Brotherhood Saga 03: Death (52 page)

Could the weapon Herald
’s Dwarf accomplice had used on Miko have killed him outright?

They said it was iron,
he thought, shivering, unable to control the tears that came to his eyes.
They said—

“Odin?” Jarden asked.

“I’m fine,” he said, reaching up to wipe the tears from his face. “You said something about the Fae.”

“Are you well?”

“I’m all right.”

“The Fae are
any creature that hails from the Mines of Myr in the lands known as the Ends of the Earth, which are generally thought to exist in the far south of our world.”

“Has anyone ever been there?”

“Not to my knowledge, no.”

“What are the Fae? And what are the Mines of Myr?”

“The Fae are any magical creature that has been born of the world through the magic of Will. It’s a common thought that Sprites are part of the Fae, though to be honest, I have come to learn that Sprites are what make up the spiritual sides of us—our souls, great and strong, persisting in the physical sense after they have left our bodies. As to what other types of Fae exist, there are Wraiths, creatures of dusk and darkness that manifest usually in the presence of Necromancers or evil places; Fairies, which, as you are probably already aware, are small, Elven-like creatures that bear the wings of butterflies, light and other forms of elementals; Pixies, which are much like Fairies, but wingless; then there are Gnomes, which are small individuals that are much like Dwarves but only grow to be some foot or so tall. As to the mines, they are a supposed source of power where the Will has manifested itself into a great golden river that runs beneath the surface of our world and even beyond it.”

“Is it real? And are the Fae real?”

“I cannot be sure whether or not the Mines of Myr exist. There are some that say that even the Ends of the Earth do not exist, for there has never been someone who has attempted to travel there to find whether or not they actually exist. The Fae, though… I am sure you as well as anyone has seen a Sprite, as they are common in times of war, especially when Necromancers bind souls to their will. In my entire life, though, I have only seen one Fairy.”

“What was it like?”

“This was a young Fairy who had not yet learned to take the form of a butterfly to escape detection from the Elven eye. She was nude—as they often are, for they are not conscious of nudity and therefor have no modesty—and she was lying on a leaf on a hot day after a long bout of rain. I only saw her for but a brief moment, but when she noticed me, she immediately took off into the bushes and I never saw her again.”

“You said the Fae can be killed by iron,” Odin said, clutching the armrests of his seats as Jarden leaned forward and braced his fingers together.

“Yes. I did.”

“My father, he… I believe he was, anyway, or so it was said… that he was shot by a piece of iron.”

“It is commonly thought that our weakness to iron is in part due to the fact that we may be a higher-evolved species of the Fae, one which wandered from its ancestral homelands to live in the sea due to what we believed to be an amphibious part of our natural design. We are, sadly, vulnerable to such things, which took your father’s life if what you are saying is true.”

“It is,” Odin sighed.

Though tears threatened to return, he managed to restrain himself and righted his head.

“You are lost within your grief,” the Elf said, reaching forward to set the tip
of a digit atop Odin’s hand. “It is very obvious, my friend.”

“I want to learn more,” Odin sighed. “About my father… about what he was.”

“Today is not the day. Go—return to your current home and rest. There will be further time for learning, but now is not the time to discuss what it is you want to know.”

“Is something wrong?” Virgin asked, opening the door to allow Odin passage into their room.

“Today was a lot worse than I expected it to be,” Odin sighed, seating himself atop the mattress.

“Did something happen?”

“I… I mean, we… ended up talking about the Fae, and how their vulnerability to iron might have killed my father.”

“Ah,” the older Halfling said. “The old iron legend.”

“You don
’t believe it?”

“Even if I did, I don
’t think it would have reason for it to affect me—well, us, if you want to get down to the true logistics of it.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because we’re Halflings, Odin. We’re different from the rest of the Elves.”

“Yeah, but that doesn
’t mean we don’t suffer the same weaknesses as them.”

Without a word of reply, Virgin seated himself directly beside Odin and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, careful to curl his fingers around his upper arm before pulling him
against his chest.

“I can tell you
’re upset about what happened today at the castle,” Virgin said, brushing his lips along the side of Odin’s cheekbone. “I’m here for you.”

“I know.”

“Why don’t we have dinner somewhere else tonight?”

“Like where?”

“There’s a few restaurants that make some amazing food, and a bakery that could easily bake some of the best breads I’ve ever eaten.”

“I
’m not sure if I want to go out,” Odin sighed, bowing his head.

“Why not?” Virgin asked. “I can tell you
’re not in a good mood, but tell you what—let me treat you.”

“Treat me?” Odin frowned. “Why? I have money.”

“I’m trying to do something nice here. Buying you dinner would be the least of my worries.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Virgin smiled, squeezing Odin’s bicep just enough to put a smile on his face. “So… say after the sun goes down, when the city starts dying down and getting ready to go to sleep for the night?”

“That works.”

“Good, because I’m ready to eat some damn good bread.”

They arranged to have dinner at the bakery up the road. Dressed in casual’s best, hair slicked back and Virgin freshly-shaven, they left the inn just as the sun was beginning to set and skirted alongside the path to keep from running into others who may be wandering the same road. Barely noticed, if even looked at, they kept their heads held high and stood nearly shoulder-to-shoulder, as if testament to the fact that groups in numbers held power in a world where individualism seemed all the more prevalent in the face of adversity. It would have been a sight to see, were there anyone to truly look upon them, but even so, they kept quiet until they made their way to the front of the bakery, where inside a few Elves dined and snacked alone or in small groups.

This is… different,
Odin thought, pressing a hand to the pane of glass to protect his eyes from the sun’s obscure vision of dust.

Never in his life had he seen a
building lit by the power of magic. Arranged in bars of light along the front counter, orbs of color in the corners of the room and hanging, vine-like constructs along the walls, the magic—pale orange in color, but bridging on the hue of blue in some instances—showered the business in light that could have been comparable to something of a somber mood and an even more depressing setting. As notorious as that notion seemed, and how unwelcome the place appeared, Virgin had personally requested that they come here, so he would not deter his companion in his pursuit for a good evening’s meal.

Stepping forward, Odin accepted Virgin
’s arm, then carefully made his way into the structure, eyes alight and mind intent.

“Hello,” a young stag who appeared to be the clerk said, stepping into the light that shined from the light strip along the bar. “How can I help you?”

“Could you bring us two drinks,” Virgin said. “Champagne, if you have it, and the bread platter, please.”

“Yes sir,” the stag said.

While the young Elf stag skirted off into the darkness, Virgin led Odin through the establish and nodded at a few choice Elves who looked up from their tables or booths, careful not to intrude upon personal conversation or business. He then chose, from a series of seating arrangements along the back wall, a rounded table that bore cushioned seats in the form of a U, likely intended for a party of more than two, but welcome in its space and attire.

“This is… different… than what I expected,” Odin said.

Despite having already seen the fixtures of light around him, he couldn’t help but awe over their structure and how they glowed without the presence of a mage or talisman. Even the static, which usually accompanied such high frequencies of Will, hardly bothered him. The faint hairs on his neck didn’t stand on end either, a feat that could have only be accomplished with great skill or very careful casting.

“Isn
’t it great?” Virgin asked. “I figured you’d like it here.”

“I
’ve never seen something like this before.”

“As you
’ve already noticed at Jarden’s, a lot of the Elven establishments have these sorts of arrangements.”

“Can I bother you with something?” Odin asked, pressing both hands on the table. “That is, if it isn
’t too personal?”

“Ask whatever you
’d like. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“Do you… uh… consider your life a good one?”

“Do you?” Virgin asked.

Do I?

It seemed anything but agony, this existence of his. Traveling leagues upon leagues of high and lowlands, across the expanse of haunted hills, through a gorge in the earth that led to the Elven forest only to be attacked and nearly killed by a creature of moral power—in retrospect, the past few months of his life could have been considered agony, hellish and, by all means, torture, and while he felt as though he bore no permanent damage from the Nagani’s attack, the emotional scars still reigned strong.

“I… don
’t really know what to say about that,” Odin sighed, plucking a piece of bread from the platter and sliding it into his mouth. “You know why I’m here.”

“Yes.”

“And you know what I’m about to do.”

“I know.”

“I guess you could say that life has been anything but enjoyable for me.”

“You
’ve gone through a lot, Odin. Your plans may be insane, but, well… whoever said men weren’t crazy, let alone Elves? We’ve got the best—and worst—of both worlds.”

With a slight nod and a shy eye toward a group of Elves who cast wary glances in their direction, Odin gestured Virgin to their food and began to eat. In doing so
, he found that he could barely converse with Virgin about anything other than their objective, despite the fact that there were a plethora of topics abound before them. They could have discussed the light fixtures, the way Elven business practices played out, the language of the Fair Ones or even his companion’s origin, birthplace and childhood, but none of that seemed to come into play in the grand scope of things. If anything, the conversation had grown stagnant, creating a sense of unease Odin could not shake away.

You can
’t do anything about it,
he thought, nodding when Virgin’s eyes softened and offered a glimmer of hurt.

Presently
, he could do nothing about their situation, so what reason was there to worry?

Odin slid the last of his bread into his mouth, then leaned back in his seat, taking extra care to tip the tall glass of champagne to
not spill it down his shirt.

“Something on your mind?” Virgin asked, voice soft yet confident.

“Not really,” Odin said, hoping to dismiss the idea rather than build upon it. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I do, Odin.”

“I know.”

“Let
’s talk about something else, if that’s all right with you.”

“That
’s fine,” Virgin smiled. “What’s on your mind?”

“I
’d like to know a little more about you… that is, what I don’t know already, anyway.”

“Like?”

“Where were you born?”

“An unmarked outpost in the western part of the forest,” Virgin said, splitting a piece of spiced bread in half and dipping it in a red sauce that had accompanied the platter.

“How long did you stay there with your family?”

“Until I was fourteen or fifteen.”

“When did you… you know…”

“Oh, that.” Virgin smiled and sipped at his champagne. “I found the Elf who was my master on the outskirts of Lesliana.”

“How?”

“Believe it or not, I ran into him on accident, when he and I were going after the same objective—this very dagger.”

At this, Virgin pulled the knife from its place across his breast and set it atop the counter, offering Odin the first distinct look he’d had of the weapon since it had been pressed against his throat. Embedded into the blade in a manner much like a bolt of lightning were a series of stones that varied in hue from green to a faint lime color, much like Virgin’s eyes. Emeralds were the most likely stones, though a stone in the very center of the arrangement—where the lightning bolt bridged together—was a stone that could not be anything but a ruby, one which seemed to burn orange in the light streaming around them.