The Brotherhood: Blood (36 page)

“Bad enough to merit several extra days of travel if we want to be safe. The lowlands aren’t even the worst of it. It’s the ‘Ela Alna Pass.”

“‘Ela Alna?” Odin closed his eyes, trying to picture the area. Nothing immediately came to mind. “What is that, sir? It seems familiar, but—”

“The pass is a long, descending slope that’s very difficult to travel,” Miko explained, “especially during storms—which, unfortunately, the west has many of.”

“What’s so bad about it?”

“Downhill terrain,” Nova said, “is slick, especially when wet.”

“Our friend is right, Odin. To make matters even worse, grass doesn’t grow on the pass because it’s almost constantly wet. There’s no way for plants to root themselves to the soil, so they constantly get washed away. We’ll have to take extra precautions when traveling this route.” Miko arched his back, stretching the muscles before settling back into place. “So, Nova, to answer your question: we’re looking at a month’s worth of travel.”

“
Fifty days?”
the man asked.

That night, they sat around a small campfire. Tucked into bedrolls and having just eaten a dinner of soup, the three of them were more than ready to settle down for the night. There was, however, the matter of taking the first watch.

Odin looked up at his master. Garbed in his dark cloak, he looked even more menacing than he normally did beneath the night’s uncanny black sky.

No one will bother us when they see him,
he thought, settling down as deeply as he could into his bedroll.

The above sun beat down with such unrelenting force that, come midafternoon, both Odin and Nova had stripped their shirts off and had tied them around the tops of their heads. Oddly enough, however, Miko seemed unaffected by the heat, and still wore his black façade as if it were nothing more than a simple shirt or bowtie.

Maybe it doesn’t bother him,
Odin thought, raising a hand to wipe a bead of sweat from his forehead.
He is an Elf, after all.

It was possible that Elves could control their body temperature. However, if one truly thought about it, why would Miko have asked for a blanket the night of the storm if he was capable of such a feat?

He didn’t have his cape on,
he thought, shifting in his seat.

Nova tipped the canteen back and took a short swallow before passing it back. After securing it back in its place, Odin raised his head to survey the land before them. Bare, save for a few scattered pockets of trees along the sides of the roads, the plains seemed to go on forever, extending into the vast distance in hues of yellow and gold grass and weed for what seemed like eternity.

That’s the best answer I’m going to get right now.

The Elf had remained silent for most of the morning. Odin only recalled him speaking only once or twice, if that.

There’s not really a whole lot to say.

What could they speak of if not their own personal matters—their lives, their hardships, their troubles and their insecurities? There were no landmarks to point out and make casual banter, no pools of water at which to stop and secure their canteens, and there seemed to be little in the manner of the joking to be done. There was, essentially, very little to actually converse over, so silence would ultimately rule the majority of their travels should dialogue not be initiated.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Miko reached over and set a hand on his shoulder. “Go. Have fun. Besides—if he falls off, someone needs to be there to catch his horse.”

No one ever said heatstroke was fun,
Odin thought with a slight smile.

After kicking his horse into gear, he pursued Nova in the hopes that somehow, someway, he could still catch up.

The next few weeks took them across the plains. Skirting across the boundaries of the Ke’Tarka Military Outpost, through the other smaller, unmapped villages and settlements that dotted the lands and around isolated areas of forest broken apart from the Felnon providence—it seemed their pursuits were taking the longest time in the world, but to no regard.

Tired, sunburnt, and more than ready to have this stretch of the journey over with, Odin lifted his head out of his horse’s mane to find the blinding sunset stretching across the sky in hues of orange, pink and purple.

“I’m afraid so.” Miko dismounted. When the giant horse made a move to follow, the Elf raised his hand, stilling the creature. He bent and set a hand on the ground, holding it there for a moment. Not once did he run his concealed nails through the blades of grass or pull any of the soil out. He then raised his head and said, breathless and as though he’d just run a thousand leagues, “You may want to dismount and consider letting the horses rest.”

“But it’s not dark,” Odin frowned.

The sun had not yet fallen to the horizon, but it would soon enough. With the colors bleeding from existence and the lapse of dark blue spilling from the west, it would not be long before the stars would be beckoned forth to twinkle into existence.

“I understand, Odin, but the horses will be much better off with rest, especially since we’re going downhill tomorrow.”

“What if the horses don’t
want
to go downhill?” Nova asked, stepping down from his mount. “I mean, the animals are skittish enough as it is. Won’t a downhill journey spook them?”

Miko shook his head. “Sadly, yes. Let’s not worry about that now though.” He retrieved three long, copper nails from his saddlebag and passed one each to both Nova and Odin. “Put these in the ground and tie your horses down.”

“Won’t they run off?” Nova stared at the nail as if they’d been asked to eat it.

“No. They’re not stupid. They know they’re safer with us.”

I seriously doubt that,
Odin thought, stooping to thrust his nail into the ground whilst taking extra care not to startle Gainea more than she already was.
But oh well.

He trusted his master enough to do as asked.

After tethering the horses in place, the three removed their saddlebags and set them down. Nova pulled the remnants of last night’s kindling and tossed it in a pile, while Miko traced an invisible circle. The hairs on Odin’s arms immediately stood on end.

“You’re not supposed to,” Odin said, though in general he himself could make out the invisible rung in the grass—faint, but glowing, as if it were a far-off light twinkling in the distance.

“Oh.” Nova shrugged. “All right then.”

The man settled down beside Odin once he stooped to unroll his bedroll and wrapped an arm around his back. Odin smiled, but grimaced when Miko finished the circle, completing the arc of magic that immediately disengaged a burst of energy powerful enough to make him shiver.

“Yeah,” Nova chuckled, fingers still flourishing in the aftermath. “I felt it too.”

“It’s for our protection,” Miko said, looking up at the two of them. Had his face been visible, Odin imagined his lips would have been slightly pursued and his eyes solemn but calm. “I wouldn’t put the circle here otherwise.”

“Yes sir,” he said, rising. He fumbled through the Elf’s saddlebag, resting beneath his standing mount, until he found the tube of last night’s dinner. He passed it to his master with little more than a frown. “We have enough food for a little while longer, right?”

“I can use magic,” Miko said, his words immediately prompting a response out of both Odin and Nova. “I prefer not to do such a thing, because it’s unfair and puts the rabbit at a disadvantage, but if it comes down to that I won’t let us go hungry.”

Miko poured the soup into a few bowls and set them at the foot of the fire to warm. In doing so, Odin began to think about what his master had said and just how sound his words were. What normal man would say hunting an animal at a disadvantage was unfair, especially one who used a bow and arrow or any projectile weapon?

No man,
he thought.
Well, no normal man. He’s an Elf—what do I expect?

“We’ll rest tonight,” Miko said, passing the two of them their soup when it was deemed warm enough to consume. “Eat up. Since we’ve stopped early, we can all get a little extra sleep.”