The Brotherhood: Blood

by Kody Boye

  “Arm yourself,” Miko said. “We’ll be leaving soon.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “There’s no point in carrying your sword by hand.”

  The wicked weapon sat in the corner, near where Nova’s scythe stood propped against the wall. Still in its sheath, but covered with a protective sheet to keep its sheen, Odin unwrapped the weapon and attached it to his belt, making sure it wouldn’t interfere with his gait before taking Nova’s scythe in hand. “It’s heavy,” he grunted, setting the shaft against his shoulder.

  “Did you expect it to be light?”

  Odin shook his head.

  “No matter,” Miko said. “Come—we must calm Nova before we dock.”

  “Why is that, sir?”

  “Because there are some very special people I want you to meet, Odin. Some very special people.”

  Pine trees rose in the distance as the ship steadily progressed toward the largest island in the Tentalin chain. Ohmalyon—wicked, shaped like a sword and located closest to the second, southeastern peninsula that jutted out from the kingdom of Kegdulan—called to them in the form of colorful birds that tipped the surface of the trees, as if warming them to turn back or risk the repurcussions they would surely face. They cried out and disbanded, spreading wings and taking flight before disappearing into the forest that lined the beach.

  “Look at it,” Odin said, bracing himself against the railing.

  “It’s like a long-lost home,” Miko agreed.

  Odin glanced at his knight master, surprised at his choice of words. Was that why the Elf had brought them here—because it held some greater significance?

  Of course it does, he thought, running a hand through his hair. Everything he’s done has helped us in some way.

  Ornala, Elna, Neline, and now here, Tentalin—he’d learned something from each and every place. Regardless of how trivial or strange their locations may have seemed, Miko had brought them to each for a reason, even if it didn’t seem immediately clear. Like those places, Ohmalyon would be no different.

  “We’ll be docking soon,” Miko said, setting a hand on Odin’s back. “Are you ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he sighed.

  Nova, who’d since recovered from his fit, stepped forward and set a hand on Odin’s back, just below where Miko’s palm graced the area just beneath his shoulderblades. He felt both men’s hands touch, even though he couldn’t see them, and he could have sworn their fingers interlaced, as if lost and unsure what to do.

  “Everything will be fine,” Miko said, drawing Odin’s eyes toward him. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  “We know,” Nova said, taking a deep breath. “Right, Odin?”

  Nodding, Odin turned his eyes on the island in the distance—not to avoid the question, but to face it head-on.

  He hoped that no ill would come out of this next part of their journey.

  Peach sand parted under the ship’s belly as they coasted the sandbars and prepared to depart for the island. Several men ran back and forth across the deck, securing sails and tossing anchors over the side. Icklard and Domnin raised their hands, sparking magic from their palms, to hold the ship steady as both the tide and the rush of activity rocked the boat to and fro. Even Jerdai, who normally stood aside and made sure nothing would go wrong, stepped forward to help. He joined a group of five men in lifting a small, arrow-shaped canoe, hefting it over his shoulders and carrying it to where the stairs would soon collapse into the ocean.

  “Sorry to say,” the captain grunted, rolling his shoulders after he and the other men secured the boat in place, “but this is as close as we can get to the island.”

  “Understandable,” Miko nodded, glancing at the water that lay between the island and the sandbar. “This will be no trouble to cross.”

  “I’m just worried about the ‘bars. You think you can navigate them, or do you want one of my men to sail across with you?”

  “How would he get back?” Odin frowned.

  “That’d be his problem, son.”

  Odin swallowed a lump in his throat.

  “There’s no need for that,” the Elf said, turning just in time to see the stairs slam into the sea. Water soaked a group of nearby men, several of whom nearly slipped and went overboard. “Thank you for your service, Jerdai. It is much appreciated.”

  “No, thank you.”

  The captain shook Miko’s hand, then Nova’s. When it came time for Odin to shake, he reached out and tentatively gripped the odler man’s hand, not sure what to say. He met Jerdai’s brown eyes a moment later and smiled when the captain offered him a grin.

  “You’ll do great out there, boy,” Jerdai said, slapping his naked shoulder. “You’ve got a great man leading you and a good friend at your side.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “No, Odin—thank you. I’ve realized a few things in the time I’ve met you and I think they’ll make me a better man because of it.” The captain released hold on his hand. “Good luck, son—you’ll need it out there.”

  “Thank you.”

  With one final nod, Odin bade Jerdai goodbye and followed Miko and Nova across the deck, avoiding seawater, piles of rope and anything else that might cause them problems. Once at the stairs, Miko took their packs and passed them down to two other men, one of which stood holding the cannoe in place, the other evenly distributing supplies throughout their transport. Icklard and Domnin stood nearby, watching Odin with sad eyes.

  “Guess this is goodbye,” the older brother said, forcing a smile when Odin stepped forward.

  “For now, anyway,” Odin sighed. He, too, forced a smile, not wanting their last meeting for the year to be filled with sad memories.

  “Don’t worry,” Icklard said, reaching out to punch Odin’s shoulder. “You’ll be back.”

  “You know I will,” he laughed, wrapping an arm around each brother. “Thank you, guys. I don’t think I could ask for better friends.”

  “No need to thank us,” Domnin said. “Right, Icklard?”

  “Right”

  “Good luck out there, Odin.”

  “Even though you don’t need it,” Icklard chuckled, smacking the back of Odin’s head when the three broke their embrace. “You’ve done so much for the both of us in such a short time. I don’t think we’ll ever be able to repay you.”

  “There’s no need to,” Odin smiled, reaching back to rub his neck. “That’s what friends do, right? Friends help friends.”

  “Friends help friends,” Icklard agreed.

  “They sure do,” Domnin said.

  “Goodbye, Odin. We’ll see you when you come back.”

  “You’ll almost be a knight be then.”

  “I hope so,” Odin said, sighing when Nova set a hand on his shoulder. “Bye guys.”

  “Bye,” the brothers both said.

  Odin gave the two a final nod before he followed Nova down the stairs, careful not to slip on the water that perforated their surfaces. At the bottom step, Miko gestured Odin into the center of the boat, offering a hand on which to stable himself as he stepped over the half a foot that separated the stairs from the boat. Once he settled down, Nova stepped in behind him, then Miko, who took the helm and accepted an oar one of the men offered. Nova, too, received an oar, following Miko’s lead by setting his to the right while the Elf positioned his own to the left.

  “When winter passes?” Jerdai asked, crouching to look at the Elf.

  “When winter passes,” Miko nodded, reaching out to shake the captain’s hand one last time.

  Raising his hand in friendly goodbye, Odin watched the men cheer, whistle and yell encouragement, Jerdai only pushing them away from the boat when he saw fit. Behind them, Icklard and Domnin released sparks of light into the air, willing them to explode into a comical display overhead. Bolts of green and orange brightened the air, sparking and flying around and above the boat in a friendly, victorious parting as if the magic were birds, butterflies and drago
nflies summoning them off to the world.

  “Goodbye!” the brothers called, waving their magically-brightened hands in the air. “And good luck!”

  “Goodbye!” Odin called back.

  As the brothers disappeared from sight, and as they became harder and harder to see, Odin thought back on his last year and what the journey had brought him—how, in Neline, he had learned that even the greatest of beings had weaknesses, and how, despite the odds, and the fact that your race was slowly disappearing from the face of the earth, you could still fight for the things you believed in.

  This would be the last year he spent as a squire.

  While he had time, he had to make it last, if only to secure his memories for the lifelong journey ahead.

  Stone buildings appeared as they neared the beach. Men dressed in long, tan cloaks walked the water’s length in a perfect line of seven, waving hands toward the woods as if beckoning something to appear. Odin, who’d been left to sit while Miko and Nova pumped the boat, leaned forward, squinting to try and see the figures better. “Who are they?” he frowned, setting a hand on Miko’s back.

  “Tentalin Monks,” the Elf said, glancing over his shoulder at the two of them. “These are the people I wanted you to meet, Odin.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they are very wise men who have sacrificed everything in order to better their lives.”

  To better their lives.

  Would these men, these monks, serve as an allegory for what was to come, as a metaphor for the future and just what he would have to sacrifice for his own destiny? Had Miko implied that in order to become a good knight, he, to, would have to give something up in the process?

  I’ve already given something up, he thought.

  Did giving up his childhood really mean anything? He’d accomplished nothing in those two years in the tower, nothing except growing closer to a high mage of the court and developing his body into a perfectly-structured fighting machine. Even then, that relationship couldn’t mean anything more than two mens’ pity to a misunderstood boy, could it?

  No. It doesn’t.

  Taking a deep breath, Odin crossed his arms and bowed his head until his chin met his chest. The sight of the beach and the men walking across it nauseated him for reasons he couldn’t understand.

  “You ok?” Nova asked, squeezing his shoulder.

  “Yeah,” Odin said, expelling a breath. “I am.”

  The older man patted his back before retuning to his work. Odin continued to dwell on his thoughts at how knighthood would affect the rest of his life until he felt Miko stir in front of him. He looked up to find that the Elf had raised a hand and that the men on the beach had stopped to give them their attention.

  “I come to the island of Ohmalyon with my squire, Odin Karussa of Felnon, and my friend, Novalos Eternity of Bohren,” Miko said. “I ask for permission to come into your land.”

  “Your permission is granted!” one called back. “But what are you, cloaked creature?”

  Odin grimaced.

  Creature.

  So—despite the guise, they knew that Miko wasn’t just a large man in a cloak.

  “That is of no concern right now,” the Elf said, lowering his hand to grip the oar. “My name is Mikaeisto Unaistaio. We mean you no harm.”

  “Then come forward. Only those with wicked hearts would see fit to step onto a land only to harm those innocents who inhabit it.”

  Miko resumed paddling, carefully navigating between a group of sicky rocks and a sandbar that lurked just beneath the surface.

  “Why didn’t you answer them?” Odin asked, touching the Elf’s arm. “Won’t they think we mean harm if we ignore them?”

  “I didn’t ignore them, Odin. I chose not to reply. There’s a difference.”

  Sure there is, he thought, shaking his head.

  He reached down to make sure his sword had stayed buckled at his side. While he didn’t think the monks would pose any danger, mostly because Miko had said they were men he’d want him to meet, there was no harm in being cautious, especially around strangers.

  “I’ve met too many to be that dumb,” he mumbled.

  “What?” Nova asked.

  “Nothing,” he said, running a hand through his hair. He looked up at his knight master. “Will we stay with them, sir?”

  “For a little while,” Miko said, the flexing muscles in his arms visible even through the black cloak. “I think it would benefit you to listen to whatever they’d like to say.”

  “Why are they here, sir?”

  “That would be a question better left for them to answer.”

  “All right.”

  “Don’t worry. They’ll answer anything you’d like to ask.”

  When they came within a few feet of the beach, Odin kept quiet, eyes following what few monks had continued along the tree line, waving their curled hands as though connected to a greater instrument. The others who had remained behind watched them with indifferent eyes, waiting for the strangers to set foot on their land.

  “Just stay calm,” Miko said, stabbing his oar in the sand. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure nothing happens to the two of you.”

  With uncertainty clouding his thoughts, Odin stepped out of the boat and took his place alongside his knight master. Nova, meanwhile, struggled to remove himself, further complicated by his broad frame and the heavy scythe he carried with him. The ever-patient monks waited, lacing their fingers together and allowing their hands rest about their pelvic bones. None of them spoke until the hairy, red-haired man came forward.

  “We welcome you to Ohmalyon,” the lead monk said, bowing his clean-shaven head, “Odin Karussa and Novalos Eternity, as we welcome you, grand being in black.”

  “We thank you for your kindness,” Miko said, bowing his head in turn. “I would like to request safe passage into the forest of Ohmalyon.”

  “For what reason?”

  “I am raising my squire to be a knight. I would appreciate the opportunity of letting him experience a land that few grown men have ever seen.”

  “There is no reason for a squire to enter these woods and cause trouble with our brethren,” the monk said. “Please, turn back while your boat still waits.”

  “We mean no harm to anything that makes their home in these woods, sir. My words are true. We seek only to rest, not bother anything that may inhabit these woods.”

  The monk said nothing. Instead, he looked at Odin, blinked—most likely at the sight of his red eyes—and waited. Ater a moment, he took a deep breath, but nodded. “I see no reason that you three cannot enter if you feel as though you must,” he sighed, looking back up at Miko. “That is, if you don’t cause trouble.”

  “We won’t.” Miko set a hand on Odin’s back. “Would it be possible for the three of us to stay with you for a few days, to recover from our long journey at sea?”

  “That would be no trouble, so long as the three of you don’t mind sleeping in the same room.”

  “We’re a party,” Nova grunted, shifting the scythe against his shoulders. “We’ve slept together since we left Ornala almost three years back.”

  “All right then,” the monk smiled, turning to face the stone building. “Follow me, my friends. We’ll get the three of you settled in, then we can talk about whatever you want.”

  “So,” the monk said, leaning across the stone table to face Odin. “You came from Ornala then?”

  “Yes sir,” he nodded, lifting his hands from the table. “I’m training to become a knight.”

  “How far along are you?”

  “A year-and-a-half.”

  “You’ve done well for yourself,” the monk agreed, turning to gesture a boy of about fourteen over. “Parfour, my boy—would you be kind enough to fetch our guests some water?”

  “Yes Master Beal,” the boy said, bowing his head. He scurried out of the room a moment later.

  “You have boys here?” Odin frowned, watching the wood door cling shut.


  “Why yes,” Beal smiled. “We do.”

  “Why?”

  Miko cleared his throat. Odin, realizing his behavior, bowed his head, cheeks burning a bright scarlet. “Excuse me, sir.”

  “There’s no need to be sorry, my son,” the monk said, setting a hand on his back. “But, to answer your question: we have several young men among us.”

  “How come?”

  “Many come from bad or troubled homes. Most of their parents abandoned them to the streets or left them in the company of strangers that did not take care of them. We offer homes they do not—and, most likely, never will—have.”

  “What all do they do here?”

  “They learn what they would’ve in our average society,” Beal said, smoothing the folds of his robes before crossing his arms over his chest. “The majority of them learn the things we teach—discipline, valor, respect for our others. Some choose to do other things though, like sing, paint or write. We’re quite diverse with what we let our young men do.”

  “This place is very old,” Miko agreed, speaking up for the first time since they’d entered. “You do very good work, Master Beal.”

  “Thank you, sir,” the man nodded, turning just in time to see Parfour return with the water. “Thank you, young sir.”