Brotherhood Saga 03: Death (45 page)

Almost immediately, he was met by a guard walking the distance of the hallway.

“You, there,” he said, raising his armored glove and pointing. Nova merely stood in place and waited for him to say anything further. “What are you doing out of your room?”

“I need some fresh air,” Nova said. “That
’s all.”

“All right. Go get your air and be back before I find you wandering around.”

In day’s past, when the war had not been so affluent, one could wander the castle’s halls without being harassed. There would, of course, be guards, and the occasional page or squire to contend with, but never would someone have to worry about being confined to their room or the office they lived within. That alone unsettled Nova so much that when he stepped out into the training field and tilted his head to the sky to regard the moon, he began to cry.

The tears thick, the sob no longer contained, Nova dropped to his knees and sob
bed.

Why now, of all times, did he have to have a breakdown, especially when things seemed to be improving and his
life seemed all the better?

It should have been us,
he thought.
Not me.

Us—three people, three souls, two companions
to one man whom should have lived a life without hardship and the demons of the past: this was the term that bloomed within his mind and created upon a vine three flowers haunting in the ever-vast darkness, that spread across a tapestry of one and flowered upon their surfaces a shade of red, black and blue. Me, I—one person, one soul, no companions of which to call his own and no shoulders upon which his tears could be cried: this was the term that stabbed his heart and cut him in two form neck to groin and then back again, the one thing upon the ever-dying vine of life that seemed to turn black and curl at the very base.  These things—this beautiful you and I—was, without any disregard, a thing that had been sewed in vision and granted to one with love. A man need not a lover when he had the greatest friends, need not suffer without ever having someone to turn to, need not feel lonely when he was accompanied. It was for these reasons that Nova felt as though his life was slowly falling apart—that it was, without a shadow of doubt, cracking in two like a great monument uprooted by tyrants and pulled down by a growing mob of protestors. Enslaved and controlled by a dictator, killed and tortured in glee, this governmental icon would fall and crack its skull open, but what of the man whose image it had been shaped in? Did he, too, bear wounds, or did he simply hold an emotional scar that could easily be seen but not yet touched?

Pushing himself to his feet, all the less willing to continue with
an existence that seemed too fractured without the man he considered to be his best friend, Nova turned and made his way back into the castle, only nodding to the guard once before opening the door, stepping into the room, then slipping into bed without so much as a second word.

I need to do something,
he thought.

He could not go on living like this.

There had to be a way for someone to help.

The morning came late and without true consequence. Larks in the sky, singing their songs; light shining overhead, reflecting off dew; a chipmunk in the distance, picking a nut from the ground and skittering off into its burrow—Nova examined them from his place in bed when he woke to a new day and found his wife reading in the corner of the room and the sound of water running in the washroom. He could not, for any discerning reason, find where Ketrak was, though if the running water was evident of anything, it was likely he was already bathing. That, however, didn’t necessarily matter, for it seemed that all odds were stacked against him and not against his family.

Is this what I get for helping him?
he thought, thinking back to a cold stormy night some five years ago, when he was but an eighteen-year-old boy and looking for the safety of his family.

Safety, salvation, a family to call his own—it could have been described as the ultimate paradise, for he need not worry about paying for the food, board or room in the presence of the king
, as he was a soldier who served in the army and a refugee from Bohren. Many men would have killed to have been in his position—would have, for all the reasons in the world, taken a knife and stabbed his brother in the back—so for him to be feeling unappreciated and therefor unthankful was enough to make him chastise himself for even feeling such emotions.

What he truly wanted, if he were to be completely honest with himself, was a home to call his own—one of which, Carmen said, would be done in a fortnight if rushed in time for winter. That in itself was fine. He needed no furniture, for he could wait for such things to arrive, and he need not worry about his home having the modern revelations of running water like the castle had. Wells could be drilled, water could be pulled up in buckets, laundry could be hung on tethered ropes
and furniture made from the hides and stuffing of animals and flowers—that would be the greatest thing in the world, an independence that he had so grown used to in his brief weeks of living with his wife.

“Nova,” Katarina said.

“Yes?” he asked.

“You
’re awake.”

“I
’ve been awake for a little while.”

“Why haven
’t you gotten out of bed?”

“Haven
’t felt like it,” he shrugged, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands.

“Did you go out last night?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“What were you doing?”

Trying to maintain my sanity.

At the risk of scaring his w
ife, Nova only offered a smile and pushed himself out from beneath the blankets just in time for the door to open and Ketrak to step in.

“Morning,” his father-in-law said.

“Morning,” Nova replied.

Already knowing that there would be a lecture were he and Katarina to continue this convers
ation, he gave her a silent warning with his eyes not to say anything before crossing the room to join her at the table. Arms across her chest, eyes set to her lap, Nova pressed a hand on her back to rub her shoulder and found her tense beneath his touch.

“You all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Katarina said. “Why?”

“You feel tense.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Is something wrong?” Ketrak frowned.

“No,” Nova said, more to his wife than anyone. “Nothing’s wrong. Don’t worry about it.”

The glance Katarina offered could have frozen his bones.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to his wife’s ear and whispered, as softly as he could, “I had a meltdown last night.”

When he pulled away, Katarina
’s eyes faltered, briefly illuminating them in an outstanding somber light.

If your eyes could talk,
he thought,
then they would recite the world’s greatest poetry.

“We
’ll talk about it later,” he mouthed. “Just not here in front of your father.”

“All right,” she whispered. “Nova.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her cheek.

After rising from his place beside her, he began to walk toward the door, but stopped before he could make it any further. “I
’m going to see if I can find Carmen,” he said, throwing his eyes over his shoulder to look at his wife.

“What for?”

“To bounce some stuff off her.”

Katarina offered no reply.
Nova didn’t bother to wait for one. He walked out the door without looking back a second time.

“Are you sure this is something you should be talking to me about instead of your wife?” Carmen asked, slamming the brunt of her weight into the hammer to secure a nail in place. “I mean, this seems more like husband and wife stuff than Carmen and Nova stuff.”

“Carmen and Nova stuff?” he laughed, crossing his arms as the first of the wooden planks
were placed across the northern end of the house. “Where did you come up with that?”

“On a whim. Haven
’t you noticed I say most of my shit like that?”

“I
’ve noticed, but I’ve never decided to comment on it.”

“Eh, whatever.” Carmen made her way through where the door would soon be placed and stepped up to his side. “Tell me what
’s on your mind, bud.”

“I
’m about to lose my mind, Carmen, and I sure as hell don’t want to do it in front of my wife.”

“Your stubbornness is felt for sure.”

“How have you been keeping yourself under control?”

“To be perfectly honest, I
’ve only known Odin for a little while. The attachment isn’t as harsh. That isn’t to say that being sad or worried is a bad thing—because let me tell you, that’s the best damn thing a friend can feel about someone else—but worrying too much isn’t going to get you anywhere good.”

“I know.”

“Which is why you need to let it all out. Quit keeping it bottled up. Talk to your wife. She is, after all, the woman you married.”

“I don
’t want to upset her.”

“Don
’t you think it’ll upset her more if you keep your feelings away from her?”

“I—“

“You shouldn’t be worried about that, Nova.”

“I
’m not.”

“Then what are you worried about?”

“The baby.”

A frown crossed Carmen
’s face to the point where her cheeks puffed out and offered a slight, babyish look to her visage. Nova tried to keep from sighing, but found himself unable to do so in spite of his strength and courage in the matter.

Your intentions are good,
he thought, nodding, reaching up to run a hand through his hair.
You know they are.

To bestow upon his wife his emotions that could so easily overwhelm him would be to throw her into a swift river and expect her to know how to swim. Were she not able to, she would be swept away, while wer
e she able to she would have to brave the waters and return to shore. She would have to give her all or succumb to her inhibitions, but where would that leave the baby, if not dead or distressed? Would it suffer within the womb, a child strangled by its umbilical cord, or would it simply persist, endlessly waiting for its day to come?

“I can understand you not wanting to stress her out,” Carmen sighed, “but like I said, it
’ll only make it worse if you keep things from her.”

“How am I supposed to bring this up then?”

“Maybe by taking her for a walk. Weren’t you two doing your regular exercises out by the lake anyway? That’s a nice place to go and sit, maybe even have a little picnic. Hey!” she cried, jumping up, then down. “That’s what you should do! Make a lunch and go out by the river after the pages come in from their afternoon training!”

“I highly doubt that
’ll be the best way to bring this up.”

“At least it
’ll give you something to break the ice, right? That way, you don’t have to worry about her father harping on you, and at least you’ll get to enjoy the weather while it’s somewhat nice.”

“I guess,” Nova said, shaking his head.

“Whatever you decide to do, Nova, know that I have your back. I’m more than willing to help out if you’re not sure what to do. I am, you know, nearly forty years older than you. I may be a spring chicken, but I’ve got a helluva lot more life experience than you.”

“Thank you, Carmen. That means a lot.”

“Don’t thank me. Go down to the kitchen and get yourself some food and a sheet. I’m sure your wife will be all the happier knowing that you want to confide in her.”

He prepared in a slight bag packs of treats, chocolates, snack cakes and vegetables he specially ordered from the chefs for his and Katarina’s afternoon excursion. More than pleased with himself about the preparation, Nova wore a smile broad and jovial as he led them hand-in-hand across the training grounds toward the dock that peeked out over the edge of the pond.

While no
outside force that could have stopped him from enjoying the moment, he took extra care to keep himself composed for fear that Katarina would use her innate ability to pick up on things subtle and wrong.

She
’s your wife,
his conscience whispered, once more atop his back and scrambling for hold on his head.
Of course she knows what’s going on.

Did she, though? It wasn
’t as though the false front he put on would lead her to the conclusion that they were doing anything other than enjoying husband-and-wife time—unless, of course, a certain expression had crossed his face, or the frown lines around his mouth had permanently sealed themselves across his face.

Growing more paranoid by the second and desperate to keep his façade under control, he tightened his hold around Katarina
’s hand and stepped, carefully, out onto the dock, testing the planks below for fear that they would inexplicably cave out from beneath them.