Brotherhood Saga 03: Death (26 page)

Doesn
’t something
have
to exist?

No. There didn
’t have to be
anything,
for there was no mandate for such a thing, no required curriculum for there to be studies upon which happened after death.
Nothing
needed to exist, for the law of nature decreed that if it was not visible in plain sight or felt within the hearts of one, it need not exist.

Then what is faith,
he thought,
if but an abstract concept?

Virgin
’s hand on his face drew Odin from his thoughts.

“You faded out there,” the older Halfling said, positioning his head directly under Odin
’s so they could look into one another’s eyes. “I was wondering if something had happened.”

“No. Nothing happened.”

“You get this lost look in your eyes whenever you think about something—like you’ve just had the whole world and all its meaning taken away from you.”

“I do?”

“You do.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I don’t think so. It just makes you all the more beautiful.”

“I
’m beautiful?”

“Everyone deserves to feel special,” Virgin said, pressing forward just enough
for Odin to wonder whether their lips had touched.

“I don
’t feel that way.”

“Why?”

Because it seems like everything’s gone,
he thought.
Like everything’s been pulled out from under me.

Virgin reach
ed up and took Odin’s face in his hands.

Odin closed his eyes.

It took but a moment and one simple force for their lips to fall together and their lives to be entwined. Vines, flowers, constellations, firestorms, stars falling across the sky and marking their path in hues vibrant and gold—it seemed when their mouths parted and Virgin’s tongue entered his mouth that life had no purpose other than to be lived in twos: in couples, with hands laced together and two paths combined into one. For two people to wander the world was arduous enough, as the path was gnarled and snaked with roots, but for two men to walk together hand-in-hand in a land full of prejudice and disgrace? That itself seemed a punishment bestowed upon the Gods, if they happened to exist, and if that punishment were real, then why was it that one had to live in fear of loving another, to hide behind closed doors and within closets barred with planks and nails where outside the villagers were angry? Was it because the world saw them unfit for justification, or was it simply because those ignorant and small-minded did not see fit two people to love unabashedly and without regret?

Does it matter?
Odin thought.

In moments like these, when he felt closer to a person than he could ever possibly imagine, he felt as though it didn
’t—that nothing, regardless of its merit, could destroy such happiness.

When their hold on each other broke—when lips came apart and eyes opened to reveal a world beaut
iful and without hurt—Odin stared down into Virgin’s green eyes and saw something he had not seen since this whole ordeal began.

“Thank you,” he whispered, bowing their foreheads together.

“Don’t thank me,” Virgin whispered back.

In the pale light streaming from the fire, Odin closed his eyes and cried.

Morning came fresh and cold despite the previous days
’ humidity and heat. The chill in the air, as welcome and inviting as it seemed, was enough to pull Odin from his place in bed immediately after he crawled from the bedroll and made his way into the world.

“Morning,” Virgin said.

“Morning.”

The fire—still alight despite the fact that he had slept for the better half of
the night—continued to burn strong, to the point where Virgin was able to warm what appeared to be jerky atop it. While that in itself didn’t necessarily surprise him, the fact that it continued to go so strong was enough to confirm that he was, slowly but surely, learning how to keep control of his magic even outside of consciousness.

That
’s good,
he thought.

Maybe tonight, after a long day
’s worth of travel, he would send beads of light to the edges of the next campsite in order to dissuade people or things from coming too close. Any added measure of precaution was a welcome thing, in his book.

“Here,” Virgin said, lif
ting a piece of the dried meat and passing it back to him.

“Thanks,” Odin replied. “How was the watch?”

“All right.”

“You ok?”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

“I
’m not. I just don’t want you to be tired.”

“I
’m not. Don’t worry. I’m more Elf than you would think.”

Of course you are,
Odin thought, reaching up to trail a hand along the side of Virgin’s head.
That’s why you have hair all over you.

Unable to suppress the chuckle that rose from his throat, Odin leaned forward
, wrapped his arms around the older Halfling, then bowed his head into Virgin’s shoulder, where he sighed before closing his eyes to revel in the warmth exuding off his flesh.

“You
’re in a good mood today.”

“It feels nice,” Odin said. “I mean, to be happy.”

“It is,” Virgin agreed.

“When are we setting out?”

“As soon as this jerky is done cooking and we’ve eaten something.”

“All right.”

He could do with a slow morning. Not every waking hour need be spent wandering the road in pursuit of the thing he was looking for, though any forward progress helped ease his mind and led him to believe that things really could work out.

This may just be a grace period,
he thought, tightening his hold on Virgin’s torso when emotions came flooding forward.
It may not be much longer before you’re back at the same place again.

He couldn
’t allow himself to believe that his happiness would not last. To do that would not only resign himself to defeat, but also a lesser emotion that could easily dispel the notion that what he was doing was not justified, which it most perfectly was.

To anyone looking upon his situation, they could have said that he was blind—arrogant, they
claimed, to bring back something that he could not deal with being lost—but they could not say he was unguided.

I
’m doing this for him,
he thought.
For him and only him.

Virgin reached up and set a hand over his.

“You’re breathing heavy,” the Halfling whispered. “What’s wrong?”

“I
’m just thinking,” he said.

“About?”

“What we’re doing.”

“I
’ll help you do whatever it is you want to do, Odin, even if that only means getting you to the capital so you can reflect on some things.”

“I want to steal the book.”

“I know.”

“My mind hasn
’t changed on that.”

“If that
’s what you want to do, I’ll do my best to help you steal it, though that doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll be able to.”

“Oh, we
’ll do it all right. I guarantee you that.”

“I like a man determined.”

“I’m more than determined.”

“Good,” Virgin said. “Now settle down. Let
’s eat before we start for the day.”

The crack of a branch was enough to stop them dead in their tracks.

“Virgin,” Odin said.

“What?” the Halfling asked.

“Did you do that?”

“That wasn’t me. Was it you?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

Odin drew his sword as he circled their surroundings and fell back against Virgin, who drew his weapon and quickly followed in their pursuit of the sound. Dagger drawn, the faint light streaming through the needles bouncing off its blade and reflecting back at the area around them, Odin dared himself for but a moment to take the deepest breath he could manage and hold it for as long as possible. Nose clogged, lips pursed, Odin took a step back and pressed his shoulders against Virgin’s, who merely tilted his head and watched the area with eyes alarmed and blazing within their sockets.

What could it have been?
he thought.

It could likely have been a false step caused by a miscalculation, thus alerting them to the possibility that something had stumbled upon the area and was watching them. If that were the case, then why hadn
’t they stepped on the branch again, and why hadn’t it cracked a second time under one or both of their combined weight?

“I want you to be very quiet,” Virgin said, arching his back to the point where their glutes touched and their spines seemed to become one.

I am,
Odin wanted to say.

How desperately he wanted to scream for whatever it was to come out—for this creature, regardless of its appearance and intentions, to break from the tree line and reveal itself in the flesh. Why it had yet to reveal itself was beyond his comprehension, but why it continued to watch them from safety he couldn
’t imagine. Surely it knew it had notified them to its presence.

The snap came once again.

Odin grimaced.

Both he and Virgin stopped in their tracks.

As one, they turned to face the west.

It came from the shadows of the great shrubs and trees with its head held proud and its golden eyes reflecting the light that bounced from the pine needles. Its cresce
nt horns glimmering, black and blue and gnarled with veins, it raised its neck and extended it as far as it could before regarding the two of them with an expression that could have been human, were it to have a face like his or Virgin’s. That, however, was not the case, for in that moment when their eyes crossed and a connection seemed made, it cocked to the side, stretched its neck out and around in a circular pattern, then pawed at the ground with its three-digit paws, those of which lay adorned with the three dagger-like claws Odin had imagined no more than a few nights ago.

“What is this thing?” Odin whispered.

“I don’t know,” Virgin said.

A sound like a strangled child drowning in a pool of depthless water echoed from the creature
’s throat and tore all sense of sanity from Odin’s mind. Ears ringing, eyes watering, nose running and burning as though threatening to bleed, he reached up to claw at his head just in time for the creature to rush forward and extend its forelegs toward him.

He had no time to respond before the brunt of its weigh collided with his body and pushed him to the ground.

“Odin!”

Not a noise could be heard over the creature
’s scream as its claws dug into his chest, through his jerkin and into his flesh, nor could he discern just what was happening as blood splashed over his vision and thrust him into darkness. Screaming, though loud enough to be heard over the creature’s immense roar, he thrashed his hands to and fro in an attempt to dislodge himself from the creature’s weight, but to no avail. Somehow, most likely during the time his senses had first been stunned into submission and the creature had lunged forward, his sword had flown from his hand and now lay far away, and while his father’s sword still gleamed at his side, there was no way in the Gods’ green earth that he would have a chance of drawing it and freeing himself.

In the moment he felt the claws rake down his chest and toward his abdomen, he came to a chilling realization that nearly made his heart stop within his chest.

Here, in the Abroen Forest, completely alone and with a man he could very easily call the one he loved, he was going to die beneath a creature whom even Virgin had not a name for.

This is it,
he thought.
This is the end.

A second scream broke the haze of his perpetually-dark silence.

Odin opened his eyes.

Through a haze of blood, sweat and tears, he saw Virgin
’s dagger come down and bury itself into the creature’s neck.

The thing reared its head back and screamed.

For but a moment, its right leg came up in an attempt to slash at the Halfling.

Odin thrust his left hand down and pulled his father
’s sword from its sheath.

A
blur of silver flashed over his vision.

He closed his eyes.

He thrust his sword up.

Steel met bone.

The creature screamed.

Odin thrust his now-freed right hand up and forced as much
of the blade as he could into the creature’s head.

In the moments following his stark revelation, Odin took in his first breath of clean air since the ordeal began.