Brotherhood Saga 03: Death (33 page)

Insanity, they said, was a condition derived from pressure weighed too harshly upon the mind.

Am I?
he thought.
Am I really?

It occurred to him in the brief moments after that thought that the dove could have been nothing more than an apparition—a trick of the mind granted only to console his ever-restless soul. It wasn
’t entirely out of the realm of possibilities, for he had seen such things before. The orb of light within Dwaydor, casting its reflection upon the street; the dog-like creature in the Hills, following him and howling like some distressed banshee; the dreams of Demigods and their warnings—these were the things, the issues and causes that had occurred after pressures nearly unbearable to the human conscience had dwelled within his mind, forcing him to either retaliate against opposing pressures or fight against oppressing needs. These things, as troublesome and depressing as they were, had given him flashes into his life, his present and, ultimately, his future, and had, without a shadow of a doubt, allowed him an instinctive advantage over what was to possibly come.

What does it mean though,
he thought,
to see a dove and not know what its purpose was?

Could the creature have been the very one meant to take his father
’s soul to the supposed other side, or was it just a friend wishing to help him along?

After pushing himself to his feet, Odin crossed the last few steps to the window and looked out at the city of Lesliana.

In the distance—far more than he could have ever possibly imagined—stood the very castle in which the queen dwelled, shaped like a barbed crown awaiting to be placed upon a holy man’s head.

When he would recover, he couldn
’t be sure. He did, however, know that when he did, he and Virgin would steal the Book of the Dead.

Life would not end for a person who had helped him so.

In moments of darkness, one could only look toward sources of light.

In his heart and mind, Odin knew that source dwelled within a very dark place.

Virgin returned moments after Odin tore himself from the window and settled back into bed. Balancing a platter of food upon on hand and turning to secure and
lock the doorwith the other, the Halfling spun with ease that seemed almost impossible to his tall and broad frame and settled the platter upon the end table, nodding as Odin pulled its silver lid off to examine the food within.

“Are you all right?” the older Halfling asked after Odin set the lid to the side.

“Sorry?” Odin asked.

“You seem a bit flustered.”

If only you knew,
he thought.
If only.

Odin
took from the platter a biscuit warm and soft and placed the tip of it into his mouth, sighing as the plain yet exquisite flavor rolled from its surface and onto his tongue. While he did this, careful not to burn himself on the deeper parts of the bread, he watched Virgin with careful eyes and regarded him with a sense of unease he couldn’t help but feel was inappropriate for the situation. He shouldn’t have been worried about the Halfling—should not have, for any reason, felt a need for caution—but for the next few moments he couldn’t help but watch Virgin’s careful yet subtle facial movements for fear that he would say or do something to further damage his psyche.

“Odin,” Virgin said, the word itself immediately clearing any tension that seemed to float in the air.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Something
’s wrong.”

“No. There isn
’t.”

“You can tell me anything you want,” the Halfling said, settling down on the bed next to him. “I think we
’ve established that, haven’t we?”

“I know.”

“Then why are you keeping so much away from me?”

Because,
he thought.

Did he really want to admit that he was, beyond all recognition, afraid of being close to this man, this Halfling, this
beautiful person
that seemed able to sense all trouble within his heart and dispel it with a simple word? It seemed impossible to know that feeling, improbable to even sense it within his heart, but for it to be so apparent seemed all the more troubling to his fractured heart and his even more unstable mind.

Odin stared into Virgin
’s eyes.

The Halfling did nothing in response.

Instead, as though on a whim of supernatural proportions, Virgin reached down, set his hand over Odin’s, then slid the first three fingers from his middle to pinky under his hands. “I care about you,” the older Halfling whispered, leaning forward to brush his face alongside Odin’s.

“I know,” he whispered back.

“Don’t be afraid of it.”

“I
’m not.”

“Yes you are.
If you weren’t afraid, you wouldn’t be looking at me the way you are.”

“I—“

“Don’t say anything, Odin.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s nothing you can say to take away the hurt in my heart in knowing that you’re suffering far more than you should be.”

Was
there, though? Was there
anything
he could say to not only console Virgin, but himself? To take away the pain would have been to erase a magnitude of emotion incomprehensible to any divided figures, nor would it have discouraged him from doing what it was that he wanted to do.

In the past month, he
’d lost more of not only his life, but his future than he could have imagined.

Leaning forward, pressing his brow against Virgin
’s shoulder, he closed his eyes and allowed his arms to fall around the Halfling’s torso.

It was moments like these that
made the world better.

These things—these special things—could not be easily taken away.

“All right,” high healer Oleana
said, easing her fingers along the curve of the bandaging to release the pin that held everything together. “Let us see how your wounds are healing.”

Though he knew nothing of this female Elf or what she had done for him, Virgin explained, in short and precise detail, that she had been the one on duty when he had carried him in from the forest. Bloodied and near death, it had been through her quick, rational
thinking and attention to detail that had ultimately saved him from an untimely death.

“How have you been treating yourself?” the Elf asked, raising her silver eyes to look at Odin.

“Better than I think I should have.”

“That
’s a good sign,” she agreed, instructing Virgin to help her unwind the bandage from Odin’s torso.

As his chest came into view, slowly but surely like some ugly thing being birthed from its mother
’s womb, Odin was almost unable to comprehend just what he was seeing. It appeared, in all respects, that the top layer of his skin had not only been removed, but sheared off in six-figure increments in the areas between his pectoral muscles and on the expanse of muscle below his abdomen. Red, blackened, some areas blue, others purple and some bearing the defeated consequence of whitened flesh that could only be favorable to pus and other extraneous body fluids—the viscera upon his torso appeared to have been painted by some exotic artist creating an abstract work of art. Such were his wounds that he could barely believe he had managed to survive, let alone retain the nipples so prominently displayed on his chest. He’d expected worst—complete tragedy in the form of absolute mayhem. The fact that he’d escaped such hardship was a feat that could have been comparable to some great hero rescuing a little boy from the clutches of a fabled dragon.

“How,” he asked, then stopped when the Elf pushed her hand onto his chest.

From her wrist and palm flowed magical fire teal and resembling something of a grand pool of water drowned in the most prestigious of flowers. As it ebbed over his skin, both sewing and restoring damaged areas that could not have recovered properly on their own, Odin felt what felt like thousands of small insects wandering over his body. These insects, as small and pure as they were, seemed to pluck from his torso flesh deadened and possibly scarred. This doe’s powers in healing magic were so beyond anything he could have ever imagined that when she finished and his chest was yet one step further through recovery, he turned his head up and offered a smile he felt could not be possible.

“How did you do that?” he asked.

“I could have sewn your flesh completely were I not afraid of infection,” the doe said, pushing her hand along Odin’s head and teasing the curls that ended at the tips of his hair.

“Is the Nagani poisonous?”

“Not in the way we view some flowers or insects, no, but its claws do hold a certain destructive magic that usually kills those who comes in contact with it. Your partner here was lucky you were so close to the walls, otherwise you might have died from lack of blood.”

“I did my best,” Virgin said.

“You did well,” the doe agreed, pushing herself to her full height of some six feet before turning to make her way from the door. “Yamda Virgin, before I go.”

“Yes?”

“You’d do best to keep your partner in bed. He’s much better off resting so soon after his injuries.”

“Don
’t worry,” Virgin smiled. “I will.”

The doe closed the door without so much as another word.

“Do you know how much longer I
’ll be in bed?” Odin asked as Virgin pulled his knife from its sheath and began to sharpen it with a whetstone.

“Can
’t say,” Virgin replied, raising his eyes to briefly regard him. “Sorry, Odin, but until the healer says you’re all right to get up and move, you should stay where you are.”

“I can
’t stay in bed. I’ll go crazy.”

“Read a book.”

“I can’t read Elvish.”

“I can teach you,” Virgin offered, flicking his wrist a few times to guide the stone along the curve of his exquisite dagger. “That is, if you want me to.”

“Honestly, I don’t know how much worth it’d be, considering we’re not going to be here all that long.”

“You don
’t know that.”

“I don
’t—“

“We could be here for mo
nths. Have you considered that?”

“We
’re just—“

“You know what we
’re here to do,” Virgin whispered, sheathing his blade in the pouch on his jerkin and stepping forward, bridging the distance between them in but a few short steps. “It may take months to even attempt to get an audience with the queen, let alone find what we’re looking for.”

“Shouldn
’t it be behind a gate somewhere?”

“Behind a gate?” Virgin laughed. “Odin, we
’re talking about stealing what is perhaps the most notorious book of magic that was ever written. It isn’t going to be somewhere in plain view.”

“All right,” he said, biting his lower lip and staring Virgin straight in the eyes. He only just realized his companion
’s face had drawn closer when he felt his breath passing over his face. “Say this takes longer than a month.”

“All right.”

“And say we have to ‘adapt’ to this place.”

“I
’m listening.”

“How are we going to find out where the book is?”

“There’s a few things we could do,” Virgin said, reaching down to set a hand on Odin’s thigh. “We can say you’re a Halfling looking to get in touch with your more Elven side and request that you be taken on as an apprentice by one of the high mages here.”

“That isn
’t going to work.”

“Who
’s to say it won’t? I reckon, just based on what you’ve told me, that you’ll want to speak to the queen about your father’s death, especially considering the fact that he specifically came to ask for her help. That can get you an easy audience right there.”

“Which means we have a way into the castle,” Odin said.

“Which also means we’ll possibly have free roam of it so long as we don’t act too suspicious,” Virgin added, nodding when a smile spread across Odin’s face. “See? We’re working this out.”

“You said it might take us a couple of months to get an audience with the queen.”

“Yes.”

“Which means we
’ll probably be here until after winter starts in Ornala.”

“That
’s right.”

“Which means we
’ll have time to spare if I do end up becoming an Elf’s apprentice.”

“Which means,” Virgin said, “that you can ask about the Book of the Dead after you
’ve been in stealth mode for a little while.”

“I never thought this would be so complicated when I set out to do this,” Odin sighed, bowing his head and allowing his hair to fall over his eyes.

“Did you think this would just be grab and go?”