Brotherhood Saga 03: Death (57 page)

“You said you could break the barrier,” Virgin said, taking a step forward before waving his hand over the sphere. “You can, right?”

“I can.”

“Then do it.”

Odin closed his eyes.

Envisioned directly before his conscious membrane, the very sphere that guarded the Book glowed strong and with a presence that seemed all too real for him to mistake as anything more than magic.

Is it,
he thought.

Something shifted in the room.

Virgin raised his eyes to examine Odin from behind the book.

“What is it?” Odin asked.

“I was looking for talismans.”

“Talismans?”

“You said you could break the seal.”

“I
’m trying! Get out of my way!”

Virgin slinked away from the Book before Odin closed his eyes.

This time, as he felt the waves of energy ebbing toward him like a breath from a dying man’s lips, Odin concentrated on what appeared to be the core of the sphere—the very, direct center, which lay within the podium’s surface and could only be connected by a binding spell to keep it rooted in place.

Tightening his hands into fists, Odin ground his teeth together and sent a shock of energy into the podium
’s tower.

The first crack
ling noise snapped through the room like a whip.

“What
’re you,” Virgin started.

The second, then third attempt dismantled the podium and sent it crumbling to the floor beneath them.

The Book, suspended by the floating sphere, lay no more than just a few feet away.

Odin closed his eyes.

Odin,
a voice said.

He shook his head as the pale, ghostly voice from the past rolled through one ear and exited out the other.

Now, of all times, he couldn’t afford to allow morals to fall into play.

Opening his eyes, Odin encircled the orb of light within his own and attempted to break hold on the magic by pressure alone.

A stab of pain slammed into his chest.

He held still despite the radiating discomfort.

The spider web of doubt circled over the surface of his mind.

Odin.

“No.”

A hand pressed upon his shoulder.

He didn’t break his concentration.

The pressure in his head continued to build until what felt like a vice grip of pain began to surround his skull.

His ears popped.

Blood ran from one nostril.

His teeth sunk into his lips.

His body began to shake.

As the pressure on his body mounted in scope as he continued his attempt to dismantle the orb, he began to wonder whether or not he would manage to break the magicked sphere before the Neven D’Carda woke up. At this rate, it was highly unlikely, considering that his body was an instrument of pain and a scream threatened to break free from his throat, but regardless he continued to press on as blood dripped down his nose and slicked onto his lips, eventually coalescing into a rampant flood that spilled down his face like great floodwaters brought by the greatest of storms.

“Odin.”

Odin.

“I
’m… fine,” he gasped, grimacing as the top center of the sphere began to crack, opening like a flower rising to a new and warm day. “Grab it.”

“What?”

“The book,” he grimaced. “The goddamn—“

What felt lik
e a blunt object struck his temple.

Sweat poured down his face.

In his mind’s eye, directly beneath everything that he was a part of and where he envisioned it looking on from the top of his head, he saw the sphere shatter into a thousand sunbeams of dust.

He collapsed to his knees.

His brow struck the floor.

He grimaced, then groaned.

A pair of hands lifted him to his feet and shoved an object into his hand.

“We got it,” Virgin said, pressing a hand to the side of Odin
’s face.

Odin opened his eyes.

Though he could hardly see his companion through the blur over his vision, he offered one slight smile before he fell into Virgin’s arms.

“I can
’t stand,” he whispered.

“You have to,” Virgin replied, shaking his shoulders before pushing Odin to his feet. “I can
’t carry you.”

“You… have… to…”

“I can’t.”

“It
’s mental exhaustion,” he gasped, swaying, pin-wheeling one arm and holding the book tight to his chest with the other. “I… don’t… can’t… I…”

He collapsed into Virgin
’s arms once more.

“All right,” Virgin said. “Hold on.”

He bent down, locked an arm around Odin’s waist, then slung him over his shoulder before making his mad dash out of the room.

Odin
’s eyes faltered.

His gaze fell to the book lying directly between his chest and Virgin
’s shoulders.

You got it,
he thought, smiling, the haze of exhaustion only continuing to worsen as he tightened his hold around the thing he’d been so desperate to get.
You finally got it, Odin.

“I
’m setting you down,” Virgin said, pressing Odin into the couch before taking the quilt that lay across it and wrapping it around him.

“What
’re you doing?” Odin asked.

“You
’re sick.
Really
sick.”

“All right.”

“That’s what I’m going to tell the guards.”

When Odin was fully inside the blanket, Virgin lifted him into his arms and pressed him against his chest.

Odin held onto the book for dear life.

His gaze fell to the dining room, where the Neven D
’Carda still lay unconscious across the table.

When they slid out into the corridor, Odin closed his eyes.

The first door closed behind them.

Virgin began to make way down the hallway.

A force so unimaginable Odin thought it would crack his head in half weighed upon his skull.

No.

“No.”

“Just hang on for a little while longer,” Virgin said, tigh
tening his hold around Odin as he first rotated, then shifted him so they would be chest-to-chest. “It won’t be much longer now.”

“Virgin.”

“What?”

“I
’m passing out.”

“You have to say you
’re sick,” Virgin said. “Stay with me, Odin. Come on.”

“All… right…”

The second door opened.

Two guards standing sentry outside the door turned just as Virgin stepped out and into the hallway.

“What’s going on?” one of them asked.

“My partner is sick,” Virgin said, once more shifting Odin in his arms. “Master Jarden instructed me to take him home.”

“Where might Jarden be?” the other asked.

“Does it matter?
My partner’s sick.
I was told to take him back to the inn.”

“Are you—“

“Damn you, sir! Just listen to me, all right!”

This isn
’t going to work,
Odin thought, eyes faltering, head swimming.
This isn’t—

“All right,” the guard said. “What
’s the blanket for?”

“To keep him warm. He says he
’s cold.”

“Follow us,” the guards said.

Virgin carried him through the castle without so much as a grunt or sigh, a word of disapproval or even a mutter of apprehension. It seemed they had the whole world against them—swords, tongues and all—yet somehow, despite the odds, Virgin was able to keep his silence
and
his hold on Odin as though it were nothing. How he did this Odin couldn’t be sure, as he knew he weighed much more than he imagined he did, but he couldn’t dispel the thoughts of fighting the sleep and nausea off anymore. Blood continued to pour from his nose and down his face, dampening both the quilt and Virgin’s shirt. The guard to their right, who looked up briefly to examine his face, offered a slight frown before he turned his attention before them.

“How much… longer?” Odin asked.

“We’re almost there,” Virgin said. “Just stay with me a little while longer. We’ll be out of the castle and back down the road before you know it.”

The world began to darken.

“Virgin,” Odin whispered. “I can’t…”

His head fell directly against Virgin
’s chest.

Though his vision darkened, his conscience did not fade.

“I didn’t realize he was so sick,” one of the guards said.

“Neither did I,” Virgin said, the tone in his voice
all the more stricken with grief.

What
’s happening?
Odin thought.

His hold on his body no longer seemed exist
ent. Fireflies danced over his vision, stars clouded his mind, a thunderstorm brewed within his nasal cavity as yet more blood continued to snake out of his nose. Regardless of the fact that he no longer seemed to be awake, much less conscious, he could still feel all the pressure and pain associated with magical overexertion, as well as hear everything going on around them.

At that moment, he could have died and been the happiest man alive.

He couldn’t take this pain, not in the least.

“Here we are,” the guard said.

Cool air brushed across his skin.

“Do we need to send for a healer?” one of the Elves asked.

“No,” Virgin said. “You don’t.”

A phantasm of light exploded over Odin
’s vision.

He groaned.

What felt like water began to trickle down his head.

“Is it,” he whispered, almost so low he could hardly hear himself.

“Is it… what, Odin?”

“Raining.”

“No. It’s not.”

“It hurts.”

“I know it does. We’re heading to my friend’s house now.”

“How soon?”

“Soon.”

“I can
’t… stay awake any longer.”

“Don
’t worry. Just… sleep, Odin. You did what you had to do.”

Odin
’s world faded to black.

His hold on reality slipped.

The last thing he could hear was the sound of gravel crunching under Virgin’s feet.

“What has happened to him?” a man’s voice said.

“I don
’t know,” Virgin replied. “Odin, Odin… wake up.”

Odin opened his eyes to find the world blanketed by the light of obscene lanterns that held what could unarguably be real fire. Head heavy, eyes struggling to remain open, he trailed his attention first to Virgin, who hovered over him as though desperate for some late autumn
’s night kiss, then to the Elf who stood opposite his companion. Painted in the light from the dangling lanterns, Odin could only faintly make out his face—which appeared far more beautiful than handsome—and his copper-colored hair, which seemed to glow orange despite it being pitch-black outside.

“Where are we?” he managed to ask.

“On the outskirts of Lesliana,” the stag replied.

Virgin reached down to take Odin
’s hand when he pushed it up. “Are you all right?”

“I
’m fine,” he said, regretting the fact soon after. A dagger of pain sliced its way through his right eyeball and exploded into a series of lights directly before his vision. “Never mind. I’m not.”

“If what Virgin says is true, you must leave immediately,” the stag said, reaching down to pull Odin to his feet.

“Give him some time, Bremere,” Virgin said.

“You do not have time, my friend. The Neven D
’Carda will only slumber for so long. Then it will know what you have done.”

“We need to leave,” Odin nodded, looking first at the ground, then at Virgin and the Elf named Bremere.
“I’ll be fine. I just need to get going, that’s all.”

“He
’s in no condition to flee, Bremere.”

“That I am aware of, but you need to leave now, before they begin their inspection.”

“Who?” Odin asked. “Until who gives their inspection?”

“The guards.”

Unsure what to think, Odin looked down at his feet, then traced his eyes around the wooden porch until he found his swords and pack lying at his feet. A bulge, which he imagined was where the book lay, protruded from the leather that made up the slight knapsack.

Such a bulky thing,
he thought.