The Brotherhood: Blood (32 page)

“Yes sir. I read about it in a book once. Some black men came to see me upon Jordan’s request, though he said that they were Ornalan and not Germanian.”

“Drow have even darker skin that that. My hair color isn’t natural, though, considering that most Drow have hair as red as your eyes.”

“There’s a storm coming in.”

Odin looked up from his place at the table to find his knight master sitting by the window. Though he couldn’t particularly see his master’s eyes that well in the mute, blue lightning of early evening, he could tell that the Elf was very interested in the weather, if not the happenings currently taking place outside.

Shivering, Odin drew his legs up onto the chair and locked his feet below his knees before turning his attention back to the world outside. The weather had gradually chilled over the last little while, down near to where it became almost unbearable to sit without a blanket, but the slight sway of the trees and the ominous prediction of clouds seemed to make the world all the more horrible. Miko, meanwhile, remained still, barely moving at all. Even the rise and fall of his chest had stopped, as if he’d just taken a deep breath and was holding it inside.

He’s very strange,
Odin thought, frowning.

That didn’t necessarily matter though. He’d become accustomed to the slight habits the Elf had. From the way he barely blinked, to the times he hardly moved, to the way he rubbed the bones in his fingers and stroked them as if they were kittens mewling for their long-dead mother. Maybe he had arthritis, or maybe it was a subconscious habit he committed whilst looking out and into the world. If the former were true, that could be a possible reason as to why he stroked his hands, why he fidgeted with his fingers, even popped his knuckles.

“Is there anything I can get for you?” Odin asked, suddenly aware of the lack of conversation. “A blanket, anything?”

“A blanket would be fine, thank you.”

Odin stood, made his way to the cabinet, then pulled a quilt out. He crossed the brief distance from the cabinet to his master and, carefully, as to not startle him, pressed it over the creature’s naked back, unrolling the corners and smoothing the fabric against his body.

“Thank you,” Miko said.

Odin touched the Elf’s back and, in the moments that followed, wondered whether or not he was allowed to do so. When Miko said nothing, however, Odin straightened his posture and looked out the window, where he slightly tightened his grip on the quilt until it lay balled beneath his fingers. Taught, tense muscles stiffened under the initial pressure, but stoon uncoiled and settled evenly across the shoulder blades.

Odin squeezed the Elf’s shoulder before returning to the table. Tucking his bare feet under his thighs so they wouldn’t be cold, he continued to watch Miko until, a short moment later, he was struck with a longing for his master’s companionship.

Why do I feel like this?

He’d never felt anything like this in his life, much less during the time he’d been locked away in the tower. Of course he’d
wanted
interaction, as that seemed to be the primary reason for existing in a world where people were full and drawn, but he never necessarily
ached
for it, like he’d just been struck by a fist or even bludgeoned with a mace.

“Can I come sit with you?” Odin asked.

“Of course you can.”

In but a few short steps, Odin crossed the room and settled down on the unoccupied bed next to his master. Miko pushed his arm back and slid the blanket over Odin’s shoulders in response.

“You had your father back in Felnon,” Miko said, which surprised Odin, considering he hadn’t once told the Elf where he’d come from, “and in the tower, you had Jordan and your magic teacher. Here, you have my presence. It’s natural to be wanted.”

“I’ve always thought it made you selfish.”

“It doesn’t. Even I desire companionship.” The Elf smiled. “I don’t think we have to worry about being wanted anymore. We have each other.”

The man—dressed in a heavy, soaked cloak—willed his stallion to go on. Every little jolt his horse made seemed to send pins and needles into his cold, aching body, like daggers cutting away at his flesh once thrown by men from the highest places in the world. How long, he wondered, had he been going through this rain, since he’d forced his horse to venture through it despite the condition of the weather and the mud slicking the roads?

I’m almost there,
the man thought, leaning against the stallion’s neck.
Not too much further. Not much—

Tangling his fingers into the horse’s mane, he managed to push himself into a sitting position. Tired, struggling to keep his eyes open and cold beyond belief, he rode this way for the next little while until he came to the castle’s outer gates.

Two guards resting under warm, lantern-lit outposts stepped out, crossbows drawn. “What do you want!” one of them cried over the roar of the wind and rain.

“I’m looking for a man named Odin!” he cried, near an emotional breakdown for all he’d lost and accumulated in these two years. “I… I have… you… I—”

The world spun.

Slowly, his vision began to darken, then cloud over with doubt.

Not now,
he thought, falling, the side of his face connecting with the horse’s mane as his attention turned toward the distant borders of the castle’s eastern gate.
Not after all I’ve been through. I’ve… come too far…

He closed his eyes.

Nothing existed beyond the darkness.

Chapter 4

A pair of hands shook him from sleep.

What?
Odin thought, eyes opening.

The Elf stood no more than a spare foot away from him, face cast in a peculiar shade of unease and eyes leaving faint traces of unease within their purple depths.

Come for me?
he frowned.
What does that—

Before he could finish the thought, Miko lifted him out of the beds with his outstretched hands, then plopped him down onto the floor, catching and stabilizing him in place before he crossed the room and began to gather about his back façade.

“What’s going on?” Odin frowned, looking down to examine himself before he began to snap the buttons on his jerkin into place. “Sir?”

“He was out in the rain and collapsed just outside the gate this morning,” the Elf said, swinging his hair over one shoulder, where he then began to braid it haphazardly and to his best attempts.

“Who was?”

“The man.”

“
Which man?”
Odin asked, this time impressing upon the Elf a point.

“He didn’t say. He hasn’t woken since.”

“Is he…” Odin paused, swallowing a lump in his throat.
“Dead?”

“No. He’s been stricken with the chill.”

Shivering, Odin crossed his arms over his chest and continued to watch his knight master assemble himself into his cape, lower robe, hood and gloves. It took but a few moments for the creature to garb himself before he turned and flourished across the room and to the door. “Are you coming?” he asked.

Unsure what to do or say, Odin stepped forward.

He said he’s come for me,
he thought, nodding, double-checking to make sure that the Elf had assumed his darken appearance before he opened the door and waited for his master to step out.

What could that possibly mean, especially considering that he’d already been taken into service by a creature notably considered as a knight?

After Miko locked the door behind them, he began to lead them slowly down the hall, through the varying side corridors that branched throughout the western side of the castle, then down a stretch of area where no windows lay on both sides of the wall.

The whole while they walked, Odin couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

Who is he?
he thought.
Why did he come all this way?

It took but a few short moments for them to step forward and into what was most obviously an infirmary, flushed with beds on all sides of the room and lit by high windows that cast shards of light across the western side of the room.

“Master Unisto,” a rail-thin man said, stepping from behind a desk to acknowledge them with his presence. “Master… Karussa?”

“That’s me,” Odin said. “Where is he?”

“There.” The man pointed to a lone bed in the corner of the room—where, contentedly, a man slept, unaware of his surroundings or just where he could possibly be.

“Why was he brought into the castle walls?” Odin frowned, tempted to step forward but unsure whether or not he should. “I thought—”

While waiting for his knight master’s permission to step forward and toward the sleeping man, Odin remained steadfast and tried not to imagine just why a man would be venturing forth through the darkness to find him, much less through the dangerous downpour if rain. If he could’ve gone for so long as to develop the chill, just what might his purpose be?

You won’t know until you talk to him.

Odin took his first few steps into the room carefully and as quietly as possible. Not wanting to wake the man, he drew close to the stranger’s bedside and tried his hardest to remain quiet, but to no avail. Instead, he cursed himself for tripping over what appeared to be nothing and for stabilizing himself on the sides of the bed, which depressed and inflated back into place upon his touch.

“Hello?” Odin asked, reaching down to set his hand over the man’s. “Are you awake?”

No sound of response came.

Odin trailed his eyes down the man’s body—first from his waist, which remained hidden under the thick sheet, then to his right hand, where upon his one finger lay a ring that sparkled in gold that had to obviously merit some form of higher wealth that could not possibly be found in a common man.

But who is he?

His eyes continued up the man’s chest until, finally, it came to rest upon his face. The strong jawline, the heavily-exposed skin, his proud nose and his thin yet-pink lips did little to demerit his overall attraction, and while his cheekbones resembled something of an angled shape and created the stark impression that the man had not been well-fed in a while, he seemed perfectly content in sleep—peaceful, even, despite what all he had just gone through.