Brotherhood Saga 03: Death

by Kody Boye

  While the man fell, Odin half-expected a second Harpie to dive down and grab him.

  “Cover me,” Odin said.

  Virgin raised his bow and fired an arrow.

  Thrusting his palm forward, he created a physical barrier sphere around the man and caught him just before he could land, head-first, into the wall.

  “Bless the Gods!” one of the men on the far wall cried. “A mage! A MAGE!”

  A chorus of cheers went up into the air as Odin set the man on the ground and turned his attention to the flock.

  Hovering above the very center of the town, arms flapping and mouths askew with rage, the Harpies watched every person visible on the highest walls before thrusting themselves into the air.

  “How many are there?” Terrence asked, raising his hand to shield his eyes as the creatures began to spiral like a school of fish beneath the sea.

  “Dozens,” Virgin replied. “Maybe even more.”

  “They’re coming,” Odin said.

  They continued to spiral through the air, positioning themselves and their bodies in the shape of an arrowhead, before directing their assault toward Odin and Virgin.

  “They’re on to you,” Virgin whispered.

  Odin raised his hand.

  Come on, he thought, grimacing, channeling all his will from his palm and into the air. You can do this.

  Beads of sweat broke out along his brow despite the chill and ran their course along his face, into his eyes and down past his lips, which quivered from the force of it all and threatened to crack and spill blood down his chin. Somehow, someway, he was able to maintain the force of the pressure and instead channeled all the hurt, pain and consequence he felt into his spell to stop all the Harpies at once.

  He opened his eyes.

  The barrier appeared before him like a shield of white light.

  The Harpies impacted.

  Almost immediately, he felt the tolls of his success wreak havoc on his body.

  While the Harpies continued to plummet into the physical barrier of white magic—breaking necks, legs and possibly even their wings—it felt as though he was repeatedly being struck by the blunt edge of a gigantic hammer and held in place by ropes and chains. His feet, burdened to the ground, were encased in metal, while his torso lay flagrant and succeeded his mind to take the pressure being dealt upon him by magic. Throughout this—the pain, the torment, the agony and the feeling as though both his mind and sternum would crack at any moment—the formations of Harpies continued to plummet to the earth below them, most dead upon impact or others slowly-but-surely progressing to that point.

  Around him, men cheered as the women of the peaks fell dead to the ground.

  His head spun.

  The final Harpie screamed and fell to the earth with her neck turned to the side at a painfully-awkward angle.

  When he finally allowed the physical barrier in the sky to dissipate into the air, Odin’s vision began to fade.

  “Odin,” Virgin said, reaching out to steady him as he began to sway. “Odin. Odin!”

  “What?” he asked, word slurred and almost indistinguishable.

  “Are you all right?”

  He couldn’t respond.

  He fell forward and passed out almost immediately.

  Odin… Odin. Wake up, Odin. Wake up.

  He opened his eyes to find the light from the fire streaming across the darkened room and a hand waving over his face. At first unsure of the image and whether or not it was real, he closed his eyes and attempted to fall back into the lapse of silence he’d just been in. However, when a hand touched his face and a pair of lips pressed onto his brow, Odin opened his eyes to find Virgin hovering over him, hair spilling over his shoulder and lips alight with a frown.

  “What… happened?” he asked, attempting to push himself up.

  Virgin’s opposing hand held him in place. “You blacked out,” he said, stroking Odin’s hair away from his face. “You shouldn’t push yourself to do anything. You’re still weak.”

  “Where is everybody?”

  “Everyone’s fine,” Kethlan said, stepping from the shadows. “Including the man you rescued from the Harpie.”

  “Is anyone dead?”

  “Some, yes, but not many. One more than there should be is alive thanks to your help.”

  “I tried,” Odin sighed, closing his eyes before reaching up to set an arm over his brow.

  “You damn well saved the entire village, son. We’ve never been attacked like that before.”

  “There were many,” Virgin agreed.

  As a set of fingers pushed into his hand, Odin allowed them to interlace with his, then opened his eyes to look up at his companion. Virgin’s soft, careful eyes regarded him with a bit of unsurety before returning to Kethlan and Terrence. “Will the village be well?” the older Halfling asked.

  “I doubt the Harpies will come in that amount again,” Terrence sighed, seating himself in one of the chairs beside the cot.

  “Maybe you should consider reaching out to the Elves for help.”

  “We don’t need their help,” Kethlan grunted. He, too, seated himself beside Terrence before setting his eyes on Virgin. “We’ve been managing quite well on our own these past few years.”

  “How do you expect to keep holding them off without a mage? Had it not been for Odin, all of you would’ve been slaughtered, or worse—carried back to the mountain and regurgitated to feed their chicks.”

  When neither Kethlan nor Terrence replied, Virgin offered a slight smirk, then tightened his hold around Odin’s fingers.

  You’ve never been one to sugar-coat anything, Odin thought, unable to resist the urge to smile.

  “Would you like us to help you relocate to the inn?” Terrence asked after several moments of silence.

  “I would prefer if my partner remained here,” Virgin said, setting his attention down to Odin. “That is, if that’s all right with you.”

  “It’s fine with us, but we’re more than willing to—“

  “I’m aware of that, sir, but he’s gone through an enormous amount of mental and physical stress today. I don’t think walking would do him any good.”

  “All right,” Kethlan nodded, standing. He reached for his bow and tested its width between his fingers before turning and making his way for the door. “Odin, sir.”

  “Yes?” Odin asked.

  “Thank you. It means a lot to know that another one of my men are safe because of your sacrifice.”

  Before the watchman could disappear out of the tower, he offered but one slight nod.

  Terrence, who’d either chosen or been instructed to remain behind, crossed his arms over his chest and watched the two of them with uneasy eyes. “You know,” he said, after a careful and silent moment. “We probably should consider having an Elf—or, at the very least, a mage—come to the Summit to help protect the villagers.”

  “There are much stronger mages than I am,” Odin said, scooting over so Virgin could spread out along the cot. “It would do these people have better peace and mind than just bows and arrows.”

  “As I’m well aware,” the man said, standing. “I’m going to take station in the other tower with sir Kethlan to give the two of you some privacy.”

  “All right,” Virgin said.

  “Will you be leaving in the morning, or are you not sure yet?”

  “Possibly. Maybe.”

  “All right then.” Terrence offered them a slight salute. “Once again, thank you for your help. If you need anything, please, don’t be afraid to ask.”

  When the guard made his way out of the tower, Virgin rolled onto his side, cupped Odin’s cheek in his hand, then leaned forward and pressed his lips to his brow. “I’m glad you’re all right,” he whispered.

  “Yeah,” Odin sighed. “Me too.”

  Morning came warmth and with the sound of birds in the air.

  Without the need to worry about Harpies or how to fend them off, Odin opened his eyes to find tha
t the outside world seemed just as peaceful, if not more so, than its inside counterparts. Snow cascading from the heavens, as if granting them their penance for what had happened the day before, the sound of men and women talking in the streets, of children playing and dogs barking—it, he imagined, would have been a beautiful sight, were he to maneuver from the cot and to the window, but he was in so much pain that even looking at anything bright seemed to stab needles into his eyes and send blots of pain into every part of his mind.

  Great, he thought, sighing, his breath ebbing out of his throat as if it were a river suddenly overflown with water. Just great, Odin. Look at what you’ve gotten yourself into now.

  This would only serve to further hinder their adventure back to the capital.

  When he found the courage to open his eyes for more than just a few brief moments, he turned his attention on his sleeping companion—whom, for the most part, seemed all the more comfortable on the thin space they shared.

  Maybe Kethlan was right, he pondered, rolling over onto his side and drawing behind his companion. Maybe we should go to the inn.

  If anything, he could at least rest in darkness, or as much darkness as a pair of curtains would allow.

  Beside him, Virgin grunted, then shifted onto his back, nearly squishing Odin’s hand.

  “Sorry,” the older Halfling mumbled, reaching up to rub drool from his face.

  “It’s all right,” Odin whispered back, his head beginning to throb as if he’d just been struck alongside the head. “God.”

  “What?”

  “I shouldn’t have done what I did yesterday.”

  “You’ll have to realize that you’re not invincible one of these days.”

  “I know.”

  “Seriously, Odin—you’ve done this twice already. How many more times is it going to take for you to realize that you’re not a God?”

  “I don’t think I’m a God,” he sighed, pushing himself up. He managed to fight the needles stabbing into his eyes and looked out the window, where he saw two men carefully making their way back and forth over the top of the wall.

  “What do you think you are then?”

  A lot stronger than I think I am.

  If he were to truly be honest with himself, he would realize that using such high concentrations of magic were said to age people beyond their years. Magic, they said, affected one’s body just as it affected anything they touched. Their eyes, their hair, their lips, their tongues, their hearts, minds, lungs. stomach—it was said that once, when a man tried to bend the laws of the world to his own rule, he changed from the young man that he was to an old, haggard beast of a thing that could barely feed itself, much less communicate with others. It was for that reason that after not only his recent stint in Lesliana, but his encounter with the Harpies that Odin considered himself lucky. Surely he shouldn’t be conscious, much less functioning.

  It’s because of you that I’m all right, he thought, smiling, unable to resist the urge to reach down and pat Virgin’s thigh when the older Halfling offered him a look.

  “What?” Virgin asked.

  “Nothing,” Odin said, nodding as his companion threw his legs over the cot and reached up to rub his eyes. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Don’t divert the attention from you.”

  “I was just asking.”

  “I’m fine. You’re the one we should be worried about.”

  “I know. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, Odin. Just realize that using superhuman feats of magic isn’t going to get you anywhere. It was understandable back in Lesliana. Here, though?”

  They would’ve died.

  Surely Kethlan and Terrence, if not he and Virgin, would have been thrown from the walls and to the ground, where possibly they could have broken their backs, heads or necks. Had it not been for his barrier, one, if not all of them would be severely hurt, if not dead. For that he considered his feat practical, as everyone within the immediate vicinity had survived and possibly only suffered minor wounds.

  I’m alive. You’re alive. What’s wrong with me using a little magic?

  As yet another spike of pain barreled into his head, it took little to realize the consequence of such actions.

  Bile rose up in his throat.

  Odin leaned forward.

  “Are you all right?” Virgin asked.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” he said.

  Later that afternoon, after Odin’s stomach had settled and it seemed he would no longer have to worry about throwing up every time he moved, they made their way down the tower and through the town until they entered the inn, which lay on the opposite side of the settlement and covered an expanse of some three stories, including a grand ballroom posed right to the side of the bar. Once inside, they paid for a room for both the day and night and settled themselves down into more comfortable quarters, all the while dreading tomorrow and just what it could bring.

  While Odin lay in bed, hallway between the realms of sleep and consciousness, Virgin peered into a mirror set against the far wall, padded his neck with yet another cool rag, then did his best to shave off what excess stubble he had with his dagger, coming dangerously close more than a few times to slicing his neck open on more than a few occasions.

  “Aren’t you worried about cutting yourself?” Odin asked, rolling onto his side to watch his companion’s endeavor.

  “I’ve shaved with this for years,” Virgin shrugged, padding the loose hair away. “So no, I’m not particularly worried.”

  “Do you still plan on going down and getting the supplies for our trip later?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  Good, Odin thought, pressing his head back down onto the pillow and closing his eyes as he listened to the whisper of the blade kissing Virgin’s flesh. At least now I don’t have to worry about it.

  Hopefully a good night’s sleep on a nice bed would help get him in better spirits for the long trip ahead of them.

  What’re you thinking? You’re not going to be in better spirits until we’re out of the Divide.

  They would, of course, have to worry about traveling along the Dark Mountains, where there was the distinct possibility that they could be attacked by Harpies or one of the stray, fabled undead. At the very least, they had a goal in mind, and could hopefully accomplish it without too much trouble.

  Though he knew in his heart that everything would work out eventually, that didn’t remove the fact that they could just as easily be pushed aside by some greater force were they not careful.

  It’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.

  Tomorrow, after the sun came up and shined a path through the darkness, they would be on their way through the Great Divide, toward Ornala and the place where, hopefully, Odin would be able to find some semblance of a normal life.

  While there seemed to be a light shining at the end of a tunnel, a blot of darkness threatened to creep ahead.

  Slowly, surely, and with all the animosity in the world, that blot began to shadow all the good in the world.

  “Odin,” Virgin said.

  The sound of his companion’s voice startled him.

  He jumped a half foot on the bed.

  “Goddamn,” the Halfling whispered, reaching down to steady a hand on Odin’s chest. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m… fine,” Odin managed, blinking, grimacing as the candle in the corner of the room seemed to take on such a harsh intensity that he could hardly bear to look at it. “Are you done shaving?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you close the curtains and blow that candle out?”

  “I assume you want it completely dark in here?”

  “If that’s no big deal, yes.”

  “That’s fine. I can see in the dark anyway.”

  “Is that because you’re half-Elf?” Odin frowned.

  “Yes. Why? Can you not see in the dark?”

  “No,” he mumbled.

  Without so much as another wor
d, Virgin pulled the darkened curtains over the open window, then made his way toward the candle, but not without turning his attention back to Odin shortly thereafter.

  What’re you waiting for? he thought.

  His companion leaned forward, cupped his hand around the burning flame, then extinguished it with but one puff of air.

  Odin closed his eyes.

  Darkness took him.

  He dreamed of Ornala and its breathtaking new heights. A town beyond the walls, born and blossoming; a society of people filled with displaced Dwaydorians and those immigrating from other, coastal towns; a sense of peace and welcome that he could not have possibly physically experienced—this, and more, placated his mind in ways unimaginable and filled him with a feeling of silence that he found irreversible. He saw, briefly, the image of Carmen running along the edge of the street while being closely pursued by a red dog before she disappeared out of view.

  Shortly thereafter, he saw Nova and Katarina walking along the street, hand-in-hand and with Nova’s opposite palm over the swell of the woman’s stomach.

  They did it, he thought, unable to believe what he was seeing. They really did it.

  The dream ended.

  He opened his eyes.

  Darkness greeted him.

  Directly lying on his side, Virgin let out a slight puff of air before settling back down into bed.

  Is he awake? Odin thought, blinking, fighting to see in the darkness but unable to do so.

  Damn his human blood for keeping perhaps one of the most useful effects of his Elven heritage from him.

  With a quick shake of his head, Odin pushed himself upright and reached up to hold both sides of his head, which, though no longer throbbing, seemed to hold a weight of their own.

  Tomorrow will sure be fun, he thought, unable to resist the urge to sigh.

  Though it would likely be several more days before he was anywhere near better, he could, at the very least, treat himself to a little bit more sleep.

  If only I didn’t need something to wet my throat.

  Two brimming glasses of water sat on the table on the opposite side of the room. While ignorant in their state and taunting with their presence, he would have to rise if he wanted to quench his parched throat.