Brotherhood Saga 03: Death (63 page)

Would the Elves have stuck around this long to have waited for them—and could, he wondere
d, they hear the words he spoke? He imagined they could, given their innate ability to hear things that most beings couldn’t, but if they were to have already heard them, wouldn’t they have already come to claim what was theirs?

Of course they would.

No longer content with the reality that they were still being watched, Odin pressed the book to the ground, rolled over as carefully as he could, then wedged his head into the bush until he could see into the Great Divide.

No. There couldn
’t be. It couldn’t be true.

What in the world?

As far as he could tell, he could see no one anywhere within the gorge that separated the Whooping Hills and the Abroen Forest.

“Virgin,” Odin said. “Virgin. Virgin!”

“What?” Virgin whispered.

“There
’s no one out there.”

“Even so, we should probably stay here until nightfall.”

“We should get away while we can!”

“You need to be quiet, Odin.”

“But there’s no one—“

“They could be waiting behind the tree line. Did you think about that?”

No.

Unable to directly respond, Odin sighed, closed his eyes, then spread his arm out along the ground before setting his head atop it.

“We’ve been going for a long time,” Virgin whispered, stroking Odin’s opposite arm before cracking his eyes open to slits. “Why don’t we just lay here for a while, Odin? We’ll get some well-deserved rest, won’t we?”

“I guess,” he whispered.

Closing his eyes, Odin extended his body along the line of bushes before forcing himself to no longer worry about whether or not the Elves were watching them from afar.

Things would be fine. He just had to believe in that.

He woke to the sound of crackling flames and the triumphant barking of dogs.

Heart in strings, nerves shot and mind ready to crack, Odin opened his eyes to find Virgin’s attention set on the bushes directly behind him, eyes alight with fear that could not have been described even if Odin had the urge to try.

Are they,
Odin mouthed.

Virgin shook his head before he could continue any further.

You know they’re there,
his conscience whispered, tracing the back of his skull like a mother would a poor, insolent child.
Just listen.

Were one to clear their mind and channel their ears, they would have heard the sound of Elves talking—of rushed whispers and even higher laughs. Even the dogs made their own noises when occasionally a bird would flutter somewhere in the woods around them, barking and, in some cases, yipping when their masters likel
y smacked them for such obvious behavior. Odin couldn’t help but wonder what kind of canines the Elves would bring along with them for a hunting mission, but regardless, it appeared they’d just been found, or at least as close to found as they could possibly be.

Virgin
’s moving lips tore him from thought.

What?
he mouthed.

We need to leave,
the Halfling’s lips whispered, their words almost audible in the midst of the crackling fire and one whining dog.

How?

Shaking his head, the older Halfling reached forward, secured the book in his grasp, then reached down by his ankles, where he pulled the pack from his feet and pushed the massive tome inside it.

Unsure what to do and even more afraid at the possibility of being caught, Odin waited for his friend to say or do anything further.

From his place in an almost-upright position, he could faintly see the fire reflecting off Virgin’s eyes.

We
’re going to get caught,
he thought, trembling, trying his hardest to maintain control of himself for fear that he would cause the bushes to shake and draw the dogs’ attention.
Oh God, oh God, we’re never going to make it.

This was it. This was finally it. After all this time, after all these measures and after all the undeniable, painstaking torture from which he
’d shed blood, sweat and even tears, they would finally be taken into custody and judged before one of the highest courts in all the land.

At his side, Virgin pulled the drawstrings into place, then prepared to stand.

Odin reached out.
What’re you doing?

Get up,
the Halfling mouthed back.

What the hell do you think I—

A rogue’s cloak is his best defense.

Odin blinked.
What?

Instead of responding, Virgin slung the pack over one arm and drew the cloak around him in one quick flourish.

Before Odin’s eyes, Virgin vanished. Nothing could be seen except the woods and bushes where he had once been standing.

What… the fuck.

Virgin had said he couldn’t use magic, hadn’t he?

Unless this isn
’t magic,
he thought, rising carefully to his feet.

His foot landed on a lose twig.

It snapped.

The noise sounded something akin to a hammer striking an iron anvil.

In the distance, one of the dogs raised its head and began to bark.

Just as Odin turned to view the progress that lay no more than a few hundred feet before them, a hand fell upon his shoulder.

He gasped and would have screamed had the second hand not clamped over his mouth.

“You really need to learn to keep your wits about you,” Virgin whispered.

“How did you—“

“A rogue
’s cloak is his best friend.”

“But you… I…”

“Now’s not the time to worry about it. Come on. There’s enough room for both of us.”

“”How?” Odin asked, stepping to the side as Virgin gestured him forward before slinging his cloak over their bodies.

“Call it a parlor trick.”

“A
what?”

Virgin shook his head and tapped Odin
’s shoulder with his free hand, signaling him forward.

This isn
’t going to work,
Odin thought, panicking, his breath beginning to rise and fall in fevered pitches as they advanced out of the thicket of trees and onto open ground.
They’re going to find us and there’s nothing at all we could do about it.

Were they not to hear the sound of their feet falling, then the dogs would smell them—carefully, knowingly and articulately before leading their Elven masters across the grounds directly to where they were standing. It need not matter whether or not they were beneath the guise of what could have been pegged as something of an invisibility cl
oak—any true mage would know such trickery upon first glance. At that very moment, though, Odin couldn’t help but wonder
if
they would even manage to get the look he so desperately was afraid of.

Slow, deep breaths.

In, out, in, out—over and over again until what felt like a rhythm developed beneath their guise. He led them around the scope of the pool of water and to the west, where, he couldn’t help but imagine, the town of Drianna lay at the end of a long, wayward expanse of land where even the bravest men were said to cower in fear beneath the Dark Mountains.

B
ehind him, Virgin maintained an amount of restraint Odin couldn’t help but envy, as it seemed with each step they only grew closer to the very things they were so desperate to avoid. It was any wonder he hadn’t panicked yet, given his lack of sleep and the ideology behind what could happen were he to trip and fall, but somehow he managed to restrain himself and led them forward. Even his breathing had slowed to a fairly-reasonable pace, that of which could barely be heard under the distant sound of the fire and the cackling birds.

Please don
’t give us away, please don’t give us away, please don’t give us away, please…

Virgin pressed a hand to his back before extending a finger toward the land that lay distantly in front of them.

What is he pointing out?

So far as Odin
could tell, he could see nothing, save the darkness that extended beyond the radius of the moon, which lay masked behind several clouds that likely foretold of even more rain that would not only dampen their spirits, but hinder their progress. But, then again, if it rained, the dogs wouldn’t be able to smell them, right?

Can Elves smell things through the rain?

Though he couldn’t be sure, he didn’t necessarily want to find out.

“You
’re doing good,” Virgin whispered, clasping a hand around Odin’s right shoulder. “Just keep going at the speed you are and we should be out of here in no time.”

In the near distance, a dog barked.

Odin grimaced. He attempted to pause, if only to discourage anything from looking in their general direction, but Virgin tapped his shoulder and urged him forward.

“What was that?” a distant voice asked.

“I do not know,” another replied. “Probably nothing.”

Ok,
Odin thought.

Not only had his heart begu
n to pound within his chest, but his breathing faltered and his eyes began to cross.

Virgin tapped his shoulder.

Odin nodded.

He continued to push forward regardless of the endless oppression at hand.

When he thought he heard someone drop something in their campsite, he offered only a grimace.

Nearby
, what appeared to be a dirt road started from a seemingly-unbeknownst location and stretched into the great beyond.

“Don
’t step on the road,” Virgin whispered.

“I won
’t,” Odin replied.

A dog barked.

“There is something out there,” one of the Elves said. “We should send one of the dogs to investigate.”

“The dogs have been upset the entire night,” another replied. “It is probably nothing more than another fox.”

“Still, should we not—“

Before the Elf could reply, a chorus of laughter started up and continued on for several long moments before it eventually died down.

Odin closed his eyes.

You can do this,
he thought.
You know you can.

The night did not bode well.

They continued
along the side of the road under the guise of Virgin’s cloak for what seemed like hours. An endless pursuit forward, toward a town they may not even reach come time when dawn peeked over the Hornblaris Mountains, Odin remained silent and tried not to allow his lesser inhibitions to crowd his feelings on the matter, but he couldn’t help but shiver in the chill echoing off the Whooping Hills like a great bird calling out to its mother on a long, lonely night.

You see?
he thought.
Everything’s just fine.

They hadn
’t gotten caught, they hadn’t been followed, and so far as he could tell, the Elves hadn’t a clue that they had been anywhere near there, so who could say that their quest had been hindered?

“Are you cold?” Virgin whispered.

“A little,” Odin whispered back.

“I want us to keep going like this a little while longer, just until we don
’t have to worry about the Elves catching up with us.”

“Did they know we were there?”

“I think they might have had an idea, yes.”

“Why didn
’t they try and capture us then?”

“We
’re criminals who stole one of the most damned texts in all the Elven language. Would
you
want to come wandering after us if you had no idea what we were capable of?”

“I guess not,” Odin sighed.

When Virgin offered nothing in response, Odin tilted his head up and tried to seek out the moon.

It shone like a piece of whi
te bone. Normally, were they not shrouded under a cloak that hid them, their skin might have glowed, given the night and the fact that what Odin had thought were storm clouds had since disappeared. That alone was enough to make him uneasy with the fact that, were the Elves to have followed their natural intuition, and were they to have come free of the cloak they were under, they might have been captured in but a moment.

Could Elves, he wondered, see through the darkness, and if so, was that not why they hadn
’t sent the dogs after them when they’d begun their incessant barking at seemingly nothing?

Does it matter?

Knowing in the end that it really didn’t, Odin pushed his shoulders back, reached up to rub the bridge of his nose, then bowed his head to try and contain the flowering spot of pain blossoming between his eyes.

“Are you all right?” Virgin asked.