The Bond of Blood

by Kody Boye

  Two guards resting under warm, lantern-lit outposts stepped out, crossbows drawn. “What do you want!” one of them cried over the roar of the wind and rain.

  “I’m looking for a man named Odin!” he cried, near an emotional breakdown for all he’d lost and accumulated in these past two years. “I… I have… you… I—”

  The world spun.

  Slowly, his vision began to darken, then cloud.

  Not now, he thought, falling, the side of his face connecting with the horse’s mane as his attention turned toward the distant borders of the castle’s eastern gate. Not after all I’ve been through. I’ve… come too far…

  He closed his eyes.

  Nothing existed beyond the darkness.

  Part 4

  1

  A pair of hands shook him from sleep.

  What? Odin thought, eyes opening.

  The Elf stood directly above him, face cast in unease.

  “Sir?” Odin asked.

  “Someone’s here, Odin.”

  “What are you—”

  “A man. He’s come for you.”

  Come for me? he frowned. What does that—

  Before he could finish the thought, Miko lifted him out of the bed, then plopped him down onto the floor, catching and stabilizing him in place before he crossed the room and began to gather his black facade.

  “What’s going on?” Odin frowned, looking down to examine himself before he began to snap the buttons on his jerkin into place. “Sir?”

  “He was out in the rain and collapsed just outside the gate this morning,” the Elf said, swinging his hair over one shoulder, where he then began to braid it with haste.

  “Who was?”

  “The man.”

  “Which man?”

  “He didn’t say. He hasn’t woken since.”

  “Is he…” Odin paused, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Dead?”

  “No. He’s been stricken with the Chill.”

  Shivering, Odin crossed his arms over his chest and continued to watch his knight master assemble himself into his cape, lower robe, hood and gloves. It took but a few moments for the creature to garb himself before he turned to the door. “Are you coming?” he asked.

  Unsure what to do or say, Odin stepped forward.

  He said he’s come for me, he thought, nodding before he opened the door and waited for his master to step out.

  What could that possibly mean, especially considering that he’d already been taken into service by a magician?

  After Miko locked the door behind them, he began to lead them slowly down the hall, through the varying side corridors that branched along the western side of the castle, then down a stretch of area where no windows lay on both sides of the walls.

  The whole while they walked, Odin couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

  Who is he? he thought. Why did he come all this way?

  It took only a few short moments for them to step into what was most obviously an infirmary, flushed with beds on all sides and lit by high windows that cast shards of light across the western half of the room.

  “Master Unisto,” a rail-thin man said, stepping from behind a desk to acknowledge them with his presence. “Master… Karussa?”

  “That’s me,” Odin said. “Where is he?”

  “There.” The man pointed to a lone bed in the corner of the room—where, contentedly, a man slept, unaware of his surroundings.

  “Why was he brought into the castle walls?” Odin frowned, tempted to step forward but unsure whether or not he should. “I thought—”

  “One of the officials was summoned last night. We considered him notable enough to be brought within the borders.”

  “Does anyone know who he is?”

  “No. We don’t."

  While waiting for his knight master’s permission to step toward the sleeping man, Odin remained steadfast and tried not to imagine why a man would be venturing through the darkness to find him, much less the dangerous downpour of rain. If he could’ve gone for so long as to develop the Chill, just what might his purpose be?

  You won’t know until you talk to him.

  “He hasn’t woken up?” Odin asked.

  “No,” the thin man said. “He hasn’t.”

  “Can I, sir?”

  “Go ahead,” Miko replied.

  Odin took his first steps into the room as quietly as possible. Not wanting to wake the man, he drew close to the stranger’s bedside and tried his hardest to remain quiet, but to no avail. Instead, he cursed himself for tripping over what appeared to be nothing and for stabilizing himself on the sides of the bed, which caused depressions in the mattress upon his touch.

  “Hello?” Odin asked, reaching down to set his hand over the man’s. “Are you awake?”

  No response came.

  Odin trailed his eyes down the man’s body—first from his waist, which remained hidden under the thick sheet, then to his right hand, where upon one finger lay a ring that sparkled in gold.

  Gold? Odin thought. How—

  No common man had gold. He wouldn’t have been able to afford the luxury of such an item even through inheritance, as it would’ve been bartered for goods, and he appeared not the type to have money. His hands were gnarled with age—scarred by the blisters and cuts of manual labor—and his muscular yet lean frame gave no indication that he lived a life casual and without burden. But if he wasn’t a nobleman and was, like he seemed, some kind of laborer, just how did he have the ring?

  Could he be a bandit?

  His eyes continued up the man’s chest until, finally, it came to rest upon his face. The strong jawline, the heavily-exposed skin, his proud nose and his thin yet-pink lips did little to demerit his appearance, and while the hollows below his cheekbones created the stark impression that the man had not been well-fed in a while, he seemed perfectly content in sleep—peaceful, even, despite what all he had just gone through.

  “Sir?” Odin asked, leaning forward. “Can you hear me?”

  The man’s eyes shot open.

  A pair of pure-amber orbs looked up at Odin.

  Initially startled at the sight, Odin took a few steps back, but stopped when he realized his actions.

  “Wha-Where am I?” the man asked, his deep voice reverberating out of his chest and into Odin’s ears like sweet sugar across the lips.

  “You’re in Ornala, sir. My name is Odin.”

  The next Odin knew, he was pressed to the man’s chest in a near-bone-breaking embrace.

  “I’ve been looking for so long,” the man sobbed, burying his face against Odin’s shoulder, the scrape of his stubble enough to drive home the horror he had to have gone through. “God. God! Almost two whole years.”

  “It’s all right, sir. I’m here.”

  Odin set his hands on the man’s back and allowed the stranger to revel in whatever comfort he gleamed from the embrace. Stubble scratching his neck, saliva sticking to his skin, Odin closed his eyes as a moment of happiness traced his chest from rib to heart, then turned to seek out Miko—whom, at that moment, was nowhere to be seen.

  Where are you? he thought.

  “What’s your name?” Odin asked, gently pushing the man away from him to take in his handsome features.

  “Nova,” the older man choked out. “Nova Eternity.”

  “Why were you looking for me?”

  “Something told me to,” the man said, furiously swiping at his eyes. “Some kind of light.”

  “A light told you to find me?”

  “Because I had to help you.”

  Odin blinked.

  Help me?

  “Help me?” he asked.

  “I don’t know much about it,” Nova said, then followed his statement with a series of long, throaty coughs. He wrapped his arms about himself just in time for his teeth to begin chattering. “Still cold,” he smiled.

  “Why were you out in the rain for so long?”

  “There was nowhere to go. I tried to find a bar
or even a lodge, but I couldn’t. The farms wouldn’t have me. They wanted… they wanted my wedding ring. I even thought about trying to find a cave to get some sleep, but even then, everything I had was soaked. I wanted to try to get somewhere warm.”

  “So you risked freezing to death?”

  “I had no choice.”

  The smile Nova offered stirred one of Odin’s own. He sat down on the mattress beside the man and set his hands on his knees.

  All right, he thought, frowning, unsure what to say especially because he’d only just barely met this man who seemed to have been on a lifelong mission to find him. What do I do?

  Choosing to use the most direct approach, Odin sighed, took a deep breath, then asked, “Why were you looking at me? I know you said something told you to, but why did it tell you to?”

  “I have the Sight,” the man said, setting a hand behind his head. “I was having visions about you.”

  “You were?”

  “Yeah. You were in that tower, right? I had two visions before the figure of light came to me. It said that I needed to help you because you would need me in your time of need, then said I would need it in my own time.”

  “That’s it?”

  Nova nodded. “I’m sorry for bringing this on you,” he sighed. “I had to find you.”

  “I’m sorry you had to come all this way, sir, but I don’t need any help. I’m fine now.”

  “The figure said you would need me in your time of need.” Nova threw his legs over the bed, then started to rise before realizing he was naked. He adjusted the sheet over his lap upon the revelation.

  “I’m not in my time of need anymore,” Odin said. “Maybe the figure thought I needed your help two years ago, but not now.”

  The stare Odin received made his flesh crawl.

  Come back, he thought, trying his hardest not to ball his hand into a fist. Please. Now.

  “You’re not about to turn me away after I’ve come this way,” Nova frowned. He waited a moment for Odin to respond before adding, “Are you?”

  “I never said that, sir, but no—I’m not going to tell you to turn around and go home. You’ve gone through too much just to be sent away.”

  “I’m glad you think so. I’ve only been away from home for two years.”

  “You never went back?”

  Nova shook his head. “No,” he said. “I haven’t. The only way I’ve been able to speak to her is by writing letters, and even then, that’s not enough.”

  “Speak to who? Your wife?”

  “Yeah. I haven’t seen any part of her for two years, not even her handwriting.”

  Odin couldn’t imagine such a feeling, but didn’t say anything in response. One word could upset the man more than he already was, especially in his fractured state of mind.”

  “I’m sorry,” Odin said, only after the silence began to overwhelm him.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  A figure shifted behind him.

  Odin looked up.

  Miko stood no more than a few feet away, lingering black form ominous despite the light that pierced through the windows above them.

  “Sir,” Odin said.

  “Is this,” Nova began, then swallowed a lump in his throat.

  “My knight master. Yes. He is.”

  “Hello,” Miko said, extending a long arm over the bed to offer his hand. “I hope you’ve been treated well.”

  “I’ve been treated fine,” Nova replied, carefully clasping the Elf’s hidden hand. “Are you… uh… all right yourself?”

  “That is a matter for another time,” the Elf replied, turning his attention to Odin. “We should perhaps leave and let this gentleman rest.”

  “I want to go with you,” Nova said, once more attempting to leave the bed, but stopping before he could do so. “Please… I’ve gone through too much. Have mercy on me.”

  Odin frowned and turned his attention back to his knight master, whom appeared placid even beneath the shroud of black that covered his face. While he couldn’t see up through the shadowed portion of the hood, he imagined there had to be content in his eyes—a look that, while not blind to this poor man’s agony, knew the risks of taking a complete stranger into their care.

  Finally, after moments of unbearable silence, the Elf nodded and cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said. “You can. Let me call for the healer. You’ll need a fresh pair of clothes.”

  The smile that appeared on the man’s face nearly broke Odin’s heart.

  “I’m going to reveal myself,” the Elf said. “So do not be alarmed.”

  “Are you…” Nova swallowed. “Not human?”

  “I am not.”

  Odin stood near the doorway watching the scene unfold before him. Nova lying prone in bed, propped up by several pillows; Miko standing before him, gloves cast aside and to the floor—it appeared a moment in time where a great crime of passion was to be committed, one which would end in blood spilled upon the chestnut floor. Regardless, it appeared that, Nova would pass out as Miko began to relieve himself of his black visage.

  It’s all right, Odin thought. Don’t worry.

  Rounding the room, Odin crouched down at Nova’s side and watched as the Elf first parted the skirt of his cloak, revealing his muscled legs, then as he tore the cape from his shoulders and, eventually, moved to reveal his face to the world.

  At his side, Nova trembled.

  Odin reached forward and set a hand on the man’s hand. “He’s not going to hurt you,” he said.

  Nova said nothing.

  When Miko tossed his head back and revealed his androgynously-handsome face, Nova merely stared. The trembling ceased, the quivering breaths were freed from his chest, and his uneasy fingers stopped drumming on the mattress below them.

  “Wow,” Nova said. “I don’t… I can’t even—”

  “That’s what I said,” Odin laughed, nodding as Miko crouched to gather his facade, then as he strode to the cabinets, where he pulled one of the drawers free and began to stuff his clothes inside.

  “Do you have food?” Nova asked. “I haven’t eaten for the past day. My pack got wet and everything spoiled.”

  “Yes. We have food.” Miko turned his attention to Odin. “Please, bring the platter.”

  Odin stepped up to the table and looked at the two silver plates. One untouched, the other with pieces missing, he pulled the spare aside and brought it to the bed.

  He must’ve already eaten, Odin thought, glancing at Miko before handing Nova the platter.

  The aroma of bread, meat and cheese tightened Odin’s stomach.

  “Thank you,” Nova said. “I’m sorry to burden the two of you.”

  “You’re no such thing,” Miko replied. “Eat.”

  Nova ate with fervor Odin had never seen. Eyes alight, fingers just as fast as his attention to the food, Nova’s hands darted over the feast laid before him and ate as though he were a starved animal fresh to a kill. Just the way he shoved the food in his mouth spelled the days of hunger he had to have endured out in the field.

  “When was the last time you ate?” Odin frowned once he realized half of the platter was already devoured.

  “Three days ago,” Nova said.

  A pang of hurt in his heart for the man who had come all this way, Odin retreated to the vacant bed and seated himself without another word.

  Would his journey be postponed, he thought, and would Nova possibly come with him?

  Unsure what to say, think or do, Odin merely sat and watched the man eat.

  He paced the training field without a destination in mind. Though the bright afternoon sun had done its job in drying the dirt practice area, it hadn’t completely hardened the soil, making the trek all the more troublesome. Every time he took a step, the ground would shift under his foot, sucking the bottom of his boots into the mud. Several times, Odin nearly tripped and stumbled, but always managed to remain upright despite himself.

  Oh well, he thought. It’s not that bad.r />
  For the first time in days he’d felt good enough to venture further than the castle halls. Maybe he’d finally overcome the cough that had plagued him for the past two weeks.

  I can only hope.

  Shaking his head, Odin shoved his hands into his pockets and continued around the sparring circle, content with the relief in his lungs and the moisture in his throat. Such quiet wandering eventually led to thoughts of Nova—which, once again, summoned a terrible deal of guilt and apprehension.

  Now we just have to decide what to do with him.

  The thought made him sigh. While he appreciated the man’s concern, he didn’t need the help Nova was trying to offer.

  In my time of need, he thought, trying to remember any situation in which he’d needed dire help.

  The only real time that came to mind had been a few weeks ago, during which he’d been trapped in the tower. However, with Miko’s arrival and his decision to take him as his squire, he could see no reason for help.

  He looked for me for two years.

  Could he really turn the man away after all the time he’d spent looking—now, especially with his state of mind and the way he’d cried when holding him in his arms? Could he honestly, truthfully return to their room, take a deep breath, then tell Nova to pack his bags, get dressed, and take the long, hard road back home?

  No. He couldn’t. Even the idea of doing such a thing shook him to the core, to the point where he began to tremble.

  Movement pulled Odin from his thoughts and toward the distant rim of the sparring wheel—where, in the threshold leading from the castle and to the training grounds, stood Jordan, dressed in a plain jerkin and trousers.

  Why is he—

  “Odin!” Jordan called. “What’re you doing out here?”

  “Nothing, sir. I… I’m not causing any trouble.”

  “I didn’t think you were,” the weapons master laughed, then frowned when Odin didn’t reply. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Something’s bothering you.”

  Odin continued walking. While not normally disrespectful of authority figures, he didn’t feel like talking. Jordan would understand.