The Brotherhood: Blood (95 page)
“Until what, suh-sir?”
“Until the mages send a smaller boat to the island.”
“But I thought—”
“As far as anything would be considered,” the Elf said, “the boat ‘simply floated onto the beach.’ If we’re leaving of our own free will in an unmanned vessel, they can’t say we were doing anything suspiscious, nor can they say we boarded the ship on their land, since we’ll be boarding the Anabelle at sea.”
“You’re technically kidnapping me,” the boy mumbled, “aren’t you?”
“Technically, yes. Metaphorically? No. We’re not. Under the current circumstances, I highly doubt a judge or man of honor would see our taking you off the island as kidnapping.”
“I guess.” Sighing, Parfour turned his head down and drew back against Odin, only briefly looking up to watch the boat fade into the distance. “Odin,” the young man whispered. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s it like?”
“What’s what like?”
“Being on a boat so big.”
Odin didn’t respond.
Something inside him started gnawing at his heart before he could.
Gliding across the water like a grand, paper spectacle made specifically to float about the waves, the magicked canoe coasted the sandbars with efficient ease, inspiring hope and confidence into those who looked upon it. As one would when gazing upon a grand, exquisite thing that no mortal should see, Parfour trembled in Odin’s grasp, shivering as the ark of freedom slowly but surely approached. It dodged low-flying birds, sent schools of fish askew, and fluttered Odin’s heartstrings like some grand musician would a chord in a choir fit only for kings.
“See?” Odin whispered, leaning down so only Parfour could hear. “I told you everything would be all right.”
“Thu-Thank you,” the boy sobbed.
“All right,” Miko said, folding his skirt up and around his waist before wading out into the water. “Odin, Nova, Parfour—come and get in.”
“What about you?” Nova frowned. “Why aren’t you coming?”
“I am. Just not this moment.”
“Suh-Sir,” Parfour babbled, stumbling into the water. “Thu-Thu—”
“There’s no need to thank me, young man. Come—get in the boat. It’s time you set sail for bigger and better things.”
No hesitation was necessary on Parfour’s part. With one grand jump and a kick added for effort, he fell into the boat in a tangle of limbs, bawling his head off as he took his place near the center of the vessel.
While Nova settled himself at the back, and while Odin prepared to clamber over the side and into the front, a low, monotonous ringing spread across the beach and entered his ears. “Sir,” he whispered, leaning closer to the Elf’s head. “You can’t stay here by yourself.”
“They’d dare not lay their hands on me, Odin. There’s no need to worry. A group of humans can’t stop me.”
“He’ll be all right,” Nova said. He set a hand on Odin’s arm, then looked down at the Elf, a grin broadening his face. “They won’t fuck with you.”
“I know,” the Elf chuckled. “You don’t need to tell me.”
“Do you want one of us to come back and get you?”
“No—there’ll be no need. My weight’ll balance out the boat. You don’t have to worry.”
“You’ll be able to push yourself back without an oar, right?” Odin asked.
“Again, Odin, you have nothing to worry about. I’ll make my way there regardless of how I do it.” The Elf lifted an oar and placed it into Parfour’s palms. He leaned forward, took the boy’s chin in his damp hand, and tilted his head up so he could see inside his hood. “You’ll do well to listen to my squire and friend. They’ll take care of you.”
“I know,” Parfour mumbled. “Thu-Thu-Thank you.”
With little more than a smile, Miko took both ends of the canoe, rotated it until the bow faced the northwest, then gave it a mighty shove.
Slowly, and with the utmost care he and his companions could manage, Odin dipped his oar into the water.
It wouldn’t be long before they were aboard the Annabelle and away from this hellish place.
Drifting endlessly, Odin thought the boat would enver come into sight. Several times, he had to cast a glance over his shoulder to make sure they’d continued on in the right direction, as it seemed they were not moving and that the day was growing older by the moment. Each time he did so, he was met with nothing more than the beach, along with the lone, solitary figure of the Elf in black, who stood so still that Odin considered him to be something of a statue.
“He’ll be ok,” Nova grunted, face red with jade. “Like he said, he’s not worried, so why should we be?”
Just because he’s not worried doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be,
Odin thought, grimacing as his raw, chafed hands throbbed with pain.
Instead of focusing his energies on the beach and what exactly could be going on, Odin took a deep breath and channeled his thoughts on rowing. One oar in, one oar out; one stroke here, one stroke there; one breath in, one breath out—tirelessly, endlessly, he forced his anger at Parfour’s enslavement into his salvation, only stopping once every so often to take a breath and regain his bearings.
Behind him, the boy rowed slowly and without force.
Nova said nothing.
Odin kept his silence.
The word
shock
came to mind.
The state in which a person, under an unideal amount of stress, begins to break down,
a teacher had once said, waving his hand across a black chalkboard without need or worry.
It’s what happens when fathers see their children die, my sons, and it’s what happens when knights look upon a battlefield and realize that all hope is lost.
“No.”
“Odin?”
“What?”
“Are you all right?”
Odin blinked. Parfour set a hand on his back.
“Somethin’ wrong?” Nova asked, his exhale obvious and full of pain.
“No,” Odin said, shaking his head. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”
“Look!” Parfour cried.
No more than a hundred yards away, the boat sat in silence, its deck motionless and without sound.
“There we are,” Odin grinned, raising a hand. “Hey! Icklard! Domnin!”
Two heads peeked up from below the railing.
“Pull us in!” Odin yelled.
No further words were necessary.
In less than a moment, an invisible current swept the boat asunder and carried it toward the Annabelle.
“You’re all right,” Icklard said, offering Odin a hand.
“Where’s your master?” Domnin frowned.
“On the beach,” Odin sighed. “All four of us couldn’t fit. You need to send the boat back.”
“That’s no trouble. Is it, Icklard?”
“Not at all,” the younger brother said. He gestured two ship hands forward and stepped aside so they could lower the vessel, then cast a glance at Parfour, who’d since retreated to the shade of the far wall. “Why is there four of you now?”
“The monks,” Odin sighed. “They—”
“Oh God,” Domnin whispered. “You’re saying—”
“Yeah,” Nova said. “They’re raping the kids.”
“Goddamn them,” Icklard growled, balling his hands into fists. “The fucking scum.”
“The sooner we can get back to the mainland, the sooner we can help the others,” Odin said, stepping up to the railing and raising his hand. “Help me.”
“You don’t honestly think you can help us after all that rowing you did, do you?”
“It’s better than sitting around and doing nothing.”
“Sit down,” Domnin said. “We’ll handle this, Odin.”
“Besides,” Icklard whispered, “I think the boy could use your help more than we could.”
“He’s right,” Nova said. “He trusts you more than he does anyone else.”
“All right,” Odin nodded. “I’ll do it.”
Taking a few steps back, he watched the brothers set fire to their hands before he turned and made his way over to Parfour, already dreading the person he was likely to meet on arrival.
Even if you can’t do anything,
he thought,
the least you can do is give him some company.
Though matters of the mind weren’t his forete, he could offer a helping hand, if only temporarily.
“Parfour,” Odin said, kneeling down to face the boy. “You mind if I sit here?”
“Huh?” the young man asked, blinking, his one good eye hazy and confused.
“I asked if I could sit here.”
“Oh,” he mumbled. “Yeah. Go ahead.”
Settling down, Odin drew a knee up to his chest and took a deep breath.
Parfour turned his head slightly.
Odin exhaled.
The boy sighed, bowed his head, and closed his eyes.
“It’s gonna be all right, Parfour. You’re safe—no one’s going to hurt you.”
“I know.”
“It won’t be long before Miko’s back. Then we can leave and you can put this whole thing behind you.”
“If I even can.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“I… I don’t know. I don’t really even care. I’m just glad you came back for me.”
“I never wanted to leave you there,” Odin said, wanting to reach out to Parfour, but resisting the urge to do so. “I wanted to take you wish us when we first got to the island, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen. I’m not sure why he brought me all the way out here or why we went all the way to Neline, but I’m starting to realize something.”
“What’s that?”
“Being a squire is about learning how to fight, how to become a knight and how to keep yourself level-headed, but more or less, I think it’s about discovering yourself along the way. You know what else?”
“Huh?”
“I think that by leaving this place, you’ll discover more about yourself than you’ve ever known.”
“I doubt that.”
“I don’t,” Odin smiled. “You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because when that man… Elf… whatever you want to call him… pulled me from that tower and said that he wanted me to be his squire, I learned more at that moment than I had in my entire life. This whole…
journey
has been filled with things I never thought I’dexperience. Kerma, Ogres, people from a kingdom I’d never seen or ever dreamed of seeing—all this has come with time. And if you think that’s all I saw, you’re wrong, because I saw and learned more than I
ever
would have if I had chosen the path my father took and decided to be a woodcutter.”
“Is that what you really wanted to do, Odin? Cut wood?”
“Yeah. A long time ago.”
“Why?”
“I idolized my father and everything he did. I wanted to be just like him until he handed me my first sword.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Ten, eleven years—at least, I think that’s how long it’s been. I couldn’t tell you. He might’ve given me a sword before that, but if he did, I don’t remember. All I remember is the day I fought a straw dummy and nearby blew myself up.”
“With your magic?”
“Yeah,” Odin smiled. “My father was always afraid of it. I don’t know why, and I probably never will either. The night I ran away to become the person I am today, he walked into the tent and caught me mending the fabric with my magic. He said it’d destroy me and to never use it again, but something told me that if I didn’t learn how to control it, I’d probably die. My magic teacher said the same thing the day I got to the castle, when I told him that I’d run away to become a soldier.”
“Do you regret it?” Parfour asked.
“No. I haven’t regretted a day of my life since I told the king I wanted to be his knight.”
Parfour nodded. Taking a deep breath, he expelled it and turned his head up, truly looking into Odin’s eyes for the first time since he’d sat down. “Odin,” he said. “What’re you gonna do when you become a knight?”
“I’m going to come back here,” Odin said, “and make Beal wish he’d never been born.”
As night swallowed the sun and greeted the world, the boat appeared on the horizon. Phantomlike in appearance and resembling something of a terrifying fish heading straight toward them, its passenger sat with his head hung low, motionless as waves crested the vessel and kissed it with vain, innocent lips.
Rising from his place near the far wall, Odin blinked, adjusted his eyes to the steadily-declining light, and stepped forward, taking his place beside the mage brothers. “What took him so long?” he frowned, tightening his grip on the wood railing as a swell came up.
