to what he considered to be a regular, infant size. He knew based on that alone that the boy would be much smaller when he grew up, but how much smaller he didn’t necessarily know. In the end, he had a happy, healthy baby. That’s all that mattered to him.

  “There you go,” he said, setting Odin into a pail of warm water. “You like that?”

  The baby looked at the water, likely puzzled by the warmth and feel of liquid sliding over his skin. It’d been the first bath Ectris had ever given him for fear that he would drown due to his size, and while the sponge baths had done enough to keep the baby clean, he knew that a full-body soak would do him more good than any actual arm.