The Bond of Blood

by Kody Boye

  “Then what do you suggest?”

  “The only thing we could do is try to lift the boat.”

  “Then do it!”

  Taking a deep breath, Domnin lifted his hands and sparked them to life.

  Aided by his brother, the now-dangling end of the canoe lifted from its skewed position, allowing Miko to touch down and steady himself on the vessel.

  “I’m going to snap the other ropes,” the Elf said. “Odin—help them keep the boat afloat.”

  “Sir,” Odin said, gently pushing Nova out of his way. “What if something happens?”

  “Then to the sea I go.”

  The ropes snapped without warning.

  The fishing boat dropped at least a foot before Icklard and Domnin steadied it.

  “A little help,” Icklard mumbled.

  “I thought you could move the Annabelle,” Odin asked, spreading his conscience into the boat.

  “We can,” Domnin said, “when we’re not forcing it to do something it isn’t supposed to do.”

  “Just keep the boat steady,” the Elf said. “I’m going to push it forward now. You might feel resistance, but don’t fight it. Allow it to control your magic.”

  Odin and the mage brothers nodded.

  As though strung like ragdolls, all three of them stumbled back as the Elf spread his influence into the boat. Like being pushed by something that could not be resisted, Odin, along with the brothers, continued to stumble back until all three of them stood with their backs against the mast. By this time, Miko had gained enough momentum to push forward without dipping into the pool of magic laid before them. He pushed the boat forward until the bow crested the tip of the railing, then lessened his hold on the mages before him. A group of a dozen fishing-hands, Nova included, rushed forward to pull the canoe onto the ship.

  What seemed like an eternity of tug-and-pull pressure later, Odin and the mage brothers stumbled forward, relieved of the unearthly pressure.

  “Are you all right?” Odin frowned. “Sir, are you—”

  A trickle of blood fell from the Elf’s side.

  “You’re hurt.”

  “Yes, Odin—I am.”

  “Who—”

  “It doesn’t matter. Please, just take me to our room. You must tend to my injuries.”

  Odin wasted no time.

  Wrapping his arm around his knight master’s side, he pressed a hand to the wound and pulled him toward the stairway.

  Warmth spread up his arm and made its way into his chest.

  It wasn’t until they touched down at the bottom of the stairs that Odin realized the throb within his palm.

  It took but a moment to realize what had happened.

  A sword, a dagger, a jagged piece of wood or a broken chunk of metal—it didn’t matter what pricked his flesh and took his blood for its own. He’d cut his hand while stumbling back against the mast.

  With broken skin pressed to an immortal’s bleeding wound, Odin closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  He couldn’t worry about it now.

  His knight master was hurt.

  3

  “What happened?” Nova asked. “Who the hell did this to you?”

  “Not now Nova,” Odin said, parting the folds of his knight master’s cloak. “Sir… sir. Look at me. Are you all right?”

  “I’m… fine,” the Elf mumbled, eyes glossy and struggling to remain open. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

  “Right near your fucking heart,” Nova growled, balling his hand into a fist. “I swear, if we were anywhere near that island, I’d—”

  “Nova,” Odin sighed. “Please, not now. I know you’re mad, but getting angry isn’t going to help anyone in this situation. If you’re not going to help me, please, get the hell out of here.”

  “Odin—”

  “Nova, please—for just this once, keep your big mouth shut and do what I tell you.”

  The older man said nothing. Reaching forward, Nova tangled his hands in Miko’s cloak and began the long and lengthy process of removing the ensemble. Freeing the cape from the Elf’s broad shoulders, unslinging the clasps at his neck, undoing the intricate brooch and the pin and needle that held it together—he ran his fingers along the Elf’s chest and undid the buttons on the long-sleeved shirt beneath, popping each individual one until he reached the bottom. There, he slowly, and carefully, pulled the fabric away from the skin, taking extra care not to rip the wound open in the process.

  Anger visible in violent flushes of color upon his face, Nova looked up at Odin with sad eyes. Look, he mouthed.

  Crossing the room and making his way around the bed, Odin set the medical supplies on a nearby table and sighed when he saw the wound.

  No.

  Though not shallow, the thin wound opened just beneath his underarm in a single, clean flush, as if the attack had been quick and concise. There was no tear, no push, no flush or even a jagged exit wound. Whoever had stabbed the Elf had taken extra care not to be noticed until the very last moment.

  “Sir?” Odin frowned, falling to a knee beside the bed. “Does it feel any different than it should?”

  “It feels fine,” the Elf whispered, eyes closed. “I feel pain, but it isn’t unbearable.”

  “Go find someone who can help us,” Odin said, glancing at Nova before reaching for the washcloth. “I don’t know how to help him.”

  “Your inexperience is my fault,” Miko continued, chest slowly rising and falling. “I should’ve taught you how to tend wounds.”

  “It’s fine, sir. Just… don’t talk. Stay quiet for me.”

  “I will, Odin. Don’t worry—I’ll be fine.”

  With one last look at Nova, Odin pressed the washcloth to his knight master’s side and closed his eyes.

  Slowly but surely, his head began to tingle.

  Hand throbbing, he took a breath of his own.

  It’s starting, the gilded thing breathed. You’re becoming him.

  “No,” Odin whispered. “I’m not.”

  In the corner of the room, Parfour raised his head and frowned.

  “It’s fine,” Odin said. “Don’t worry—we’ll have whoever comes down look at your eye too.”

  “My eye’s fine,” the boy mumbled. “It’s him I’m worried about.”

  Odin said nothing.

  “Well,” the healer frowned, taking a deep breath before replacing the bandage over the wound. “There’s not much else I can do that you already haven’t, Mr. Karussa. You’ve cleaned and bandaged the wound already, so the most we can do now is wait to see if it becomes infected before we seal it up.”

  “It’s not fatal though,” Odin asked, “is it?”

  “Oh no—not at all. Given the state of his health and what… excuse me… who he is, I’d be surprised if this kept him in bed for more than a few days.”

  “So you don’t think we’ll need to do anything else for it,” Nova nodded, drawing the curtains around Miko’s bed.

  “If you’re asking if you’ll need to stitch it, yes, that’s a given. But, like I said, we need to watch for infection, especially since we don’t have the blade he was injured with.” Pausing, the healer glanced over his shoulder, watching for signs of movement. A short moment later, he turned his head, sighed, then said, “I hate to ask this, but what might’ve given a monk reason to stab him? I’ve never heard of such a thing, especially from men such as them. They seem so—”

  “Righteous,” Odin nodded. He turned his head up at Nova and Parfour, forcing a smile even though it didn’t want to come. “Can you give me a moment, guys?”

  “Fine with me,” Nova shrugged, stretching his arms over his head. “I think I’m gonna lay down anyway.”

  “It’s fine,” Parfour mumbled.

  With one last nod, Odin gestured the healer out of the room, making sure to close the door behind them before they made their way down the hall.

  “Did you see that boy in there?” Odin asked, slipping his hands into his pockets.

>   “Not until after he spoke.”

  “He was with the monks until today. He… well… I hate to say this, sir, but those men on that island aren’t anything like they say.”

  “What do you—”

  “I’m not going to play games with you, sir, because you deserve to know what happened, especially considering the circumstance and how my knight master was hurt because of it. I just want you to promise me that you’ll keep what I’m about to tell you between us for now. All right?”

  “Of course, sir. You can trust me.”

  “I’ve learned you can’t trust anyone,” Odin chuckled, leaning against the nearby wall. “Especially after what just happened.”

  The healer said nothing. Straightening his posture, the man waited for Odin to respond, all the while looking him straight in the eye.

  You just have to come out and tell him. There’s no other way around it.

  “The boys on that island are being raped and abused.”

  A flicker of unease crossed the medicine man’s eyes. In response, the man turned his head down and stared at his shoes, as though waiting for them to come alive and swallow his lanky self whole. “Raping them?” he asked after several moments of indecision.

  “Did you see the boy’s eye?” Odin asked.

  “No, I… he was in the dark. I couldn’t—”

  “He’s been hurt a lot worse than he looks, sir—I can guarantee that.”

  “Then he… they… those boys are still—”

  “With the monks,” Odin sighed. “Yes.”

  “That’s why you don’t want anyone to know,” the healer laughed. “This ship would be turned around faster than you could explain if word of this got out.”

  “Which might get me and my knight master thrown in jail,” Odin nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “The only thing I can do is make sure Parfour gets back to the mainland safely. Right now, that’s my only option.”

  “What happens then?” the man frowned. “They just leave the boys in that godforsaken place?”

  “As far as I understand, most of them come from Ornala, and I know for a fact that Ournul won’t stand for this kind of behavior, especially toward boys from his kingdom. All I know is that if something goes wrong before we get back to the mainland and the monks try to argue our claim, we might get charged with trespassing, not to mention kidnapping.”

  “I understand. Mark my words, Mr. Karussa—I’m not a lying man. I’d rather die than put another’s life at stake.”

  “Thank you,” Odin smiled, reaching out to take the man’s hand.

  “You’re hurt,” the healer frowned. A moment later, he turned his head up, eyes incredulous and mouth agape. “You were tending to an open flesh wound when you had one of your own.”

  “I can’t think about that now,” Odin sighed, shaking his head. “Can you bandage my hand, please? Before we go back into the room?”

  “He’s an immortal… you’ve touched his blood with your own.”

  “It doesn’t matter, sir. There are others whose lives are more important. Mine isn’t one of them.”

  “Sir,” Odin said, kneeling beside his knight master’s bed. “Can you hear me?”

  Though no response followed, Odin took comfort in the fact that the Elf seemed at peace. Hidden beneath the shroud of blankets surrounding his bed, his chest rose and fell in a steady, rhythmic pattern, giving birth to bliss that shouldn’t have otherwise existed in his situation.

  Lips pursed, eyelids fluttering and nostrils expanding and contracting, Miko looked anything but pained in a world where feeling didn’t exist.

  Odin couldn’t help but feel envious. “I knew something bad was going to happen,” he said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from Miko’s face. “Dammit, Nova—one of us should’ve stayed with him.”

  “He wouldn’t have let us, Odin,” Nova responded from his side of the room. “You know that.”

  “How? We didn’t even try!”

  “Shh!” Nova hissed. “You’ll wake him up.”

  Sighing, Odin rose from his place beside the bed and paced over to the wall, where he seated himself in a chair and tried not to let his guilt eat him alive. It seemed tangible, this thing of his—this pain, this agony, frustration, grief—and with its fangs and claws it would eat him alive, cannibalizing his body until nothing but bones existed.

  And then you’d be dead, he thought, bowing his head and closing his eyes. And there would be nothing you could do about it.

  “Neither of us can help what someone else did,” Nova said, settling into a chair beside him. “He wouldn’t have let either of us stay with him, Odin. He was more worried about Parfour than he was himself.”

  “I know,” he sighed. “Still… we could’ve tried.”

  “Odin, don’t—”

  “It doesn’t matter whether or not he would’ve let us stay, Nova—it’s the point. He got hurt because we left him by himself. On top of that, he had to push himself all the way back to the Annabelle by himself. I could’ve just as easily went back myself and helped him.”

  “Yeah, but how could we have known someone would be waiting to get one of us alone? Think of that.”

  “I…” Odin glanced down at his hand. It took only one look at the bandage for the realization to set in. “We couldn’t have.”

  “Exactly.” Nova stood, about to cross the room and make his way toward the door. After a moment’s hesitation, he stopped and stared at Odin with wary eyes. “What happened to your hand?”

  “What?”

  “I asked what happened to your hand.”

  “Oh… suh-sorry.”

  “Odin?”

  “I backed into something when we were lifting the boat up. It’s nothing—don’t worry about it.”

  “Are you sure?” Nova frowned. “Odin, is something—”

  “No!” he cried, grimacing soon after. A wary glance at both Miko and Parfour’s beds showed that neither of them had been disturbed, or at least appeared not to have been. “It’s okay, Nova—I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

  Nova offered nothing more than a nod before he reached out, turned the doorknob, and left the room.

  A short sigh escaped Odin’s lips.

  He doesn’t know, he thought, sinking back into the chair.

  Despite the chill that slowly crept up his spine, he couldn’t help but feel warm.

  Something inside him told him to breathe.

  Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back and took a deep breath.

  His last fleeting thoughts before he fell asleep were of an Elf’s blood bonding with his own.

  Beautiful, magical, enchanting—two halves met to make one whole before the world went dark.

  Odin woke to the silence of a still room.

  Unsure of his surroundings, he opened his eyes to find himself in a chair, nearly folded with half his body in the seat and his legs over the armrest.

  How did I get here? he thought, pulling his legs free of the chair’s awkward bulge. And how the hell did I end up sleeping like this?

  Straightening his posture, he leaned back and rubbed his eyes as he tried to regain his composure. Outside, evening began to make its appearance known as the sun slowly fell from the sky. As it did every night, it threw itself from the world it knew and into the strange, bizarre unknown, undoubtedly and without despair. It took little to commend the sacrifice it made each night. It never looked back before throwing itself from the cliff that would seal its fate, nor did it mumble a prayer in the hopes that everything would be well. It didn’t wonder whether or not its mission would be accomplished or doubt or dwell on any fault that could come from its decisions. In a way, the sun showed courage most men could only dream of having.

  It took a lot to throw oneself to the wind, toward the unknown and away from all one knew. Some died while trying. Some never tried at all. Some failed to realize their reason and turned away, while others simply refused to do so, arrogantly proclaiming that all the
y knew was all they should know and needed nothing more. The few that tried to do such a thing should be commended.

  The sight of the heavenly star falling toward a strange and bizarre future forced tremors through Odin’s chest.

  Could he throw himself away from everything he knew when they docked at the mainland? Could he truly trust himself to stand tall and proud from the moment he touched down on Ornalan soil to the moment he was graced with the presence of his king? Could he, when the time came, don his armor or bear his sword and shield? Could he free those that should be free or kill those that should be killed? Could he murder his enemies, save his friends, and give his life to a king admired across all the land? It took little to realize the cause, but to accept the consequence? What did that entail? What could happen in the span of a day, a month, a year or even a lifetime?

  After all this time, could he kneel before the king, bow his head, and be touched by a sword far greater than anything his life could ever mean?

  “Can I?”

  As expected, no response came.

  A flicker of movement tore him from his raging thoughts.

  Parfour stood in the corner of the room, facing the wall that held the only mirror in the immediate vicinity.

  Shit.

  Swallowing a lump in his throat, Odin started to rise, but stopped himself before he could. The thought that followed forced him back into his seat before he could even stand.

  How long had it been since Parfour had seen his reflection?

  Afraid and unwilling to dwell on the obvious, Odin pushed himself out of his chair and began to take slow, calculated steps across the room. Not wanting to startle the boy, but not wanting to wake his knight master either, he paused in mid-stride.

  Hidden in the shadows of the dark, nearly-blackened room, Odin could barely make out Parfour’s features. Right eye swollen over, it protruded from his face just enough to shield his good eye from view.

  With no emotion in plain sight, Odin sighed, took a deep breath, and approached the boy from behind.

  Parfour turned his head down the moment Odin’s reflection appeared in the mirror.