The Brotherhood: Blood

by Kody Boye

  Instantaneously, the haze of moisture parted for his fingers, offering passage to a nonexistent destination before sealing the way once more.

  It’s… not even cold, he mused.

  Then again, was mist ever cold?

  At his left, Nova muttered something. The man rolled over shortly after, leaving Odin to ponder just what had been uttered from his friend’s lips.

  He must be asleep.

  “Nova?” he ventured.

  No response came.

  “Ok,” he muttered.

  Sitting until the bedroll came up to his waist, Odin held his hand in front of him, palm up, and decided then and there to summon a small orb of light, his sights intent on trying something he’d never done before. With the same method he’d used to shape the water, he twisted and contorted the image of light reflecting from the moisture and garnered from the moon’s light into something that partly resembled a dog. The form, though concrete, was not perfect. The struggle to keep it together was greater than he imagined it to be.

  I’m going to have to ask Miko about it.

  He led the dog around the flat of his hand, making it sit, lay and roll over. After entertaining himself with but a few simple tricks, he brought the dog into the air before his face, imagining it swimming through a pool of water. The iamge started fading shortly thereafter.

  Gotta let this go.

  The image faded soon after the thought ended.

  Buzzed, Odin rubbed his eyes and scratched the sides of his head directly where his hairline ended at his temple. The tiny, faint hairs on his arms started itching almost immediately.

  Great, he thought. I use magic and now I’m itchy.

  Chuckling, Odin finished scratching an itch before setting his hands on his knees.

  Out there, beyond the depth of fog that rested in the area, he imagined the peninsula that Elna existed on embracing the deep, blue ocean on all three sides.

  Tomorrow morning, they would be but a few steps closer to their destination.

  He couldn’t wait.

  It lay before them. Covered in a sheet of mud so thick it appeared as if it had rained for days, the path slanted down, bordered by twin crops of trees which lay beneath a formation of cliffs that appeared to have been carved by the Gods themselves—to look upon its structure and see just how this land had been created was to believe in things higher and therefore believe in the impossible. It seemed unlikely that such a thing could have been purposely formed by nature, given its scope and its terrifying ordeal, and it seemed highly unlikely that man would have ever made this sort of path. Who, Odin wondered, would have deliberately carved a road, much less through rock, to create a road that seemed so dangerous and without respite?

  “So,” Nova said, drawing his voice out as if he were about to ask a question so serious it could impact their entire journey. “This is it.”

  “Yes,” Miko said. He didn’t bother to nod. “It will take us at least seven days to travel this path.”

  Great, Odin thought, but said nothing.

  After examining the path for another few moments, Odin summoned the urge to answer the question that had been bothering him in the moments following his initial encounter with the awe and fear-inspiring pathway before them. With slow, deep breaths, he mentally prepared himself for the answer likely to follow and asked, “Will the horses be able to travel this path? With all this mud, it doesn’t seem—”

  “They’ll be fine. If you’re careful, your foot won’t even sink into the path.”

  Odin stepped forward. Mud parted beneath the curved toe of his boot.

  Great, he thought, glancing up at his master.

  “Come,” Miko said.

  They started down the path at a slow but leisurely pace, almost as if they were maneuvering through a bed of rocks next to a storm-shattered shoreline. Walking too fast, Nova found, would soon make them slip, and had he not had a good grip on his horse’s reins, he would’ve likely fallen face-first. The resulting gesture brought upon the horse was promptly returned with a nip on the shoulder.

  “Ouch!” Nova cried. “You damn horse! Dirty rotten filthy motherfucker! I oughta—”

  “Here,” Miko said, relieving the reins from Nova with but one swift mood.

  At first, Odin considered the Elf’s action stern—rude, even, for its abruptness—then realized a short moment later that Miko had taken the horse to free Nova the burden of his temperamental stallion.

  “Come by me,” Odin said, gesturing Nova over. “You can have Gainea’s reins.”

  “You sure?” Nova asked, reluctantly but willing accepting the chords of leather from Odin when he offered them. “How are you going to walk though?”

  Instead of answering, Odin walked around the opposite side of the horse and slid his fingers through her mane, prompting an almost-immediate snort of approval. “She won’t care,” Odin smiled. “If I fall, she won’t mind if I tug on her mane a little. I’ve done worse in the past.”

  “I wish my horse was like yours,” Nova grumbled.

  Odin chuckled. He though he heard Miko laugh as well, but couldn’t be sure, especially considering the slight haze of rain falling down around them.

  “I’ll keep your horse from now on,” the Elf said, looking over his shoulder at the two of them. “I’d offer to let you lead my horse, Nova, but he’s much larger than yours is.”

  Given the horse’s height, it would have seemed impossible for Nova to even begin to lead it, let alone navigate its awesome structure through the thicker and less-dangerous parts of the path. The head of Nova’s horse came only to Miko’s shoulder. Miko’s mount, on the other hand, towered over him by at least two, if not three feet.

  I wonder where he found such a horse, he thought.

  He’d never seen a creature like it before—black, with a dark-red mane and a smoke-grey muzzle rimmed with two white rings around its snout. Had it been bred from several horses, he wondered, or could it possibly be a wild breed? It couldn’t have been anywhere near Ornala, as the last of the wild horses in the Three Kingdoms had been domesticated long before their formation. Could that mean the Elf had come from even further south than he had imagined?

  Not wanting to dwell on the specifics for fear that he would get himself into more trouble than necessary, he stroked Gainea’s neck and smiled when she expelled a low breath.

  “She likes that,” Nova said.

  “It’s the attention,” Odin agreed.

  Nova ran his hand over the horse’s neck. Again, she expelled a low breath, but nudged the older man’s shoulder with her snout.

  “At least she didn’t bite me,” the man mumbled.

  Odin laughed.

  A clap of thunder rolled overhead.

  It rained that night in sheets that seemed to press down upon them as if it were a great hand being pushed from the sky. They camped beneath the trees near the northern rock face in order to shield themselves from the torrential downpour, and while it did little to protect them on each and every side, it was at least better than camping out in the open, exposed to the elements and burdened with the lack of vegetation overhead.

  “I’m sorry it’s so cold,” Miko said after what seemed like an eternity of silence.

  Odin and Nova, shivering under the hoods of their cloaks, nodded. Odin’s teeth chattered. Nova, somehow, managed to keep his jaw from rattling.

  They shared a few pieces of jerky included in their travel back in silence after the short interval of conversation. Odin chewed his small piece with little enthusiasm, barely hungry at all. Nova, meanwhile, tore the top of his off with a mighty tug of his head. Miko merely nibbled his, as though faking hunger in order to satisfy his companions.

  The bedrolls are gonna be soaked, Odin thought.

  Oh well. At the very least, their single layer of waterproof lining would keep them from being completely miserable tonight.

  “We’re going to have to be especially careful after we all go to sleep tonight,” Miko said, dra
wing their attention with but the sound of his near-monotonous voice.

  “Why?” Odin frowned.

  “Bandits might be watching.”

  Shivering, Odin drew his cloak tightly around him, though it did little to actually result in any warmth.

  “Will they really bother us?” Nova asked. “I mean, you don’t look like someone a few bandits will mess with.”

  “If they want something bad enough, they’ll follow.”

  “What would they want?”

  Miko reached into his saddlebag and pulled from its depths the curved, silver-coated sheath Odin had witnessed a few weeks beforehand. It wasn’t until that moment, however, that he ever considered seeing the weapon, and as Miko placed a hand to his hilt and pulled the blade from its silver womb, he watched in awe as the same sterling silver came into view and seemed to shine despite the light slowly depleting from the sky.

  “Woah,” Nova said.

  Odin remained silent.

  “It’s priceless,” the Elf explained, holding the blade atop the flat of his palms. “The Elves gave it to me as a gift when I met their queen.”

  “When was this?” Odin asked.

  “Some many, many years ago.”

  The sight of the weapon itself was enough to fill any with awe. Odin in particular, however, found it something extraordinary. He knew Miko was an extraordinary creature, but was he really honorable enough to receive such a weapon from the Elves, much less their queen? And in that regard, what exactly merited the offering of such a gift, especially considering his half-blooded nature?

  Maybe he did something amazing, Odin thought, but decided to shake the thought off the moment Miko slid the sword back into its sheath.

  Either way, such a treasure was bound to merit attention, especially from those who were apt to try and steal it.

  “Keep your sword in your bedroll, Odin,” Miko said, sliding his own blade beneath his covers. “And Nova—slide your weapon in as far as you can, but keep the hide over the blade. They’ll attack us if they catch sight of the rubies.”

  “Are you worried?” Nova asked.

  Miko nodded. “Some, yes, but not entirely. What bothers me is that I won’t be able to hear an intruder should they come close.”

  “The rain,” Odin said, turning his head up to look at the ominous downpour.

  The Elf nodded. “You two have nothing to worry about. We’ll take watch as we normally do, but I’ll go first.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Odin set the sword into the bedroll and slid down with it, still chewing on his jerky despite the dark tone the conversation had taken. Nova himself sat up for a moment, but shoved the remainder of the dried meat into his mouth before he settled down.

  “Goodnight,” Miko said.

  Odin muttered a short reply, then closed his eyes.

  The rain continued on through the night and into the early morning.

  When they set off just a fair ways after dawn, a slight drizzle followed, slickening the mud even worse.

  “Keep steady,” Miko said, leading both his own and Nova’s horse along. “If you slip, you might get hurt.”

  Odin tightened his grip on Gainea’s mane.

  If I slip, he thought, sorry.

  The horse whinnied a response.

  “She ok?” Nova frowned.

  “I told her that if I slipped I was sorry.”

  “I didn’t hear you talking.”

  “I was using my magic.”

  Nova shrugged and reached up to scratch an unruly beard, which hadn’t been maintained or kept since they’d set off some thirty or so days beforehand. He toyed with the length at his chin until his attention caught him otherwise and smoothed it out with three fingers before settling his hand at his side.

  The gesture, though innocent, was enough to bring shame to Odin’s body. He’d had yet to grow any form of facial or body hair despite his age.

  Miko said it’s because of the Elf blood.

  Whether or not it would come later he didn’t know—Miko hadn’t said or mentioned anything. He’d have to ask again, maybe when they stopped at night. While he didn’t like asking such personal questions, the Elf would understand.

  He said he understood before.

  If he’d been born human and not some kind of naturally-twisted half-thing, he wouldn’t have to worry about this. Jordan or Daughtry would’ve taught him to shave, would’ve explained puberty in better, more-concise detail and would have been there to explain the feelings that went along with it, and though the most-obvious part of his body had reacted to aging, nothing else had come along with it.

  “You ok?” Nova asked.

  “I’m fine.” Odin blinked. Had he really been off in his thoughts that long?”

  “Just checking.”

  “How long was I thinking?”

  “A little while,” Nova laughed, reaching across Gainea’s back to pat his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I do it all the time.”

  Odin shrugged, then smiled. Nova laughed again.

  “At least we’re not bored—huh, kid?”

  “Guess not,” he chuckled.

  Nova’s grin brought a moment of respite to his troublesome thoughts.

  The moment they stepped off the worn and beaten path, they remounted their horses and continued across the near-barren peninsula. Devoid of tees and seemingly without any form of dense shrubbery, it seemed completely impossible to think that this area was, in fact, a real terrain. Here, the thick, heavy odor of saltwater plagued the air like insects. Occasionally, Odin would sneeze. A few times, Gainea bucked from the sudden burst and nearly threw him off, but he managed to control his outbursts afterward by covering his mouth.

  “Are you all right?” Miko asked after Odin had sneezed for the sixth time in a row.

  “I will be,” he said, raising a hand to squeeze the end of his nose. “I’m not used to the smell.”

  “You’ll get there,” Nova said.

  “How come it doesn’t bother you?” Odin frowned.

  “The air smells this way in Bohren sometimes when the wind comes in. You get used to it after a while.”

  Odin straightened himself out and continued to examine the plains. Though not particularly different than those of Ornala, the yellowish tinge made them appear golden in the midafternoon light. Still—no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to get over the fact that there seemed to be little, if any trees around.

  “Are there any trees around here?” Odin asked.

  “A few,” Miko said, “But not many. Not too many trees grow here.”

  “Why not?”

  The Elf shrugged.

  See, he thought. Even he doesn’t know everything.

  He looked back up. Thoughts of leaving Elna on a boat returned as soon as he took another deep breath, beckoning thoughts of adventure and summoning trembles of unease. Where, exactly, would they be going? Across the border, near the now-near-forbidden deserts of Germa, or would they go further north, near the kingdom of Kegdulan and the mountain chain where the Dwarfs supposedly continued to dwell?

  The specific destination, in the end, didn’t necessarily matter, but to know would at least relieve his wandering thoughts. Plagued with worries for the past little while, he’d tried to stop concentrating on the specifics to try and enjoy the fact that he was so far from home in a place he had never been before. For some reason, however, he couldn’t help but think about it. His father had often said that he’d worried about such interpersonal things—of family, friends and the people who mattered most—but until just then, he hadn’t really taken that into consideration.

  Why worry, he thought, when there was nothing to worry over?

  Smiling, Odin looked up at Nova. The man had since left his hood down to reveal the shock of red hair that framed his head and now his face. He reached up to scratch the thin mustache that curved down his upper lip before tilting his head back to yawn. “Tired even before the afternoon,” Nova laughed. “That’s just grea
t.”

  “It’s easy travelling from here on out,” Miko said. “I’m sure your horse wouldn’t mind if you used him as a pillow.”

  “I doubt that,” Nova muttered.

  Odin chuckled. The man shot him a dirty look, but he only winked.

  Better not, he thought, returning a wink of his own. That horse’ll turn its head and throw you off.

  Nova watched him for a moment, eyes narrowed in a dirty sneer, before turning his attention back to the path.

  Soon enough, Odin found himself yawning.

  It wouldn’t be more than a few days until they finally arrived in Elna.

  When they got there, he planned to sleep a long while.

  The town assaulted him. The sight, the buildings, the people, the air, the life, the thick smell of saltwater and the overwhelming sensation that they’d crossed the world and beyond—everything about the area was unique in a way that, to Odin, made him revel in it even more. Wood dampened from mist shielded the occupants from the weather and made up the overall structure of the town, while those who walked the streets shirtless or close enough bore skin darkened either by location or even from the hot and excruciating sun, which lingered ever so close as if they were at the ends of the earth. The humidity, thick enough to bring about a sweat, forced drops from beneath Odin’s skin without it being overly hot. His cheeks also burned as though wind-burnt and his arms felt like filleted flesh, but regardless, he managed to smile despite his condition.