Brotherhood Saga 03: Death

by Kody Boye

  When their eyes crossed and Odin’s attention fell to the pack on Virgin’s shoulder, he couldn’t help but feel a throb of regret for what he’d done.

  Jarden’s hurt, he thought. All because of us.

  At the very least, they had only incapacitated the Neven D’Carda, not done any real, physical harm to him.

  “Are you all right?” Virgin asked, narrowing his eyes to regard Odin in the light streaming off of the small white sphere directly before them.

  “I’ll be all right,” he said, gesturing his companion forward so he could guide them along. “Guide us.”

  “I will. And am.”

  “I don’t want to be anywhere near here when the Elves find out we’ve just stolen their most carefully-guarded artifact.”

  “So much for seeing the queen,” Virgin said, “huh?”

  Odin couldn’t help but laugh.

  Right now, the queen was the least of his worries.

  What he did worry about, however, was the pace in which he could continue throughout the forest.

  It became increasingly obvious as the sun peeked over the horizon and its rays pierced through the pine needles that, in his current state, it seemed almost impossible to move. The past several hours’ worth of travel from moonset to sunrise had been done out of whim—autonomous, he could say, for the fact that they needed to move—and though he felt capable of doing what they had to in order to outrun the Elven guards who were likely to pursue them, he was half tempted to ask Virgin to carry him.

  You can do this, he thought, forcing himself to blaze through the fog that clouded his mind and continue on in their endeavor. You know you can.

  Were he to have accurately described what he felt, he could have related it to something like a grand chef taking a melon in his hand and drilling a hole in its head—first, slowly, removing the juices, pouring them into a glass and drinking them, then using a wicked instrument in order to excise the insides of it. His eyes seemed to have been thrust into the sand, his nose felt as though it’d just been rubbed raw by glasspaper, and his mouth begged to be watered, as if he had never been bestowed with the holy elixir that was the grand scheme in life.

  “Virgin,” he gasped, reaching forward to claw at his companion’s shirt. “Stop.”

  “We have to keep going, Odin.”

  “Carry me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that would only slow us down even more,” the older Halfling said, cocking his head to the left, then right before throwing a glance over his shoulder and back at him. “You’re sick as a dog, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “I thought you said—“

  “I thought it was mental exhaustion,” he gasped, leaning over as he began to dry retch. “This, though… this is different.”

  “You’re not going to die, are you?”

  “No.”

  But it sure feels like I am.

  After taking the first moment he’d had throughout the entire day to regain his bearings, he pushed himself into as straight a posture as he could and reached up to pinch the end of his nostrils. Blood, dry and crusted, flaked onto his fingertips, while the side of his hand appeared to be covered in the stuff, likely left over from their initial flight from the castle.

  Virgin unclasped the canteen at his side and offered it. Odin accepted it without a word of response.

  “We need to keep going for as long as we possibly can,” Virgin said, retrieving the canteen from Odin when he took one drink too many. “The Elves won’t stop just because we will.”

  “We’re not as strong as they are.”

  “No, but we have the upper hand. We left before they did.”

  “When do you think—“

  “They left?” Virgin asked, gesturing Odin along. “No later than dawn. They wouldn’t have sent Elves into the forest in the dark.”

  “But we—“

  “Used magic to guide our way. They probably thought of the same thing, but who wants to chase two insane criminals in pitch-black darkness? Would you?”

  “No.”

  “That’s exactly my point. Like I said, we need to keep going for as long as we can. We can’t let anything stop us.”

  “My head feels ready to explode.”

  “If it comes down to it, we’ll stop, but only for a few hours. It’s highly unlikely that the Elves will continue following us throughout the night, but we don’t want to give them any leeway in their pursuit.”

  “I know.”

  “Try to keep going for as long as you can, Odin. Please. I don’t want to get caught. Hell. I don’t want you to get caught, especially with this damn book in our possession.”

  We have it, Odin thought, eyes focusing on the protrusion in the bag where the book now rested.

  Finally, after all this time—after so many long hard hours, days, weeks, months of slaving away, acting as though he was interested when in truth he oftentimes was not and conversing with a creature who could not have even had the best interests in mind—they’d finally come into possession of the Book of the Dead, the one thing that had driven his entire existence for the past half year of his life.

  Stepping forward, Odin craned his head up as far as he could and fell into place beside Virgin, not wanting to waste yet another moment when he knew the Elves were currently in pursuit of them. However, as much as he tried to gauge the situation at hand and what he could do to keep himself from falling out of focus, he wondered what came next now that they had the text. He knew knowledge was a beneficial factor, as he would not know how to orchestrate the spells without it, but what exactly were the key steps to bring someone back to life, much less someone whose body now lay scattered upon the winds? Did one use a blood and hair ceremony like the Neven D’Carda had described, or was there something else to it, something that came with more measure than he could have ever possibly imagined?

  I have his blood, he thought. And his hair.

  At the thought, he reached up and fingered the pale strand of purple hair that fell along the side of his face. It would have appeared that he were thinking on the keepsake of the bond which had been performed on his head, for the strand of purple that fell from his skull was not like his natural hair, which curled at the tips and held but the slightest wave to its edges. Perfection could have easily described the piece that hung from his head, for it had not any human. To think that such a thing still remained with him was almost impossible, but in feeling it between his fingers, he felt his father was right there in front of him, guiding him toward the safest place possible.

  Bowing his head, Odin closed his eyes.

  For the first time since taking the Book of the Dead, he cried.

  It wouldn’t be much longer.

  All they had to do was run.

  The afternoon eclipsed the sky like a great hand passing over the sun to shadow the world. Clouds, thick and brutal, edged from the north and, likely, the sea to bring forth a dust of rain that would offer solace from the painstaking heat. The notion that something might possibly be watching for them kept Odin onward despite the fact that it felt as if a hand were in his skull to wreak havoc on his insides. I’m here, it seemed to say, pawing at his face and threatening to thrust its fingers through his eyes. I’m waiting for you, Odin.

  Odin broke free from his reverie by opening his eyes to look at the world below them.

  The path less travelled continued on, weaving around trees, through untamed bushes, beneath lingering vines and formations of colorful flowers.

  “How are you holding up?” Virgin asked.

  “Fine,” Odin said.

  In reality, he felt anything resembling so, but he could roll with the punches and keep his companion from having to worry. What fear need he place on Virgin when he had managed fair well so far?

  None.

  With that thought in mind, he pushed himself to his companion’s side, then reached down to grasp his
wrist.

  “Are you all right?” Virgin asked, reaching down to tip Odin’s chin up.

  “I should be fine if we don’t have to worry about passing over something too severe.”

  “You think?”

  “I do.”

  “I’m sorry I’m pushing you so hard, Odin, but—“

  “I know. They’re still after us.”

  “And likely following our footprints. Damn this rain.”

  “You think it’ll cover them if it gets any worse?”

  “We might as well pray for the Gods to wipe them away with this rain.”

  That doesn’t seal my worry any.

  Unable to control the sigh that followed, he stroked the top of Virgin’s wrist, pulled his hand away, then slid it down to his side, where he fingered the hilt of his father’s silver sword and tried not to think about just what would happen when he decided to lead himself down the dark road the book held.

  Raising his head, Odin narrowed his eyes and tried to discern the path before him, though through the haze of rain it was hard to see anything, much less the path most commonly used by Elves and other wayward travelers. “Can you see in this?” he asked.

  “I can see all right,” Virgin replied. “Not well, but better than you probably can.”

  “Your Elven blood must be kicking in.”

  “I wouldn’t necessarily say that.”

  “Why?”

  “Haven’t you had problems seeing most of the day?”

  “Somewhat, yeah.”

  Virgin reached out, took hold of Odin’s hand, then laced their fingers together. “Hold on to it,” the Halfling said. “Just in case.”

  “Of what?”

  “So you won’t fall or wander off.”

  “Why would I wander off? You’re right in front of me.”

  Virgin offered no reply.

  Content, Odin opened his eyes to find the world drenched in light he would rather not see.

  How long it would take for the rain to stop he didn’t know.

  If they kept up the pace they were at, they had maybe a day-and-a-half left of wandering these woods.

  Night came and offered not one bit of solace for Odin’s shattered mind. Virgin, pressed with the fact that the rain had only worsened and their tracks were likely not being covered, urged them to move on, as he said the Elves would be forced to remain camped due to the weather. They’ll come for us when the sun rises, the older Halfling had said. We need to gain as much ground as we can before they catch up.

  How they would catch up Odin couldn’t be sure. With a full day and some two night’s worth of travel already ahead of them, it would take a feat much larger than life for the Elves to cover that much ground However, as true as that seemed to be, Virgin seemed not in the least bit content with staying down for the night, especially given the rain.

  Above, lightning cracked the sky.

  The bird-like creature Odin had heard on their initial trip to Lesliana let out a wild cry.

  “Virgin,” Odin said, squeezing the man’s hand as he stepped over an almost-invisible root in the road. “We need to stop.”

  “It’s not going to do us any good, Odin.”

  “The rain—“

  “Will wash us away if we even attempt to bed down for the night.”

  “But—“

  “Think about this,” the Halfling said, turning to look at Odin in the light streaming off the single white orb hovering before them. “We can have all the time we want to rest after we get away from the forest. Now isn’t the time to stop.”

  “Aren’t you tired?”

  “Aren’t I?” Virgin laughed. “Odin, I’m about ready to keel over.”

  “Then we should—“

  “Where would we stop, Odin? Tell me.”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Then why are we arguing about this?”

  A rumble of thunder rolled across the horizon. Shortly thereafter, another series of lightning bursts arced across the sky and lit their world for one brief moment.

  Though he couldn’t be sure because of the rain, Odin imagined he had to be crying.

  I can’t take this, he thought, allowing Virgin to lead him along. I can’t, I just can’t!

  How was he to continue in this hellish situation feeling as though hius head would fall off his shoulders, with his mind turned to mush and his eyes almost unable to process what he was seeing before him? He didn’t know—couldn’t, exactly, know, because he was not allowed to stop and think—and while Virgin might think it was better for them to continue without pause, he didn’t think he could stand it any longer.

  At that moment—when the demons in his head seemed far too much to bear—Odin felt as though he would simply collapse.

  I can’t do this.

  Odin tightened his grip on his companion’s hand and ground to a halt. As bound by their connection, Virgin took one step too many and instantly stopped in place. “Odin,” he said.

  “We’re stopping,” Odin replied, tightening his hold to the point where he felt he could possibly hurt his friend. “I don’t care if we have to sleep in the rain, we’re bedding down for the night.”

  “But—“

  “If you want to go on without me, go. I can carry the book myself.”

  “This isn’t about you or the book.”

  “What’s it about then? You?”

  “It isn’t—“

  “I can’t keep going in this weather or with this headache!” he screamed, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the ebbing thunder and lightning. “I’m going to die if you keep pushing me like this!”

  “We have to keep going, Odin.”

  “Then go!”

  “I’m not leaving you behind!”

  “Then stay with me, goddammit! Stay with me you fucking bastard!”

  Virgin’s eyes faltered, then fell to the ground.

  No longer able to control his emotions, Odin collapsed into Virgin’s arms and began to sob.

  “I’m sorry,” Virgin whispered, stroking Odin’s spine from his neck to the small of his back. “I’m so sorry, Odin.”

  “Just… let me sleep. Please.”

  “We’ll sleep, we’ll sleep.”

  “Where?”

  Virgin raised his eyes and regarded their surroundings.

  For a brief moment, Odin couldn’t help but wonder whether or not his friend would be able to find a safe place for them to bed down.

  This is it, he thought I finally convince him to stop and there’s no fucking where to sleep.

  Slowly, as if unsure his convictions held true, Virgin raised his hand and pointed toward a tree. “There.”

  “There?”

  “The base. It’s raised above the ground and hollowed out.”

  Though he could barely see because of the light and the fact that his eyes were beginning to go out of focus, Odin could just barely make out the structure Virgin was speaking of. Hollowed either by nature or some animal, it appeared just large enough for the two of them to squeeze in.

  Without a word of response, Odin freed his hand from Virgin’s grasp, fell to the mud on his hands and knees, then crawled beneath the hollowed-out tree.

  Inside, where not a hint of water touched his body and only dirt and earth reigned supreme, he pressed his head against the inside of the trunk and opened his eyes just in time to see Virgin crawl in with him.

  “Is this all right?” Virgin asked.

  “It’s... fine,” Odin said, unable to keep his eyes open when the orb of light began to fade. “I can’t… Virgin, it’s—“

  “Don’t worry. I’m not afraid of the dark.”

  Is he? Odin thought.

  At that particular moment, he couldn’t beg but wonder whether he himself was.

  He slept through the storm and the hellacious agony it offered. At one point, it seemed as though the animal that had hollowed out this place had returned, for once during the night Odin opened his eyes to find a pair of backli
t eyes glowing in the rain before them. It, however, did not bother them, as it seemed intimidated by the fact that two very large and obviously-grown somethings now lay within its.

  It’s all right, he vaguely heard Virgin say. It’s gone.

  Shortly thereafter, Odin’s mind was made of nothing but sleep.

  He dreamed of things that young men dream when they dream. Of the way the world worked, his friends, his family, his kingdom, country and place—he imagined Nova and Katarina back home with a baby in their arms and Carmen jumping excitedly at their side, waving her arms in the air as she beckoned Odin from the horse that carried him into the country. Odin! Odin! she would cry, then run forward and jump into his arms. You’re back! You’re back! There would, of course, be much rejoicing, many laughs, and many more tears, and there would, be the king, who would likely be stern but apologetic, and he would whisper softly in his ear, I’m sorry for all that you lost. Then there would be Dora, strong and angry Dora, who would likely scorn him plenty with eyes harsh yet calm and tell him of the things he had missed—how, in his absence, the king had been distraught, the kingdom uneasy, the world unbalanced—though not once would she say he had left for nothing, as in her mind she would know quite well what had happened and what madness could consume a man’s mind. But nothing, Odin knew, would be lost on the matter, for at his side was the man he loved and the book that would secure the future he knew would soon come within the next summer’s eve.

  When morning finally came—short, sweet, and with the sounds of birds in the air—Odin opened his eyes to find the outside world completely devoid of rain but covered in a thick haze of mud. Virgin, who had not yet waken from his slumber, continued to sleep at his side, his breath easing in and out of his chest like a child sleeping in its cradle. The sound itself was enough to comfort him, despite the fact that the headache still persisted, but he somehow managed and pressed his hand against his companion’s damp chest before pressing his lips to Virgin’s stubbly cheek.

  “Wake up,” he whispered.

  Almost immediately, the older Halfling’s eyes opened. “Is it dawn?” Virgin asked.

  “It is.”

  “We need to leave,” Virgin said, easing himself out of the hollow place within the tree. “Are you feeling any better?”