Brotherhood Saga 03: Death

by Kody Boye

  “But sir—“

  “Don’t worry about me, Odin. I have more than enough eyes to keep watch over me.” Ournul offered a slight wink before he turned and disappeared into the crowd with Lord Kerin.

  Onlee, who appeared nothing more than bored, crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the table, balancing the weight of her body on the balls of her heels and staring vacantly into the crowd.

  In watching her actions—in everything from the way she moved, breathed, blinked and, ultimately, pursed her lips—Odin found a thrill of unease stir within him.

  So, he thought, smiling, licking his lips while examining the young woman. This is what Ournul wanted me to do.

  Unable to resist the urge any longer, Odin stepped forward offered her a slight nod of approval. “Ma’am,” he said.

  “Don’t call me that,” Onlee replied. “It makes me sound old.”

  “What would you like to be called then?”

  “My name. Onlee.”

  “Onlee,” Odin said, the word a rough drawl in lieu of the amount of alcohol he had consumed. “My apologies. I can tell you’re not having the best time here.”

  “Are you?” the young woman asked.

  The smile Odin offered made her raise one eyebrow. “Of course,” he said. “I mean, I’m supposed to have a good time. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Because events like these are more boring than watching men farm in the fields all day,” she shrugged. “I can’t help but hate these sort of things. I always feel so… small, insignificant, like I’m not needed at all. It’s my father who’s the important one here. I’m just his daughter, after all.”

  “To tell you the truth, I feel like I’m playing a much smaller part than I really am.”

  “A smaller part? Are you kidding?” Onlee laughed. “You’re the king’s champion. You’re practically the second most royal person here.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “Whatever. Hey… question.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Is there any way you can get me out of here?”

  “Sorry?”

  Oleen grabbed the sleeve of his jacket, curling her fingers into it to the point where Odin thought she would tear the sleeves off. “Come on,” she said, attempting to tug him toward the door. “Let’s walk the grounds, hide in the kitchens—anything to get the hell out of here.”

  “I’m not sure your father would—“

  “My father doesn’t care if you take me away from here. Besides—he’d probably prefer it.”

  “But the king—“

  “As he said, there’s more than enough eyes to watch out for him.”

  Well then, Odin thought as he reached up to free the young woman’s hand from his sleeve. If that’s what you want, I’m more than willing to oblige.

  Truth be told, he would rather be doing other things than standing in a room acting like some diplomat.

  After checking to make sure that no one was watching, Odin took her hand, then began to lead her into the hall.

  “I can’t believe how beautiful it is,” Oleen said, casting her eyes along the walls and the torches that lined them, reflecting orange light and shadows off the opposite side of the corridor. “It’s like… I’ve never been here before.”

  “You’ve attended these sort of gatherings before?” Odin asked, scanning her figure from behind as she stepped in front of him.

  “Some, yes, but not all.”

  “I see.”

  “Let me ask you a question,” Oleen said, turning. Odin stopped in place as the young woman ground to a halt and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “How long have you been the king’s champion?”

  “Let’s see,” Odin said, desperate to keep his eyes on her face and not on any other part of her body. “Not... even a year now, I don’t believe.”

  “Really?” the young woman asked. “That’s rather hard to believe, if I do say so myself.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You seem much better versed than the last champion.”

  “Who was?”

  “You’ve forgotten already?” she laughed. “Daeldan.”

  “Oh.” Odin frowned, biting his lower lip. “Sorry. I’m drunk.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Come on,” Oleen said, stepping forward and reaching up to press a hand against his chest. “Your eyes have been on me all night. It’s not like I’ve noticed.”

  “So you have,” he chuckled.

  “Why don’t we… go back to my father’s room?” she said, fingering the top button on Odin’s shirt, then snapping it free of its clasp. “It’ll only be the two of us there.”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Odin said.

  Given her height and the fact that they stood almost exactly face-to-face, it took little more than a step for him to press his lips to hers and, ultimately, into the wall. His length hardened beneath his pants, his groin thrust against her crotch, he leaned forward as she craned her neck to allow him access when he reached down, grabbed her thighs, then lifted her into his arms.

  The hall empty, the guards all but gone, he could have taken her then and there if he truly wanted.

  “Odin,” the young woman gasped, groaning as he bowed his head to her collar. “We should go.”

  “Why?” he grinned, fingering the straps of her corset. “There’s no one here.”

  “We don’t know that. Someone could sneak up on us.”

  More than desperate to free himself from his pants, he relinquished his hold on her body, set her to the ground, then took her hand and allowed her to pull him along.

  In the haze of his alcohol stupor, he could only think of one thing.

  A smile pulled at his lips.

  When morning came and he woke in a bed that had once been his, he opened his eyes to find the light streaming in almost impossible to look at. His head a fireball of pain, his throat parched and his lips cracked, he rolled onto his back and moaned with the effort before lifting his arm to set it back over his head.

  What happened? he thought.

  At either of his sides, Tashta and Kreeka lifted their heads and shoved their snouts into the exposed flesh along his ribcage, which had somehow been revealed during the night, when he’d collapsed into bed in the very room he had once shared with the king.

  At the thought, he pushed himself into a sitting position.

  Immediately, the memories came floating back.

  Him and Onlee, in the hall, in bed, conjoined, two bodies melding into one—it took no more than several breaths to discern what had happened last night in the span of several hours: when, out of the blue, a young woman had appeared when he was drunk and seduced him into the hallway. Shortly thereafter, he began to remember their lewd conduct in the hall—when, on a whim, he first kissed, then lifted her into his arms before grinding his pelvis into hers.

  I can’t believe it, he thought, trembling, unsure what to think and even more aware of the fact that he’d just committed adultery. I can’t fucking believe—

  Before the thought could be completed, the curtain separating what once used to be his and Ournul’s portion of the room shifted to reveal the king—fresh, it seemed, from a bath.

  “Ah,” the leader of the country said. “You’re awake.”

  “Sir!” Odin cried, tearing the blankets above his naked waist. “I’m indecent!”

  “It makes no difference to me.”

  “How long was I gone?” he asked. “Tell me.”

  “Well, I can’t necessarily be sure, as you must’ve come in sometime after I went to bed.”

  “The guards—“

  “Were instructed to let you in, as you’re my champion and I figured you’d be too inebriated to walk.”

  “You set me up,” Odin laughed, “didn’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t call it so much a set up as it was a push in the right direction.”

  “In the ri
ght direction?” Odin barked, standing, swaying when he righted himself on two feet and nearly falling over until he pressed his hand on the wall. “I can’t believe it.”

  “You did the right thing, Odin. You as well as anyone should know that.”

  “I’ve been sleeping with someone for the past eight months. How can you say that was the right thing to do?”

  “You know how I feel about your current situation.”

  “I love him.”

  “Which is completely backwards and not at all right.”

  Odin’s heart stopped.

  His breathing came to a halt.

  What?

  Had he heard correctly?

  His body an instrument of unsurety and fear, Odin trembled and turned to face the wall so he would not have to face his king, but found himself seething with rage he had never felt in his entire life.

  “How could you?” he asked.

  “It’s simple, really—if there’s no shroud of doubt that you at least slept with a woman, there’s no need for anyone to think that you’ve been in cohorts with a man.”

  “Why does that fucking matter?”

  “Don’t get cocky with me, Odin. I’m your king—you’ll do as I say.”

  “You can’t control my life!”

  “What was that?”

  Odin turned, hands balled into fists. “I said,” he growled, his knuckles so tense they began to pop one-by-one, thumb-to-pinky and then back again, “you can’t control me.”

  “You’re under my service. So far as anyone else is concerned, you have to do whatever I order you to.”

  “I didn’t sign up for this.”

  “Tough shit, son.”

  “You can’t force me to break off my relationship with Virgin.”

  “Seeing as you’ve already set the foundation for that, I don’t think I have to do anything.”

  “You tricked me!”

  “I didn’t do anything, Odin. You are the one who slept with Onlee, not me.”

  “But you… Kerin… you both…”

  “You did that all on your own. All we did is put the pawns in place.”

  Odin cast his eyes across the room and found his swords resting near the wall opposite the bed.

  In but one swift motion, he pulled his pants and jerkin on this body, made his way across the room, then reached down and buckled his swords in place.

  I can’t believe it, he thought, growling, his heart hammering in his chest. I just can’t.. .you… him… her…

  “I’m leaving,” Odin said, starting for the door without even bothering to look back. “I hope you’re fucking happy, you sorry bastard.”

  “What did you call me?”

  “You heard me, sir. And fuck you!”

  He opened the door, departed, then slammed it as hard as he could before he turned and began to make his way down the hall.

  “You’re back,” Virgin said.

  In standing on the porch, and looking into the eyes of the person he loved, the shame of which had been created from a simple strand of alcohol and an intimate connection between him and a woman began to grow like a flower and eventually sprouted vines throughout Odin’s entire body. First around his heart, which ached so badly, then through his lungs, through which desperately he tried to breathe, followed by his neck, contorted, and his head, singing of pain and sorrow—this vine, and more, spread throughout his body and flowered dots of pain along his skin and insides until it every follicle on his body radiated with pain. Even looking Virgin was enough to sear a path of hate through his mind, a tremble of doubt in his heart, and as such, he found himself bowing his head to the snowy steps when he was unable to look into his companion’s eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” Virgin asked.

  “I slept with a noblewoman last night,” Odin said, matter-of-factly in the hopes that once the truth was out, it would no longer fester. “I’m sorry, Virgin. I was drunk and set up. I have no excuse for what I did.”

  “I figured something like this would happen,” the older Halfling sighed. “Come in. I’m the only one up.”

  Taking a moment to compose himself for fear of breaking down before he even managed to enter the house, Odin mounted the last step, kicked the snow from his boots, then stepped into the house. Soon after, Virgin closed the door, set a hand on his jacket-covered shoulder, then ran his palm along his spine into the small of his back, where he held it there for several long moments, as if testing the strength of not only Odin’s body, but his conscience.

  Is this it? Odin thought. Is this what you expected?

  “I’m sorry,” he said, almost unable to look into Virign’s eyes.

  “If what you said is true, Odin, you’re not entirely to blame.”

  “I was still drunk and stupid.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  In lengthy detail, he began his story by explaining that upon entering the ballroom, he was immediately presented with the opportunity of conversation with the lord of Deeana and began to drink in the moments prior to Ournul arriving. Shortly thereafter, he explained that they discussed his endeavors, his triumphs, his trials, and then met Onlee in the eve following his meeting with Kerin. He then explained—slowly, as to not disarm Virgin—that Ournul and Kerin had left, as if to set him up with Onlee, and added that he believed the young noblewoman had had a sinister role in this.

  “You think the king expressed his concern to this lord and asked his daughter to sleep with you,” Virgin said, taking the pot of tea from the fire and pouring both of them a cup.

  “I do,” Odin sighed. “But that doesn’t give me any excuse, or any proof.”

  “Were you drugged?”

  “I don’t know. But even if I was, I should’ve known. I shouldn’t have done anything. I—“

  “Look, Odin.” Virgin sipped his tea, then set the cup down. “You as well as I should know that we have been distant with each other since the first time we’ve met. I’ve never expressed my feelings, have never confided my doubts, have never said that we are exclusive and therefore should remain together. Anyone looking at this situation would wonder why we’ve been together for so long, because by the Gods, it’s not like we’ve ever actually tied ourselves to one another. And yes, we may have been living together for a long while, but have we ever discussed exclusivity?”

  “No.”

  “And have I ever said you couldn’t sleep with anyone else?”

  “No. You haven’t.”

  “Then don’t believe for a second that you’ve done something wrong.”

  “I love you,” Odin said, turning his eyes up to look at Virgin’s face.

  Virgin frowned.

  Is that the response I get? he thought. Is it because I slept with someone else when I really loved you?

  “It means a lot to know that you feel that way,” Virgin said.

  “I feel like the worst person on the face of the earth right now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I willingly slept with someone when I know in my heart that I love you.”

  “It was a conspiracy to make you appear normal, Odin—you know that.”

  “I know.”

  “Then don’t feel as though you’ve wronged me. Knowing your feelings is enough.”

  Is it? Odin frowned. Or are you just saying that to try to lessen the situation?

  The tone in Virgin’s eyes, while not sad, harsh or unforgiving, seemed to be soft, as if he were a child who couldn’t understand the reason why he was being denied something he wanted when, in truth, he should very well have that thing. His eyes sparkled, reflected the light, took on an edge completely honorable and content, and while his lips seemed cast in a darkening shade of reality, he appeared fine with the current frame of the conversation, no matter how skewed it was.

  “I’m sorry,” Odin said.

  Rather than say anything in response, Virgin stepped around the counter, up to Odin’s side, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his lips. “Do
n’t be sorry,” the Halfling whispered. “I know how it feels to be young and conflicted.”

  Sighing, Odin leaned forward, wrapped his arms around the older Halfling’s waist, then bowed his head against his abdomen and closed his eyes.

  Could there be any worse pain in the world than knowing he’d cheated on the one he loved?

  He didn’t think so.

  Odin lay in bed pondering the riddle and what it could mean. Hands behind his head, eyes set toward the ceiling, he drew his attention first from the twin rafters above him, which ran parallel to the north and south, before allowing his eyes to fall toward the doorway—where, displayed above the threshold, a sword lay, likely one taken by Ketrak in their flight from Bohren after the resulting calamity had struck the town.

  So much I could’ve done, he thought. So much I could still do.

  Rather than think about it, he rolled onto his side and stared out the window.

  Distantly, he could make out the sounds of children playing in the yards behind the houses. Dogs barked, little girls screamed, and boys cried out in victory as they very likely pegged them with flying debris of snow.

  “To be young,” he whispered.

  To be innocent, devoid of the world; to be naïve, without the knowledge of the future; to be cold and stubborn and not at all vulnerable to love and just how horribly it could fracture one’s heart. To a child, nothing but his or her immediate future lay before them. What they ate, how late they stayed up after bed, when their mother or father brought from the town or Ornala’s center a gift of a stuffed animal or even a slight pastry—nothing, it seemed, could destroy the innocence. Therefore, children were immune, and for that Odin couldn’t help but envy them if only because he felt so horrible about his crime of passion that he felt he would be swallowed into the bed and transported to a completely different realm.

  Don’t think about it, his conscience whispered. Know.

  Know what, exactly—the way the riddle sung, the way the words collided, the way something so elegant should have seemed simple and revealed to anyone looking upon it the source location of where the Will ran strongest in the human realm? He could make out nothing in its words, its pictures, its grandiose scopes, for it seemed, without a shred of doubt, that nothing could be broken in disregard and divided by three from whence it came.