The Brotherhood: Blood (82 page)
Regardless of whatever kind of relationship his knight master held with such creatures, Odin couldn’t help but tremble. Instantly memories of horror came back—of how, once upon a time, when men were but young creatures in this world and the Leatherskin family was still on the mainland, they were beaten and brutalized, snapped in half or killed outright by a simple wave of their fist. These things had haunted his life—when, as a child, he’d read of them and knew instantaneously that they weren’t meant to be trifled with—so for him to be utterly terrified was not out of the question.
It’ll be ok,
he thought, taking slow, deep breaths in order to try and console himself.
“Suh-So we’ll be staying with thu-thu-them?”
We can’t be,
Odin thought, tears breaking the surface of his eyes.
We just
can’t
be.
“There’s no need to be worried, Odin.”
“Besides,” Nova said. “Miko wouldn’t take us somewhere we couldn’t handle.”
“That’s a lie!” Odin cried, standing. “What about Neline? Huh? What about that?”
“Odin—”
“That Kerma nearly
killed
me. I would’ve
died
if I hadn’t stabbed him through the chest!”
“Did you die?” Miko asked, clamly stirring the soup.
“That’s not—”
“Did you die?” the Elf repeated, this time turning his eyes up at Odin.
“But… but…”
“I asked if you died in Neline, Odin. Answer the question.”
“No. I didn’t.”
“Then there is no reason to believe that I would put you in any intentional danger, is there? Nova carried you through the storm while I held our supplies at hand. We both made sure that no harm befell you. Right?”
“Ruh… right.”
“Then please, sit and act decent. Supper is almost ready.”
Unsure of what to say or do, Odin merely stood there, watching Miko as he first took the pot off the fire, then poured a bit of soup into two bowls for himself and Nova. Once he came to the third and final plate, he poured it slowly, as if taunting Odin to say more.
You know he isn’t going to stand a fight, and you know that even if you do get into one, you’re not going to win.
“All right,” Odin sighed, lowering himself into his original position. He reached up to wipe the tears from his eyes, surprised at how his heart seemed to still. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“There’s no need to apologize. You were frightened—it’s only natural.”
“Thank you.” Odin accepted the soup, the spoon the Elf offered, and scooped some of the thick offering into his mouth.
Although wary of what tonight, and possibly the following day would bring, he took pride in the fact that he could trust his knight master with his heart, body and soul.
Startled, heart pounding and mind reeling in all directions, Odin woke from a dream in which he’d been chased, then violently beaten by an Ogre.
At his side, Nova breathed slowly, occasionally grunting or coughing in his bedroll, while Miko sat across him from the fire, tending its flame with a wave of his hand in whatever shape or direction he wished. He stopped the moment he realized he had an audience. “You’ve woken,” the Elf said.
“Yes sir,” Odin said, sitting up. A pain hit his stomach, nearly sending him onto his back. Instead, he set a hand over his abdomen and took slow, deep breaths. Had the Ogre crushed his chest in his dream, forcing his bones into his midsection? “I had a bad dream.”
“What about?”
“An Ogre… beating me to death.”
“Are you all right?”
“My stomach hurts.”
“Come. Sit by me.”
Pushing himself out of his bedroll, Odin crawled across the forest floor and settled down beside his knight master. He did his best to hide the grimace that came when his stomach pulsed, but didn’t bother to try and disguise the slow, deep breaths he took.
“I hope my cooking hasn’t bothered you.”
“I don’t think it’s that, sir, but thank you for asking.”
“I’m supposed to be concerned. You’re my squire—I don’t want any harm to befall you.”
“I know.” Closing his eyes, Odin leaned the Elf’s side, sighing when Miko set an arm across his back.
“It’ll pass. Don’t worry.”
“It’s not that… the dream bothered me.”
“Dying in a dream can be very frightening. I’ve experienced it many times myself.”
“You have?”
“I dream just as you and every other living being does.”
“I… I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I understand.”
“I just meant… I didn’t think you saw yourself dying in your dreams. I thought they’d stop coming after a time. The dying dreams, I mean.”
“No. Whether I like it or not, the dying dreams continue to persist, though I’m happy to say one graces me with its presence only once in a great while. The dreams, though… I’m happy to say age hasn’t taken away a simple pleasure of life.”
“You thought it would?”
“Once upon a time, yes. Some Elves say they don’t dream after they’ve reached a certain age. Others believe that once the dreams cease to exist, parts of your soul begin to burn away.”
“Do you believe that?”
“No, but it’s not hard to have doubts, especially when Elves thousands upon thousands of years old simply cease to exist, resting in their homes and moving only when they need to nourish themselves, if even then.”
“I don’t think that will happen to you,” Odin said. “You know why?”
“Do tell.”
“You move around. I think that if you’re trapped or forced to stay in one place for a long time, you start to lose focus with the world around you. That happened to me when I was locked in that tower.”
“They would have eventually let you go,” Miko said, closing his eyes. “The court wouldn’t have forced you to remain in that tower.”
“Do you believe that, sir?”
“I do,” the Elf said. “Do you know why, Odin?”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve always been destined for greater and better things. One day, after our adventure is over and the three of us have parted ways—I for mine, Nova for his family and you for yours—you’ll be riding around on your black horse, waving your sword and bearing the king’s banner, and you’ll go down in legend. Because unlike what several have thought—and what many will eventually think—you’re different, Odin. You’re going to change your country, and maybe even our world, for the better.”
“What’s he doing?” Odin whispered.
“I don’t know,” Nova grunted, shrugging his pack up his shoulders. “Be quiet. Let’s see what he finds.”
In front of them, no more than a few feet away, Miko fell to a knee and began sifting through the debris on the forest floor. Twigs, rocks, dead foliage and other organic matter—all came under scrutiny, as if each and every object beneath the canopy of trees meant something more than what it appeared to.
What is he looking for?
Odin frowned, glancing at Nova.
The Ogres couldn’t be that hard to find, could they?
“Unless they hide their tracks,” Odin mumbled, doubting his words even as he said them.
“Hmm?” Nova asked.
“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”
The older man chuckled. Odin elbowed his side in turn.
“They’re heading east,” Miko said, rising. “It hasn’t been long since they passed through this clearing.”
“How do you know?” Nova asked.
“Look.” Lifting his hand, Miko revealed a small, rock-like object that he held between two fingers.
“What is it?”
“A tooth,” the Elf said, setting it in Nova’s outstretched palm. “See the dark matter on the one side? It’s dried blood, which means it was recently pulled from its original owner.”
“What kind of tooth is it?”
“A giant boar’s.”
Nova grimaced. Odin cast a glance behind his shoulder when he heard something rustle in the bushes, but found it only to be a blackbird dancing in the underbrush, cawing at a small companion that came running out a moment later.
“Do we have to worry about them?” Nova frowned, passing the tooth back to Miko.
“I don’t think so. Unless we come across a pair mating or stumble across a male intimidated by our presence, we should be fine. Even though there’s not many humans on this island, the animals have come to learn that men aren’t to be trusted.”
“No kidding,” Nova mumbled.
“I don’t get it though,” Odin said, gently taking the tooth from the Elf’s hand. “Why were you looking for the tooth? And how do you know where the Ogres are heading because of it?”
“They hunt boar for food, Odin. I can tell where they went because it’s customary to leave part of a kill so it can return to the earth.”
“To kep the cycle going. All right.”
“If you’d be so kind, I’d like you to put the tooth back where I found it.”
“I wasn’t planning on keeping it.”
“There’ll be plenty of boar to go around once we settle into place,” the Elf said, nodding as Odin tossed the tooth back into its original location. “If either of you would like something while we’re here, please, don’t hesitate to ask. It’s always nice to have something other than a memory to look back on your trip at.”
“Don’t worry,” Nova said. “If we want anything, we’ll be sure to tell you.”
Yeah,
Odin thought, taking place beside his knight master.
At that moment, the only thing he wanted was somewhere warm to sleep. He didn’t think he could take another night of being out in the cold.
“All right,” Miko said, turning to face them. “I don’t know for sure, but I think we’ve found them.”
“You do?” Odin frowned. “How?”
“See those mounds of dirt out in the open?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Depending on the area, Ogres will make home in whatever they can. Caves, tunnels, mounds of dirt and clay—anything can be a suitable home so long as it’s large enough for them to inhabit.”
“So,” Nova said, “you think this is where they’re living?”
“Like I said, I’m not sure, but it’s highly likely that there
is
a tribe living here. Whether or not it’s my mother’s is up for debate.”
How are you going to look for one Ogre on an island like this?
“Sir,” Odin said, taking a step forward. He stopped when a branch snapped under his weight. Grimacing, he looked around the clearing, then past Miko, out into the open. Nothing moved near the great mounds of dirt. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right, Odin. What were you going to say?”
“I was going to ask how we were going to find your mother on an island this big.”
“The different tribes are connected to one another, either by treaty or territory. They should know where my mother is.”
“And if they don’t?” Nova ventured.
“Then we keep going,” the Elf sighed, looking up at the two of them. “Either way, we need to at least make our presence known. We don’t want any of the neighboring tribes to think we’re passing into their territory without reason.”
I knew we shouldn’t have come here,
Odin thought, struggling to maintain his composure.
This was a bad idea.
“Are you going by yourself?” Nova asked.
“Yes,” Miko nodded. “There’s no reason for the two of you to be put in harm’s way.”
“Do you think something will go wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Miko said, turnin to face the clearing. “If something does happen and I’m unable to get back to you, please, find your way back to the beach.”
“But sir,” Odin started, “You can’t—”
The Elf entered the clearing without waiting for Odin to finish.
“It’ll be all right,” Nova said, taking hold of his arm. “Don’t worry—he’s not stupid.”
No,
Odin thought.
I guess not.
*
Miko stepped into the clearing and touched down on home territory for the first time in dozens, possibly hundreds of years. Almost immediately, the familiarity of the area assaulted him. Blackbirds sitting in the trees, cawing away at things normal beings could not see; air, hot and humid, drifting away from the sea on all sides; the trees, tall and heavy, with branches as long as his body and, in some places, a human’s home—these things, and more, were of home, of peaceful things and lives left untouched by creatures who dealt in consequence rather than forgiving action. The greenery, the flora, the fauna, the smells, the textures, the dirt beneath his feet and the air whispering through his breath—everything about the area threatened to overwhelm him in but a moment, as it seemed at that given point in time that he had awoken from a long slumber only to find himself in a place called home.
Why did I wait so long?
Time didn’t matter for something that didn’t age in body—in spirit, maybe, but the mortal realm did not operate on a spiritual level. Sure—spirits came, spirits went, and spirits would always be among them, but that didn’t matter when most life was created to exist in the form of flesh, a catacomb for beings bound to walk, eat and breathe until they died. It didn’t matter that a year could pass and a baby could be born, and it didn’t matter that in that same year almost a dozen could die, but when you couldn’t be born, and when you couldn’t die, time meant nothing unless one absolutely meant it to.
