The Brotherhood: Blood (88 page)
“Because it’s simpler that way.”
“Which is why our kind did not come to the islands by boats.”
“Old lore has it that there used to be a landbridge connecting the islands to the mainland,” Miko said, turning his eyes up to his mother. “That is—”
“Until the ground shook and quaked,” the Ogre finished, harmonizing her tale with her son’s in an almost-perfect display. “It was the God or Gods you humans speak of so that broke the islands away from their mother. I will not lie though, my friends—we Ogres and Leatherskins are much better off because of it.”
“As is the fate of those races who fell to to the judgement of the human race.”
Ogres, Kerma, Dwarves, Goblins, Elves, Drow, Centaurs, Giants—the list could go on and on, almost to no end, but each and every race that had come into contact with humanity had, in one way or another, been affected by them. While Ogres and other Leatherskins were forced to live on islands, and while the Dwarves buried themselves away in their Hornblaris Mountains, what would become of the diseased Kerma in the coming years? Would they truly, somehow recover, or would they simply fade away, a testament to humankind’s long, hard exploration?
Will their bones by all that exists?
Odin thought.
Will we look back someday and realize what all we’ve done?
He looked his yarn around his needles.
At that moment, he realized they should be bonding chains, not breaking them.
“Odin, Nova—we need to talk about something.”
Frowning, Odin turned his head up to find Miko standing in the entryway. Eyes set most likely on the village, he waited a moment before turning his attention back to them.
“What is it?” Nova asked.
“What’s wrong?” Odin added.
“I think it’s time we leave the village,” the Elf sighed.
“
What?”
Startled, Odin glanced at Nova. He wasn’t the least bit surprised when he saw scarlet crawling up from beneath the man’s beard and onto his cheeks.
“Our presence here is troubling,” Miko said, reaching up to touch his temple. “Not only is it pressing on both ourselves and the other Ogres, it’s also taxing my mother.”
“She didn’t seem—”
“Her weakness is shown not in words, but actions, Odin.”
“It doesn’t matter how her actions are shown,” Nova growled, standing. “What the hell do you expect us to do? Leave? Uh, last I recall, Miko, we
can’t
—the fucking boat’s gone.”
“There are options—”
“What? The beach, the woods, the
monks?
Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me you want to stay with a bunch of lunatics who, for all we know, might be doing more than walking down the beach waving their stupid pathetic fucking—”
“Nova,” Odin said.
“Don’t
Nova
me, kid—I’m being realistic. Besides—even if the monks
did
let us come back, do you really want to sit around and listen to some nut preach all day? I sure as hell don’t.”
“I’m guessing you weren’t one to practice in your younger days,” Miko smirked.
“Hey—I’m all for believing in God as long as someone isn’t shoving His word down my throat. I just know better than to believe that just because someone says He said something doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“True.” Pausing, Miko reached up and messaged his temples. His hands gradually spread to the sides of his face, where he rubbed the twin nodules of bone just above his ears. “I can understand your sentiments.”
“Which is why I don’t want to leave.”
“Which doesn’t mean we aren’t going to.”
Odin grimaced. He didn’t think they’d be getting out of that one.
“So what are you suggesting then?” Odin frowned. “What’re we doing if we’re not staying here?”
“Before we continue any further, I want to make something clear: this was my decision, not my mother’s.”
“We know,” Odin nodded.
“I just wanted to make you aware that my mother doesn’t want us to leave. If anything, she’s willing to push her tribe away in order to let us remain here, but that isn’t in her best interest, as she’s getting much too old and would be far too easy a target if she was left to her own devices. As to your question, Nova, there are caves that would provide substantial shelter through the rainy months.”
“What caves?” Odin frowned.
“The cave near the hills.”
He managed to swallow the lump in his throat. “Suh-Sir?”
“Though my mother hasn’t forewarned me of what dwells near the hills, I promise that whatever it is, no harm will befall either of you, just as I’ve promised in the past.”
“We know,” Nova sighed. “We trust you.”
“I’m sure you do, Nova.” Again, the Elf paused. This time, it seemed he couldn’t help but let a breath of air pass from his lips. “I’m sorry. Had I known this would arise, I would have never brought you here.”
No,
Odin thought.
You wouldn’t’ve.
Regardless, he knew the true nature in the Elf’s words.
Behind Miko’s dark, purple eyes, he could see the real message—the one that beckoned for understanding.
Only once in a thousand years is a child like he able to see his mother.
When that chance comes, it can’t be easily pushed aside.
They were ready to leave by the time Sunskin returned from her anonymous location. Packs over their shoulders, weapons at their sides, both Odin and Nova stood in the entryway watching Miko converse with the very reason they had journeyed all the way to the Tentalin Isles. Graceful head high, neck taut with tension, the Elf kept his eyes on the ancient, seemingly-ageless being before him. Not once did he alter in voice, turn his gaze away from the Ogre’s deep eyes or allow his lips to tremble for the act he commited, nor did his voice seem fractured and bent as though young and brimming with youth. It seemed, despite the remourseful, emotional tension that tinged the air, that Miko was able to hold steady, only nodding or speaking when required.
How hard is it,
Odin thought,
to leave your mother?
The question, though deeply-rooted in his conscience, could not be answered. With his mother having died during childbirth and Mother Karma resembling nothing like a motherly figure, the question would probably go unanswered for the rest of his life, a dull flame silently burning without ever casting light.
“Maeko,” the Ogre said, strong voice lower than usual. “Why—”
“It’s too dangerous for us to stay here, Mother. Someone’s going to end up hurt.”
“This is
my
village, Maeko. I care not what Bafran or any other Ogre think. As long as
I
lead these people,
I
am the one who decides who stays and goes, not the other way around.”
“Which is why I’m not asking you to choose,” Miko sighed. “I know how much this means to you, because it means just as much to me, but I can’t risk having you hurt just because we’re staying in your village.”
“Son—”
“I’ve already decided, Mother. We’re leaving.”
The deathly silence that followed raised the hairs on Odin’s neck, his arms, on his eyebrows and even the very tips of his eyelashes. Nothing could be heard. Not the wind, not the trees, not an Ogre lumbering in the distance or the birds shifting in the leaves—nothing. Like a God clamping his fist around a trumpeting angel, all sound had ceased to exist.
What… why didn’t she…
He cast a glance at Nova. The man said, nor did anything. He simply stared at the two behemoths before them.
“Mother,” the Elf whispered. A low growl followed Miko’s silent plea. “I… I’m sorry. If I could do something, then I—”
A blur of movement instinctively forced Odin backward.
The pot and pan arrangement above the fireplace exploded as the Ogre’s fist came down upon it.
No more than a foot away from where his mother’s fist had impacted, Miko stood, grimacing.
In one fell, swift motion, the Ogre turned and trampled out of the hut, leaving both her fireplace and, most likely, her son’s emotions in pieces.
“Sir… you can’t—”
“There is nothing I could’ve done to temper the severity of her reaction. We are lucky she controlled herself the way she did, otherwise one of you might’ve been hurt.”
“Are
you
hurt?” Nova asked, trudging up alongside them.
“Physically,” the Elf said, “No. Emotionally…”
Nothing more need be said.
Keeping his silence, Odin briefly turned his attention to Nova, who only shrugged in response.
She could’ve killed him,
he thought.
Would Miko have moved had his mother tried to deal a fatal blow, or would he have stood there and taken the punishment he felt he likely deserved? Like hell hath no fury like a mother scorned, the fact that she’d come so close to hitting him was evidence enough that her anger ran deep—bloodbourne, it seemed, like a disease slowly coursing through a dying thing’s veins.
“Miko?” Odin whispered.
“Yes, Odin?”
“How long will it take us to get to the hills?”
“Nightfall,” the Elf said. “We’ll be there just as the sun’s setting.”
“And what if whatever’s out there finds us?” Nova asked.
“Then have mercy on our souls, dear Nova.”
Night fell with a crescendo of rain. Tropical in its humidity but agonizing in its force, it beat down on them relentlessly and without mercy. It seemed that no matter where they went, how thick the shrubs around them managed to be or what path they took, they couldn’t escape the frigid onslaught raining down from above, a god’s tears for angering his or her creation.
Though cruel to their expectations, Mother Nature did what She wanted. She would not be swayed.
“Odin,” Nova grunted, head bowed and shoulders hunched from the weight of the rainwater on his shoulders. “You ok?”
“I’m fine,” he mumbled.
Truth be told, he didn’t think he could stand another minute out in the rain, but he would not reveal that to Nova, much less to the knight master whose emotions were likely shattered. Like Neline no more than a year ago, the rain that pummeled them shook his core and weakened his resolve, giving him all the reason to simply stop and huddle beneath the roots of a large, nearly-dead tree.
It would only be a matter of time before he did just that.
“We’re almost there,” Miko said, lifting his head. He surveyed the area for a moment, then raised his hand. “I think this is it.”
“Thank God,” Nova breathed.
Odin nodded. He drew up alongside the Elf a moment later. “Are we he here?” he whispered.
Yes, Odin. We are.”
A spark of flame was all it took to call the cave home.
Huddled around a fire in blankets and near-drenched cothing, Odin, Nova and Miko watched chaos rule the outside world. With lightning striking overhead and thunder booming in the distance, it need not matter whether they sat in front of the fire or ten feet away from it—the shivers came from only one place.
They’re definitely not from being cold.
Those shivers—caused by lengthy, abandoned exposure to the outside world—didn’t exist anymore. They hadn’t since they’d taken their first few steps into the cave.
Looking up, Odin drew the blanket around his shoulders and grimaced when his knight master caught his eye. Even in the brightest, most orange of fires, the tranquil purple that guided his world always managed to unnerve him in moments of weakness, regardless of whether or not that managed to carry over to the Elf himself. Something about the way Miko’s pupils dialated to the thinnest of slits, much like a cats, made his skin crawl and his heart beat faster. Was it because Miko was something other than human, or was it something else, something more all-knowing and sinister?
It’s nothing,
he thought.
Nothing at all.
“Are you all right?” the Elf asked.
“Huh?”
“Are you all right, Odin?”
“Oh.” He nodded and looked down at his knees before returning his attention to the being before him. “I’m fine—just cold, that’s all.”
“It should pass soon enough.”
“Hopefully,” Nova grumbled, speaking for the first time since they’d arrived. “It’s as cold as shit in here.”
“Like I said, the rain should pass soon enough… should the islands not be afflicted by a storm.”
“A storm?” Odin frowned. “What?”
“You remember the agony the Annabelle befell during the rainstorm, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Think of that, but with winds so harsh and strong they can lift you up and tear you away from everything you know.”
“That’s why the monks live in stone,” Odin whispered. “It—”
“Protects them from the wind,” the Elf nodded. “As was the case with the intricate stone blocks you might have seen resting under your bed. They are slid into the windows and used to keep the wind from blowing into the monastery at night.”