The Brotherhood: Blood (52 page)
“In legend, Shiva was a prince of the great capital of Yolanda who cast himself from the cliffs because his father disapproved of his partnership with another man. The young man’s sorrow transcended death and destroyed everything—from the king’s castles, the wide, open plains, to the magical land which he ruled over.”
“How did the Glove Village survive then?”
“Shiva spared the village his lover lived in. That short lapse of time allowed mages to create a magical structure that keeps the village from reaching freezing temperatures.”
With his questions answered but his doubts more than obvious, Odin looked down at their packs. Three in all, arranged into sacks that would be slung over their shoulders, lay on the floor near the door, their presence alone almost enough to beckon them off and to their adventure.
“I guess we’re really doing this then,” Nova said, looking back at the window. “Right?”
Miko nodded. “Yes, Nova,” he said. “We really are.”
“When do you expect me back?” Jerdai asked, leaning against the wall and lighting his pipe.
“In a year’s time,” Miko said. “Either myself or Odin will send a message to your mages.”
Odin glanced at Domnin and Icklard, who stood off to the side watching him with sad, uneasy eyes.
I won’t see them for a good while,
he thought, sighing.
Out of everything he had been through, he was surprised how much it hurt to think that he would not be seeing the brothers for over a year. What would they be doing at the Globe Village that whole time? Was there work to be done, lessons to be learned, men to be slain, challenges to possibly be conquered? Just
why,
exactly, would they go to such a remote location?
“All right,” Jerdai said. He kicked away from the wall, walked to his desk, and opened a drawer. There, he pulled a piece of parchment free from its confines, undid the ribbon that bound it together, then rolled it out. He wrote a note and a long series of numbers—likely, Odin realized, the geometric locations of their position that had to have been measured by some scaling device—before rolling it back up and returning it to its place. “Do I need to take care of anything for the three of you while you’re gone?”
“No.” Miko shook his head. “I left a down deposit on our mounts in Elna, so the bartender and his bar boys will be taking care of the horses until they are to be returned to their rightful positions—the mare to Felnon, with Ectris Karussa, and the two stallions to Ornala. There’s nothing you need to take care of. Right, Odin, Nova?”
“Right,” Nova said.
Odin nodded, but said nothing.
“All righr. It was good doing business with the three of you.”
The captain stepped forward, gripped Nova’s hand, then shook Miko’s. Jerdai took special care in setting a hand on Odin’s shoulder, as well as maintaining a grip on his hand. “Good luck on your adventures, son. I know you’ll go great.”
“Thank you, sir.” Odin turned to look at the mages, then back at the other men. “Can I have a moment with them?”
“Of course,” Miko said.
After the Elf, Nova and Jerdai left the office, Odin closed the door behind them and turned to face his friends.
“Guess we won’t be seeing you for a good while,” Domnin said.
“No,” Odin sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll miss you two.”
“We’ll miss you too,” Icklard said. “Don’t worry though—just because we’re far away doesn’t mean we can’t talk to each other.”
“My brother’s right,” Domnin nodded. “If you need to talk, or just want to say hello or something, send us a message. One of us won’t touch the bird without the other.”
“Right.”
Odin stepped forward. He gripped Icklard’s hand, then found himself hugging the brother when his emotions faltered. Soon after, Domnin brought him into his arms.
“Good luck,” the taller brother said, patting Odin’s lower back. In a lower voice, he then added, “Don’t worry about anything, Odin. Your time will come.”
He backed away from Domnin with uncertainty. Though the mage seemed to understand or at least relate to something he didn’t, Domnin smiled, immediately easing a bit of his worry.
“Good luck,” Icklard said. “We’ll miss you.”
Before Odin turned and opened the door, he smiled and waved at the two men he thought he would never make friends with.
A tear slid down his face before he went out the open door.
“Stand back,” Jerdai said.
In their winter coats—all except Miko, who remained in his dark visage—Odin and Nova watched a group of a half-dozen men mess with the ramp that had not been lowered for some weeks on end. They undid ropes, pulled long bars to the side, then began to slowly ease the contraption down, where it slammed into the ice with a brutal, whiplashing bang that echoed across the distance and seemed to reverberate back at them even though no obvious mountainous areas lay in the near distance.
What could it mean?
Odin thought, staring off into the horizon.
“Be careful on your way down,” one man said, reaching up to brush snow off the end of his nose. “It might be slick.”
“Thank you,” Odin said.
The man smiled, then backed away. They turned to face Jerdai once more.
“If you need me to return sooner for whatever reason,” the captain said, breaking away from the crowd and exhaling a fine stream of smoke, “please don’t hesitate to send a message to my mages.”
“We won’t,” Miko said. “I don’t believe you’ll need to return soon, captain.”
“I’m just saying—if something goes wrong out in that hellish tundra or at that village, I’ll come back.”
“Thank you, Jerdai.”
Jerdai and the Elf gripped hands one last time before Miko started down the ramp. Odin and Nova followed closely behind, just in case one of them managed to slip and go flying toward the icy ocean below.
“You ready for this?” Nova asked, smiling through his chattering teeth.
“Not really,” Odin said, “but we’ve got to go anyway, so I don’t see a reason to worry. It’s not going to help anyway.”
“Miko will take care of us. You know that.”
Stepping onto the snow, the ice and the place where they would spend the next year, Odin turned to look up at the ship. Domnin and Icklard stood next to the captain, waving.
“Goodbye!” Odin called up, thrusting a hand into the air to acknowledge their action. “I’ll see you again!”
“You sure will!” Icklard called back.
“You know it!” Domnin laughed.
With that, Odin turned and followed his friends into the frozen wasteland, unsure of what might greet them.
“You cold, kid?” Nova asked.
“Yeah,” Odin nodded, rubbing his arms. “Are you?”
“A little.”
Odin looked up at the Elf. Though he had no idea how he could wear that cloak and no other layers of clothing and still be warm, he chose to ignore it. Instead, he concentrated and lined the inside of his coat with magic, envisioning within its folds and fabric the idea of warmth that sparkled within the linens and individual strings of threads. After finishing his own coat, he concentrated on Nova’s, extending the magic toward his friend with but a simple thought.
“Woah,” the man said, then laughed. “What the hell?”
“Warm?” Odin grinned.
“Yeah. You do that?”
“Uh huh.”
“Thanks.”
“He might not be able to do that for long,” Miko said, pressing forward without bothering to turn his head. “It might wear him out.”
“I know,” Nova sighed. “Anyway, thanks Odin.”
Nodding, Odin looked up. While there wasn’t a whole lot to look at other than snow, icy hills and the inevitable, towering spirals and clumps of ice, he found the scenery pleasant. For the first time in weeks, he’d actually seen something
other
than water.
I don’t want to get too used to it,
he thought.
At the very least, he didn’t need the snow and ice to become familiar, and while he had no idea what the Globe Village looked like, it couldn’t be worse than this, could it?
I highly doubt it.
“Sir,” Odin said, increasing his pace so he could fall in place with his knight master. “What does the Globe Village look like?”
“You don’t want to be surprised?”
“I sure don’t,” Nova said. He, too, jumped a few steps ahead to fall in line with them. “Come on.”
“If I leave the village without description, it’ll make the journey all the more worthwhile.”
“I guess,” Odin mumbled.
Nova swore. Miko set a hand on the man’s shoulder and squeezed.
“Sorry Nova,” Odin said, watching his friend and the Elf.
“Ah, don’t sweat it, Odin. This is your adventure, after all. I shouldn’t spoil it.”
“It’s not just my adventure. It’s yours too.”
“No it isn’t.”
“You came all the way around Bohren to find me.”
Nova shrugged. Odin smiled, slid around the Elf, and wrapped an arm around the man’s lower back, careful not to lean too far into his side for fear of knocking one of them over. “I don’t regret you finding me though,” he said. “You’re a good friend.”
“You guys are good friends too,” Nova said, wrapping an arm around Odin’s shoulders and Miko’s upper back. “It makes travelling more pleasant.”
“Enjoy it while you can,” the Elf said.
“Why?” Odin frowned.
“There’s a storm coming.”
Miko raised his hand.
In the distance, a series of dark-blue clouds swam over the horizon.
“Damn,” Nova growled.
“Yeah,” Odin sighed. “Really.”
The storm came sooner than any of them could have expected. Pummeling them with snow, ice, and with wind that screeched at the three intruders in its forbidden land, impossible thunder crackled the air and pink lightning traced the sky, blanketing the horizon like talons against a chalkboard.
“When are we going to stop?” Odin asked, holding his hands close to his sides. “I don’t like this.”
“Neither do I,” Nova said.
“We need to push on for as long as we can,” Miko said. “Travel across Neline must be made swiftly and while the weather is good.”
Odin bowed his head to shield his eyes and wind-scarred face from the snow. Words couldn’t describe how cold he felt. His bones—though deeply buried beneath skin, fat and muscle—seemed to burn, while his throat and mouth tasted of salt and what felt to be copious amounts of slowly-fermenting spit. Even a simple shake of his head seemed to take all the energy he had, as it seemed as though his skull, upon his spinal cord, weighed of iron, of mantles and chest pieces far too heavy for a boy of sixteen to carry.
Just keep going,
he thought, nodding, bowing his head.
“Are you ok?” Nova yelled.
Because he’d been paying little attention to anything but his face, he hadn’t notice that the storm had worsened, and as he looked up he instantly recoiled, not expecting the sheer volume of white that blanketed the horizon. Hail plummeted down, miniaturized balls of agony; the wind tore across the landscape, daggers upon his skin; and his clothes, almost-constantly supplied with magic, felt soaked, oppressing hands of which tried to pull him down to the ground.
“Sir,” Odin said, trembling, his voice light and without its usual baritone. “Please…”
“We need to stop!” Nova cried. “Look at him!”
“We’ll stop,” Miko said. “The storm is too bad.”
“Turn away from the snow, buddy. Come on—it’s ok.”
Reduced to little more than shakes and dulled emotions, he buried his head in Nova’s coat. Though the damp material burned his face, the closeness he experienced from the gesture seemed to dissipate most, if not all of his pain and unease.
It’s ok. You’re going to be all right.
Beside them, Miko raised his hand. Fire the brightest purple and in brilliant shades of pink exploded over his palm. Snow, both settled on the ground and flying through the air, stopped and sailed to an area not too far away, where an invisible sphere displayed only by the wind and the downpour the rough outline for a shelter that would protect them for the rest of the night. Through strength and will, sacrifice and integrity, the Elf gathered these earthly materials and melded it to his will, first completing the sphere, of which stood some scant five feet tall, then formed the tunnel, as wide as Miko’s shoulders and just long enough to offer protection.
“Go, Odin,” Miko said.
Almost unable to comply, Odin fell to his knees and forced his way through the entrance of the tunnel, which felt suffocating at best and seemed all the less welcoming despite the fact he was no longer being assaulted by snow.