The Brotherhood: Blood

by Kody Boye

  Taking a moment to allow the knot of rage in his chest to loosen, Odin looked out the window and stared at the barrier that lay no more than a dozen feet away. Its magical surface slid and crawled with hidden entities—dragons made of snow and air, spiders created from ripples and whorls, men dragging women from their homes and into back alleys.

  No matter how hard he tried—no matter how much he attempted to force his conscience into higher, more pleasant places—all he could see was the Elf, naked, poised over the trembling virgin not ready to have one of her most important things ripped away from her. Would she be afraid, he wondered, as the Elf lingered before her, member taut and heavy, or would she simply give in, for she knew she was nothing more than a fair game to a man whom had saved her life? She, the beauty; he, the beast—a crime of passion, a moment of lust, an equinox of envy and a constellation of love: these were the things that this could be described, that could be compared, that could be spoken off, but would they ever really relate to the end?

  In thinking of such things and just how much they related to his life as a whole, Odin began to wonder. Had Nova been right in his assessment of the situation? Was it right for a man who’d saved a maiden to take her back to his room and do any and everything he wanted to her? Because if it was, and if that law of anarchy really did exist, Odin didn’t think he wanted any part of it.

  I don’t have to be like that, he thought, crossing his arms over his chest. I don’t have to do those kinds of things.

  He could be a good man, a good squire, a good knight. He could ride upon his horse of darkest blacks and make his way across the land, saving any and all who needed his help, and by his sword he could slay those who meant harm to those innocent and pure. He need not ever commit an act of sin, of violence, of terrible greed, and he need not ever speak or think of such things, as in that regard he could be the best man he could be—a man whom, by all definitions, was a hero in every essence of the word.

  “Odin?”

  He jumped, falling back into the nearby wall.

  Nova stood a few feet away, a concerned frown framed by a thin mustache and a neatly-trimmed beard.

  “What?” Odin asked, surprised at how out of breath he was.

  “Are you all right?”

  “No. you know what’s bothering me.”

  “Have you talked to him?”

  “I’m not going to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s none of my business.”

  “You’re his business though,” Nova said. “He’d want to know if something was bothering you.”

  “He knows what’s bothering me. He just doesn’t want to talk about it.”

  “Maybe he’s sparing you the grief of a confrontation. Have you thought of that?”

  “No,” he said, but his thoughts betrayed him otherwise. He had thought of it, as it had been on his mind more than a few times, but just because Nova had brought it up didn’t mean he had to admit it. “I haven’t.”

  “Well, think about that, then think about how much he cares about you.”

  “I know how much he cares, Nova. He took me out of the tower.”

  “Because he believed in you,” the man said. “Just like I do.”

  “You believe in me?”

  “I wouldn’t have left my wife if I didn’t believe in you, Odin.”

  Odin nodded, stepped forward, and wrapped his arms around his friend’s chest. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do if I only had him to talk to.”

  “You’d talk to him and only him,” Nova said, setting his hands on Odin’s shoulders. “Think about what I said though, all right? Do it for me. Please?”

  “I will,” he sighed. “Don’t worry.”

  That night, Odin opened his eyes to see Miko garbing himself in his black cloak. Oblivious to his actions and focused on the current task at hand, the Elf continued to dress, snapping the buttons up his torso and pulling his gloves over his hands. It seemed anything but impractical, the thing he was doing, and it seemed that at any moment he would simply turn and leave without thinking on the matters beforehand. His goal was set, his eyes locked, his target in sight. For one to think he may possibly turn around without intervention would have been madness itself. In that moment, however, Odin felt it his duty to say something—if not for the Elf, for himself, for if he didn’t then surely he would be scarred for life.

  “Sir,” he said, raising his head from its place atop his pillow.

  Miko turned to face him. “Yes?” he asked.

  Though he could not see the creature’s face, he sensed a disturbance there—a tremble, possibly, within his voice, weakened to the point of where the deep baritone sounded no more than a child’s tenor. For that, it seemed, his purpose had been meant.

  I did it, he thought, pleased, but not yet willing to collect his reward. I actually made him think.

  “You’re going,” he said, sinking his teeth into his lower lip. “Aren’t you?”

  They exchanged gazes for several long moments—Odin’s direct, the Elf’s darkened and shrouded over. That, however, did not matter, because in his heart and mind Odin could feel just what it was the Elf was doing. An eye, clever and docile, traced his body, from his shrouded waist to his long-sleeved shirt, producing the sensation of hundreds of miniature bugs crawling across his skin. Some bit, causing gooseflesh, while others simply began to dig in and force themselves into his bloodstream, in turn causing an unease so deep and horrible it seemed at any moment his heart would explode out of his chest.

  Come on, he thought. Let what I said have affected you.

  To his surprise, and to his unholiest satisfaction, the Elf continued to dress.

  “Tell me,” Odin sighed, his voice sad and resembling something of a wounded dove. “I don’t want to worry.”

  “I’m going to see the mayor’s daughter.”

  “I thought you said you could contain your urge?”

  “I lied.”

  The sigh that escaped the Elf’s lips instilled the revelation that Miko did, in fact, realize his intentions and just how wrong they were. But unlike what Odin expected, and contrary to his beliefs, Miko continued to dress, only further loosening the restraints he’d kept for so long.

  “Why would you give in like that?” Odin asked, standing, wanting to go to his master’s side but unsure how he would react. “Why would you just let everything you told me go?”

  “Even I have weaknesses.”

  “But you don’t have to have them.”

  “You have to realize, Odin, that all men experience urges that they cannot simply shrug off. When given the option to release that urge, it’s better to let it go than to keep it locked inside.”

  “Even if it makes the man feel like he’s done something wrong?”

  “Yes, Odin—even if he feels like he’s done something wrong.”

  “If you go up there,” Odin began, this time taking a single, bold step forward, “I hope you know you’ll be raping her.”

  “I’d do no such thing.”

  “What else would you call taking a woman against her will?”

  “Look, boy,” Miko growled, turning his head to glare at him from beneath the shroud of his cloak. “You will not question my intentions.”

  “Sir—”

  “Put yourself in my place. Would you keep one of the most powerful urges you’ve ever felt locked inside, or would you release it any way you could?”

  “I wouldn’t rape someone just to make myself feel better!”

  “There’ll come a day when you want a woman just as badly as I do, and when that day comes, you’ll realize that you won’t be able to control that urge. At least I have been given permission to take the girl. I could do it against her will.”

  “You will be doing it against her will.”

  A hand lashed out.

  A brute palm struck his face.

  Sent to the ground, blood trickling from the side of his lip, Odin could only lo
ok up, mind reeling and face throbbing in pain.

  For a brief moment, he thought he saw the most terrible anguish light his knight master’s face before he slipped out the door.

  Lying on the floor, bleeding and hurt, Odin curled into a ball, closed his eyes, and cried himself to sleep.

  There was nothing he could do.

  A woman was going to be raped tonight.

  That morning, Odin didn’t get out of bed until late in the afternoon. Having woken not only at dawn, but to a day where things seemed impossibly-dreary, he dreaded the day and what it would bring so much that he simply lay in bed with his eyes closed, not in the least bit inclined to get up and face the demons that surely lurked nearby.

  Finally, when the sun lay high in the sky and pierced directly through the overhead windows, Nova came to his side and shook him up. “Odin,” he whispered, reaching out to touch his face. “What happened last night?”

  “We talked,” Odin said, pushing himself into a sitting position.

  “You talked?”

  “Yeah. I took your suggestion and talked to him about what he was going to do last night. He hit me when I told him I would never rape a woman just to make myself feel better.”

  “That bastard,” Nova growled.

  “It doesn’t really matter,” Odin laughed, reaching up to rub his bruised face, “because he went anyway.”

  “I haven’t seen him all day.”

  “He’s too afraid to come back and face what he did to me.”

  Placing a hand on Nova’s shoulder, Odin rose to his feet and faced the eastern windows. A mere sliver of the mansion lay visible on the hill, a single drop of blood atop a virgin’s skin.

  “”I’m going to talk to him when he gets back,” Nova said, voice thick with anger. “Only a coward hits a boy, especially a boy who’s only concerned about him.”

  “I knew it was a bad idea to try and talk him out of it.”

  “No it wasn’t. You didn’t do anything to deserve what he did.”

  “I insulted him.”

  “He deserves to be insulted, Odin. Don’t you get it? He said you would end up raping someone when you got the urge to fuck just because you wanted to. How pathetic is that? You acted more like a man than he did last night.”

  Odin said nothing.

  In the lapse of silence that followed, Nova drew close and set a hand on his shoulder. “Come on,” he said.

  “Where are we going?” Odin frowned.

  “To the bar. We’ll get some lunch and forget about this whole incident for now. Ok?”

  “Ok.”

  With a sigh, Odin followed his friend to the door, only just realizing how much it hurt to touch something the Elf had no more than a few hours before.

  They ate a variety of breads, cheeses, meats and vegetables and tried to forget about the earlier conversation and the emotions it had stirred. Throughout this time, and during the duration before and after the meal, men sitting at the bar or tables glanced at Odin when they took notice of the bruise slowly flowering across his face. They, however, said nothing, and whether they glanced at him due to the bruise or something more Odin didn’t know. He suspected the former held a very strong hand in this game—the one who held the king.

  I don’t think he’ll be coming back to the cottage for a while.

  Sliding cheese rolled in meat into his mouth, Odin looked up at Nova, watching him tear a chunk out of his thick sandwich. A quick look at his plate showed he’d tried to stuff most, if not everything between the bread.

  “Is that good?” Odin asked, not sure whether to copy his friend.

  “I think it is,” Nova said, swallowing his mouthful before swigging it down with a light alcohol. “I promise not to drink as much as I did last time.”

  “It’s all right,” Odin said. He, too, sipped the beer, in favor of the numbing sensation it created in both his heart and face. “As long as you don’t get drunk, you can order another glass. I might order one myself.”

  “I thought you didn’t like the stuff?”

  “So did I,” Odin mumbled.

  Nova frowned, but returned his attention to his food, as if suddenly unnerved at Odin’s sad eyes.

  I really need to cheer up.

  Why drag Nova into his bad mood?

  “Sorry,” Odin sighed, setting his glass back on the table. “I mean, for being so depressing.”

  “It’s all right. If I were you, I know I’d feel bad. I’m surprised you haven’t cried yet.”

  “I’m trying not to,” he said, not bothering to mention he’d bawled more than enough last night. It was quite possible he didn’t have any more tears to cry. “Anyway, thanks for taking me out to lunch.”

  “You don’t have to thank me, bud. I know it’s not a lot, but considering I’m using some of the money my father-in-law gave to me, it’s all I can really afford, since I’m not digging into our journey’s stash. I used most of my money trying to find you.”

  “It’s ok. Really. I like what you got us.”

  “Me too,” Nova chuckled, setting the other half of his massive sandwich down. “Gotta give me a little to get the urge to finish what I ate. I didn’t realize how much food we ordered.”

  “It didn’t cost that much though.”

  “Yeah, but we still got a lot of food.”

  Odin nodded. He smiled for what he believed had been the first time that day. “You want to go anywhere else after this, Nova?”

  “Like where?”

  “I don’t know. Just… around?”

  “Sure. It’s not like we have much else to do anyway.”

  No, Odin sighed. We don’t.

  After lunch, they made their way down the long street that both the infirmary and bar sat on, taking in what they’d already seen. Though Odin didn’t particularly pay attention to his surroundings, as his mind was much too frazzled, he liked the feeling of being with his friend above anything else.

  At least he doesn’t hit me.

  Then again, he had provoked Miko at a bad time. Would the same thing have occurred if he’d chosen his words more carefully? Could he have avoided getting backhanded if he had simple stated that he wouldn’t rape anyone?

  Why would I do that? What makes him think I’d do that?

  Up until now, he hadn’t considered the prospect of being with someone—mainly, and in part, because he’d always been focused on getting out of the tower and becoming a knight. He knew he would eventually like to have a family—a home, a purpose, a job and, above all else, a responsibility—but until that time came, he couldn’t dwell on it. He couldn’t imagine being a husband, much less a father to a child in that given moment of time.

  “Hey,” Nova said, reaching out to touch his upper back. “What’re you thinking about?”

  “Not a whole lot,” Odin said. “I was thinking about what I might do after I become a knight,”

  “A family?” Nova asked. Odin nodded in response. “That’s what I want after I get back to Bohren.”

  “You do?”

  “Uh huh. I hadn’t discussed it with Katarina before I left, but I’ve always wanted a son.”

  “You’d make a good father,” Odin said.

  “I hope so. Now that I’m with Katarina, at least I could give my boy everything I never had. Not that it wouldn’t matter if Katarina was wealthy or not, but it does help.”

  “What makes you think you’ll have a boy the first time around?”

  “I’ve seen it?”

  “Your Sight?”

  “Yeah. All I see is a baby in Katarina’s arms, but I know it’s a boy because she keeps saying, ‘Our son.’”

  “Do you see yourself in your visions?”

  “No. Not yet, anyway.”

  Odin looked up when they came to the end of the road—where, directly at the junction that created an L in the path, a black, stone plaque stood, its text too faded to read.

  “What do you think it is?” Odin asked.

  “I dunno.” Nova
stepped forward and bowed his head to the black surface. “I’m guessing it commemorates the village. You know, saying it was built and what it hopes to accomplish.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  “I think they have one in Bohren, though I can’t really be sure.”

  “And Felnon’s not big enough to have anything like that.”

  “Your home’s been around for a few years though, right?”

  “Uh huh. I don’t know exactly how long, but it’s been there since before I was born—I know that much.”

  “Ah well,” Nova chuckled. “You want to keep going?”

  “I don’t know,” Odin shrugged. As far as he could see, there wasn’t a whole lot up the northern road. “If you want to. I don’t care.”

  “I don’t either. I’m just saying—there’s not a whole lot we can do back at the cottage. If your leg and hip were better, we could go spar or something, but that’s out of the question.”

  It sure is.

  “There’s got to be something to do here,” Odin said. “I mean, Joseph’s friend had a carriage, but I don’t see how they’d raise the horses with no grass.”