The Bond of Blood

by Kody Boye

  “I… I guess.”

  Before, he’d never considered relaxing on the boat, as he’d developed a preconceived notion that there would be something to do upon its surface. Apparently, Jerdai had just implied that there wouldn’t be much, if anything for him to do.

  “I don’t think you’ll get bored so long as you can entertain yourself,” the man said. “I’d ask for help, but there’s nothing you can do… well, unless you want to cook or scrub the deck, but there’s people here to do that.”

  “I wasn’t sure what I’d be doing once I got on the boat.”

  “You’ll find something.”

  Jerdai shrugged, turned, and made his way to the far side of the ship. Odin sighed and returned his eyes to the sea.

  So far as the eyes could see, nothing except blue swam across the horizon until he turned his eyes to the east—where, there, the land lay, a behemoth resting in the crust of the earth.

  You better figure out a way to keep yourself occupied, he thought, running a hand through his hair.

  With that in mind, he looked at the sea for another short moment and began to follow the railing until he came to the stairs leading down into the ship. Once he descended, he wandered the halls in the hopes that, somehow, maybe on instinct, he could find Miko or Nova.

  He should’ve considered asking what room they would be staying in. At least then he wouldn’t be wandering the halls—not that it necessarily mattered, however, considering that it was still daylight. For all anyone cared, he could wander the ship all day and not have to worry about a thing.

  While he walked—slowly, in the hopes that he would eventually become accustomed to the constant motions of the ship—he examined the vessel in detail. The clean, golden-red wood, the darkened floorboards, the occasional scar on the wall—all were signs that such a creation had been used for many a decade, but regardless it seemed to hold its own.

  When he came to the end of a long hall, he set a hand on the table that rested in the center just beneath a painting of the ship. When he looked closer, he saw the script The Lady Annabelle resting in the corner, scribed in fine flourishes of white.

  Shortly thereafter, a smile crossed his face.

  He looked at the painting for another short moment before he turned and made his way down the side of the hall. Though not particularly sure where it would take him, he would walk its duration until he came to the end, then turn down the next hall. He figured that, eventually, it would end, or at least bring him back to the entryway from which he’d descended.

  Well, he thought. Here goes nothing.

  Setting one foot forward, he took his first step into the next hall.

  What seemed like hours later, Odin stumbled onto the deck to find that the sun had risen high in the sky, bleaching water droplets that lay scattered across the ship to brilliant hues of white.

  Raising his hand to cover his eyes, he searched the deck to try and find any trace of Nova, Miko or Jerdai. When he could find none of them, he ascended the rest of the stairs and decided that staying on the deck would be the best way to be noticed. Though he hadn’t particularly been trying to be found, it had started to become lonesome, wandering all alone.

  Heh, he thought, seating himself near the wall by the stairs, where he could watch the deck with little trouble. I used to like being alone. Now I want attention.

  Who could blame him? After years of wanting physical interaction and hardly receiving any, who expected him not to want it? Before, the lack of human influence had forced him to draw into himself for his own comfort, as it seemed people were cruel and not in the least bit friendly. Now, he wanted to be with them, not alone.

  Maybe this is what it feels like to not have anyone to turn to, he thought.

  After deciding to push the negative feelings aside, he stood and made his way to the bow, where he watched the endless sea in front of him.

  While the sting of not knowing where they were going bothered him, he could push that slight annoyance aside, as finally, after so long, he didn’t have to travel by horseback. That in itself could be seen as a blessing.

  “Hey, kid,” Nova said, sliding up alongside him.

  “Your head feeling better?” Odin asked.

  “Yeah,” the man grunted. “A little.”

  “How do you like the ship?”

  “Not a hell of a lot. I got sick a minute ago.”

  “You did?”

  Nova nodded, scratching the hairs on his chin. “Anyway,” he said. “Where were you? I’ve been looking for you forever.”

  “I was down in the ship.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Just looking around.”

  “Oh.” Nova frowned, then shrugged.

  “What about you?” Odin asked. “What were you doing?”

  “Other than getting sick? Well, I climbed up onto the top deck and looked around, then considered climbing up the net to get in the crow’s nest.”

  “And?”

  “Didn’t feel like scaring the shit out of myself.”

  Suddenly curious, Odin looked up at the monolithic structure. The crow’s nest, though innocent in appearance, held the kind of power any incomprehensible object could. Its height, for one, beckoned birds from afar to land on its surface, coating the wood with their shit, while the minuscule crown atop the mast trembled in both the wind and sea, as if quaking and unable to support its structure. The presence of such an uneasy, seemingly-unstructured thing was enough to make Odin swallow a lump in his throat.

  “I don’t blame you,” he said, shivering. “I wouldn’t want to go up there either.”

  “It’d be cool to look out at the ocean and the mainland from so high up, but… well… there’s no way you’d get me to climb up there.”

  They turned their attention away from the nest when a splash went off at their side. A group of long gray creatures with wide snouts, two flippers and a crescent-shaped dorsal fin jumped out of the water. They squeaked a greeting, fell into the water headfirst, then jumped back again before doing multiple twirls in the air.

  “What are they?” Odin asked.

  “I don’t know,” Nova said.

  Leaning against the rail, he pushed himself as far out as he could in order to look at the creatures. Upon seeing him, they squeaked, then twirled before falling back into the sea.

  “Wow,” Odin smiled. “You see them, Nova?”

  “Yeah,” the man laughed, “but what the hell are they?”

  “They’re called dolphins,” a voice said. A short moment later, Miko slid into place beside Odin and Nova. Still garbed in black, he raised a hand and pointed at them.

  “Dolphins?” Nova frowned.

  “Yes. They’re meat-eating animals.”

  “Fish?”

  “No. They’re anything but fish.”

  “They sure look like fish,” Odin muttered.

  “A fish breathes with its gills. Take another look at these creatures.”

  The dolphins moved a little closer to the boat, as if sensing the land-walking creatures’ curiosity. A few men who had been working to untangle a pile of rope looked up as they neared.

  “I… don’t see what you’re asking me to look for,” Odin said.

  “Neither do I,” Nova added. “What’re we looking for?”

  “A hole on the top of their head,” Miko said.

  With that knowledge, Odin looked closer. Upon inspection, the creatures did, in fact, have a hole on their head, just above their eyes and on the dome of their skull.

  “What does a hole in the head do?” Nova frowned.

  “It lets them breathe,” Miko said.

  “Won’t they drown?” Odin took another look.

  “No. They have the ability to close them.”

  “So they hold their breath when they’re swimming?”

  “Essentially, yes.” Miko set a hand on the railing and curved his fingers around the wood. “You see, Odin, Nova, the sea holds many secrets from men. While land is easier
to explore, and while it may hold secrets of its own, the deep blue holds more treasures than any man could ever imagine.”

  “Seems like it,” Nova muttered. He raised a hand to his mouth.

  “What?” Odin asked. “Nova’s, what’s—”

  A stream of clear bile erupted from Nova’s mouth.

  When he leaned over the side of the boat to puke the empty contents of his stomach, the dolphins shrieked in disapproval.

  “It’s ok,” Odin said, setting a hand on his friend’s back. “Take a few breaths.”

  “Thanks kid,” Nova muttered.

  While Nova continued to throw up, Odin closed his eyes, thankful his body wasn’t afraid of the sea.

  That night, the three of them wandered their quarters and examined the few decorations that adorned their space. An eating table in the center, a bookshelf resting against the wall, a bathing room equipped with a wooden tub lying just beyond the threshold—all the basic amenities were provided and their entertainment needs would be salvaged from books and other small matters. Miko, the least curious of them, sat by the window, as he usually did at night, and watched the world beyond the boat. Odin raised his eyes from a book that caught his interest to look at his master, a frown striking his face soon after he looked upon his form.

  After all this time, after so many windows, he still couldn’t understand why Miko took a particular interest in what lay outside, much less what he could be looking at.

  “Sir,” Odin said, sliding the book out of its shelf. He set it on the table and narrowed his eyes on the Elf.

  Miko didn’t answer. Odin stepped forward, ready to set a hand on his master’s back, before Nova grabbed his shoulder. “It’s ok,” the older man whispered. “You don’t have to worry about him.”

  “He didn’t answer me.”

  “He’s thinking about something. I wouldn’t bother him.”

  Thinking?

  Odin hadn’t considered that. Then again, something so simple as concentrating on something might be even more complex for an Elf. It had to be—as they, obviously, were made differently than human beings, molded and shaped in such beauty that they could be considered something like Gods who walked the mortal plane, and in all his time with the Elf, Odin had come to terms with only a few things. Miko, rarely, if ever, blinked, he didn’t touch his face unless his hair fell into his eyes, he didn’t scratch any part of his body, and he breathed very slowly. While a human had to take a breath every other moment, Miko seemed to breathe only occasionally, as if he had no use for air and instead processed air through his pores instead of his throat, like a spider or any other insect would.

  This list of things different from himself made him think about what the Elf had said earlier, about the dolphin and how it wasn’t really a fish. Could, he wondered, an Elf like Miko hold his breath underwater for long periods of time, and if so, could he also walk through a valley of smoke without worrying about choking? Such thoughts made him consider whether or not the Elf was hiding magic he used from them. He’d notice, at times, the air around his master would tingle. He’d always assumed it was because, like all Elves, Miko was a highly magical creature. Now, though, he couldn’t necessarily be too sure.

  “Okay,” Odin said, taking a step back. “I won’t bother him.”

  “I’m not saying you can’t talk to him. I’m just saying that he might not like to be disturbed.”

  Nova patted Odin’s shoulder a few times before walking to the bed that rested against the far wall near the door. There, he slid under the covers, arched his back, then rolled over so his back faced Odin. “Goodnight,” he said.

  “Goodnight,” Odin replied.

  He grabbed his book and settled into his chair. There, he opened the tome, ready to read before he realized that the side table didn’t have a candle. He made a mental note to ask the captain if he could acquire one from their storage if they have any.

  Which they do. What ship wouldn’t have a candle?

  A ship that didn’t want to be burned down would be the kind that didn’t have candles.

  Forced with the reality of the situation, Odin set his book on the table and grabbed an extra blanket that lay on the back of his chair. He walked over to his master and set it over his shoulders. “It’s cold,” he whispered.

  “Thank you,” Miko said.

  Before Odin could turn and return to the chair, the Elf reached out and touched his wrist. The gesture, so sudden, stopped him in place.

  “I’m sorry I’ve ignored you, Odin.”

  “You haven’t ignored me.”

  “Yes I have. You spent most of the day by yourself or with Nova.”

  “I’m okay. Don’t worry.”

  “That’s the thing. I do worry.” Miko closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then expelled it. He didn’t loosen his grasp on Odin’s wrist. “I feel as though I abandoned you.”

  “You didn’t abandon me, sir.”

  Odin slid his wrist out of the Elf’s bony-yet-delicate fingers and settled down beside him. Miko looked down at the hand he had used to grip Odin’s wrists, then began to stroke his fingers.

  “Do you have arthritis?” Odin asked.

  “No,” Miko said. “At least, I don’t believe so. The bones in my hands ache when I’m upset.”

  “You don’t have anything to be upset about because you didn’t abandon me.” He reached out to touch the Elf’s back, but stopped short, figuring less contact would be more appropriate. “Please, don’t think that.”

  “I’ve left a lot of people behind,” Miko whispered. “I’ve left so many behind.”

  “Sir?”

  This time, he did reach out to touch his master’s back. When no further dialogue came, Odin rubbed the Elf’s shoulder in the hopes that the gesture would spark a response from him.

  None came.

  “Miko?” Odin said.

  The Elf said nothing.

  His eyes watched the outside world—waiting, for what Odin imagined, something he might never see.

  “Sir,” Odin asked, come time the following morning when the world was alight in color and stained with the essence of dawn. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, Odin,” Miko said from his place in the middle of the floor, legs crossed, eyes aware and thumbs and index fingers pressed together. “Everything’s fine.”

  More than aware that this attempt at meditation was likely used to soothe his mind and his thoughts, Odin crawled out of bed and pulled his boots onto his feet. From there, he stood and watched his master. “Are you looking for something?” he decided to ask.

  “I’m sorry?”

  Odin frowned. The Elf wasn’t one to ask someone to repeat something. “I asked if you were looking for something,” he said.

  “Oh. No. I’m not looking for anything. Why do you ask?”

  “You just sit there and watch what’s going on outside. I… I thought—”

  “Don’t feel the need to worry about me, Odin. I’m perfectly fine.”

  The Elf stood and crossed the room. He stopped at Nova’s bed and looked down at the sleeping man.

  “He hasn’t woken up?” Odin frowned.

  “Not yet.”

  “Did you want me to wake him up?”

  “Not particularly. I had planned on going up above, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “How come?”

  “I don’t want to be up there by myself.”

  “I’ll go.”

  Whatever the Elf’s reasons for not wanting to ascend the deck alone, he didn’t necessarily care. Instead, he secured a few of the buttons on his jerkin that had popped open last night and reached for his sword, but stopped before he could wrap his hand around it. “Should I take my sword, sir?”

  “If you’d like. I’m not.”

  He won’t let anything happen to us.

  If, for any reason, Miko couldn’t defend them, Odin knew he could. His magic had grown tremendously in the past while, and though the Elf hadn’t personally instr
ucted him in specific manners of the Will, his words of encouragement held more bounty than any spell book could have ever entranced upon its reader.

  They left the room as quietly as they could after the Elf was garbed in his black facade and ascended the stairs, breathing in the scent of morning as they touched down upon the deck. Already men ran back and forth, tugging on ropes and scrubbing the boat. Some even sat in stools near the sides of the railing, fishing poles in hand and bait lingering in buckets at their feet.

  “It must always be this hectic up here,” Odin said.

  “I suppose,” the Elf shrugged. “I haven’t been on too many boats in my lifetime.”

  “You don’t like them?”

  “I’m not particularly fond of being where my feet cannot firmly rest on the ground.”

  Miko adjusted his hood, drawing it further over his face. Why he did it Odin couldn’t be sure, as no one would have been able to see into it even if they wanted to. Even before, when it had been up a slight amount more than usual, the person inside had been shrouded in darkness, his face masked and his expressions all but hidden.

  “Would it really be so bad to let them know what you really are?”

  “Yes, Odin. It would.”

  “How did we get on the ship? It’s not like the captain would’ve just let you on.”

  “If you’ve got money, a man will do anything you like, even keep quiet.”

  The Elf walked away, but Odin chose not to follow. Instead, he turned and went his own way, not wanting to leave his master but knowing he preferred the silence.

  He doesn’t want me hanging around him constantly.

  Then again, Miko had asked for him to come up here with him. He had to remember that the Elf had wanted one of his companions nearby, just in case the other men started to get suspicious. While Odin didn’t necessarily believe their fellow shipmen would do anything, he couldn’t know exactly. Who could be sure of anything, especially when one of the stranger’s party preferred to keep himself wrapped behind a black persona?

  It doesn’t matter.

  He stopped when he caught a few figures floating under the water. At first he thought they were dolphins, but upon closer inspection he found them to be anything but. These creatures were bulkier, cart-long and possessed thicker fins and a sharp, almost dagger-like curve to their tails.