The Brotherhood: Blood (79 page)

To better their lives.

Would these men, these monks, serve as an allegory for what was to come, as a metaphor for the future and just what he would have to sacrifice for his own destiny? Had Miko implied that in order to become a good knight, he, to, would have to give something up in the process?

I’ve already given something up,
he thought.

Did giving up his childhood really mean anything? He’d accomplished nothing in those two years in the tower, nothing except growing closer to a high mage of the court and developing his body into a perfectly-structured fighting machine. Even then, that relationship couldn’t mean anything more than two mens’ pity to a misunderstood boy, could it?

No. It doesn’t.

Taking a deep breath, Odin crossed his arms and bowed his head until his chin met his chest. The sight of the beach and the men walking across it nauseated him for reasons he couldn’t understand.

“You ok?” Nova asked, squeezing his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Odin said, expelling a breath. “I am.”

The older man patted his back before retuning to his work. Odin continued to dwell on his thoughts at how knighthood would affect the rest of his life until he felt Miko stir in front of him. He looked up to find that the Elf had raised a hand and that the men on the beach had stopped to give them their attention.

“I come to the island of Ohmalyon with my squire, Odin Karussa of Felnon, and my friend, Novalos Eternity of Bohren,” Miko said. “I ask for permission to come into your land.”

“Your permission is granted!” one called back. “But what are you, cloaked creature?”

Odin grimaced.

Creature.

So—despite the guise, they knew that Miko wasn’t just a large man in a cloak.

“That is of no concern right now,” the Elf said, lowering his hand to grip the oar. “My name is Mikaeisto Unaistaio. We mean you no harm.”

Sure there is,
he thought, shaking his head.

He reached down to make sure his sword had stayed buckled at his side. While he didn’t think the monks would pose any danger, mostly because Miko had said they were men he’d want him to meet, there was no harm in being cautious, especially around strangers.

“For a little while,” Miko said, the flexing muscles in his arms visible even through the black cloak. “I think it would benefit you to listen to whatever they’d like to say.”

When they came within a few feet of the beach, Odin kept quiet, eyes following what few monks had continued along the tree line, waving their curled hands as though connected to a greater instrument. The others who had remained behind watched them with indifferent eyes, waiting for the strangers to set foot on their land.

“Just stay calm,” Miko said, stabbing his oar in the sand. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure nothing happens to the two of you.”

With uncertainty clouding his thoughts, Odin stepped out of the boat and took his place alongside his knight master. Nova, meanwhile, struggled to remove himself, further complicated by his broad frame and the heavy scythe he carried with him. The ever-patient monks waited, lacing their fingers together and allowing their hands rest about their pelvic bones. None of them spoke until the hairy, red-haired man came forward.

“We welcome you to Ohmalyon,” the lead monk said, bowing his clean-shaven head, “Odin Karussa and Novalos Eternity, as we welcome you, grand being in black.”

“We thank you for your kindness,” Miko said, bowing his head in turn. “I would like to request safe passage into the forest of Ohmalyon.”

“For what reason?”

“I am raising my squire to be a knight. I would appreciate the opportunity of letting him experience a land that few grown men have ever seen.”

“There is no reason for a squire to enter these woods and cause trouble with our brethren,” the monk said. “Please, turn back while your boat still waits.”

“We mean no harm to anything that makes their home in these woods, sir. My words are true. We seek only to rest, not bother anything that may inhabit these woods.”

The monk said nothing. Instead, he looked at Odin, blinked—most likely at the sight of his red eyes—and waited. Ater a moment, he took a deep breath, but nodded. “I see no reason that you three cannot enter if you feel as though you must,” he sighed, looking back up at Miko. “That is, if you don’t cause trouble.”

“We won’t.” Miko set a hand on Odin’s back. “Would it be possible for the three of us to stay with you for a few days, to recover from our long journey at sea?”

“That would be no trouble, so long as the three of you don’t mind sleeping in the same room.”

“We’re a party,” Nova grunted, shifting the scythe against his shoulders. “We’ve slept together since we left Ornala almost three years back.”

“All right then,” the monk smiled, turning to face the stone building. “Follow me, my friends. We’ll get the three of you settled in, then we can talk about whatever you want.”

“You’ve done well for yourself,” the monk agreed, turning to gesture a boy of about fourteen over. “Parfour, my boy—would you be kind enough to fetch our guests some water?”

“There’s no need to be sorry, my son,” the monk said, setting a hand on his back. “But, to answer your question: we have several young men among us.”

“How come?”

“Many come from bad or troubled homes. Most of their parents abandoned them to the streets or left them in the company of strangers that did not take care of them. We offer homes they do not—and, most likely, never will—have.”

“What all do they do here?”

“They learn what they would’ve in our average society,” Beal said, smoothing the folds of his robes before crossing his arms over his chest. “The majority of them learn the things we teach—discipline, valor, respect for our others. Some choose to do other things though, like sing, paint or write. We’re quite diverse with what we let our young men do.”

The boy set an ornate, stone-carved goblet in front of the monk, then walked the curve of the table to give Nova one. He nodded, offering Nova a polite smile before making his way toward Miko. He stopped, examined the cloaked Elf for a brief moment, then offered the glass, which Miko took with a small nod and a quiet thanks.

“Thank you, Parfour,” Odin said, accepting the glass as the young man offered it.

“Yuh-You’re wuh-welcome,” the boy replied, surprise lighting his eyes. Odin imagined he’d never been addressed by name by strangers.

“I regret to inform you that I have business to attend to,” Beal said, taking one last sip of his water and rising. Parfour, can you stay with our guests and assist them with anything they may need?”

“Yes Master Beal, sir.”

“Thank you.” The monk returned his focus to the three of them, eyes lingering on Miko. “If you need anything, please, feel free to ask the boy. He’s here to help you with whatever you need.”

“Thank you,” Miko said, sipping his water. “We appreciate your generosity.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” Beal smiled, turning to leave.

Odin watched the old man leave with a strange, disturbing sense of peace. While he’d seemed polite and used his authoritative figure properly, something about the monk bothered him, like he was a dirty bird mixed in with a group of clean ones contaminating fresh drinking water.

You’re just paranoid, that’s all.

Miko nodded. He lifed his glass, his long, glove-sheathed nails wicked in the subtle light pouring in from the high, open windows.

“You never answered my question,” Odin said, looking back up at the boy. “Do you like it here?”

“It’s all right,” the boy shrugged, rubbing his robe-covered arms. “I don’t have to do a whole lot, other than listen to what the monks say and go to classes every few days.”

“It sounds like a nice life,” Odin agreed. “And there’s a nice view.”

“I guess.”

Parfour looked down at his feet. Odin followed his gaze, imaging he’d seen a rat or something similar scurrying across the floor. As he figured, nothing except the cold, hard ground lingered at his feet.

He’s nervous,
Odin thought, scratching a cheek.

“I’m ready,” Miko said, rising. “Would you escort us to the room we’ll be staying in, Parfour?”

“Yes sir,” the boy said, stepping back so Odin could rise from his stone chair. “Please, follow me.”

“Everything’s made out of stone here,” Nova grunted, adjusting his position on the blankets arranged below him. “It hurts my back.”

Miko pulled a quilt from the pack and passed it to Nova, who folded it double and spread it across the length of the stone. Unlike a normal bed, the stone that the Tentalin monks slept on had head and footrests, which appeared to have been carved out of the wall, but Odin couldn’t be sure.

“How long will wwe be here, sir?” Odin asked, sitting down on his bed of choice.

“Not too long,” Miko said, lifting his head to look at the wooden door. “I don’t like it here either, if you want to know the truth.”

“Why?” Nova frowned. “They seem all right, if a little strict.”

“Their ways bother me. The young men have little time to themselves, and what little they do is spent sleeping. They’re forced to stay here until they come of age, or until they escape to the boats that occasionally come by to drop off supplies. Or worse—they flee to the woods.”

“Is it really that bad here?” Odin asked.

“You tell me,” the Elf said. “You’re the one who saw Parfour turn his eyes away at your kindness.”

Odin nodded. He’d just started to shut the image out of his mind until his master mentioned it. “I don’t know,” he shrugged, spreading out along the blankets. “I’m just thankful that I had such a good father.”

“Me too,” Nova said. “Even though the man wasn’t my real father, he still took care of me.”

“You had a good man to raise you,” Miko said, pulling an extra blanket for both himself and Odin out of the pack. “It’s easier to grow up if you have a stable parent.”

“Do you remember your parents, Miko?”

“No,” the Elf said, “I don’t.”

While Miko turned, dropped his pack near the foot of his bed and began to smooth a new blanket out over it, Odin thought about his father and how it would’ve been to grow up without him. He dared to think about what would have happened if he would’ve grown up on the streets of Felnon as a child and how he would’ve survived.