An Oath of Brothers (24 page)

“I would not risk harming any of you,” he said. “This is a trek for me to take, and me alone. You can all stay on the boat. I will find him and bring him back.”

“You will come back a leper,” Matus said gravely.

Thor shrugged.

“I have been to hell and back for my son,” he said. “Do you think I would let a fatal disease stand in my way?”

They all looked away, silent, none able to offer a response.

The waves picked up and carried them closer to shore, the spray hitting Thor in the face. The closer they got, the more his heart pounded. He could feel his destiny rushing toward him. He knew that his child was out there.

Their boat beached on the shore, and the second it touched down, Thor disembarked, his boots crunching on white gravel.

He stood there and looked out at the island before him in wonder, squinting against the glare. Everything was caked in white, as if washed by salt. Even the mist in the air hung with a white tinge to it. The air smelled a bit different here, too; it smelled not only of ocean, but also of death.

This island, Thor sensed, had a solemn, abandoned feel to it, as if it were a place forgotten by others, a place of great peace and solitude—yet also of sadness and tragedy. Thor studied the swaying white trees, the huge leaves shimmering in the wind, and he wondered if his dream was true. Could his child really be here?

Thor turned and saw the boys in the boat, and for the first time ever, he could see real fear in their faces. They had followed him into the Empire, across the seas, to hell and back, and had done so fearlessly. Yet this place of fatal disease had clearly stricken them all with terror. None of them wanted to die a slow, lifelong death.

They all sat in the boat, unmoving.

Thor nodded back to them solemnly. He could see in their eyes that they wanted to join him, but were afraid. He understood. After all, walking onto this island would be a death sentence.

Thor turned and began the march inland, toward the dense white jungle, his boots crunching on the gravel, taking one step at a time, the sound of the ocean waves fading. He entered the jungle, the large leaves brushing against him, a new feeling beneath his feet, leaving the shore behind him—and he knew he had crossed the tipping point:

There was no turning back now.

*

Thor marched through the jungle, scratched by branches and not caring, and he peered everywhere, trying to see through the dense canopy, looking for Guwayne. He let his senses guide him, turning left and right, allowing himself to be led through the thick foliage, to the place where his instincts brought him.

“Guwayne!” he called out, his voice echoing in this empty place.

“Guwayne!”

Thor’s cry was met by that of a strange bird, somewhere high above, calling down to him as if mocking him.

Thor marched deeper into the jungle, and he soon emerged as it gave way to a new landscape. Before him were rolling hills of white grass, large white trees swaying in the wind.

Thor did not waste any time leaving the jungle and embarking on the hills, looking all around him, everywhere for any sign of Guwayne.

But this island seemed deserted. There was no sign of anyone or anything—just the birds overhead, whose screeches punctuated the air.

Were there really lepers here? Thor wondered. Or was it all a myth?

Thor hiked and hiked, finally cresting a hill, and as he did, he looked down and saw a new landscape, and all of his questions were answered before him. There, sitting in a small valley, nestled amidst the hills and large trees, with a small river running by it, was a low, circular building made of all-white stone, looking ancient, as if it were one with the landscape. It was only perhaps a hundred yards in diameter, with a flat white roof, and no windows that he could see. It had but one door.

On the white landscape that surrounded it, Thor saw signs of life: there were cauldrons hanging over small bonfires, chickens wandering, signs of people living here—people who had no fear of leaving their livestock and food and cooking out in the open, who had no reason to be guarded. People who did not expect any visitors. Ever.

Thor took a deep breath and steeled himself as he marched down the hill, toward the building, not knowing what to expect. He had a strong feeling rising up within him, an inner voice telling him that his child was inside. How, he wondered, was that possible? How could Guwayne have gotten inside? Had someone abducted him?

Thor knew that, with each step he took, he was getting closer to his death sentence. He knew leprosy was an awful affliction and that he would certainly catch it; it would stay with him the rest of his life, turning his skin white, and eventually result in an early and weakened death. He would become an outcast, a person no one wanted to be near.

Yet he did not care. His son was all that mattered to him now. More than his own life.

Thor reached the door and hesitated before it. Finally, he passed the point of no return—he reached out and grabbed the handle, the same handle that all the lepers touched, an all-white skull and crossbones, and he turned it. He knew as he touched it that there was no turning back.

Thor stepped inside and immediately sensed a heavy feeling in the air: it felt of death. It was solemn in here, quiet. His eyes adjusted to the one long, dim room, yet it was not nearly as dim as he had expected. On the far wall were a series of arched, open-air windows lining the wall, letting in the refracted sunlight and ocean breezes, white drapes billowing in the wind.

Thor stopped and looked at the sight before him, his heart pounding, taking it all in, peering through the haze for any sign of his child. He saw a series of straw beds, each ten feet apart, lining the walls. On each bed lay a leper, their skin all white, some with bandages around their faces, some on other parts of their bodies. Most lay there, quiet and still, perhaps two dozen of them. Thor marveled that so many people could coexist in one room and not make any sound at all.

As he entered, they all suddenly turned and looked his way, and he could see the surprise in their faces. Clearly, they had never had a visitor before.

“I’m looking for my child,” Thorgrin called out, as they all stared back. “Guwayne. An infant boy. I believe he is here.”

They all looked at him silently, none of them moving, none of them saying a word. Thor wondered when the last time was any of them had even spoken to an outsider. He realized that this life of seclusion, of being outcasts, had probably worn away at their psyches.

Realizing after a long silence that no one was going to respond, Thor began slowly walking down the aisle between the beds. He checked their faces as he went, and they lay where they were and stared back with sad faces, faces that had lost hope long ago, and observed him in wonder.

Thor looked everywhere for signs of Guwayne, any evidence at all that a child had been here—yet he could find none. He did not hear a baby’s cry; nor did he see any signs of a bed that could hold a baby.

Yet as Thor reached the final bed, a sensation arose within him, a burning feeling, and his heart pounded as he suddenly felt that his child was there, behind that curtain, in that final bed. He turned to look, pulling back the curtain, expecting to see Guwayne.

Instead, he was baffled to see a child lying there, staring back at him. She looked to be perhaps ten. She looked as surprise to see him as he was to see her. She had large, crystal blue eyes, the color of the sea, mesmerizing, eyes filled with love, with hope—with life. She had long blonde hair, beautiful, wild, looking as though if it had never been washed. The skin on her face was remarkably clear, free from any blemish, and Thor wondered if she was in the wrong place. She did not appear to have any sign of the disease.

Then Thor looked down and saw her right arm and shoulder, bright white, the skin eaten up by the disease.

She immediately sat up in bed, alert, filled with life and energy, unlike all the others. She appeared to be the only one of the bunch that had not been broken by this place.

Thor was perplexed. He had sensed his child was behind this curtain—and yet she was the only one here. Guwayne was nowhere to be found.

“Who are you?” the girl asked, her voice inquisitive, full of life and intelligence. “Why have you come here? Have you come to visit me? Are you my father? Do you know where my mother is? Do you know anything about my family? Why they have left me here? Where is my home? I want to go home. I hate this place. Please. Don’t leave me here. I don’t want to stay here anymore. Whoever you are, please, please, please take me with you.”

Before Thor could respond, still trying to process it all, she suddenly jumped up from the bed and threw her arms around his legs, holding him tight.

Thor looked down at her in surprise, not knowing how to react. She knelt there, crying, clutching him, and his heart broke.

He reached down and gently laid his hand upon her hair.

She sobbed.

“Please,” she said, between cries, “please don’t go. Please don’t leave me here.
Please
. I’ll give you anything. I can’t stay here another minute. I will die here!”

Thor stroked her hair, trying to console her as she wept.

“Shhh,” he said, trying to calm her, but she would not stop crying.

“I’m so sorry,” he finally said. “But I came here looking for my son. A baby. Have you seen him?”

She shook her head, clutching harder.

“There is no baby here. I would know it. There is no baby anywhere on this island.”

Thor’s stomach dropped as the words sunk in. Guwayne was not here. He had somehow been misled. For the first time in his life, his senses had led him astray.

And yet, why had he sensed his child in that bed, right before he drew the curtain? Who was this girl?

“I pray to God every night for someone to come and rescue me,” she said between tears, her voice muffled against his leg. “To take me away from this place. I prayed for someone exactly like you. And then you arrived. Please. You can’t abandon me here. You
can’t
!”

She hugged his legs, shaking, and Thor tried to process it all. He had not expected this, but as she clutched him, he could feel her distress, and his heart broke for her. After all, she had not asked for this affliction, and clearly, her parents had abandoned her here in this place. The thought of it angered him. What sort of parents would abandon their child, regardless of the affliction? Here he was, willing to cross the world, to enter hell, to take on any affliction for himself to find his own child.

It also tore him up because he, too, he realized, had been abandoned by his own parents. He hated things being abandoned. It struck deep into his heart.

“You don’t want to come with me, child,” Thorgrin said. “When I leave this place, I will be going on a dangerous quest. I don’t know even where exactly I am going, but it won’t be safe. I will be facing hostile enemies, foreign lands, heading into battle. I won’t be able to do that and protect you. Your chances of living are greater here. Here, at least, you will be safe and cared for.”

But she shook her head insistently, tears flowing from her eyes.

“This isn’t living,” she said. “Here there is no life. Only waiting for death. I would rather die while trying to live than live while waiting to die.”

Thor looked into her eyes as she looked up, her crystal eyes glistening, and he could see the warrior spirit within her, shining back at him. He was overcome by her fierce will to live, to really live. To overcome her circumstance. He admired her spirit. It was a fighting spirit. He could see that she would be deterred by nothing. And it was a spirit that, try as he might, he just could not turn away from.

He knew he could make no other decision; his warrior’s spirit would not allow it.

“Okay,” he said to her.

She suddenly stopped crying, froze, and looked up at him, eyes wide in shock.

“Really?” she asked, dumbfounded.

Thor nodded, and he knelt down, looking her right in the eye.

“I will not leave you here,” he said. “I cannot. Pack your things. We shall leave together.”

She looked at him, her eyes filled with hope and joy, a joy greater than he had ever seen in anyone, a joy that made all of it, any risks he was taking, worth it. She leapt forward into his arms, wrapping her arms around him, hugging him so tight he could barely breathe.

“Thank you,” she said, crying, weeping. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Thor hugged her back, and as he did, it felt like the right thing to do. It felt good to be able to hold and protect and nurture a child, even if it was not Guwayne. He knew that to hold her was infecting him, even now, and yet he knew he could make no other choice. After all, what was the purpose of life, if not to help those in need?

Thor turned to go, and she suddenly stopped and turned around and ran back to her bed, grabbing something before returning to him and taking his hand. He looked down to see her clutching a small white doll, a crude one, made from the sticks and leaves of the island, and wrapped with a piece of bandage.

She grabbed his hand and yanked him and led him quickly out of the place, to the amazed eyes of all the others lying there listlessly, watching them go.

They walked outside, exiting the building, and Thor was momentarily blinded by the glare. He held up one hand, and as his eyes adjusted, he was shocked by the sight before him.

Standing before him were all his brothers—Reece and Selese, Elden and Indra, O’Connor, Matus—all of them standing outside the building, waiting for him patiently, all dressed in their new armor, bearing their new weaponry. They had come after all. They had crossed the island, had risked their lives, for him.

Thor was touched beyond words, realizing what they had sacrificed for him.

“We took an oath,” Reece said. “That first day we met, back in the Legion. All of us. It was a sacred oath. An oath of brothers. An oath stronger than family. It was an oath to watch each other’s backs—
wherever we should go
.”

“
Wherever we should go
,” all the others repeated, as one.