The Brotherhood: Blood (67 page)

Domnin smiled and reached up to scratch a messy tuft of unshaven beard at his chin. “It’s no trouble,” the darker-haired brother said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like honey or not. Icklard said he doesn’t.”

“I never said that,” Icklard smiled. “I just said it was too sweet.”

“And this is coming from someone who eats the most chocolate whenever it’s made.”

Icklard chuckled, raising his middle finger just slightly. Odin smiled and sipped his tea. “So,” he began, “anything new between the two of you?”

“And I,” Domnin started, but stopped a short moment after. “Well… I didn’t do much of anything. I mostly just hung around the dock and helped Jerdai.”

“At least the two of you got off the water for a little while,” Odin said, taking another sip of his tea. “I’m surprised you two don’t get sick of the sea.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Icklard laughed. “We do.”

“You can count on that,” Domnin added.

As the last of his tea disappeared between his pursed lips, Odin set the small cup down and brought his feet up onto the couch. He waited for either of the brothers to say something before he spread out across it.

“You’re not bothering us, Odin,” Icklard said, sliding his feet off the table. He reached over and set a hand on Odin’s shoulder. “We’re your friends.”

“There you are,” Nova chuckled.

Odin jumped, nearly slamming the door in the process. “Sorry,” he muttered, closing the door as quietly as he could. “I fell asleep.”

“Hey, I don’t mind. I was just wondering where you got to.”

Odin turned to see Nova spread out along one of the far beds directly beneath the window. Seemingly-freshly-washed, the man’s skin gleamed in the faint light piercing through the window. “You look different with lighter skin,” he smiled, crossing the room to sit on the opposite bed.

“I know,” Nova said, pushing his back against the headrest. “It’ll be good to get back to the mainland.”

“It will,” Odin nodded.

Glancing around the room, he took everything in—from the small, rounded dining table to the bathing room tucked in the corner. It hadn’t changed a whole lot, though something about it seemed different.

Yeah, but for how long?

While he liked the idea of going to a new and possibly-wonderful place, the fact that Miko preferred to keep the location secret bothered him. Did their next destination involve a rough, unstable climate like Neline, or were there dangers present but completely unaccounted for? Was that why Miko hadn’t revealed their destination before? To ensure that they would have to go, regardless of any uproar it might have caused?

He wanted to make sure we would go to Neline.

If Miko had told them outright that they’d be going to Neline, Odin doubted he would’ve agreed to go, much less Nova. The man had thrown a big enough fit when they’d arrived—what would he have done if he’d known in advance?

“I think he kept it a secret because he was afraid we’d fight him. I know I wouldn’t have been eager to go had I known what Neline was like.”

He’d never been more scared in his life.

Outside, waves higher and larger than the boat itself surged, casting the Annabelle to and fro as if it were a demon itself. A pendulum, some would have been fit to describe it, swaying back and forth as if compelled by some higher force—it could be said that Death Itself had begun the motion of execution, as from the sky fell water that resembled coagulated drops of blood. They snaked along the windows and thundered down from the heavens as giant creatures of searing heat lit the sky, roaring infernos that cracked the air like whips against a horse’s hide. The air itself was quite terrifying, and completely unforgiving in all respects. Below, however, was even more frightening. The violent beauty of the sea seemed to rebel against the common fisherman as with its waves came the scratching of nails against wood, of silent banshees who could not scream over thunder and a tremor that rocked the entirety of existence.

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

As if the Annabelle herself trembled within the presence of such horrible adversity, and as if she possessed some intelligence that bordered beyond the average idea of the life of wood, a seizure traversed the length of the ship and made everything upon its walls and foundation shake. Bowls tumbled from the table, shattering to the floor; paintings bolted to the wall tilted to one side then the other, obscured and indifferent of their surroundings; and books upon the shelves came flying forward, wild birds freed from their roosts and with wings spread in impossible flight. They could have screamed, Odin thought, if they were truly given a voice, and as they flew across the room, into the walls and onto the floor, it seemed that chaos had taken control of the world and that there seemed to be no sanity left at all—that life, as he knew it, had simply upended itself: not from choice, but nature, a cruel bastion through which the entire world existed.

Huddled beneath his blankets and trying his hardest not to cry, Odin drew up against the wall and desperately willed the storm to stop with thought alone.

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

Who was he kidding, though? 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—both physically, mentally, and perhaps even spiritually—there was no way a child like him could control such a freak even of 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 over everything and swallow anything whole. To think that such a cataclysmic event could be plaguing their travels had to spell something in his life. Were they being punished, Odin wondered, for Miko’s misgivings, for his terrible act he’d inflicted upon a virginal woman, or was this simply an accident—a thing that, while completely terrifying, was not in the least bit intended for them?

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.

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

“
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.”

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 ok.

“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 in which the waves seized the ship and tousled it, Odin had to grab onto both Nova and one of the 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 in order to maintain both himself and his friend.

I can make it.

But how, he thought, would he, if there wasn’t anything to hold onto? With no candelabra in plain 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.

God, please, don’t break on me.