The Brotherhood: Blood

by Kody Boye

  “You’ll have to excuse me. It’s customary for Elves to give one another their full attention. You see, I haven’t been around humans—or anything, for that matter—in such a long time.”

  “Where did you come from?”

  “I… don’t exactly remember.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No. To be quite honest, all I remember is entering through the Ornalan border. You have to understand that after a while, things around you start to move without you even realizing it. All I know is that I’ve been walking for a long time. You’d understand if you were immortal. I’m sorry I can’t explain further.”

  “How did you know I was here then?”

  “Call it clairvoyance.”

  Does he have the Sight? Odin thought, frowning, unsure what to think but knowing that Elves possessed abilities so uncanny they could not be compared to mortal men.

  Rather than dwell on the concept any further, Odin continued to eat. While he knew that the Elf had made it more than clear that he wanted questions to be asked, he didn’t believe the creature would want to be questioned day in and day out. For that, he stuck another piece of cheese into his mouth, swallowed, then asked, “Will we be leaving soon?”

  “When you get better.”

  Odin nodded, but couldn’t help but sigh the same.

  “I know you’re ready to leave,” the Elf said, “But we need to consider your health, first and foremost.”

  “I know. I don’t want you getting sick though.”

  “I won’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just do.”

  With no need to question what the Elf had just said, Odin pushed the empty platter away and rose from his seat. “Do you want me to run you a bath?” he asked.

  “If you’d like, yes.”

  He slid into the bathing chamber and went for the massive pump that adorned a stylized network of pipes before the massive, wooden bathtub. Hands ready, palms itching, he placed both hands on the massive valve atop the cat-faced pump and rotated it until water began to sprout from its mouth.

  “It’ll be ready soon!” Odin called out.

  The Elf didn’t respond.

  I didn’t need to yell, he thought.

  Then again, the Elf had said he didn’t mind loud noises, so what reason was there for him to worry?

  Just before the tub could fill to the brim, Miko stepped into the room and undid the clasp on his purple-lined blue cape before letting it fall to the floor. He then slid his fingers through the intricate knot on his lower robe and parted the folds of fabric. It was at this point, when the Elf was almost naked, that Odin turned his head away out to allow the Elf some modesty in regards to his person.

  “Is something wrong?” Miko asked.

  “No,” Odin said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  When the audible sound of the Elf sliding into the water entered his ears, Odin turned his attention back to the creature and watched as, slowly, he draped his arms across the back of the cylindrical wooden tub, eyes intent on his face and a slight frown poised on his lips.

  “Sir,” Odin said, scooting closer to the Elf’s side when he felt it necessary and polite. “I’d like to ask something, if you don’t mind.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s… well… something that’s been bothering me for a while, but… I don’t have any hair on my body.”

  “No?”

  Odin shook his head.

  “How old are you?” Miko asked.

  “Sixteen,” Odin said, bowing his head. “I know I shouldn’t be bothered by something as little as this, but I can’t help it.”

  “You’re young. You’re going to worry about things, especially something as personal as your changing body.”

  Miko slid away from the side of the tub, rose out of the water until only his waist lay emerged, then reached out and tilted Odin’s face up. “May I touch you?” he asked.

  “Sir?” Odin frowned.

  “I want to examine your facial structure, particularly your ears.”

  “Why do you—”

  “May I touch you, Odin? I won’t ask more than once.”

  Though stern, the voice wasn’t rude—more thoughtful than anything and rang with vibrations akin to bells tossed by the wind on a warm summer’s day.

  Pulling his hair back, Odin allowed his knight master to examine what he wanted. In doing so, he exposed to the one and only man whom had ever touched him in such a manner his neck, his jaw, his cheek and, eventually, his skull. His conscience heavy, his nerves set ablaze by the revelation, he remained quiet as the Elf traced the curve of his skull, prying at the hidden nooks and crannies that Odin hadn’t even been aware of. He tangled his fingers through his hair and applied pressure to the depths of his cheeks, drawing his hairline with his fingertip—he searched any and everywhere he could. When he came to his ear, however, a notion of unease struck his face and the bells stopped ringing. A frown crossed his face and perpetually-darkened his façade.

  “This is… not what I expect,” the Elf said, sliding a hand up to the curve of Odin’s ear.

  “Sir?” he asked.

  “Are you aware that your ears are shaped differently than most humans?”

  “They are?”

  A flash of light appeared at the side of Odin’s vision, then revolved around his head until it came to rest before him—where, directly in line with his eyes, an oddly-shaped ear lay suspended in the air, trapped within the confines of a purple sphere of light.

  “This,” the Elf said, “is how your ears look.”

  It didn’t appear normal—at least, not in any respect. From his perspective on the human body and anatomy as a whole, Odin had always come to see a normal man’s ears as perfect—spherical, with only the occasionally bump and tremble near the end of it, where the lobe lay. What floated before him, however, was something amazing—something that, though not pure, elongated and pointed, held jagged curvature, as though someone had just taken a knife and added unique bumps to certain sections of flesh.

  “What does it mean?” Odin asked.

  “It means your mother could’ve been an Elf, for one.”

  “My mother wasn’t—”

  While looking into Miko’s eyes, he realized that his father had never spoken about his mother—not even once, when he’d questioned the man’s motives and just how the woman who should have been raising him should played a role in his life.

  “Your father might not have told you out of fear that you would believe he was hiding other things from you.”

  “He’s never mentioned my mother.”

  “You were raised alone?”

  “By just my father and the midwife.”

  “Understandable.”

  “Is there anything else that could have made my ears look this way?”

  “It’s possible that you could have a distant relative who was an Elf—or at least had some Elf in him—that gave you the recessive trait. You are aware of the dominant and recessive, right?”

  “Like farm animals,” Odin said. “My father had a good friend who raised cattle. He said that he tried to raise cattle that passed on the more dominant traits.”

  “Right,” Miko smiled. “It’s the same with humans and any other creature. We inherit the features of our mother and father.”

  “Is that why you look to strange?”

  Immediately horrified by what he’d just said, Odin drew in a deep breath and tried to ignore the pain in his heart, which drummed within his chest as if he were a tender piece of flesh being repeatedly assaulted by an outside force.

  You didn’t, he thought, staring into the Elf’s face. You couldn’t have.

  “I’m sorry,” Odin said, bowing his head. “I didn’t mean for it to sound the way it did. You’re too handsome to look anything but that.”

  “It’s quite all right, and I know you didn’t mean it that way.” Miko gripped Odin’s upper
arm. “My hair, eyes, fingernails—all came from my father. My skin was my mother’s gift.”

  “What would you look like if you had more of your father in you?”

  “My skin would have been darker than that of the men who live in the desert. You must know of the Cadarack?”

  “Yes sir. I read about it in a book once. Some black men came to see me upon Jordan’s request, though he said that they were Ornalan and not Germanian.”

  “Drow have even darker skin that that. My hair color isn’t natural, though, considering that most Drow have hair as red as your eyes.”

  “Really?”

  Miko nodded.

  “I’m sorry if I offended you,” Odin said. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “It’s fine,” Miko said, turning his back on Odin. “Can you take that bar of soap and wash my back, please?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “I’ll wash yours as well—when you’re ready, that is.”

  Dipping the bar into the water, Odin ran it along his master’s strong back and took a few deep breaths.

  He would have to learn to watch what he said.

  “There’s a storm coming in.”

  Odin looked up from his place at the table to find his knight master sitting by the window. Though he couldn’t particularly see his master’s eyes that well in the mute, blue lightning of early evening, he could tell that the Elf was very interested in the weather, if not the happenings currently taking place outside.

  “Can you smell it?” Odin asked.

  “Yes. Can you?”

  “The air’s damp.”

  “Not many men realize that happens when a rainstorm is coming.”

  “Is it going to be bad?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Shivering, Odin drew his legs up onto the chair and locked his feet below his knees before turning his attention back to the world outside. The weather had gradually chilled over the last little while, down near to where it became almost unbearable to sit without a blanket, but the slight sway of the trees and the ominous prediction of clouds seemed to make the world all the more horrible. Miko, meanwhile, remained still, barely moving at all. Even the rise and fall of his chest had stopped, as if he’d just taken a deep breath and was holding it inside.

  He’s very strange, Odin thought, frowning.

  That didn’t necessarily matter though. He’d become accustomed to the slight habits the Elf had. From the way he barely blinked, to the times he hardly moved, to the way he rubbed the bones in his fingers and stroked them as if they were kittens mewling for their long-dead mother. Maybe he had arthritis, or maybe it was a subconscious habit he committed whilst looking out and into the world. If the former were true, that could be a possible reason as to why he stroked his hands, why he fidgeted with his fingers, even popped his knuckles.

  “Is there anything I can get for you?” Odin asked, suddenly aware of the lack of conversation. “A blanket, anything?”

  “A blanket would be fine, thank you.”

  Odin stood, made his way to the cabinet, then pulled a quilt out. He crossed the brief distance from the cabinet to his master and, carefully, as to not startle him, pressed it over the creature’s naked back, unrolling the corners and smoothing the fabric against his body.

  “Thank you,” Miko said.

  Odin touched the Elf’s back and, in the moments that followed, wondered whether or not he was allowed to do so. When Miko said nothing, however, Odin straightened his posture and looked out the window, where he slightly tightened his grip on the quilt until it lay balled beneath his fingers. Taught, tense muscles stiffened under the initial pressure, but stoon uncoiled and settled evenly across the shoulder blades.

  “It’s going to be cold tonight,” the Elf said.

  “Yes sir. Do you want me to start a fire?”

  “Not now. If it gets colder, I’ll make one.”

  “I can do it. Really, I—”

  Miko turned his head. Odin closed his mouth, all the more aware of how he sounded. “All right,” he said. “I was only offering.”

  “Thank you, especially for the blanket.”

  Odin squeezed the Elf’s shoulder before returning to the table. Tucking his bare feet under his thighs so they wouldn’t be cold, he continued to watch Miko until, a short moment later, he was struck with a longing for his master’s companionship.

  Why do I feel like this?

  He’d never felt anything like this in his life, much less during the time he’d been locked away in the tower. Of course he’d wanted interaction, as that seemed to be the primary reason for existing in a world where people were full and drawn, but he never necessarily ached for it, like he’d just been struck by a fist or even bludgeoned with a mace.

  “Can I come sit with you?” Odin asked.

  “Of course you can.”

  In but a few short steps, Odin crossed the room and settled down on the unoccupied bed next to his master. Miko pushed his arm back and slid the blanket over Odin’s shoulders in response.

  “Is that better?” the Elf asked.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to ask if you can be by me. I know how it feels to be by someone who cares about you.”

  “I haven’t felt like this until just now.”

  “You had your father back in Felnon,” Miko said, which surprised Odin, considering he hadn’t once told the Elf where he’d come from, “and in the tower, you had Jordan and your magic teacher. Here, you have my presence. It’s natural to be wanted.”

  “I’ve always thought it made you selfish.”

  “It doesn’t. Even I desire companionship.” The Elf smiled. “I don’t think we have to worry about being wanted anymore. We have each other.”

  Odin leaned against the Elf. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  Miko draped an arm across his shoulders. “No,” the older creature said. “Thank you, Odin. Thank you.”

  *

  Thunder exploded overhead.

  The man—dressed in a heavy, soaked cloak—willed his stallion to go on. Every little jolt his horse made seemed to send pins and needles into his cold, aching body, like daggers cutting away at his flesh once thrown by men from the highest places in the world. How long, he wondered, had he been going through this rain, since he’d forced his horse to venture through it despite the condition of the weather and the mud slicking the roads?

  I’m almost there, the man thought, leaning against the stallion’s neck. Not too much further. Not much—

  Ahead, he could see the faint outline of a castle amidst the rain-torn world and the darkness pressing upon him.

  Had he come all this way, to Ornala, to find the very boy he’d been searching for for all these years?

  “Yes,” he whispered. “I… I did.”

  Tangling his fingers into the horse’s mane, he managed to push himself into a sitting position. Tired, struggling to keep his eyes open and cold beyond belief, he rode this way for the next little while until he came to the castle’s outer gates.

  Two guards resting under warm, lantern-lit outposts stepped out, crossbows drawn. “What do you want!” one of them cried over the roar of the wind and rain.

  “I’m looking for a man named Odin!” he cried, near an emotional breakdown for all he’d lost and accumulated in these two years. “I… I have… you… I—”

  The world spun.

  Slowly, his vision began to darken, then cloud over with doubt.

  Not now, he thought, falling, the side of his face connecting with the horse’s mane as his attention turned toward the distant borders of the castle’s eastern gate. Not after all I’ve been through. I’ve… come too far…

  He closed his eyes.

  Nothing existed beyond the darkness.

  Chapter 4

  A pair of hands shook him from sleep.

  What? Odin thought, eyes opening.

  The Elf stood no more than a spare foot away from him, face cast in a peculiar shade of unease
and eyes leaving faint traces of unease within their purple depths.

  “Sir?” Odin asked.

  “Someone’s here, Odin.”

  “What are you—”

  “A man. He’s come for you.”

  Come for me? he frowned. What does that—

  Before he could finish the thought, Miko lifted him out of the beds with his outstretched hands, then plopped him down onto the floor, catching and stabilizing him in place before he crossed the room and began to gather about his back façade.

  “What’s going on?” Odin frowned, looking down to examine himself before he began to snap the buttons on his jerkin into place. “Sir?”

  “He was out in the rain and collapsed just outside the gate this morning,” the Elf said, swinging his hair over one shoulder, where he then began to braid it haphazardly and to his best attempts.

  “Who was?”

  “The man.”

  “Which man?” Odin asked, this time impressing upon the Elf a point.

  “He didn’t say. He hasn’t woken since.”

  “Is he…” Odin paused, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Dead?”

  “No. He’s been stricken with the chill.”