Brotherhood Saga 03: Death (104 page)

“You sure you
’re all right?” the red-headed man asked. He began to step into the room, but seemed to consider his actions, as he stopped before he could enter.

“I
’m fine.”

“I
’m worried about you, kid. Your boyfriend is too.”

Virgin?
he frowned.
What could he—

Before the train of thought could continue, Virgin stepped up behind Nova and out of the shadows, revealing himself in the pale white light cast from the candle in the corner of the room. “You were speaking about me?” the Halfling asked.

“Oh. Sorry,” Nova said, stepping aside so Virgin could enter the room. “I was just telling Odin how we’re worried about him.”

“We are,” Virgin agreed.

“Maybe you should come out and talk with us, Odin—you know, get your head out of the bad place you’re in.”

“I
’m fine,” Odin smiled. “If it’s all right, I’d like to go to bed early tonight.”

“
All right,” Nova said, voice wary and all the more concerned. “Whatever you want, bud. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Odin said, nodding as Nova closed the door. He waited, listening to the sound of his friend
’s footsteps until he could hear them no more, before turning to face his companion. “I did it.”

“Did what?”

“Solved the riddle. It’s Sharktooth Island.”

“An island?” Virgin frowned. “I don
’t understand—“

“It
’s a section of land that isn’t very well known because it rests beyond a marshland that’s known for being home to… well… Wraiths,” Odin said, crossing his arms over his chest and seating himself at the end of the bed.

“I assume you plan on leaving now that you
’ve figured out where you’re supposed to go.”

“You
’re not coming with me?”

“Look.” Virgin fell to his knees before the bed and braced his hands on Odin
’s knees. “Throughout the entire time we’ve known each other, I’ve stuck by your side through the good and the bad, the horrible and the unthinkable, the just and the unjust, but this… this, Odin… it’s your burden to bear, not mine. I’ve come with you this far. I’m not going any further.”

“You mean to just abandon me after we
’ve been through so much?”

“I don
’t know what effects the book with have on you. God—I don’t know what they’d have on me, a dumb half-Elf who was denied the gift of magic from birth. There’s no telling what might happen once you open that book and give your blood and hair. You could die. You could raise every single dead thing in the marsh. You could… and by God, I hope this doesn’t happen to you… succumb to insanity, just like the Elves who used the book and its magic before you did.”

“I
’m different than them,” Odin said.

“How?”

“I’m a third Drow.”

Virgin had nothing to say.

“Look,” Odin continued, pressing his hands upon Virgin’s shoulders and leaning forward, deadly close to where their brows touched and their noses were just a breath’s-width from touching. “I’m not asking you to read from the book. I’m not even asking you to be anywhere
near
me when I do what I intend to do. What I’m asking is—“

What
are
you asking?

“—for you to just come with me and take me halfway. You don
’t have to cross the river. You don’t even have to stay if you don’t want to. All I want is the knowledge that I’m not alone in this.”

“I hate to say it, Odin, but you
are
alone in this.”

Virgin stood.
Turning, he began to make his way to the door. Shortly thereafter, he stopped.

What are you waiting for?
Odin thought, balling his hands into fists.
Just leave now if you’re going to.

He needed no further concern over whether or not he would be travelling this road alone—if he, of all people, really were to do what he
’d set out to and raise from the dead the father which he never truly had. Virgin had come this far—had said, for all intents, that he had done so out of the need for companionship—but he would go no further, for he believed that were he to stray toward death, he might succumb to a fate far worse than the eternal knowledge that he had committed a horrible crime.

Odin closed his eye
s. What felt like tears began to burn their surfaces.

The door opened, then closed.

Odin fell onto the bed.

Curling into a ball, trying his best to maintain hold on his emotions when it seemed the world was caving in
on him, Odin finally gave in and began to cry.

So this is how it was.

The final leg of his journey would be spent alone.

“Odin,” Virgin said, pressing his hand against Odin’s shoulder and gently rocking his body. “Wake up.”

“What is it?” Odin asked, rolling over to face his companion.

“There’s a page here for you. Says the king wants an audience as soon as possible.”

“For what?”

“I’m not sure. That’s all I was told.”

Still in a daze of confusion, Odin bowed his head back onto the pillow,.

Great,
he thought.
Just great.

Would, after a day of no contact, the king discipline him for walking out on him?

“You’re never going to find out until you get up,” he mumbled.

“Sorry?” Virgin asked.

With a simple shake of his head, Odin threw his legs over the side of the mattress, stretched his arm over his head, then began to disrobe. Shortly thereafter, he strode across the room, then pulled the clothes he attended the ball in from their place in the drawer before pulling them on.

“Why are you going in ball wear?” Virgin frowned.

“Because I don’t have any other clean clothes,” he replied. “Besides—I figure this will at least make me look presentable, and give Ournul notice that I am, in fact, someone important, and whose opinion should be noted.”

“Don
’t get into a fight with him, Odin.”

“I
’ll try not to.”

“You can get thrown in jail, you know?”

“I’m well-aware of that, Virgin.”

“Just be careful, please.”

“I will.”

Before he could
make his way toward the door, Odin had a sudden inclination to lean forward, press a kiss to Virgin’s lips, then embrace him with one arm, pressing the entirety of his weight into his companion’s body.

“Thank you for looking out for me,” he whispered, bowing his head into the older Halfling
’s chest.

“Everything will be fine, Odin. Just don
’t worry yourself over it. The king will understand your feelings on this.”

He could only hope.

“Your behavior the other night was absolutely ridiculous,” Ournul said, rounding the desk to approach Odin with a hand in the air and a finger extended. “Never in my near-twenty years of service have I
ever
had someone speak to me in that tone, much less the man who’s supposed to be my champion.”

“You can
’t tell me what to do, sir,” Odin said, bracing himself for whatever was to come by locking his hands at the small of his back and steadying his posture.

“Oh
really?”
the king asked. “And what makes you think that?”

“I
’m my own man as well as you are.”

“First you leave the country—in the midst of war, no doubt—doing God knows what where and with whom, only to return with another
man,
after
the delegations have long since been over and the kingdom has been restored to its former glory. Could you have slapped me in the face any more than you already have,
boy?”

“I can
’t help who I fell in love with,” Odin said, steeling himself as Ournul leaned so close he thought their faces would collide.

“You might not be able to, but
I
sure as hell can.”

“I can leave.”

“Leave?”
Ournul barked, spreading his arms as he once more began his desperate pace around his desk.
“Leave?
Are you absolutely mad, boy? You’ve been gone for almost a year now—what more could you possibly have to stew over?”

“I lost my father, my weapon
’s master, one of my best friends. You can’t say I have nothing to mourn.”

“People
die,
Odin, especially in times of war. You can’t expect everyone to live.”

“I sure as hell don
’t expect the people I love to die around me!” he cried, forcing himself to keep his hands behind him. “You can’t tell me what I’ve been feeling isn’t real!”

“Of
course
it’s real, Odin.
Everyone
feels grief at least once in their life. The difference between a real man and a fake one is that the real man moves on after he mourns the person he lost, not allow himself to fall into a pit and never crawl out of it.”

“You didn
’t lose
your father
to the war.”

“I lost my father just as well as you did!” the king roared, slamming his fist onto the desk. Papers flew, a well of ink toppled to the floor,
spilling its blood across the stone, and a writing quill soared through the air until it collided with the opposite wall, striking upon the wallpaper a grisly image of anger as it first slid, then dropped entirely. “Don’t you
dare
insinuate that I’ve never suffered as you have.”

“You can
’t make me do anything I don’t want to,” Odin said, beginning to take a few steps back, but stopping when he realized that there were three armed and capable guards behind him.

“You
’re mine to control, boy. Don’t you
ever
think you have your own free will.”

“You
’ve changed, sir.”

“It seems the both of us have—especially you.”

Odin narrowed his eyes.

The king clamped his jaw shut and began to grind his teeth.

What, Odin wondered, could he say to such an accusation?

I
’m fucking mad,
he thought, almost laughing, but managing to restrain the urge if only because some part said that were he to laugh, he would most likely be thrown in jail.
I’m fucking mad and you can’t even see it with your own two eyes.

“I want you to leave,” Ournul said, plopping down into his chair and hiding his eyes with
his hands. “I don’t want to see you on the castle grounds until I summon you again. You’re dismissed—officially, until I see fit otherwise.”

“You want me to leave?” Odin asked. “Fine. I will.”

“If you even dare set foot off the city grounds, I
will
find you.”

“Send men after me, sir. They
’ll never catch up.”

“Do you want to go to jail, Odin?”

“I’d rather rot in jail than be controlled by you.”

The king cast one final, ultimate look upon him.

In that stare, upon which the whole world seemed to be bared, Odin felt a knife slicing into his chest and ending all that existed of his material life.

When two guards took Odin by the arms and began to lead him out the door, he allowed them to usher him without
a fight.

Already a plan began to brew in his mind.

When night fell—when, for all purposes, everyone and everything within not only the castle grounds, but the city and village would sleep—he would take from the stable the very horse he and Virgin had rode in on and make his way to the insidious island known only by Sharktooth. There, he would take the book into his arms, summon the Ferryman with but his will alone, and cross over to the one place that would allow him freedom from all of life’s burdens.

“How did that go?” Virgin asked, gesturing Odin inside as he opened the door.

“Horrible,” Odin said.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It
’s not your fault. I knew this was going to go badly anyway.”

“What did he tell you?”

“That I was his to control and that I had no bearing on whatever he had to say.”

“He is fractured
from the war that has besieged his kingdom. His small-mindedness doesn’t help him any either.”

Stomping his boots on the floor-mat before the door, Odin reached down, undid the laces, then freed his feet before casting his golden jacket onto the loveseat
, where it settled like a butterfly before depressing entirely.

“Did you get into an argument with him?” Virgin asked in the moments of silence that followed.