The Brotherhood: Blood

by Kody Boye

  “Then have mercy on our souls, dear Nova.”

  Night fell with a crescendo of rain. Tropical in its humidity but agonizing in its force, it beat down on them relentlessly and without mercy. It seemed that no matter where they went, how thick the shrubs around them managed to be or what path they took, they couldn’t escape the frigid onslaught raining down from above, a god’s tears for angering his or her creation.

  Though cruel to their expectations, Mother Nature did what She wanted. She would not be swayed.

  “Odin,” Nova grunted, head bowed and shoulders hunched from the weight of the rainwater on his shoulders. “You ok?”

  “I’m fine,” he mumbled.

  Truth be told, he didn’t think he could stand another minute out in the rain, but he would not reveal that to Nova, much less to the knight master whose emotions were likely shattered. Like Neline no more than a year ago, the rain that pummeled them shook his core and weakened his resolve, giving him all the reason to simply stop and huddle beneath the roots of a large, nearly-dead tree.

  It would only be a matter of time before he did just that.

  “We’re almost there,” Miko said, lifting his head. He surveyed the area for a moment, then raised his hand. “I think this is it.”

  “Thank God,” Nova breathed.

  Odin nodded. He drew up alongside the Elf a moment later. “Are we he here?” he whispered.

  Yes, Odin. We are.”

  A spark of flame was all it took to call the cave home.

  Huddled around a fire in blankets and near-drenched cothing, Odin, Nova and Miko watched chaos rule the outside world. With lightning striking overhead and thunder booming in the distance, it need not matter whether they sat in front of the fire or ten feet away from it—the shivers came from only one place.

  They’re definitely not from being cold.

  Those shivers—caused by lengthy, abandoned exposure to the outside world—didn’t exist anymore. They hadn’t since they’d taken their first few steps into the cave.

  Looking up, Odin drew the blanket around his shoulders and grimaced when his knight master caught his eye. Even in the brightest, most orange of fires, the tranquil purple that guided his world always managed to unnerve him in moments of weakness, regardless of whether or not that managed to carry over to the Elf himself. Something about the way Miko’s pupils dialated to the thinnest of slits, much like a cats, made his skin crawl and his heart beat faster. Was it because Miko was something other than human, or was it something else, something more all-knowing and sinister?

  It’s nothing, he thought. Nothing at all.

  “Are you all right?” the Elf asked.

  “Huh?”

  “Are you all right, Odin?”

  “Oh.” He nodded and looked down at his knees before returning his attention to the being before him. “I’m fine—just cold, that’s all.”

  “It should pass soon enough.”

  “Hopefully,” Nova grumbled, speaking for the first time since they’d arrived. “It’s as cold as shit in here.”

  “Like I said, the rain should pass soon enough… should the islands not be afflicted by a storm.”

  “A storm?” Odin frowned. “What?”

  “You remember the agony the Annabelle befell during the rainstorm, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Think of that, but with winds so harsh and strong they can lift you up and tear you away from everything you know.”

  “That’s why the monks live in stone,” Odin whispered. “It—”

  “Protects them from the wind,” the Elf nodded. “As was the case with the intricate stone blocks you might have seen resting under your bed. They are slid into the windows and used to keep the wind from blowing into the monastery at night.”

  “You don’t think we’ll have any problems?” Nova frowned.

  “I highly doubt it. The only ones I’d be concerned for would be the monks, but even then, they live in their monastery. The worst that they’d have to deal with is cleaning the sand the wind lifts for the beach. And as for the Ogres, they’re not ignorant by any means—they placed themselves so far back for a reason.”

  “So everything’ll be fine then.”

  “Unless the storm decides to get worse.”

  How worse would it have to be to get this far inland?

  Odin dare not question his thought, less he jinx himself for his action.

  Spreading out, he rolled into his bedroll and closed his eyes.

  Tomorrow would be another day.

  Hopefully, nothing bad would come of it.

  The rain continued through the night and into the early morning. By midafternoon, after the sun eclipsed the horizon and hung high in the air, the ground remained so soaked with moisture that he didn’t want to get out of bed. Hung-over from both mental relaxation and the warmth the bedroll provided, Odin slept in, ignoring the ignorant, post-storm cries of the gloomy, dreary day.

  By the time he did rise, clouds darkened the sky and thunder sounded in the distance.

  “Again?” Nova groaned, reaching up to run a hand through his tangled mess of hair. “We might as well just go back to bed.”

  “Too much of a good thing can be bad,” Miko said, tightening his lower robe around his waist. “Trust me—you’ll feel much better if you wake up now than you will in a few hours.”

  “Yeah,” Nova grunted, pushing himself out of the bedroll. “Whatever.”

  Sighing, Odin, too, rose and turned to face his companions, but not without looking outside the cave and viewing the destructive effects of last night’s storm. From snapped twigs, to broken branches, to entire trees toppled by the mighty gale, power lingered in each and every surface and seemed to beckon him with moral wounds inflicted on their inanimate hides. Such imagery forced him to consider just how they’d managed to escape such chaos. Had the cave kept them safe, sheltering them from the torrential onslaught that pounded the earth, or had it been something else, something far greater and concrete than just simple rock and stone?

  Him? he thought.

  No. Surely Miko wouldn’t have lain awake all night projecting a barrier in front of the cave. That would’ve required far too much effort, especially for a single person fighting to keep something such as a storm out of a cave.

  But what if he did?

  What if, regardless of his superstitions, Miko had stayed awake all night, and kept a barrier in front of them while at it? It wasn’t out of his power—he’d proven that countless times by making the seemingly-impossible possible—but could he really sustain the energy needed to do such a thing? Could he hold a barrier throughout the night, shielding them from the wind and rain, or could he have done something else, something Odin wasn’t even aware of?

  Does it really matter?

  It didn’t, but maybe an answer would be enough to quell the uneasiness rising in his chest.

  Shivering, Odin tightened his jerkin around his chest and buttoned it halfway, leaving just enough space to allow adequate breathing room. Behind him, Nova swore and cursed as he tripped and nearly ran into the wall. “It’s too damn wet in here,” the man grunted. “Fuckin’ rain.”

  “Maybe we should move farther back,” Odin suggested. “At least we wouldn’t be cold.”

  “The only good that would do would be allowing ourselves a personal comfort we can’t afford,” Miko said. He took a moment to lace his cape around his shoulders before continuing. “Have you considered how the fire would react?”

  “But it’s magicked,” Odin frowned. “How would it—”

  “It’s not entirely magicked, Odin. How do you think I kept it going through the night without being awake?”

  “I thought… you… you said—”

  “I have a remarkable depth of concentration, yes, but even I am unable to sustain such magic while I sleep.”

  “But what about back in Neline, when were were under the snow? How did you—”

  “He was medidating, Odin.”
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  Odin glanced up at Nova, surprised at the sudden intrusion. “What?”

  “He was meditating,” the older man repeated. “It’s not hard to understand.”

  “How do you know?”

  “My father used to practice. Tried to get me to do it too, but I could never let the world go like that.” Nova laughed, as though something about his statement had unnerved him. He fingered the strands of hair at his chin, first twirling them around his knuckles, then unfurling and straightening them out. He let out one final bout of nervous laughter when he realized both Odin and Miko’s stares. “It scared me a little, ok? It’s not like I wanted to sink back while everything’s going on around me.”

  “You do have a point,” Miko nodded. “Meditation allows the confident relief. Anyone else might as well pull wool over their eyes.”

  “So that’s how you kept the fire going,” Odin mumbled. “You were meditating.”

  “While concentrating on the flow of energy.”

  “So you were technically—”

  “Sleeping, but without actually doing it.”

  Odin shivered. He didn’t need the cold air to provoke such an action.

  “I assure you both, there’s nothing to worry about,” Miko said, circling Odin and setting both hands on his shoudlers. “I know you may not have grown completely accustomed to the things I do, but I hope that as time’s gone on, you’ve been less willing to be afraid and more willing to give life to your thoughts.”

  “We have,” Nova agreed. “At least, I have.”

  “Odin?” Miko whispered, so close the Elf brushed his lips against his ear. “Are you still afraid of me?”

  He couldn’t answer. Lying, and telling the truth, wasn’t an option.

  “That’s fine,” the Elf said, encircling his shoulders and drawing him against his chest. “I just want you to know that I care about you, both of you. I do not lie without regret, nor speak the truth without worry.”

  “We know,” Odin whispered.

  Reaching up, he set a hand over the Elf’s long, bony fingers.

  A brief spark lit the base of his palm before he pulled his hand away.

  Whether that spark was personal or magical, he didn’t know.

  A second night of rain and wind buffeted them without abandon. From the time the sun departed beneath the grey clouds to the time night and the white moon cast its vision over the dark night, the storm continued, merciless and without care. It became so severe at one point that, in the middle of the night, Nova slipped into Odin’s bedroll without a word, mumbling nothing more than a brief thanks before tucking his head between his neck and shoulder.

  Miko remained awake until Odin fell asleep. Past that time, he couldn’t be sure.

  Morning birthed the world in hues of red, orange and pink. The remaining clouds from Ohmalyon’s second tropical storm bled warmth from their damp, grey surfaces, then burned alive until they disappeared completely. Though not every speck of grey disappeared from the sky, the few that remained skirted the edge of the horizon, following their brothers into the deeper parts of the oceanic horizon.

  Blissful warmth invited him into a new and inviting day.

  It was more than welcome.

  “Wake up,” Miko said.

  As if pulled from the warmest waters in the sea, Odin drifted into the mortal world at the sound of the Elf’s voice. So deep, yet so pleasant, the tenor verbatim rolled over his head and into his ears, seemingly cupping his face in its amiability alone. Its fertile nature beckoned him from the warmth of his covers, yet the warmth itself seemed far too great to sacrifice. If he moved, who would keep his kingdom, his sword, his shield, his honor and valor? Surely no one or no thing would come to replace his presence in his absence, so it seemed only natural to close his eyes, to let the sea return him to its depths until he finally rested on its black floor.

  It’s so… so… warm, he thought, eyelids flickering as the sea tried to reclaim him. It can’t be. It… it… it…

  All feelings of things warm and tranquil burst when Nova tossed him out of the bedroll. “Get up,” the older man grunted.

  “Thanks Nova,” Odin mumbled, managing to flip his middle finger up before he fully stood. “Like I really needed to get thrown out of bed.”

  “You wouldn’t get up yourself, so I did it for you.”

  “Thanks a lot. I really appreciate—”

  “Don’t argue,” Miko said. “There’s no need for it. No harm’s befallen either of you.”

  “Sir,” Odin started. Miko silence him with a smile.

  “There,” the Elf smiled. “See? Everything’s fine, isn’t it?”

  With nothing else to say, Odin nodded and sighed as Nova bent to gather the bedroll. He couldn’t help but smack the back of the man’s head in the process.

  “The fuck?” Nova asked. “What was that for?”

  “For waking me up,” Odin chuckled, reaching down to rebutton his jerkin. “Thanks, big guy.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “Huirry and dress,” Miko said. “We have to work today.”

  “Huh?” Odin frowned.

  “We’re going into the forest to salvage whatever blown-down wood we can.”

  “How come?”

  “We’re going to build a door for our cave.”

  “And how do you suggest we do that?” Nova chuckled.

  “Easy,” the Elf smiled. “We put it together.”

  “With what?”

  “Men didn’t always use chisel and nail,” Miko said, lifting his hands for both Odin and Nova to see. “There was once a time long, long ago, when all we had was our hands, my friends, and that was all we needed.”

  Coniferous trees begged to be fed.

  In the aftermath of the storm, nearly everything in the immediate area bore damage caused by the immense wind and the powerful rain. Unlike the previous day, when only the fairer, dantier of plants, leaves and branches had seemed to have been wounded, entire trees had been toppled in the wake of such chaos. Split entirely in half in sections or uprooted to the point of no reason, trees appeared to be lost—sad creatures that knew nothing of their now-meaningless existence. Once beautiful, tropical flowers bowed in defeat, petals lay scattered across the distant grounds, and comical gestures thrown forth from fallen pollen and dander now littered the forest floor, coating the earth in sickly hues of yellow, green and grey. The fact that nature Herself would show such a lack of mercy to Her earthly creations made the scene all the more depressing.

  “Look at it,” Odin sighed, running a hand through his still-damp hair. “I didn’t think it was this bad.”

  “We were in a cave,” Nova grunted, planting his feet on steady ground. “What did you expect?”

  Not this, Odin thought. Definitely not this.

  “What nature has sacrificed will not have been in vain,” Miko said, stepping out of the cave and settling in behind them. “The spoils are ours, friends.”

  “Ours?” Odin frowned.

  “We are making a door,” Nova shrugged.

  As though taking the brief shift in Nova’s movement as a sign of defeat, Miko slid thorugh the gap in Nova’s side and stepped up to a nearby tree. There, he observed a branch dangling by a thin strand of keratin, then reached forward and took the helpless thing in hand. He wasted not a moment in tightening the muscles in his upper arm and pulling it from its mother with one mighty tug.

  “Why’d you do that?” Odin frowned.

  “Safety hazard,” Miko said. “See?”

  Odin and Nova leaned forward.

  Though the original assessment of the branch’s poor condition could easily be seen, what lay dormant beneath the limb’s bark spoke wonders of its physical condition. Inside—where thick, meaty treestuff should have been more than prevalent—the faint but telltale signs of ants and other bark-eating insects could easily be seen. From larvae, to husks, to the dead bodies that lay within, everything about the state of the limb proved to be dangerous, a perfect
catalyst for nature to bring down Her creations onto the heads and shoulders of man.

  “It’s better that anything that might fall off come down before it hurts one of us,” Miko said, tossing the branch near the face of the cave. “All right—this is what we’re going to do. Odin, Nova, I want the two of you to go around and gather up any of the larger pieces you can. Leave the smaller ones alone unless they can be broken into kindling. While you’re doing this, I’ll walk around and remove any of the branches that I find unstable or look like they’re about to break off. It’ll only be a matter of time before the wind or rain takes them down.”

  “We don’t want that,” Odin mumbled, kicking a piece of bark off to the side.

  “Yeah,” Nova chuckled. “Can you imagine what one of those fuckers’d do to ya?”

  “Break your back,” he said, “or your neck.”

  “Which is why they need to come down,” Miko nodded, taking a moment to remove, then retie his cape around his waist. “Come on—let’s get started before the day begins to drag on. If another Ohmalyon storm is coming in, it’s bound to repeat its cycle before it moves on to the mainland.”