The Brotherhood: Blood (60 page)
“Yeah,” Odin said. “It was.”
Eyes on the window, he scanned for any trace of Miko or Joseph. The two could’ve stepped out at the height of their game, when Odin had won his first match, but he couldn’t be sure. For all he knew, they could’ve been gone for hours and neither of them would have known, so enraptured in their game they had been. “Where do you think they went?” he asked.
“Beats the hell out of me. Don’t worry—they won’t be gone for long.”
Yeah right.
Knowing Miko, he’d probably returned to the mayor’s house.
Uh oh.
“What if Miko went back to visit the mayor?” Odin frowned.
“How do you mean?”
“The whole reason we left earlier was because I wanted to get him away from there.”
“So that’s why we left,” Nova mumbled.
“But anyway, what if he’s up there?”
“I don’t think we have anything to worry about, Odin. He’s got self control. He—”
“There!”
Odin pointed.
The red and black carriage came barreling up to the building, whips flying and horses whinnying in protest. A flick of the reins stopped the mighty beast in their tracks just as Joseph flung himself from the contraption and into the infirmary.
“What’s wrong?” Odin asked, heart thundering in his chest.
“Your knight master’s at the mayor’s house,” Joseph gasped, setting his hands to his knees. “You have to get up there. The mayor’s daughter is very sick. They’ll need all the help they can get.”
The moment they entered the mansion and into the chaos placating the air, Miko bounded across the room and ascended the stairs with unimaginable speed before disappearing down a hall above. Odin, with little to no time to ask where they were going, simply followed as fast as he could, despite the throb at his hip.
Not now, not now,
he thought, fighting back tears.
Don’t cave in on me.
If his hip decided not to support his weight, he’d be back at the bottom of the stairs before he would even realized what happened.
“You ok kid?” Nova asked as they stepped off the last stair.
“Yeah,” he breathed. “I am.”
“He went down this hall, right?”
“Uh huh.”
Nova slapped Odin’s back, then gripped his hand, pulling him along. They needed no direction as the frantic cries of the old man and the struggling gasps of a woman desperate to breathe drifted out into the hall to meet them.
Should we go in?
Odin thought, but soon let it go when Nova pushed the door open.
“What can we do?” Nova asked, reaching up to rub his face.
“Stay back!” Miko cried, the force in his voice so powerful that it sent even Nova back a few steps.
“Help her!” Hakua cried.
“Please!”
“She’s choking,” Miko whispered, setting a hand on her chest. “Step back, sir.”
“What are you—”
Before the man could finish, the Elf cast a glove off and slit the girl’s shirt open from blouse to midsection. Heaving breasts exposed, frantically falling and covered in sweat, Miko set a hand between the two perk muscles and reached up to tilt the woman’s head forward.
What are you doing?
Odin thought, drawing against Nova’s side.
How are you going to get her to stop choking?
Tossing his head back, Miko’s hood came free of his skin and hair, revealing handsome worry in the most terrifying form. His eyes, wide with pain and misery, closed as he bowed his head and pressed his colorful lips to the girl’s pale blue flesh.
He’s—
“Sucking it out of her lungs,” he whispered.
Wasn’t such a move dangerous? Hadn’t the healer back at the castle said that performing magic on something you couldn’t see could produce deadly consequences?
Unless he’s not using magic.
The thought crossed his mind for only a brief moment before Miko broke away from the girl. Coughing, she threw herself forward, arms outstretched, and dug her fingers into her savior’s cloak as his large, strong hands met her back.
“Odin,” Miko said. “The glass.”
“What, sir?”
“The glass of water.”
The amber-colored vial sat near the bed, atop a small end table. Odin had just stepped forward and lifted the glass when the Elf spat what rested in his mouth out.
A quick glance down showed the mixture of brown-grey residue floating amidst the water.
“Who… who are you?” the girl asked, openly sobbing in a stranger’s arms.
“No one,” Miko said, setting a hand at the back of the girl’s head and guiding her back down to the bed. “Sleep until your body is healed.”
Almost immediately, the girl ceased trembling.
Hakua let out a low moan.
While the mayor’s daughter recovered, her breathing tuned to the natural rhythms of her now-healing body and her lungs no longer swollen with bile, Odin and Nova sat downstairs, trying to listen to the conversation that took place in the room no more than a few feet away. Hakua and Miko spoke in soft, hushed tones. Every so often, a slight word would drift toward Odin’s ears, filling his chest with heat and worry, but nothing in the air could be made out, save for the subtle rise in pitch from Hakua the few times the conversation rose to a crescendo.
“What are they talking about?” Odin asked, leaning close so only Nova could hear.
“Probably what they’re going to do with the girl.”
“What to do with her?” Odin frowned. “What are you—”
“Miko wants her, Odin. Now that he’s saved her from an early death, he’s free to do what he wants.”
“What?”
“You’ve never heard that before?” Nova frowned. He crossed his arms over his chest, obviously troubled by the sentiment, before leaning back in his seat and letting loose a sigh. “If a knight, or someone of similar status, saves a nobleman, chieftain or mayor’s daughter, he’s free to take her to bed with him, regardless of marital status or whether or not they are committed to another’s affairs.”
“He wouldn’t do that, Nova. Just because he can doesn’t mean he—”
Odin stopped speaking. Miko stepped forward from the hall and gestured the two of them to rise.
“Is everything all right, sir?” Odin asked, sliding his thumbs into his pockets.
“Everything is fine,” Miko sighed. “The girl is safe, Hakua isn’t frantic, and we’re returning to the infirmary to gather up your clothes and other personal belongings.”
“How come?” Nova frowned.
“We’ll be moving into the cottage—unless, of course, Joseph wants to keep you in the infirmary, Odin.”
“He said I should be ok,” Odin mumbled.
“Good. Let’s get going then. We need to give the two of them their time alone.”
They returned to the infirmary and packed Odin and Nova’s belongings. Into sacks, packs, and by any other means possible, they assembled their gear and personal artifacts in preparation to move to where they would be kept for the remainder of the year. The whole while, it seemed as though a heat was rising in Odin’s chest—burning, slowly, through his esophagus and into his mouth, where it birthed decay and made him think of all the horrible things in the world.
He wouldn’t,
Odin thought, rising from his place near the end of his bed.
Just when they seemed about ready to leave, Joseph returned from his afternoon errands and asked to look at Odin’s injuries.
Just as a precaution,
he said.
Beneath the privacy of a sheet, Joseph examined the wounds, prodding the area around the scar with his fingers and gently stroking the now swollen-over scar tissue. Once he deemed his leg well, he slid his hand up Odin’s thigh until they rested at his hip, where a black and blue bruise lay knotted against the surface of his skin like a wicked tattoo of the flesh.
“Damn,” Nova whistled, falling to a knee by the nurse’s side. “That looks like it hurts.”
“It does,” Odin mumbled, adding just the slightest bit of sarcasm in the hopes that Joseph would stop poking and prodding.
“I’m just checking to see that it’s healing properly,” the man laughed. “Don’t worry—it’ll all be over soon enough.”
I might as well just shut up and deal with it.
Setting one hand behind his head, Odin closed his eyes and listened to the man’s sighs of approval. Nova, breathing slowly, reached out and set a hand on Odin’s chest, right by his ribs.
“It’ll be all right, bud. You’re ok.”
“You’re perfectly fine,” Joseph said, standing. “I see no reason to keep you here unless your leg reopens of if your hip shows no signs of recovery.”
“So I can go then?” Odin asked, sliding out from under the sheets. He reached for his underwear at the end of the bed.
“You can go, but I wouldn’t suggest running or doing any strenuous leg exercises until the wound heals. You don’t want to rip it open.”
No, I don’t,
he thought, grimacing when he remembered how bad it had hurt to run. He nodded and slid his trousers up his legs. “Thank you,” Odin said, reaching out to grasp the man’s hand. “You’ve done so much for all of us.”
“Yeah,” Nova said. He, too, offered a hand. “It means a lot.”
“I know it does, guys. You don’t have to thank me though—it’s part of my job.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Odin smiled, accepting the man’s firm handshake. “You still took care of us.”
“And nursed us back to health,” Nova added.
“Again, part of my job.”
The door opened. Miko crouched down and entered. “Is my squire able to leave the infirmary?” he asked.
“More than ready, sir. If you can, try not to make him do anything that might open his wound. It’s healing, but I don’t want an accidental fall or jump to tear it open again.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t allow him to injure himself.”
“All right then. I guess I’ll see the three of you around—if you’re staying, at is?”
“We’ll be here for the next year,” Odin said. “We’ll come around and visit. Huh, Nova?”
“Right.”
“And you’re more than welcome at Hakuo’s cottage if you’d like to visit,” Miko said.
“I’d be honored,” Joseph replied.
They bade the man a final goodbye before slinging their packs over their shoulders and their weapons at their sides.
Before he could leave, Odin turned and smiled.
It seemed like everywhere he went, his faith in the kindness of strangers only continued to grow.
“It’s small,” Miko said, “but it will keep the three of us.”
Plain, devoid of beds and with only a shower room built into the side, the cottage stood about the size of a small barn, suitable for keeping horses at an inn or a similar establishment. Odin chose a place in the corner, slinging his pack off his shoulders. Nova, who chose to sleep near the western wall, settled his pack beside Nova’s, where he settled down onto the floor cross-legged and surveyed the room with curious eyes.
“I’ll make the beds,” Odin said, accepting his knight master’s pack as Miko slid it off his shoulders. “I haven’t been acting like much of a squire lately.”
“That’s fine,” Miko said. He never specified if he meant the bed or about Odin saying he hadn’t been acting like a squire.
Choosing to ignore the open statement, Odin settled to his knees, began arranging his master’s larger-than-average bed, then slid across the room, grabbing for Nova’s pack.
“It’s all right, kid. I can make my own bed.”
“Let him,” Miko said. “He wants to.”
“Right,” Odin nodded.
Though Nova seemed doubtful, he released his hold on his pack. Odin opened it up and pulled clothes and other personal items out of the bag, one of which included a small mirror and a knife.
“For shaving,” Nova chuckled.
Odin laughed. Nova had done anything
but
shave over the past few days.
“At least you keep your beard trimmed,” he chuckled, rolling Nova’s bedroll out.
“Just because I’m hairy doesn’t mean I don’t keep myself clean,” the man laughed, locking Odin’s head between his chest and forearm, then messing with his hair before releasing him.
“I know. I’m just kidding. You look good with a beard anyway.”
“You do,” Miko agreed, voice low and painfully-plain.
Both Odin and Nova turned to look at the Elf.
“Is something wrong?” Odin frowned.
“Hmm?”
“I asked if something was wrong.”
“Oh, no.” Miko shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“You sure?” Nova asked.
“Yes, Nova—I’m sure.”
Though Odin doubted his master’s words, he continued to make the bed.