The Brotherhood: Blood (53 page)
At the end of the tunnel, and beneath the dome of frozen snow, Odin turned into a ball near the wall, where he drew his legs to his chest and tried desperately to maintain control of his tears, as he knew they would do nothing more than pain his freezing face.
“You ok?” Nova asked, pushing himself from the tunnel.
Odin nodded.
Miko appeared shortly after Nova sat himself down near the wall. Once settled in, he extended his arm, tightened his fingers to a mere claw, then forced snow into the tunnel and compacted it together. Melted snow quickly froze over.
After making sure both Odin and Nova were safely against the wall, Miko turned and shot a single purple flame into the center, which pulsed to life and lit the interior of the dome pink.
“Is this warm?” the Elf asked.
Odin shook his head.
Yes,
he thought.
It’s better than I could have ever imagined.
“Where in God’s name did that storm come from?” Nova asked, pulling his gloves from his hands. The tips of his fingers blushed red, as if they’d been burnt. “Shit.”
“Here.” Miko took Nova’s hands and summoned a slight amount of magic. Here, he weaved it across the man’s palm and along the curve of his wrist, where upon contact the redness began to creep away. “Is that better?”
“Yes,” the man shivered. “Thank you.”
After Nova slid his gloves back on, Miko slid to Odin’s body. There, he set his large hands on Odin’s stocky, well-built chest, channeled magic into his body and didn’t stop until he let out a series of coughs and gasps.
“Thank you, sir,” he managed.
“We’ll stay here for the time being,” Miko said. “I don’t like the look of that storm.”
“Where did it come from?” Nova asked.
“I don’t know.”
“It couldn’t have come from nowhere,” Odin said, stripping his gloves off his hands and holding them in front of the magical flame. “It had to have come from somewhere.”
“Most of these storms originate from the north, where the currents seem to endlessly spiral and radiate out onto the rest of the island.” Miko pulled his hood down, revealing his immaculate, near-emotionless face. “We’re lucky the Globe Village is in a spot where we can actually survive the weather conditions.”
“You mean this is the worst climate you could possibly live in?” Nova frowned. “Even you, Miko?”
“I might be able to survive further north, in places where even the most foolhardy of men dare not travel, but I have no desire to test the limits of my body or my magical ability. I wouldn’t
dare
attempt travel that far with the two of you in tow.”
“Are we going to die out here?” Odin asked.
Both of his companions turned to look at him.
“No,” Miko said. “We won’t.”
Outside, the storm continued on, howling, screaming, and thundering its rage.
The moment they dismantled the shelter from the inside out was the moment Odin started to regret ever agreeing to be the creature’s squire. Snow, blowing at its hardest, whipped at his cheeks like callused palms, while the wind, howling almighty, sent his hood away from his head and slapping into the back of his neck. This, combined with a fresh buffet of snow, was enough to instantly dissuade him from ever looking at a morning on Neline as anything more than peaceful.
“Tie your hood off,” Nova said, so close to his ear that Odin jumped. “It’s all right. It’s just me.”
“I know,” he muttered.
After tightening his hood as much as he could and snapping the extra buttons on his mouthpiece together, Odin slung his drenched pack over his shoulder, hoping the books he’d brought along would be safe in their protective leather cases.
Here I am worrying about books while we’re out in the middle of a storm.
“What’s so funny?” Nova asked.
Apparently, he’d been chuckling and hadn’t even noticed.
“I’m worried about my books in this weather,” Odin confessed. “Can you believe that?”
“Yeah. You appreciate the few material possessions that you own.”
Which makes me sound even worse.
“Not that that matters,” Nova continued. “I mean, I appreciate the scythe that’s strapped to my back, and it’s a material possession.”
“Your father made that for you though. That’s not material at all.”
“No—it is, but you see my point.”
With little more than a shrug, Odin began to warm both him and Nova, this time concentrating on the hoods, as from previous experience it seemed that if the head was warm, the body would be as well. If he could help his friend even a little, especially in these conditions, that would make the process worth the while even though it seemed to be more than a little draining.
“Thanks,” Nova said, brushing up against Odin’s side.
“You don’t need to thank me,” he replied.
“I would help the two of you,” Miko said, speaking up for the first time since the morning had begun, “but I’m using a good amount of my energy warming myself and blocking the wind.”
“You mean this isn’t the full brunt of it?” Nova frowned.
“No” Miko shook his head. “You don’t want to feel it. It… would blow us away.”
Blow us away….
Odin didn’t dare ask whether the Elf meant literally or metaphorically.
“Well,” Nova began, “as long as you’re keeping the majority of it away, I’m fine with my face being a little windburnt.”
“Me too,” Odin said. “But sir, if you need to stop for any—”
“I won’t need to stop, Odin. This process involves more than putting a dividing triangle around us.”
“How do you—”
“It’s done with a thin layer of magic.”
The stern tone his knight master used forced him a few steps back. Now in pace with Nova, Odin pushed his hands under his arms and took a deep breath, careful not to expel it too quickly for fear of Miko hearing and possibly turning to lecture him.
“It’s all right,” the older man whispered. “He’s just antsy.”
“I know,” Odin retuned. “It’s just… I don’t want him wearing himself out.”
“I know. You have to remember though, Odin—he’s an Elf. Did you see what he did last night? He
caught
the
snow
out of
the air
and made
a shelter
for us, all by himself.”
While his knight master did in fact possess a great deal of power, all things had weaknesses. No one and set thing could control such a high degree of magic for so long, much less warming oneself up through a blizzard, could they?
Regardless, all he knew was that he wanted to get to the Globe Village as soon as possible.
They didn’t need to go through this kind of hell.
That night, after climbing into the shelter and settling himself down after a cold dinner, Odin lay near Nova, huddled as close as reasonably possible in the hopes that they could share what little body heat they had. Though he put off and received little, his friend’s faint breaths through his mouthpiece did much to bring comfort in spite of the fact that everything seemed so cold.
Outside, the storm continued to rage on, screaming at any and all that could hear.
Did it always storm so bad in Neline, or had it happened just because they stepped foot onto the wasteland?
You know it didn’t.
The idea, though absurd, entertained his darkest fantasy, and while he wasn’t normally one to believe that a person’s presence could bring about something, much less the forces of the natural world, he couldn’t help but believe in it now. Why hadn’t they seen the storm earlier, from the boat—and why, of all times, did it start up
right after
they started for the Globe Village?
“Coincidence,” he muttered.
“Hmm?” Nova asked.
“I’m just talking to myself.”
“All right bud. Whatever works for you.” Nova slid an arm under Odin’s side and pulled the two of them closer.
“I was trying to give you a little space.”
“I know, but I don’t want space. You’re warm.”
“Yeah right,” Odin laughed, chuckling when Nova set his hand against his shoulder and his beard raked against his neck. “That tickles.”
“Can’t help that I have a beard.”
“You could if you shaved it.”
“I’ll try and think of a smart remark for you later,” Nova said. “I’m too cold right now.”
“Me too.”
Closing his eyes, Odin scooted back until his back and Nova’s chest touched. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Nova said nothing. He merely readjusted his head and kept breathing.
After a day’s worth of travel, and when safely beneath the dome of snow and ice, Odin sat up. Nova, who had since fallen asleep, mumbled something about the cold and how good it would be to have a beer. Miko remained upright despite the extent of the day’s expense, though did not appear active despite the fact that the flame still burned.
He must be awake,
Odin thought, reaching forward to set a hand over the purple flame’s warmth. “Sir?” he asked, trying to see whether or not his knight master was truly aware of his surroundings. “Are you awake?”
“Yes,” the Elf said, raising his hooded head. From the fire’s dim light, Odin saw everything below the finely-structured nose, but nothing else. “Are you well?”
“I’m fine. I was just wondering if you were asleep.”
“Do you have something on your mind?”
“Not really,” Odin said, then sighed after a moment’s span of time. “Actually, yes sir. I do.”
“You’re free to tell me whatever you like.”
As if sensing his his unease, the Elf pulled his hood down and gave Odin a small, reassuring smile.
“I’ve…
seen
things,” Odin said, shivering at the image of three figures—small, cloaked, and in brown animal fur—following them along the hills. “Small, brown-cloaked—”
“It’s no secret that we’re being followed, Odin.”
“Are they dangerous?” he frowned.
“No.”
“Have you told Nova?”
“Unless you yourself have said something, I’ve said not a word.”
“What are they?” Odin frowned.
“They’re called Kerma,” Miko said, crossing his arms over his thick chest. “You’ve only seen small, brown-cloaked shapes in the hills so far, but that’s not all there is to them.”
“No?”
“The Kerma are the last of a dying race. Due to a famine that struck Neline several hundred years ago, it dimmed much of their population, literally reducing their numbers to the thousands and, I sadly now believe, possibly the hundreds. It’s not from ignorance that you’ve not heard of them—they’re simply a lesser-known race in the world.”
“What do they look like? I mean, under the hoods and cloaks?”
“They have large, yellow eyes and the form of an animal, that of which you would know as a bear. Their whole body resembles an upright-walking creature, but they have the musculature of, say, a child. Most are covered in dark hair, but many beare other similar markings. The most common are twin, grey rings around their eyes. I assume it helps them see better, but I can’t be sure.”
“You said they’re dying then?”
“Sadly, yes,” Miko sighed. “I’ve come to know some Kerma during my time in this life and every one was a fine creature. It pains me to know that I will most likely outlive the last of their kind.”
“You’ve said you’re old,” Odin said, “but you’ve never said how old.”
“Even I don’t know, Odin. I saw the birth of Ornala and its kingdom, but I was still an aged creature.”
Ornala and its kingdom?
Ornala had been established at least a thousand years ago, if not more. The number alone made him think of everything that could have happened during that time—how many battles could have been fought, how many knights had been sired, how many treaties and laws had been passed. Even more, however, he wondered how many people had lived and died in his country during that time. He could have lived a dozen lives and not even seen the full creation of the kingdom.
“I’m sorry,” Odin sighed. “It wasn’t right of me to bring something like that up.”
“Don’t be sorry, Odin, and don’t feel regret for asking.”
“I need to learn how to keep my mouth shut.”
“Have you ever heard the legend of the silent man?”
“What?”
The question, as unexpected as it was, brought him to a standstill. He had, of course, heard the legend of the man who stripped himself of his ability to speak, if only because his friends had said he asked too many questions, and he knew of its prevalence throughout the kingdom, as he’d learned of it as a child, but he’d never expected to have it brought up in adult conversation, much less by his knight master.
“Yes,” Odin said, after pausing for one too many moments. “I know the legend.”
“What happened to the silent man because he could not speak?”
“He died when he lost his hands… if I remember right.”