Brotherhood Saga 03: Death (58 page)

It would take some work hauling it, especially in his condition.

“You must leave,” Bremere said, pressing both hands to Odin’s shoulders.
“Immediately.”

“I
’m going,” Odin said, crouching down to clip both of his swords at his sides. “Come on, Virgin. Let’s go.”

“All right,” Virgin replied, taking the knapsack when Odin offered it before reaching out to grasp Bremere
’s hand. “Thank you, brother. Remember the code.”

“Remember the code,” the copper-haired Elf agreed. “Go, now. They will not stop you at the front gates, at least not until they realize something is wrong.”

With that in mind, Odin jumped off the porch alongside Virgin and took extra care to reach out and maintain his grip on his companion’s shoulder as they made their way toward the gate in the near distance.

“How long will it take us?” Odin asked.

“Not too long,” Virgin said.

The torches burning in the street cast wicked shapes across the walls and shadows danced within the faint spaces beneath their feet. With each step, it seemed, they f
ollowed, grasping for their heels and the tails of their pants, and each moment a throb of pain sounded in Odin’s head, discouraging his conscience and rattling him to the point where he could almost not walk at all. His nose had stopped bleeding sometime after he’d passed out, but despite that, it still felt raw, as if it’d been healed but not properly, raked by knives to kill the insects within.

Could what he had done have
injured him so much?

It doesn
’t matter.

Dwelling on his pain would only m
ake it worse, especially since it seemed to ready and willing to pounce on him.

Reaching up, he pressed his hand
to his brow, took several unsure breaths, then raised his eyes when they came within a few feet of the front entrance.

Above, the twin golden orbs
that rested atop the watch towers twinkled in the light of the full moon.

How ironic,
he thought,
that we do this on a full moon.

“Who goes there
?” one of the guards within the sphere called down.

“We are travelers looking to leave the city of Lesliana,” Virgin said, raising his hand and waving it before the two of them.

“Why do you wish to leave so late at night?”

“We wish to start before the sun rises and the heat becomes too oppressing!”

“We will open the gates for you, but once you are out, we will not let you in come morning.”

“Thank you!” Virgin called back. “Beloved thanks to you, kind sir.”

Below them, the teeth of the iron gate snapped free from the ground and lifted into the stone wall.

“This was too easy,” Odin whispered, ducking his head as the second gate opened and allowed them into the wild. “This was
way
too easy, Virgin.”

“What
’re you talking about? We almost didn’t even make it out of the city.”

“Jarden—“

“Could already be awake as we speak, which is why we need to hurry and get out of here as fast as we can.”

“By the time z
e’s conscious and realized what has happened, we’ll be long gone, Virgin.”

“We shouldn
’t stumble when we’re so close to the city. The guards could come out at any moment.”

“But—“

“Nothing, Odin.”

Virgin pushed him forward a few steps and into the darkness beneath the canopy.

“At least let me light our way,” he said, pausing midstride in order to reach into the Will.

Almost immediately, a dull pain sounded at the front of his face.

Ouch.

“What
’s wrong?” Virgin asked. “Odin?”

“Nothing
’s wrong,” he said, willing the sphere of light to trail a few feet in front of them.

“Yes there is. You
’re still hurt, aren’t you?”

“I
’m not hurt.”

“If not hurt, then incredibly weak.”

“I—“

“I was afraid you weren
’t going to wake up when I first arrived at Bremere’s,” Virgin said, pressing a hand to Odin’s back and continuing to guide him forward. “For one brief moment, I thought, ‘Dear God, Odin’s dead and he’s just left me with the biggest capital offense in Lesliana’s history.’ Your nose wouldn’t stop bleeding, so I begged Bremere to heal it as best as he could.”

“He didn
’t do that great a job,” Odin laughed.

“Still—it brought me piece of mind, especially since it would
’ve been your blood on my shoulders.”

My blood is on your shoulders, Virgin.

Instead of saying anything in relation to his thought, he reached back, took Virgin’s hand, then spun to face his fellow Halfling.

When their eyes crossed and Odin
’s attention fell to the pack on Virgin’s shoulder, he couldn’t help but feel a throb of regret for what he’d done.

Jarden
’s hurt,
he thought.
All because of us.

At the very least, they had only incapacitated the Neven D
’Carda, not done any real, physical harm to him.

“Are you all right?” Virgin asked
, narrowing his eyes to regard Odin in the light streaming off of the small white sphere directly before them.

“I
’ll be all right,” he said, gesturing his companion forward so he could guide them along. “Guide us.”

“I will. And am.”

“I don’t want to be anywhere near here when the Elves find out we’ve just stolen their most carefully-guarded artifact.”

“So much for seeing the queen,” Virgin said, “huh?”

Odin couldn’t help but laugh.

Right now, the queen was the least of his worries.

What he did worry about, however, was the pace in which he could continue throughout the forest.

It became increasingly obvious as the sun peeked over the horizon and its rays pierced through the pine needles that, in his current state, it seemed almost impossible to move. The past several hours’ worth of travel from moonset to sunrise had been done out of whim—autonomous, he could say, for the fact that they needed to move—and though he felt capable of doing what they had to in order to outrun the Elven guards who were likely to pursue them, he was half tempted to ask Virgin to carry him.

You can do this,
he thought, forcing himself to blaze through the fog that clouded his mind and continue on in their endeavor.
You know you can.

Were he to have accurately described what he felt, he could have related it to something like a grand chef taking a melon in his hand and drilling a hole in its head—first, slowly, removing the juices, pouring them into a glass and drinking them, then using a wicked instrument in order to excise the insides of it. His eyes seemed to have been thrust into the sand, his nose felt as though it
’d just been rubbed raw by glasspaper, and his mouth begged to be watered, as if he had never been bestowed with the holy elixir that was the grand scheme in life.

“Virgin,” he gasped, reaching forward to claw at his companion
’s shirt. “Stop.”

“We have to keep going, Odin.”

“Carry me.”

“I can
’t.”

“Why?”

“Because that would only slow us down even more,” the older Halfling said, cocking his head to the left, then right before throwing a glance over his shoulder and back at him. “You’re sick as a dog, aren’t you?”

“I don
’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I thought you said—“

“I
thought
it was mental exhaustion,” he gasped, leaning over as he began to dry retch. “This, though… this is different.”

“You
’re not going to die, are you?”

“No.”

But it sure feels like I am.

After taking the first moment he
’d had throughout the entire day to regain his bearings, he pushed himself into as straight a posture as he could and reached up to pinch the end of his nostrils. Blood, dry and crusted, flaked onto his fingertips, while the side of his hand appeared to be covered in the stuff, likely left over from their initial flight from the castle.

Virgin unclasped the canteen at his side and offered it. Odin accepted it without a word of response.

“We need to keep going for as long as we possibly can,” Virgin said, retrieving the canteen from Odin when he took one drink too many. “The Elves won’t stop just because we will.”

“We
’re not as strong as they are.”

“No, but we have the upper hand. We left before they did.”

“When do you think—“

“They left?” Virgin asked, gesturing Odin along. “
No later than dawn. They wouldn’t have sent Elves into the forest in the dark.”

“But we—“

“Used magic to guide our way. They probably thought of the same thing, but who wants to chase two insane criminals in pitch-black darkness? Would you?”

“No.”

“That’s exactly my point. Like I said, we need to keep going for as long as we can. We can’t let anything stop us.”

“My head feels ready to explode.”

“If it comes down to it, we’ll stop, but only for a few hours. It’s highly unlikely that the Elves will continue following us throughout the night, but we don’t want to give them any leeway in their pursuit.”

“I know.”

“Try to keep going for as long as you can, Odin.
Please.
I don’t want to get caught. Hell. I don’t want
you
to get caught, especially with this damn book in our possession.”

We have it,
Odin thought, eyes focusing on the protrusion in the bag where the book now rested.

Finally, after all this time—after so many long hard hours, days, weeks, months of slaving away, acting as though he was interested when in truth he oftentimes was not and conversing with a creature who could not have even
had the best interests in mind—they’d finally come into possession of the Book of the Dead, the one thing that had driven his entire existence for the past half year of his life.

Stepping forward, Odin craned his head up as far as he could and fell into place beside Virgin, not wanting to waste yet another moment when he knew the Elves were currently in pursuit of them. However, as much as he tried to gauge the situation at hand and what he could do to keep himself from falling out of focus, he wondered what came next now that they had the text. He knew knowledge was a beneficial factor, as he would not know how to orchestrate the spells without it, but what exactly were the key steps to bring someone back to life, much less someone whose body now lay scattered upon the winds? Did one use a blood and hair ceremony like the Neven D
’Carda had described, or was there something else to it, something that came with more measure than he could have ever possibly imagined?

I have his blood,
he thought.
And his hair.

At the thought, he reached up and fingered the pale strand of purple hair that fell along the side of his face.
It would have appeared that he were thinking on the keepsake of the bond which had been performed on his head, for the strand of purple that fell from his skull was not like his natural hair, which curled at the tips and held but the slightest wave to its edges. Perfection could have easily described the piece that hung from his head, for it had not any human. To think that such a thing still remained with him was almost impossible, but in feeling it between his fingers, he felt his father was right there in front of him, guiding him toward the safest place possible.

Bowing his head, Odin closed his eyes.

For the first time since taking the Book of the Dead, he cried.

It wouldn
’t be much longer.

All they had to do was run.

The afternoon eclipsed the sky like a great han
d passing over the sun to shadow the world. Clouds, thick and brutal, edged from the north and, likely, the sea to bring forth a dust of rain that would offer solace from the painstaking heat. The notion that something might possibly be watching for them kept Odin onward despite the fact that it felt as if a hand were in his skull to wreak havoc on his insides.
I’m here,
it seemed to say, pawing at his face and threatening to thrust its fingers through his eyes.
I’m waiting for you, Odin.

Odin
broke free from his reverie by opening his eyes to look at the world below them.

The path less travelled continued on
, weaving around trees, through untamed bushes, beneath lingering vines and formations of colorful flowers.

“How are you holding up?” Virgin asked.