The Bond of Blood

by Kody Boye

  Until that point in time, Odin could have never imagined such a thing.

  Huddled beneath his blankets, terrified out of his mind, Odin drew against the wall and desperately willed the storm to stop.

  It will work, he thought, shivering, his body long devoid of strength. It has to.

  Who was he kidding? He was no weather mage, no spell caster who could control the elements and bend them to his will, no elementalist who could call from the world the forces of nature and beg them to stop, to turn aside and leave these men alone. Try as he may, there was no way a child like him could control the natural world, much less even begin to attempt to stop it. Gaia, the Goddess of Nature, was believed to be greedy, and though her gifts were many she bore from creation tragedy—of storms, weather, waves and blood that could shadow everything and swallow anything whole.

  “Odin,” Nova whispered. “You okay?”

  “No,” he said. “I’m scared.”

  “I am too, buddy.”

  “Is Miko asleep?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  A moment later, Nova slid out from under his covers and came to Odin’s side. He sat on the mattress for a moment, watching the world outside with calm but wide eyes, before spreading out alongside him.

  “What?” Odin frowned, not sure what to expect.

  “I’m laying down beside you.”

  “Why?”

  “You wanna know the truth?” Nova asked, a smile appearing when a burst of lightning lit the inside of the room. “I’m scared shitless.”

  “We’re going to be ok, right?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think we will. I mean, we’ve got Miko here, and Domnin and Icklard are just down the—”

  “We should go check to see if they’re all right.”

  “Odin—”

  “Please.”

  “What about Miko?”

  “You can go.”

  Both jumped at the sound of the Elf’s deep, if somewhat-calm voice. “Keep to the walls,” Miko explained, “and try to hold on to something even if you think it might come off. It won’t be easy to navigate the halls with the ship rocking back and forth.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Odin crawled out of bed and stumbled toward the door, turning his eyes on Nova to see if he would follow.

  For once, he considered the possibility that he would be going alone.

  No.

  Before his thoughts and fears could overwhelm him, the older man sighed, nodded, then crawled out of bed.

  “We’ll be back,” Odin said, about to go for the door. He stopped in midstride, turned to his knight master, then stepped forward to set a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, sir. We’ll be okay.”

  “I know you will,” Miko said, reaching up to set a hand on Odin’s face. “Don’t worry, Odin—everything’s going to be all right.”

  Old wood creaked beneath their feet.

  While the ship groaned in protest, Odin and Nova made their way down the hall, grappling onto anything they could. Several times, and during moments the waves seized the ship and tousled it, Odin had to grab onto both Nova and one of the many candelabra to keep them from soaring into the opposite wall or flying down the hall. Such feats of strength left him breathless, as it took all his might to steady both himself and his friend.

  “Hey, kid,” Nova breathed, holding himself steady after the most recent wave passed. “We should go back.”

  “I have to know if they’re all right!”

  “They’re just fine, Odin. They’re—”

  Odin took off down the hall before Nova could finish.

  Another wave rocked the ship.

  It sent him into the far wall.

  “Fuck!” Nova screamed, throwing himself toward the nearest object he could grab. “This is crazy, Odin!”

  “I don’t care! We have to make sure they’re all right!”

  “Okay! Okay! I heard you! Just keep going.”

  As his older friend instructed, Odin turned, but made sure Nova knew where to follow before continuing deeper into the ship.

  Icklard and Domnin’s room, which sat at the very end of the hall, stood no more than a few dozen feet away.

  I can make it.

  But how, he thought, would he, if there wasn’t anything to hold onto? With no candelabra in sight or any securely-bolted tables, he’d either have to run and risk getting thrown into the walls or wait until the ship stopped moving.

  Do I really want to wait that long?

  Taking a deep breath, Odin threw himself forward, kicked a foot out when the ship sent him into one wall, then pushed his arms forward when the resounding pendulum force sent him into the opposite. From there, he jogged with his back to the wall until he got to the door.

  “Come on!” Odin cried, grimacing as he caught sight of Nova flying into the wall he had just narrowly avoided.

  “I’m trying, Odin.”

  “Here!” He turned, made sure he had a firm hold on the doorknob, and extended his hand.

  God, please, don’t break on me.

  The moment Nova gripped his hand, Odin turned, pushed the door open, and threw them inside.

  “Odin!” Icklard cried. “Nova! What’re you doing here? You should be inside!”

  “We came to check on you,” Odin said, somehow managing to force a smile.

  “I only tagged along because of the kid,” Nova grumbled. He pushed himself upright and leaned against the wall, taking extra care to grab onto one of the chairs in the process.

  “Where’s Domnin?”

  “I don’t know,” the man said, reaching up to tangle his hands through his hair. “I… I think he’s up with the captain, but I’m not sure. I came back by myself because of the storm.”

  “You don’t know where he is then?”

  “No!” Icklard cried, collapsing beside Nova. Even in the darkness Odin could make out the tears glistening in the man’s eyes.

  “You couldn’t send a message?” Nova asked, grunting as thunder cracked overhead.

  “I… it’s… I can’t concentrate. The boat’s moving too much and I can’t fix an image on him.”

  “Why?”

  “I just can’t, okay! Dammit!” Icklard cried, tossing a plate into the wall. It shattered, sending glass raining through the air and onto the floor. “I can’t do this kind of shit when I’m upset! It fucks the magic up because I don’t have a clear head!”

  “What about,” Odin began, then stopped.

  Can I—

  “The rain,” he said, staring out at the open world. “Icklard, does it—”

  “Skewer magic?” the younger of the two brothers asked. “Yes. It does.”

  “Should I even—”

  “No! Don’t!”

  “I don’t under—”

  “In this kind of weather, a message will evaporate faster than you could ever imagine. They’re supposed to trap light, or at least harness it. But look—there is none. No moon, no stars, no nothing. If you try to make something out of nothing, you’re only going to hurt yourself—or worse, get killed.”

  “We’re going to the captain’s quarters then,” Odin said, reaching out to set a hand on Icklard’s trembling shoulder.

  “We’re doing what?” Nova asked.

  “You heard me.”

  “You’re crazy, kid! We’ll die out there.”

  “No,” Icklard sniffled. “We won’t.”

  “All right!” the mage called, holding one hand steady on the railing while the other gripped an exposed metal bar. “I’m going to keep the wind and rain off the two of you while you make your way around these stairs, then up them.”

  “How?” Odin asked.

  A splash of water sent them into the nearby wall. Odin coughed, while Nova spat the salty liquid out with a low curse.

  “I’m going to place a barrier around you while you walk,” the fire-haired brother said. “It won’t do much more than hold the water off, but if I can
help—and control—it, I’ll try to get the moisture off the wood. Hold on to whatever you can and try not to slip. I don’t think I could catch you before you flew off the edge.”

  A lump developed in Odin’s throat. “I can get the water off the wood so you can keep the barrier in place.”

  “Yeah. All right. Good. Okay.”

  “You ready?” Nova asked.

  “Yeah,” Odin said. “I am.”

  Turning, he gave Icklard a thumbs up before he and Nova started across the deck. A thin, orange haze wrapped around their bodies and hovered so close to their skin that it sent the hairs on the back of Odin’s neck and arms on end.

  It’s all right.

  “It’s just the magic,” Odin said, raising his voice so Nova could hear him.

  “I know!” the older man called back, tightening his grip on Odin’s sleeve. “Pay attention. We don’t want to go overboard.”

  Putting forth his best effort, Odin eased his feet toward the walls and kept his hands where he might be able to grab onto something. While doing this, he swept his gaze over the deck in front of them, drying it before their feet touched ground and the rain could penetrate through the magical barrier surrounding their bodies.

  “We’re getting closer,” Nova said, clapping his back. “Come on, Odin—just a few more steps and we’ll—”

  Before the man could finish, a mighty wave crashed into the side of the boat.

  Odin lost his balance.

  Nova slammed into the side of the deck so hard Odin swore he could’ve lost consciousness.

  When his friend pulled away from the wall, blood flowed down his nose. “I’m all right,” he said, smiling through bloody teeth. He reached forward and took hold of the wet railing. “Hold on to my hand, Odin.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yeah. Come on—we gotta keep moving.”

  Reaching forward, Odin gripped his friend’s hand, surprised at the strength it held. He’d expected the shock of a possibly-broken nose to unsettle Nova. Surprisingly, it didn’t seem to, and despite the fact that fresh blood continued to ooze down his face, the man’s grip remained strong, willing him forward even when he thought he couldn’t.

  “Are you coming?” Nova laughed.

  “Look out!” Icklard screamed.

  This time, a wave larger than Odin had ever seen reared its mighty head. He froze, tightening his grip on Nova’s hand almost instinctively.

  Could this have been the monster Jerdai had spoken of—the reason why he’d said that men were better off on land?

  And so it was, Odin thought, swallowing a lump in his throat, that the beast raised its head.

  “And swallowed us whole,” he whispered.

  He had little time to contemplate the reality, because in the next moment, Nova pressed him to his chest and crushed him against the wall.

  A wave of water crashed down on them.

  Nova coughed.

  Odin simply quivered as the orange barrier dissolved.

  Icklard!

  “Icklard!” Odin screamed, pushing Nova away from him. “Where are you!”

  “I’m fine!” the brother called back. “I can’t stay out here! The weather’s too bad!”

  “What about us!”

  “I’m sorry!”

  Odin caught sight of Icklard fleeing into the ship before another, smaller wave crashed onto the deck.

  “We better keep going,” Nova said, snaking their fingers together. “Come on, Odin!”

  “But—”

  “Do you want to die out here?”

  “No.”

  “Then come on!”

  Odin forced himself up the next few steps, desperate to maintain footing on the slimy, weather-soaked wood. Whenever he slowed, either from exhaustion or doubt, Nova pulled him along, even managing to drag him up a few steps when he slipped and nearly fell back down the stairs.

  “There,” Nova said, taking a deep breath when they stepped onto the second deck. “See? It’s not too far.”

  “I know,” Odin gasped, glancing at the captain’s quarters that stood no more than half a dozen feet away

  After taking a moment to recover from their near death-defying escapade, Odin took the next few steps. He looked up at his friend, forced a smile, and guided the two of them across the deck until they came to the door.

  There, he opened it and threw the two of them inside without any preparation.

  “Odin?” a voice asked. Odin looked up. Both Domnin and Jerdai sat in the corner of the room, huddled together under a mass of blankets and pillows. “What’re you doing here?” the older mage brother continued.

  “Icklard was in hysterics,” Odin said, turning his head just in time to see Nova close and bolt the door. “Are you two all right?”

  “We’re fine,” Jerdai sighed, running a hand across his forehead. “You two are the biggest fools I’ve ever seen. Walking on the deck in a storm like this.”

  “He’s my friend,” Odin growled. “Mind your own—”

  “Don’t, Odin.” Nova set a hand on his shoulder before he could continue. Once sure Odin wouldn’t say anything else, Nova raised his eyes, expelled a breath, then asked, “You got any extra blankets?”

  “Yeah,” the captain said. “In the cabinet.”

  Without the ability to produce a dove or the assurance that his message could be delivered, Odin settled down on the floor beside his friend and shivered at the feel of Nova’s clammy skin. As the rain bore down upon the ship and thundered across the windowpanes, he couldn’t help but imagine the water sliding over his skin—thick, lengthy globules that took on a life of their own and traversed his body. At one point he shivered, thinking he was still freshly-wet, but quickly ceased to shake when Nova wrapped his arms around his chest.

  “Hey,” the older man whispered, brushing his lips against Odin’s ear. “It’s all right. We’re safe.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Well… I really don’t.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Jerdai said, pushing himself up on one elbow. “The ship was built to withstand this kind of weather.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “He’s sure,” Domnin said.

  For the first time since they’d settled down, Odin took notice of the closeness between the two men. Contrary to previous statements, Jerdai didn’t seem to particularly care, but he didn’t completely ignore the younger man either. Several times, he set an arm across the mage’s chest or leaned in close and whispered something in his ear before readjusting his position. The simplicity of the relationship surprised Odin. For some reason, he’d expected more—or less, in hindsight, considering what Icklard had previously stated.

  He said they only see each other every so often.

  Even then, didn’t two people who saw each other even on a semi-regular basis act a certain way when they were together?

  No, he thought, letting out a short breath. You can’t expect people to act like anything.

  He’d learned such lessons when in the tower—when, at dinnertime, the guards would bring him cold food, or how Daughtry seemed to completely isolate his true feelings about his conditions in order to teach him without guilt or doubt. Even Nova, whose moods he could usually predict, was just as erratic and unexpected, so to think that Domnin and Jerdai would react to one another in a particular way was absolutely ignorant.

  “You sure you’re all right?” Nova asked again. “You’re not moving.”

  “I’m fine,” Odin said, taking one last look at Jerdai and Domnin before setting his head on his arm. “You think Miko will know what happened?”

  “He’ll know,” Nova said. “Don’t worry, Odin. Everything’s going to be all right.”

  The following morning, Odin woke to the most surreal dawn he had ever seen. The blank, gray sky, extending far into the distance, washed out any trace of color that had existed the previous day. There was no sun, no clouds, no birds flying through the sky or making any noise. Even t
he air, though calm, felt weighed down, as if the wind were blowing from above. Despite these bleak circumstances, however, everything seemed calm—undisturbed in a manner that felt eerily wrong.

  Taking care not to wake Nova, Odin slid out of his friend’s grip, stood, and walked to the window. There, he set a hand on the glass and leaned against the wall, watching the still water below.

  “It’s strange, isn’t it?”

  Odin jumped, but nodded. Domnin came up alongside him and looked out the window.

  “It is,” Odin said. “Do you think the ship’s all right?”

  “If anything,” the mage began, “the sails were torn or we lost a few buckets and some rope. The worst we could’ve lost is an anchor, but even then, those are weighed down fairly well.”

  “We weren’t supposed to live through that, were we?”

  “I don’t think so,” Domnin sighed. “You want to know what I think, Odin?”

  “What?”

  “I think our world works in very strange ways. Men travel the sea in hopes of fame and fortune, then somehow manage to survive even the strongest storms, while newborn infants die just because their mothers didn’t have proper care during childbirth. Horses reject their young, while the occasional fox or wild dog will welcome the smallest rabbit into its home, mothering it the way its own mother could not. Then there’s a young man like you, who was locked in a tower for more than two years and probably would have never come out, then was welcomed in the arms of a stranger that found him through divine intervention.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Odin whispered. “It seems so—”

  “False?” the mage asked, then smiled when Odin’s lips turned down in a frown. “I don’t know why we survived, Odin; and while I don’t know the why or how, that doesn’t matter, because we can all live another day. You can continue to travel the land with your friend and master, and, someday, become a knight; my brother can return home to the woman he loves; and I…”

  “You’ll… what?” Odin asked.

  “I can continue to be with the man I care about,” Domnin said, looking back at Jerdai. “And while he may not care about me as much as I care about him, at least I know I’ll be there for him just one more day. Right?”