The Brotherhood: Blood (11 page)

Unable to think about the consequences of his actions any longer for fear that they would stir him into an emotional fit, he raised his eyes.

Directly across from him in the kitchen, Daughtry stood poised over what appeared to be the beginnings of some kind of pastry cake, calm and content with the fact that he seemed to have the house to himself.

Has he seen me?

“I slept fine,” Odin replied, taking his first few steps into the ornate kitchen. “Thank you for letting me stay with you last night.”

“Yes… she’s quite the whimsical one,” Daughtry said, turning to wash his hands in a sink fully-equipped with a pipe system. “I’m glad she told me about you.”

“How did you end up finding me?”

“She didn’t run too far off after… well… you ‘burned her butterfly up,’ as she so eloquently put it. She’s a bit sensitive in that regard, but she gets over things quickly. She was naturally interested in you because there’s not many mages in the capital anymore.”

“Where did they all go?”

“Most have died off. Some left to go expand their knowledge with the Elves. Others have… well… left, per se, though they’re still conscripted into the king’s army. Being a mage can be a lonely life.”

While Daughtry went about adding the final touches to his pastry cake, Odin seated himself at the long dining table that took up the other half of the kitchen and placed his hands before him, idly toying with his forefingers as he waited for the man to continue. It took less than a few moments for the cake to be placed into the oven, which glowed bright with flame, so when the high mage seated himself directly across from him, Odin found himself staring not at the man, but at the depiction of the Crystal Desert hero of Arc the Giant-Slayer behind him.

“Oh. That.” The high mage smiled, revealing perfectly-straight, well-kept white teeth. “Yes. I’ve requested an audience with the king. It should be answered in but a few days, given the importance of this meeting, but you’re welcome to stay with me until then. I’m aware that you have not a penny on you.”

“My father was the one carrying all our coin,” Odin sighed. “Sir… have you heard any news of the caravan from Felnon arriving yet?”

“No, but I’ve yet to set foot outside this morning.”

Frowning, Odin turned his eyes down to his hands and took a moment to fiddle with his thumbs before he returned his attention back to the mage in front of him. As kind as Daughtry was, and as generous as he seemed to be, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was some alternative purpose for both this meeting and arrangement.

Of course there is,
his conscience whispered.
The king wants battle mages.

“Sir,” Odin said, allowing himself a brief amount of time to determine just what it was he would say. “You said that I would be considered for the honor of becoming one of the king’s knights.”

“I know there’s been conflict between us and Germa,” he said, allowing his arms to fall slack at his side, “but does that mean there will really be a war?”

“To be perfectly honest, I highly doubt it. The king’s call for soldiers has only been made because King Ournul believes there may be an assault on the kingdom sometime soon, though there is no proof of that as of now.”

“What do they want?” Odin frowned.

“Our resources, territory, space. You would do well to know that the Germanian people are frustrated with the lack of space they were given when the Three Kingdoms were assembled and bonded to one.”

“But they have the entire desert.”

“That’s my point exactly.” When Odin offered a frown, Daughtry sighed and reached up to run a hand through his short brown hair. “Many of the Germanian people are tired of living in the sweltering heat and living as nomads. The lack of water in that part of the world is completely unforgiving.”

At this, Daughtry frowned and reached up to set a hand against his chin. He idly toyed with the corners of his lower lips, as if he were expecting hair to suddenly spring up from beneath his skin and offer him a mustache fit only for the most diligent of men, but when no further response came, Odin couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

Even he doesn’t want to answer me,
he thought.

Then again, such a thing was to be expected. If there was really wrong within the kingdom—which, at that moment, Odin couldn’t help but feel there was—then surely the king would not want to admit mistakes within his judgment. He was, of course, expected to uphold his title to the fullest, and were he to falter within his choices, the people would surely react harshly, and would even go so far as to demand that a new king be put in Ournul’s stead in order to keep their country running properly.

With a short sigh, Daughtry laced his fingers together, turned his head up from his place at his hands, then said, without a slight of judgment in his voice, “There’s been unease between our kingdoms since the Germanian people have elected their new king.”

“Why is that?” Odin asked.

“Conghul, the Cadarian who was elected into office, was chosen because he has promised his people freedom of the restraints their world has put upon them. The shortage of water, the lack of food, the lack of security of being able to live one more day—the Cadarack is not a place many people would willingly live, so it’s perfectly understandable that they’ve had problems with wanting to expand their territory. Ournul, however, feels that excising a piece of our land to sate the Cadarians will only lead to further riots when they demand that more territory be made.”

“I’m guessing the chunk of land they’d be given wouldn’t be enough then.”

“So far as we understand, the amount of Cadarian people within Germa is double, maybe even triple that of our own country. It’s King Conghul’s belief that since there are so few people within our country, we should be willing to give some of our land up.”

“It’s not our fault that they have more people than we do.”

“No. It isn’t.”

Daughtry rose and began to round the table. Hands locked at his lower back, head downturned, Odin briefly considered the notion that the conversation had troubled the mage far more than he had initially anticipated, but when the high mage stood directly behind him and set both hands upon his shoulders, Odin tensed and turned his head to the side in order not to face the man’s eyes.

“The lack of mages within our kingdom,” the professor said, “is something that the king has been concerned about since his father passed and left him with the kingdom of Ornala.”

“They’re dying out,” Odin said.

“Correct. That is why there’s such a high demand for those who can use magical powers—why men like myself, even though we’re little more than scholars who know the arts of the supernatural, can still continue to live in comfort.”

“What about your daughter?”

“The king’s court would never allow my daughter to willingly become a knight. Even if she could, I wouldn’t feel comfortable allowing her. That’s not a matter we should be discussing though. Even if the ban was lifted on women serving in the military, she is much too young to even consider serving the kingdom.”

“How strong is her power?”

“Weak, in retrospect, but given her age, she has a much stronger grasp on it than some do.”

More than anything I could do,
Odin thought.

“Part of my duty as a high mage is to ensure that those with magical powers are given precedence above those who do not. This, of course, means nothing if the king does not believe you are adequate for the job.”

In thinking on those words, Odin couldn’t help but wonder whether his size would play an opposing role in the king’s decision.

You can’t worry about that,
he thought.
You know you’re strong.

Though he had little grasp over his magical ability, he was perfectly capable of using a sword. With the right training, he could be great—that he knew.

“When will we meet with the king?” Odin asked.

“Within the next few days,” Daughtry replied. “There’s holes we must jump through, of course, and I’ve already maneuvered through most of them, but it’ll take some time before the king comes to our request. Why? Is something bothering you?”

The caravan arrived within the days following Odin’s initial arrival. From the front porch of High Mage Daughtry’s house he watched as, in rows of two, with the carts in the center, the men and the boys who had come all the way from Felnon pushed their way into the Outer District and began to disperse themselves into several different groups—one, he knew, the young men who had come to enlist in the military, the others likely to the traders, merchants and buyers that lay within the outskirts near the walls. Throughout all this, however, Odin could not find his father, even though the man should have been stationed directly at the front of the party and designating them to every place they needed to go.

Where are you?
he thought.

Almost near tears not for the fear he felt in his heart, but the emotional conflict that raged within his mind, he crossed his arms over his chest and settled himself on the mage’s front porch, watching the crowd for any sign of the man whom he had willingly run away from no more than a few short days ago.

“Any luck?” Daughtry’s familiar voice asked.

Though Odin didn’t make any move to reply, his silence was response enough.

Stepping forward, Daughtry settled down on the steps beside Odin and pressed his hands against his knees, watching the caravan dispersing beside the walls and making their way toward individual places near and around the gate.

“I’m sorry you don’t know where he is,” Daughtry said, turning his head to look at Odin with his pure blue eyes.

“Yeah,” Odin said. “I am too.”

Not wanting to dwell upon the fact any longer, he stood and turned to make his way into the house. Halfway there, however, he ground to a halt and turned his head to examine the high mage, whom had remained on the porch watching the crowd.

Because I would’ve seen him already,
he thought, but chose to say nothing in response.

Instead, Odin retraced his steps and once more settled down beside Daughtry—this time, however, sitting cross-legged instead of allowing his feet to dangle over the edge.

“I feel your pain,” the high mage said, reaching out to press a hand against Odin’s upper back. “It must be hard, not being here without your father.”