The Brotherhood: Blood (71 page)

“Hey,” Nova grinned, slapping an arm around Odin’s shoulder. “What’re you smiling about?”

“Nothing,” he laughed. “I’m just thinking about how far I’ve come.”

“Tell me about it. I can hardly believe I used to work at a farm in Bohren,” Nova said, then paused, as if something horrible had just struck his heart and tore his world to pieces.

“Are you all right?” Odin frowned.

“I’m all right,” the older man said, then sighed, running a hand across his face and through the wisps and tangles of hair in his beard. “I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Katarina.”

“You’ve been away from her for a very long time,” Odin agreed, setting a hand at his friend’s lower back, but unsure whether or not the touch was appropriate. That, however, didn’t necessarily bother him, as considering they were friends he felt he could get away with much and be scolded for little. For that alone he allowed his hand to stay, and in the moments following his reciprocating gesture, he sighed and asked, “Will you be all right?”

“I’ll be fine,” Nova said, this time tightening his hold on Odin’s left arm. “It’s just… hard, you know, not being there with her and all.”

“She’ll be very happy when you come back home.”

“Her happiness is all that matters to me, Odin. God… when you ever get married, and I hope you never do unless you’re able to commit yourself to a family, don’t ever make the choices I did. Not that I regret finding you, because you’ve become one of the best, if not
the
best friend I’ve ever had, but… well… I think you can understand what I’m saying.”

“I do,” Odin nodded.

In the moments of silence that followed, he considered his actions, his feelings, and his duties to not only his friends and family, but his country and began to realize that his idea of a family might not be possible considering the circumstances that he’d thrown himself into.

It’s all right,
he thought.
You have friends.

Friends, if anything, could at least alleviate the burden of being alone. Besides—he was much too young to even consider a family yet, regardless of his somewhat-royal implications and that he was now a squire in the kingdom of Ornala.

They continued on in silence for the next long while, listening to the sound of gulls and the sound of waves crashing against the rocks below. The sun, ever-present, continued to rise, launching itself over the peaks of the mountains as though it were a living entity itself. It mattered not whether it was a star or a living entity, as scientists proclaimed and as preachers ordained, because in that moment it was no heavenly figure, no blessing artifact. It was, in that moment, a horror, one that bestowed upon them light so grand and harsh Odin half expected to become burned.

When it began to seem that the path would no longer end, Miko spoke. “We’ll be staying in a bar until Jerdai is able to purchase the supplies for the next part of our journey,” he said.

“That won’t take no more than a few days, right?” Nova asked.

“No, but don’t plan on getting out of here too quickly. Anything can happen.”

No need to tell us,
Odin thought, drawing a quick breath.

When they stepped off the final leg of the man-made path along the cliffs, a sight rose before them so perilous and daunting his heart stopped beating in his chest.

Breathe,
a voice whispered.

Odin did just that and considered his place in the world.

Before them, like a giant crossing the lands in which were said the beginnings of humanity had risen up, the Hornblaris Mountains rose into the sky as far as the eye could see. Gold, rubies, sapphire, emeralds, and every other jewel imaginable and calculated by the human mind caught the sunlight and reflected it back into the sky, speaking of treasures that could not be touched and air that could not be breathed. It was, as could have been described, breathtaking—a breath of darkness exhaled from the lips of the Gods and formed by the boundaries of time. This, in and of itself, could have made any man tremble, as in looking upon it Odin felt his heart trembling and his muscles twitching beneath his skin. His eyes, however, were soon disarmed and eventually fell to the city below. Entombed within a clearing in the woods, whose bark had been darkened a deep black by moisture and salt, it appeared to be nothing more than a few scant houses built without care and in haste. However, as they grew closer, the city expanded, hidden within the nooks and crannies shielded by an army of wood that extended into the sky and expanded itself like parasols carried by the finest, most royal women.

“The Dwarves built it because they liked the view,” Miko said, setting a hand on both of their shoulders. “But like most Dwarves and even some men, they couldn’t stand the heat and salt, so they left it completely abandoned.

“So much for taking the time to build a city,” Nova grumbled. “Please don’t tell me we’ll be staying in some place big enough for only Dwarves.”

“Not at all,” the Elf smiled. “I think you’ll find our friends left quite the place for us to stay.”

As Miko had said, the Dwarves had left behind quite the place to stay in. Complete with high, extended ceilings, darkened wood and fresh, meaty food, the bar itself seemed welcoming after many long months of sailing not only for its offerings, but for its placement, which in and of itself seemed practiced and well-thought out.

It’s almost as if they left it here for humans,
Odin thought, blinking, watching the bartender fumble with several plates covered with food before him.

Either way, it didn’t necessarily matter, as when the bartender set a plate of ribs, freshly-steamed vegetables and a small bowl of soup before him, Odin could hardly believe his eyes. He glanced at Nova, who seemed just as surprised, before turning his attention to his knight master—whom, as always, remained hidden under the cloak. Though he couldn’t see the Elf’s face, indifference wafted from his relaxed stature and faint breaths.

“Thank you,” Odin said, glancing up at the black man who’d served him.

“No need to thank me, lad,” the Kadarian said, his voice thick but pleasant. “Just doing my job.”

The man nodded, smiled, and disappeared into a room alight with fire, where several women amidst the company of only a few men laughed and began to dance around a table.

Once sure that he hadn't been imaging things or their meals had not been scrambled with another patron’s, Odin lifted a rib and bit down, somehow managing to suppress a moan when rich sauce exploded from within the confines of the meat. He turned to face Nova, whose face had since become lathered in sauce and spit.

Odin frowned. His knight master’s voice hadn’t been filled with the pride it usually had, with the confidence that marked him as strong and more than capable of being a genuine being. For some odd reason, it sounded as though he were depressed.

Oh,
Odin thought, turning away as memories of Neline came flooding back.

Trying to distract himself with food, he lifted his spoon from the bowl of soup and slid it into his mouth, hoping that the flavor would brighten his mood and lift his spirits. As he already suspected, however, the food had lost its taste. Fine broth went to waste on petty guilt, while peas, carrots and lettuce cooked and boiled to perfection stuck to his teeth, plaque to emotions he could not control.

He’s thinking about her.

Once again, he turned his head up to face his knight master, but quickly turned away when the Elf glanced at him. Although he’d done his best to make his gesture appear to be nothing more than a quick glance around the room, he already knew he’d failed.

He knows.

Miko
always
knew. Whether or not the talent was a natural gift to the Elves or just a heightened sense of intuition he didn’t and would probably never know.

With one last glance at the surrounding area, Odin took his fork, his knife and his pride and cut into the meat, all the while imagining how one simple action could make a heart’s worth of trouble fade away.

“Don’t even
begin
to start feeling guilty about this.
He
was the one who wanted to go, and
he
was the one who decided to take us to Neline in the first place.

Nova turned his head away, glancing at the window as though something had caught his attention. Odin knew better than to interrupt his friend, so he let him look out the window until he was ready to speak. Nova began, slowly, by saying, “No,” then sighed and said, after setting a hand to his head, “I wouldn’t have.”

“I wasn’t going to ask about Neline,” Odin said. Nova paused, waiting. After a moment, he nodded, gesturing for Odin to continue. “I was going to ask if you were going to leave us after we get back to the mainland.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… are you going to go back to your wife, start a family and forget about me and Miko?”

“Odin,” Nova laughed, reaching over to grip his shoulder. “I would
never
forget about you or Miko. Why would you think that?”

“And it means a lot to know that I’ll always have friends to turn to when I need them. I didn’t have a lot of them growing up, mostly because I lived with my father on the outskirts of town. I hardly went to school, and the few times I did, it wasn’t long enough to make any friends. I’m like you, in a way—I stayed home to please and work for my father, I didn’t go to school, and I didn’t play with any other boys my age, so don’t think I don’t know what you went through.”

“I know you know what I went through.”

“See?” Nova smiled. “I’m never going to forget about you, and I’m sure as hell not going to just up and abandon you either. I’ll have to take a break to stay with my wife for a while, because you know just as well as I do that it’s been far too long since I’ve been with her, but I’ll never just refuse to travel with you.”

“You won’t?”

“Hell no. You think I’m going to let you run around Minonivna without an escort? If the king’ll let me, and if the time allows it and Katarina isn’t with a child, I’ll be more than willing to be your guard.”

Several hours later, Nova fell asleep, leaving Odin to sit up and wait for the Elf by himself. The time spent waiting in the candlelight, though grim, was not without effort. He decided to research the land and see if he could find their next destination, if only to keep himself entertained. He read about the desert that they seemed to be so close to, that of which they were unlikely to visit if only because of the conflicted political climate, the outer, ‘forbidden’ Judarin Isles, and the Tentalin Isles that rested within the gulf of the Three Kingdoms.

We wouldn’t be going here?
he thought.
Could we?

So are as he could tell, there couldn’t be any other places to visit. The Jurdarin Isles were, as the book had said, ‘forbidden’ and rumored to be protected by both the Gods and the jagged coast, and as he’d already anticipated, they couldn’t be visiting the desert. Besides—even if they did, the Cadarack lay within a completely different kingdom, so how would they get there, much less without mounts?

To Odin’s knowledge, they
couldn’t
be going anywhere
but
the Tentalin Isles.

Just as he started to turn the page to the section of the individual Isles, the doorknob clicked, signaling the insert of a key. Odin froze, waited, then sighed when the door opened to reveal his knight master. “Sir,” he said, closing the geography book that sat before him. “Where were you?”

“Speaking to old men about life,” Miko said, pushing the door closed, then locking it with the same key he’d used to unlock it. “I’m sorry for keeping you up.”