The Brotherhood: Blood (78 page)

“What’re you talking about?” Nova growled. “I’m not leaving.”

“I you’re not leaving, then why are you refusing to go to the location I have chosen?”

“Because it’s
this!”
Nova cried, throwing a hand in the air. “Are you out of your fuckin’ mind? You’ll get your squire killed if you take him there!”

“You shouldn’t question my actions, Nova.”

“Why
shouldn’t
I? We’re goin—”

“No, Odin—I couldn’t have. When a man takes your hand and puts more money than you’ve ever seen in the base of your palm, you can’t refuse what he asks you, no matter what it is.”

Back in their room, Miko busied himself with packing their supplies—first his, then Odin’s, followed by Nova’s. He set all three by each applicable bed, pausing only to make sure he had packed something the correct way before returning to his work. Steadfast and not in the least bit willing to step forward and assist his knight master, Odin watched the Elf from the safety of the far wall, afraid that what he had said earlier might have caused a bit of a stir.

It did,
he thought, brushing his suddenly-cold arms.

The hair follicles stood on end, creating a gooseflesh-like affect that could have been compared to the thin, wiry and dying hairs on a dog afflicted with mange. He thought of how he’d experienced such sensations only a few times in his life and realized that, like Neline, they would be going into unexplored territory.

The island of the Ogres.

Trembling, he summoned the image of such a creature in his mind. At about twelve feet high at the smallest and anywhere from fifteen to twenty at its highest, such a creature towered over any man and even the tallest Elf, dwarfing him in stature and minimizing him incope. Their arms would be thick and knotted with muscle, their backs hunched at the shoulders in order to bear the weight of their body on their front hands, while their knuckles, naturally hardened as they broke and scarred over, would cushion them as they supported themselves on their limbs. He imagined coming face-to-face with one and wondered what exactly would happen. Were they intelligent, like their ancestry had once claimed, or were they stupid—dumb, as men would call them, of emotions and speech?

Should I ask
why
he’s been here? Or do I keep that to myself?

Maybe it would be better not to ask.

Stepping forward, Odin nudged his knight master aside, smoothing out the blankets on the bed the Elf had been making. He fluffed the pillows and tucked the quilts under the mattress, careful not to squish his fingers with their impressive weight, and flattened the corners of the quilts as best as he could. When he finished, he made both his and Nova’s bed, then turned to face the Elf, humility alight in his mind and unease fluttering about his heart. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he sighed.

“You reacted in a much better manner than Nova did.”

“Nova’s just worried about our safety.” Odin paused, glancing at his hands. “And besides—he just wants to get back to his wife. That’s all.”

“That’s no excuse for causing such a stir.”

“I… I guess.”

Odin chose to remain silent, allowing Miko to continue through the room, tidying and arranging things as he saw fit. He pushed chairs in just slightly, rolling them on their safety bars even when they had been pushed out of harm’s way, and aligned a sweet dish so it would rest directly in the center of the table. He even brushed what Odin thought was dust off the sitting chairs.

The wicked weapon sat in the corner, near where Nova’s scythe stood propped against the wall. Still in its sheath, but covered with a protective sheet to keep its sheen, Odin unwrapped the weapon and attached it to his belt, making sure it wouldn’t interfere with his gait before taking Nova’s scythe in hand. “It’s heavy,” he grunted, setting the shaft against his shoulder.

“Because there are some very special people I want you to meet, Odin. Some
very
special people.”

Pine trees rose in the distance as the ship steadily progressed toward the largest island in the Tentalin chain. Ohmalyon—wicked, shaped like a sword and located closest to the second, southeastern peninsula that jutted out from the kingdom of Kegdulan—called to them in the form of colorful birds that tipped the surface of the trees, as if warming them to turn back or risk the repurcussions they would surely face. They cried out and disbanded, spreading wings and taking flight before disappearing into the forest that lined the beach.

“Look at it,” Odin said, bracing himself against the railing.

“It’s like a long-lost home,” Miko agreed.

Odin glanced at his knight master, surprised at his choice of words. Was that why the Elf had brought them here—because it held some greater significance?

Of course it does,
he thought, running a hand through his hair.
Everything he’s done has helped us in some way.

Ornala, Elna, Neline, and now here, Tentalin—he’d learned something from each and every place. Regardless of how trivial or strange their locations may have seemed, Miko had brought them to each for a reason, even if it didn’t seem immediately clear. Like those places, Ohmalyon would be no different.

“We’ll be docking soon,” Miko said, setting a hand on Odin’s back. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he sighed.

Nova, who’d since recovered from his fit, stepped forward and set a hand on Odin’s back, just below where Miko’s palm graced the area just beneath his shoulderblades. He felt both men’s hands touch, even though he couldn’t see them, and he could have sworn their fingers interlaced, as if lost and unsure what to do.

Peach sand parted under the ship’s belly as they coasted the sandbars and prepared to depart for the island. Several men ran back and forth across the deck, securing sails and tossing anchors over the side. Icklard and Domnin raised their hands, sparking magic from their palms, to hold the ship steady as both the tide and the rush of activity rocked the boat to and fro. Even Jerdai, who normally stood aside and made sure nothing would go wrong, stepped forward to help. He joined a group of five men in lifting a small, arrow-shaped canoe, hefting it over his shoulders and carrying it to where the stairs would soon collapse into the ocean.

“Sorry to say,” the captain grunted, rolling his shoulders after he and the other men secured the boat in place, “but this is as close as we can get to the island.”

“Understandable,” Miko nodded, glancing at the water that lay between the island and the sandbar. “This will be no trouble to cross.”

“There’s no need for that,” the Elf said, turning just in time to see the stairs slam into the sea. Water soaked a group of nearby men, several of whom nearly slipped and went overboard. “Thank you for your service, Jerdai. It is much appreciated.”

“No, thank you.”

The captain shook Miko’s hand, then Nova’s. When it came time for Odin to shake, he reached out and tentatively gripped the odler man’s hand, not sure what to say. He met Jerdai’s brown eyes a moment later and smiled when the captain offered him a grin.

“You’ll do great out there, boy,” Jerdai said, slapping his naked shoulder. “You’ve got a great man leading you and a good friend at your side.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“No, Odin—thank
you.
I’ve realized a few things in the time I’ve met you and I think they’ll make me a better man because of it.” The captain released hold on his hand. “Good luck, son—you’ll need it out there.”

“Thank you.”

With one final nod, Odin bade Jerdai goodbye and followed Miko and Nova across the deck, avoiding seawater, piles of rope and anything else that might cause them problems. Once at the stairs, Miko took their packs and passed them down to two other men, one of which stood holding the cannoe in place, the other evenly distributing supplies throughout their transport. Icklard and Domnin stood nearby, watching Odin with sad eyes.

“Guess this is goodbye,” the older brother said, forcing a smile when Odin stepped forward.

“For now, anyway,” Odin sighed. He, too, forced a smile, not wanting their last meeting for the year to be filled with sad memories.

“Don’t worry,” Icklard said, reaching out to punch Odin’s shoulder. “You’ll be back.”

“You know I will,” he laughed, wrapping an arm around each brother. “Thank you, guys. I don’t think I could ask for better friends.”

“Even though you don’t need it,” Icklard chuckled, smacking the back of Odin’s head when the three broke their embrace. “You’ve done so much for the both of us in such a short time. I don’t think we’ll ever be able to repay you.”

Odin gave the two a final nod before he followed Nova down the stairs, careful not to slip on the water that perforated their surfaces. At the bottom step, Miko gestured Odin into the center of the boat, offering a hand on which to stable himself as he stepped over the half a foot that separated the stairs from the boat. Once he settled down, Nova stepped in behind him, then Miko, who took the helm and accepted an oar one of the men offered. Nova, too, received an oar, following Miko’s lead by setting his to the right while the Elf positioned his own to the left.

“When winter passes?” Jerdai asked, crouching to look at the Elf.

“When winter passes,” Miko nodded, reaching out to shake the captain’s hand one last time.

Raising his hand in friendly goodbye, Odin watched the men cheer, whistle and yell encouragement, Jerdai only pushing them away from the boat when he saw fit. Behind them, Icklard and Domnin released sparks of light into the air, willing them to explode into a comical display overhead. Bolts of green and orange brightened the air, sparking and flying around and above the boat in a friendly, victorious parting as if the magic were birds, butterflies and dragonflies summoning them off to the world.

“Goodbye!” the brothers called, waving their magically-brightened hands in the air. “And good luck!”

“Goodbye!” Odin called back.

As the brothers disappeared from sight, and as they became harder and harder to see, Odin thought back on his last year and what the journey had brought him—how, in Neline, he had learned that even the greatest of beings had weaknesses, and how, despite the odds, and the fact that your race was slowly disappearing from the face of the earth, you could still fight for the things you believed in.

This would be the last year he spent as a squire.

While he had time, he had to make it last, if only to secure his memories for the lifelong journey ahead.

Stone buildings appeared as they neared the beach. Men dressed in long, tan cloaks walked the water’s length in a perfect line of seven, waving hands toward the woods as if beckoning something to appear. Odin, who’d been left to sit while Miko and Nova pumped the boat, leaned forward, squinting to try and see the figures better. “Who are they?” he frowned, setting a hand on Miko’s back.