Brotherhood Saga 03: Death (19 page)

He
’s right,
his conscience whispered.
What you’re doing gets most people killed.

Not knowing what to say or do in response to the notion, he crossed his arms over his ches
t and continued to watch the Halfling eat his soup, only occasionally raising his eyes to ponder over the horse and its pursuits in and around the pool. So far unrestrained, it seemed perfectly content with wandering the brief ground around the pool, which only further secured the fact that it would be here come the time he returned, though when that would be he couldn’t be sure.

“Odin.”

He blinked. Virgin held before him a bowl of soup, complete with what appeared to be a wooden spoon protruding from its murky depths. “Thanks,” he said, taking the bowl from the Halfling’s grasp and setting it on his lap. “You didn’t have to do that though.”

“I like you, Odin. What reason would I have to not be kind?”

“You’re just saying that because we slept together.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Because two men don’t sleep together without having some sort of emotion afterward.

Sighing, he took the spoon from the bowl, placed it into his mouth and sighed when the warm broth tickled the inside of his throat. “It
’s good,” he said.

“I
’m glad you like it.”

“Can I ask you a question now?”

“Might as well. I’ve already asked you one.”

“Where were you last night before you tried to rob me?”

“Skirting the edge of the Abroen.”

“Do you live there?”

“Occasionally, yes.”

“Where?”

“In one of the more natural villages within the forest.”

“Natural?” he frowned.

“The homes are carved from trees,” Virgin said, lifting his hand and waving it in the air before them. “We—or, should I say, they—live as high as the eye can see in the nooks and crannies that’ve been hollowed out into homes.”

“I
’ve heard of them,” Odin said, “but I’ve never seen one before.”

“We
’re not likely to if we’re heading straight to Lesliana—at least, if that’s what you had planned.”

“I want to get to the capital as quickly as possible.”

“I see,” Virgin smiled. “I like a man who knows what he wants.”

“So you
’ll help me then? Even if it means getting you arrested?”

“I
’m not stealing the book. You are.”

“Yeah, but—“

“But what?”

“You
’ll be my accomplice.”

“Not if I stay as far away from you as possible before we get out of there.”

He does have a point,
he thought, tipping his bowl back to sip his now-chilled soup.
If you steal it by yourself and you happen to run into each other on the way out of the city, he can’t really be blamed for doing it.

Of course, what worry did he have for a man who made a living out of stealing things from other people?

As the smile on Virgin’s face faltered, a sense of unease so great and stagnant began to fill the air that Odin felt as though something was wrong—that regardless of their mutual agreement, there seemed to be something amiss, something that could likely spell trouble were it not addressed sooner rather than later.

“Virgin,” Odin said. “You don
’t… you know…”

“Don
’t… what?” the man asked.

“Plan on robbing me when all of this is done, do you?”

“If I wanted to steal your swords, I would’ve already. Besides—do you think I would’ve stayed the night if I had any intention of robbing you?”

“No.”

“I can tell you’re not very trusting,” Virgin said, setting his now-empty bowl down and crossing his legs. “Then again, I’m not exactly the easiest person to trust. I already know that.”

“Then you understand my concern.”

“Of course.”

He may be bluffing you,
his conscience whispered.
He may want to help you steal the book just to rob you blind behind your back.

Were that the case, though, would Virgin have said that robbing him bore no consequence and robbing the queen held no trouble in the world at all? He highly doubted it, because he
’d also said that he wouldn’t touch the book if his life depended on it, so that put him a little bit at ease.

Just trust your instincts,
he thought.

His instincts told him that, for now, Virgin seemed perfectly all right—capable, even, of being a good companion, maybe possibly even more than that.

Get a hold of yourself, Odin. Don’t develop attachments.

How could he not, though, when he
’d just slept with a man who could be with him for the next few weeks?

When his vision cleared, allowing him a glimpse of not only the territory in front of him, but Virgin
’s intense green eyes, Odin allowed himself a brief moment of silence before reaching down and plucking his bowl of soup from the ground.

Things would work out. They
’d have to, otherwise he had nothing to hope for.

*

Nova took Katarina into his arms the moment the door opened and bowed his head into her neck as her cries and sobs echoed out into the stone corridors. His own tears threatening to burn down his face and his emotions more than ready to swallow him whole, he pressed her to his chest and took but a moment to console himself with the fact that now, after such a long time and such a horrible endeavor, he was finally holding his wife in his arms.

You
’re here,
he thought, sighing, breathing in her sweat, her tears and fears.
You’re finally here.

After what seemed like an eternity of holding the woman he loved more than anything else in the world, he set her back on the ground, then fell into his father-in-law
’s arms and sighed when the man tightened his hold around him.

“Welcome back, son,” the man whispered.

Son.

How great it was to hear such a simple word.

“Thank you,” he said, breaking away from Ketrak’s arms.

Stepping up to his side, Carmen offered a slight wave, then reached up to shake Ketrak and Katarina
’s hands before clearing her throat to say, “Hello.”

“Who might you be?” Katarina asked.

“Carmen Delarosa at your service ma’am.”

“You
’re a soldier?” Ketrak frowned, taking in her heavily-armored attire.

“Well, was, if you want to use the correct terminology. I helped lead the assault on Dwaydor!”

“I’ve never heard of a woman in war before,” Katarina said, eyeing the mace that lay at Carmen’s belt.

“You
’ve obviously not heard of me then.”

“Carmen
’s a helluva fighter,” Nova said, reaching down to set a hand atop her shoulder. “You should’ve seen her on the battlefield.”

“I spare no punches,” the Dwarf sai
d, offering a curt, if somewhat-arrogant grin.

A smile curving across her face, lighting her features in the most splendid source of happiness
, Katarina stepped forward, into his arms, then offered him a slight kiss on his cheek.

“I
’m hurt,” he whispered.

“What?” she asked.

“We had… a bit of a complication on the way back from Dwaydor.”

“What happened?”

“We were attacked by a werewolf,” Carmen said.

“A
werewolf?”

“Don
’t worry, miss—I took good care of him. Didn’t I, Nova?”

“I need to see a healer as soon as possible,” Nova said, kissing his sobbing wife
’s cheek before she had the chance to bow her head. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m all right.”

“You
’re not all right if you were attacked by a werewolf!”

“Nova killed him though!” Carmen cried. “Cut his head clean off!”

“Good on you,” Ketrak smirked.

“And I bashed his balls in!”

“Where’d you get such a rowdy one, Nova?”

“I am no ordinary woman, good sir! I am Carmen Delarosa, Drake Slayer of Ehknac!”

“That’s quite the title, if I don’t say so myself.”

“We probably shouldn
’t be standing around,” the Dwarf said, reaching up to tug at the knee of Nova’s pants. “You need to see a healer, stat.”

“I
’ll be back later,” Nova said, once more pressing his lips to his wife’s cheek. “Don’t worry, honey. Everything’s going to be just fine.

*

They packed camp into two discreet packs and began their trek across the Great Divide around noon. All the more unsure about his decision to steal the book in that moment, Odin forced himself to look on the positive side of things to not only bolster his own confidence, but that of his companion, who occasionally offered a slight touch to his back or an arm across his shoulders as if to comfort him.

Does he know?
he thought.

Virgin had to
know the pain he suffered. The blind agony, to Odin, seemed more than obvious—a black hand upon a perpetually-white world that bore no consequences and seemed to want to tear his life asunder. For his companion to not see was for him to be blind to human emotion that ruled both of their lives, that shaped their views and birthed from its womb their heart’s desires. In that thinking, he didn’t believe that Virgin could not see that he suffered in silence, otherwise his affectionate touches would not have come.

Sighing, Odin bowed his head and allowed his eyes to stray to the scar on his palm that he once feared would bond him to the Elf in more ways than one.

Little did I know.

“Odin,” Virgin said.

“Yes?” he asked, turning his attention to his companion.

“Are you all right?”

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“A lot of things.”

“You don
’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” the Halfling said, pushing his arms over his head to lace his fingers at the base of his skull.

“It
’s not that I don’t want to…”

“It
’s just that you don’t feel like it.”

“Yeah.”

It was more than apparent that Virgin could read him better than most people. With Nova, his pain would have been but a blank sheet upon which bore no writing, a piece of parchment tethered to a pole but not proclaimed to hold anything. With this creature, though, things seemed out in the open, drawn into focus and scrutinized under the most powerful of looking glasses.

Watch your heart,
his conscience whispered.

If Virgin knew his thoughts, concerns, fears and desires
so well, what could he do to use them against him?

If he wanted to do something to you,
he thought, straightening his posture when the taller man set an arm across his shoulders,
then he would have already done it.

No matter how often he told himself that, he could not shake the idea that something more sinister was at work here—that regardless of his good intentions, there seemed to a sense of animosity
dwelling beneath the surface, threatening to swallow him whole were he to wade too deeply into its waters.

In the end, he couldn
’t continue to think like this, otherwise it was apt to drive him crazy.

“How much longer will it take us to get to the forest?” he asked.

“By nightfall,” Virgin said. “No later than that.”

*

“Quite the predicament the two of you got yourself into,” the healer, Ramya, said, trailing his hand across Nova’s back as he channeled healing green magic over his skin. “How did this happen?”

“Nova got a bad feeling,”
Carmen said, squeezing Nova’s hand as his skin seemingly sewed itself together. “Then, out of nowhere—boom! The werewolf starts chasing after us.”

“And it scratches clean through my shirt and into my back,” Nova sighed.

“You’re lucky you had armor on, otherwise it would’ve been much worse,” Ramya mused. “It won’t scar—at least, I don’t believe—but you’ll have to take it easy for the next few days, if not for a week or more.”

“Are you done?” Nova asked.

“Yes. I am.”

After rolling onto his side and throwing his legs over the side of the cot, Nova pushed himself into a sitting position, reached for the
jerkin at his side, then started to scratch the edge of his skull before sliding his shirt over his shoulders. The whole while, Carmen watched him with eyes wary yet concerned, alight yet discomforted at what she had just seen.

“That… was pretty amazing,” she said, turning her head up to look at the tattooed healer. “Yet… kinda gross.”