The Bond of Blood

by Kody Boye

  Out there, beyond the depth of fog, he imagined the Elnan peninsula embracing the deep, blue sea on all three sides.

  Tomorrow morning, they would be 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 it had rained for days, the path slanted down, its passes bordered by copses of trees which lay beneath formations of cliffs that appeared to have been carved by the Gods themselves on either sides of the pass—to look upon its structure and see how this land had been created was to believe in things 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 impossible that man would have ever attempted to make it, much less think of doing so. Who, Odin wondered, would have deliberately carved a road, much less through rock, to create a route that was so dangerous?

  “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 ask 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 earth.”

  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, as if they were maneuvering through a bed of rocks next to a storm-shattered shoreline. Walking too fast, Nova found, would make them slip, and had he not had a good grip on his horse’s reins, he would’ve fallen face-first. The resulting mistake 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 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 accepting the cords 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 thought he heard Miko laugh as well, but couldn’t be sure, especially considering the slight rain falling 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 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-gray 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 from 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, 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 snorted, 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 pressed down upon them as if it were a great hand from the sky. They camped beneath the trees near the northern cliffside to shield themselves from the torrential downpour, and while it did little to protect them on every side, it was at least better than camping out in the open, exposed to the elements and without the overhead vegetation.

  “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, though his trembling arms could not be stilled even with his harsh grip on his biceps.

  They shared a few pieces of jerky. Odin chewed his chunk 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 to satisfy his companions.

  The bedrolls are gonna be soaked, Odin thought.

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

  “We’re going to have to be especially careful tonight,” Miko said, drawing their attention with 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 seen a few weeks beforehand. It wasn’t until that moment that Odin had ever considered the weapon, and as Miko placed a hand to his hilt and pulled the blade from its womb, he watched in awe as the same sterling silver came into view and glistened despite the light 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.

  “Many, many years ago.”

  The sight of the weapon was enough to fill any with awe. Odin 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 lineage?

  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 attract attention, especially from those who were prone to stealing.

  “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 slid his sword into his 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 moment they stepped off the beaten path they remounted and continued across the near-barren peninsula. Devoid of tees and seemingly without any dense shrubbery, it didn’t seem possible that this area was, in fact, a real terrain. Here, the thick, heavy odor of saltwater plagued the air like insects, and sweltering within the moisture was a humidity he found discomforting considering his clothing. Occasionally, Odin would sneeze. A few times, Gainea bucked from the sudden outburst and nearly threw him off, but he managed to muffle his attacks 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 his posture and continued to examine the plains. Though not particularly different than those of Ornala, the yellowish tinge made them appear golden in the mid-afternoon light. Still—no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t 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 almost-forbidden deserts of Germa, or would they go further north, near the kingdom of Kegdulan and the mountain chain where the Dwarves dwelled?

  The specific destination, in the end, didn’t necessarily matter, but to know would at least relieve his wandering thoughts. Plagued with doubts for the past while, he’d tried to stop concentrating on the specifics and enjoy the fact that he was so far from home in a place he had never been before. For some reason, though, he couldn’t help but think about it. His father had often said that he’d worried about such 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 along his upper lip before tilting his head back to yawn. “Tired even before the afternoon,” Nova laughed. “That’s just great.”

  “It’s easy traveling 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.

  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 time.

  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. 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.

  “We’ll stop to rest before we leave,” Odin said, “right?”

  “We will,” Miko said. “We’ll take shelter in a bar until the boat arrives.”

  Guess that means he’s not going to tell us, Odin thought with a troubled sigh.

  That didn’t matter though. At least they’d arrived in Elna in one piece.

  When they came upon a bar near the end of the dock, they dismounted, led their horses to the stables and pulled their saddlebags off before stepping into the building. Tanned, shirtless men bearing scars on their hands from nets and knives sat at the bar, drinking shots of liquor and eating bowlfuls of fried fish. Most, if not all of the occupants turned to face them immediately upon entering.

  Uh oh, Odin thought.

  “What can I help you with?” the bartender asked, eyeing Miko’s massive, hulking black figure with uneasy eyes.

  “A room,” Miko said.

  The bartender grimaced at the deepness of the Elf’s voice. “Well,” he said, only turning his eyes up when he felt it necessary. “I have one available, but it’s not for free.”

  “Of course.”

  Miko stepped forward, reached into the side pocket on his cloak, and pulled a few pieces of copper from the pouch before setting them on the table, taking extra care to keep them under his palm until they were within the bartender’s reach.

  “Is this enough?”

  “Yes sir,” the man said, palming the pieces until they slid into his pocket. “The last room on the left. There’s only two beds, and I’m sorry to say you won’t likely fit.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “First meal’s free with the purchase of the room. That includes liquor as well. Come back down whenever you’re ready. I won’t forget you.”

  The man smiled at the last bit. Odin imagined it was more out of discomfort than actual goodwill.

  “Yes,” Miko nodded. “Thank you.”

  Odin and Nova followed the Elf up the stairs and cast glances at the men staring at them from the bar before they disappeared behind the wooden wall.

  Once down the hall and inside their room, they settled their saddlebags near the wall. Nova stripped his shirt off and cast it near the bed of his choice—near the wall, just under the window. Odin immediately went to his master’s side and helped him out of his cloak.

  “Are you all right?” Odin asked when the Elf’s face came into view. It’d been the first time since the beginning of the journey that he’d seen any part of the creature.

  “Yes. I’m fine.”

  “The cloak didn’t bother your skin?”

  “No.”

  Well, of course, Odin thought, taking the gloves and setting them in the chest at the end of his bed. The sun would’ve bothered him more than the cloak.

  He, and especially Nova, suffered the aftereffects of being in the sun for so long. The skin on both of their arms had chafed, while their cheeks, almost constantly exposed to the elements, were raw from the stirred sands they’d had to contend with for the past few days.

  “Thank God we’ve finished traveling for now,” Nova said, throwing himself on a bed, clawing and sniffing the clean sheets as if he’d never before seen them.

  “We’ll be leaving in a few days,” Miko said, taking a seat on the floor.

  “Yeah, but at least there’s beds
on a big boat.”

  Odin shrugged and sat down beside the Elf. Miko reached back and undid the intricate series of loops he kept his hair in, along with the braid that lay strung behind his head. When all the purple fell down his back and onto the floor, Odin couldn’t help but stare. He still wasn’t accustomed to the amount.

  “We’ll go and eat later,” Miko said. “Let me rest for a bit.”

  “I can wait.” Nova rolled onto his side, propped himself up on one elbow, then pressed his hand against his cheek. “You need a little rest anyway. Out of all of us, you’re the one who’s had the most trouble, going around in that cloak the whole time.”

  “The cloak doesn’t bother me.”

  “I know, but still….” Nova gave a one-armed shrug. Odin brought his knees to his chest.

  “I can wait too,” Odin said, then added, “for the food, I mean.”

  Miko nodded. Nova set both hands on his chest before saying, “I’m gonna get some sleep for now. Wake me up when we go for food.”

  “We will,” Odin said.

  Nova readjusted his position and closed his eyes.

  Standing, Odin stretched his arms over his head and walked to the window—where, outside, the harbor flourished with activity. Small fishing boats and canoes went in and out of the individual docks, bringing with them nets full of fish, while fisherman with broad shoulders and strong backs carried them to their specific locations. Some went to the nearby vending stalls, fresh for sale to those common. Others came across the street, where they disappeared directly into the bar.

  “Sir,” Odin said, looking over his shoulder when Nova began to snore. “Can I ask you something?

  “You may.”

  Odin returned to the bed. He sat down atop it and set his hands on his knees. “A little while ago, I tried making another image, like I did with the water.” He paused, unsure how to continue. “Did Daughtry tell you about that?”

  “He mentioned something.”

  “Well, a few nights ago, I tried doing the same thing, but with light this time. I made a dog instead of a horse because I wanted to try something new, right? Well… I was only able to keep it going for a little while, and I was just wondering—”