Brotherhood Saga 03: Death (30 page)

“Neither do I,” Katarina replied, crouching down beside the Dwarf and testing the weight of the mace in her hand. “Though if you think about it, there
’d be no use in bashing his balls in.”

“Why?” Carmen frowned.

“Because he’d still have his dick.”

Nova could hardly contain the burst of laughter that sounded from his throat
, which immediately drew two intense, if somewhat-dirty looks.

Keep yourself together,
he thought, smiling, then nodding as Katarina clasped a hand around Carmen’s shoulder and pushed herself to her feet.

Their anger was not without purpose, not summoned without need or initiated without being compelled. To them, their entire livelihoods had been insulted all because what they wanted to do—because they, in their minds, considered themselves strong, much stronger than other women who might simply refuse or be afraid to learn how to defend themselves when there seemed to be other men a
bout.

“That
’s not true,” he whispered, shaking his head as Katarina stormed across the room to stand at the broad expanse of windows on the northern wall.

Women were not naturally weak creatures. They needed no rescuing, no pampering, no protection or anything that could limit them to the space of four walls and sometimes three. That in itself was a philosophy that had been bestowed upon them by men who believed they had not the strength to wield a sword, to don a shield or to ride a horse like a man when, in reality, they could do all those things, and more, if only they set their minds to it
and were allowed to do said things without restrain or oppression.

Stepping forward, then behind his wife, Nova wrapped his arms around Katarina
’s waist and set his chin on the top of her head, which seemed to fall purposely there when he secured himself behind her.

“Hon,” he whispered.

“What is it?” she asked.

“If we have to do it in here,” he said, tightening his hold around her body, “then I
’ll teach you how to use a sword, whether the guards like it or not.”

“And I
’ll help!” Carmen said. “A woman has to know how to defend herself, especially in this day and age.”

“I would appreciate that,” Katarina said, reaching down to set her hand over Nova
’s, “more than anything else in the world.”

Early the next morning, after rising before the crack of dawn and borrowing two of the sparring swords from the training grounds, Nova and Ketrak pushed all the unnecessary furniture to the sides of the room to create a feasible sparring ring. The light from the midmorning sun piercing through the broad windows and reflecting off every object within the room created an atmosphere which Nova couldn’t help but feel as compelling, which served perfectly for what he and his wife were about to do in the close, unguarded quarters they had lived in during the past few weeks.

Standing in the center of the room with their practice swords drawn, poised and at the ready, Nova and Katarina began to edge toward one another, eyes intent yet completely focused on the situation. At their sides, Carmen and Ketrak watched with intense fascination, leaning forward, whispering to one another, even pointing and commenting on certain things that eventually led Nova
’s gaze to falter from his wife.

Get a hold of yourself,
he thought, snapping his eyes to the armed woman currently making her way toward him.
Look at what happened last time.

Who could forget that Katarina had clocked him upside the head, knocking him to the ground almost instantly?

Using that pain to not only compel him, but to allow the realization that his wife, though untrained, could be a very dangerous enemy, Nova thrust his foot forward, then threw a jab in Katarina’s direction, which she quickly dodged and returned with a swipe of their own.

“Get
‘im Katarina!” Carmen cried.

Ketrak whooped in response.

“No love for me?” Nova asked, ducking as his wife threw another shot in his direction. “Come on! That’s no fair.”

“Those be fighting words,” the Dwarf replied. “Come on, Katarina! Fight dirty.”

Dirty?

His wife thrust her foot forward directly toward his ankle.

Nova jumped.

He lost his balance.

Sailing toward the floor more quickly than he could have imagined, he collided with the floor with enough force to drive his breath from his lungs. Regardless of his most obvious distress, however, Katarina came forward, bearing her sword down with both hands on its hilt and directly toward his chest.

He rolled.

The sword collided with the ground.

He picked his practice blade up just in time to deflect a second sweeping blow.

“Cuh-Come uh-on,” he managed, raising his sword just in time to meet Katarina’s. “I cah-can’t… buh…
breathe.”

“You snooze you lose,” Carmen said.

Katarina laughed and threw herself back, just enough to where Nova could recover his breath.

She
’s better than I thought she was.

He
’d never known his wife to be a woman quick on her feet. Sure—she’d demonstrated that she could run at a fairly decent pace, given the long walks and escapades they’d taken around Bohren during their youth, but not once had he imagined her capable of using a sword, or using it well for that matter. Seeing this brutal, honest integrity and strength was enough to make his heart swell with pride, for Katarina merely wasn’t that lonely mayor’s daughter from the town of Bohren, but someone capable of being a true warrior and a fierce opponent.

“Ready?” Katarina asked.

“Ready,” Nova said.

They threw themselves at one another and began to throw and deflect blows as though exotic dancers moving to the sway of some invisible
tune. A throw here, a jump there, a sword rising, then falling and a fist flying to knock the weapon out of the other’s hand—in a flurry of activity, it seemed his wife would never tire, nor reveal a weakness he could use to his advantage. That idea sent chills down his spine and tendrils of anxiety within his chest, making him even more nervous about what he was doing and whether or not he would accidentally strike her.

I can
’t hit a woman,
he thought.
That’s wrong.

Either way,
he would either
have
to hit her or be hit himself.

Raising his sword, he blocked a blow Katarina threw at him, then held her sword steady against his, pressing his weight into the hilt of the blade as hard as he could while his wife stood stoic with the same intense ferocity.

“You’re good,” Nova chuckled.

“So are you,” Katarina replied.

Nova pushed.

Katarina faltered.

The tail end of the sword went flying through the air and Katarina went down, directly on her back like he had no more than a few moments beforehand.

“So,” Nova said, stepping forward, trailing his sword down so it would hover directly over Katarina
’s heart. “What do you say about this, dear wife?”

“What do you say to this, husband?”

A weight sounded at his torso.

Nova looked down to find the tip of the wooden sword pressed against his abdomen.

“You’re dead,” Katarina said.

Carmen burst into a series of giggles, then fell off
her chair and onto the floor, where she proceeded to roll with laughter as Ketrak, too, began to chuckle at the sight before them.

“Wasn
’t sure if we were going to do that,” Nova mumbled.

“
You snooze you lose,” Katarina smiled.

Carmen howled with laughter
.

“Nova,” Katarina said, raising her head to look him in the eyes in the faint light of the setting sun.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“Earlier. What you did.”

They sat at the end of the dock with their bare feet dangling in the air. Nestled together, his
arm around her shoulders and her arm around his waist, they watched as the sky before them began to decline to darkness and as the little fish that wavered near the top of the water dove into their nests beneath the dock.

Are they us?
Nova thought, trailing his eyes along the skirt of his vision, where he could see the creatures glowing beneath the breaking point in the waves.
Are we them?

Knotted, like muscle on a gr
and man’s armed, and filled to the brim with tiny, luminescent eyes—they went to a place where only they could go and possibly slept there much like they, the humans, did each and every night. Likely, and forevermore, they would continue, persist, multiply, divide, but what of their culture and rights of passage? A thought occurred to him in the moments between watching the fish circle like some great, underwater vortex and the time Katarina leaned over and set her head against his shoulder, one so breathtaking that he could barely begin to imagine it. Did these things, these fish, have society? And if he could so easily relate to them and their pure, simple ways, did that not mean they had such a thing?

We still have a long ways to go,
he sighed, easing his head atop his wife’s.

Sexism, racism, the overt hatred and misunderstanding of men like Domnin and Jerdai—all this and, it seemed, more, were issues pounded upon by men who claimed to be of freedom, of people who seemed to be more than content with the fact that their king was much kinder than what he could have been in spite of the war against Herald and the kingdom of
Germa.

“You don
’t have to thank me,” Nova said, drawing his mind from thoughts of things all the less bearing upon his life. “There’s no reason to.”

“Yes there is.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You heard what that man said to me,” she said, straightening her posture and looking out at the woodlands beyond the pond. “Almost all of them are like that. Not wanting to let us wield swords, saying we should stick to doing laundry and baking, telling us we have no purpose other than to get pregnant and have their child
ren—it seems like all we’re asked to do is give, give, give. We’re never given anything in return—at least, most of the time—and while they might try to woo our affections with flowers or chocolate, it doesn’t mean the same to us as many would believe.”

“
I can imagine.”

“But what you did, Nova… what you
’re teaching me… this is something I’ll have for the rest of my life, or at least until the day I die.”

“You
’re not going to die anytime soon.”

“I hope
not,” Katarina said, shivering in the pale wind that sailed from the north and carried with it the smell of the ocean. She drew her shawl tightly around her and seemed to bite down to keep her teeth from chattering.

“Why do you say it like that?” he frowned.

“Because no one has any idea what the future holds.”

“Of course we don
’t, but that shouldn’t mean we have to be afraid.”

“Does it, Nova, or does it mean that we have all the more reason to be afraid?”

All the more reason to be afraid?
he thought, frowning, unable to resist the urge to wrap his arms around his wife and hold her as close as possible.

Men said that all should be in fear—that something,
anything
could be thrust upon them at any given moment. Be it the Gods, the government, or something even more fierce and brutal, there was always something to be afraid of, whether it was hiding in the dark or straight out in the open. That alone should have made him afraid for not only himself, but his future, though why it didn’t Nova couldn’t be sure. Maybe it was because he had already lost too many things to care about anything more than his wife and even his father-in-law.

Do I even care about myself?

The thought stable and rooted within his head, Nova took a breath, expelled it, then looked out at the horizon.

Though nothing but darkness greeted him, he couldn
’t help but think of better, happier things.

“Nova,” Katarina whispered, bowing her head into his chest.

“Yes?” he asked.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

C
hapter 6

They seemed to swim over him like great snakes within the deepest of waters. Multi-colored and bearing the semblance of raccoons or other ring-colored creatures, these things skimmed the surface of the water in search of the dragonflies perched atop water lilies.

Where am I?
Odin thought.

Unable to answer the thought not only because of his ignorance,
but the fact that he could not think straight, he continued to watch the creatures swimming over the water’s great face and began to shiver as though chilled and unable to comprehend thought. First, it began, with snakes bonding together, molding as three, then four, then one as though Siamese twins did in rare instances of accidental childbirth, then they started to roll about as some fabled beasts are said to kill their pray. In this moment of isolation, and in this desperation of great fear, Odin tried to escape, thrashing into the deeper parts of the water only to find himself unable to swim. Pain clawed at his chest, reality tore at his heart and water burned into his eyes, creating scarlet tracks across the surface of his vision when he forced them shut and tried to draw one deep breath.

Water filled his lungs.

He began to drown, then sink.

As his body
fell into the darkness, he encountered creatures that seemed to give off light the color of lightning, then acquainted himself with fish that bore mouths like wicked instruments of torture. Some of these creatures—fish, he could only assume, by the fact that they wore gills beneath what appeared to be mats of fur—2343 completely unlike anything he had ever seen: alien, even, in all definition and purpose. He’d once seen fish that produced their own light in the pond near Ornala, though small as they were and unintimidating in the least, but these things swimming about him snapped with each and every turn, eventually leaving way for featureless monstrosities so large they could have filled an entire castle.

Unable to think, breath
e and progressively see the deeper he sank, Odin closed his eyes and tried not to think of anything at all, save things good and without consequence.

Out of the deep, blue darkness, a voice began to sing.

Odin,
it said, a note rising, then falling like a grand boy’s crescendo within a tightly-enclosed space.
Odin, Odin. Wake up Odin. Wake up.

Wake up? How could he do suc
h a thing when he was not asleep?

He opened his eyes to darkness, then light.

A figure appeared within the front of his vision.

There you go,
the voice said, the form of what should have been its mouth shifting into what could have been a smile .
You’re getting there. Just a little further now.

Getting closer to what, he wondered—the end, the beginning, the phase between the time stories begin and ultimately end, or was he going elsewhere, somewhere that transcended beginning, life and then death?

Was he in the place they called Heaven, a field endless and without disgrace, or was he in Hell, a pool deep and never-ending?

Odin opened his mouth.

Water swam forward.

He closed his eyes and began to cough.

Something happened.

A hand touched his shoulder.

The next time his eyes came open, he was lying atop a bed in a room filled with blindingly-white light.

Directly at his side, holding his hand and pressing his palm against the side of his face, was Virgin, dressed in a white shirt and pants the color of onyx.

“Where am I?” he asked.

Immediately, pain flowered in his chest.

“We’re in Lesliana,” Virgin said, stroking his cheek and leaning forward to look him directly in the eyes. “You nearly died.”

“What?”

“That thing almost killed you.”

“What was it?”

“I didn’t stick around to find out.”

“Why does my—“

“Chest hurt so bad?” Virgin asked, waiting for Odin to say something more before he continued. “They healed what they could, but some of those wounds… Odin, that thing was a magical creature.”

A magical creature?

He’d never heard of such a thing, save a construct created and bound by magic.

“Is that why they couldn
’t heal me?” he asked, desperate to look at what lay beneath what was most recognizably bandaging, but not sure if he should. “Because it had some sort of spell cast over itself?”

“The things in this forest are old,” the older Halfling replied, pushing himself away from Odin
’s waist to stand and make his way about the room. “Some are much older than even the Elves.”

“I killed it though… right?”

“With your silver sword, yes.”

“Where—“

His eyes caught sight of both weapons lying against the wall, propped up by nothing more than their sheaths.

“They
’re perfectly fine,” Virgin said, walking to the window to Odin’s far right and looking out at the world beyond the room.

“How did you get in here?”

“I’m no stranger to Lesliana. Of course, that doesn’t mean they let me in willingly. You were the catalyst, after all.”

“The catalyst?”

“They probably wouldn’t have let me in unless I had a very good reason.”

“I thought you—“

“Have been here before. Yes, I have, but it’s not easy to get in.”

“I don
’t understand something,” Odin said, pushing himself into a sitting position as best as he could.

“What
’s that?” Virgin frowned.

“How did you get in here if I was the one injured?”

“I said I was your lover.”

A flame of heat rose
inside Odin’s cheeks.

Did he really just say what I think he said?

“I’m sorry,” Odin said, reaching up to run his hand away from his hair. “I had to have heard that wrong.”

“Pardon?”

“You didn’t say you told them you were my lover.”

“Of course I did. Why wouldn
’t I?”

Because we
’re two men who hardly know anything about each other’s pasts,
he thought.
Because I don’t even know if you have a last name or not.

Rather than say anything to risk spoiling the moment, Odin leaned back, closed his eyes and sighed as Virgin opened the window to allow a cool, afternoon gust in, which offered more peace and semblance of normality than he could have possibly imagined.

He waited—first one moment, then two.

All seemed well.

Soon after, however, it began to slide down.

As the matter of happiness and comfort escape
d his body and left for what could have been the scope of sadness and despair, he began to think about the things that seemed to assault him all the more now that his natural defenses had gone down—the things that, regardless of their intent, seemed to stab him like sharp needles forever pressing into the whites of his eyes and drawing blood and matter from the center of his vision. That alone was enough to make him feel unimportant and unwarranted, regardless of the fact that he had just obviously been made important by no more than a few short words.

Could he, in the end, really compare Virgin to someone he could call his lover—a partner whom, by all means, had sheltered and
cared of him regardless of their combined past?

That
’s ridiculous,
he thought.
It’s going too fast.

Then again, who was to say that love could not happen in but a moment, in one fraction of a breath
, in one isolated, stifled pause?

Virgin moved by the window, disrupting his train of thought.

Odin blinked.

The taller Halfling regarded him with an intense facial expression that seemed to scrutinize every part of Odin
’s body.

Ignore it.

How could he, though, when his friend—and, possibly, lover—was all the closer to him?

Sighing, no longer sure what to do or think, Odin settled back down into bed,
drew the blankets around him, then closed his eyes.

He hadn
’t the time to think about such matters. Eventually, he would, but now seemed far too important to dedicate himself to matters of the heart.

He had come here fo
r one reason and one reason only—to get the Book of the Dead.

Virgin returned with food as the night began to wane and his appearance became all the more troubling. Eyes alight with intent that seemed devious and unwarranted, he brought the platter of food into the room and pulled up an end table to serve as their dining area, all the while watching Odin with an innate, curious fascination.

What
’s wrong with him?
Odin thought, almost unable to resist the urge to tremble as he reached for one of the sandwich triangles.
Why is he staring at me like that?

Had Virgin, like he so expected, become infatuated with him after the admission that he had claimed to be his lover, or was he just concerned for his welfare and
thus taking intimate accounts of his every move? Either way, it did nothing to settle Odin’s nerves, so when he took a bite of the sandwich triangle and swallowed it as smoothly as he could, he leaned back and looked his fellow Halfling straight in the eyes.

“What?” Virgin asked.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Odin replied.

“Like what?”

“Like… that.”

Virgin blinke
d.

He doesn
’t even know what he’s doing,
he thought, biting his lower lip as scarlet bloomed across Virgin’s face and washed into the outer edges of his somewhat-pale coloring.
He’s been staring at me this whole time and had absolutely no idea.

“Sorry,” the Halfling said, bowing his head to look at the platter of food, from which he took nothing.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

“Did so earlier
, down in the bar.”

“The Elves have a bar?”

“Though they are vegetarian, they do tend to like their wine.”

It took Odin
but a moment to realize he’d been eating something without any sort of meat. In response, he raised his head, asked, “How are you treated around these parts?” then reached forward to take one of the onion pieces before sliding it into his mouth. “I mean, being a Halfling and all.”

“I
’m looked upon with a bit of scorn from some, but most just tend to ignore me—or, at the very least, not bother to acknowledge my presence.”

“We
’re dirty to them, aren’t we?”

“As dirty as their strawberry-blonde hair,” Virgin laughed, reaching out to slap Odin
’s arm before procuring one of the vegetables for himself.

Sighing, though not in outright concern, Odin settled back against the mass of pillows arranged behind him, then turned his attention to the far window. While he could see nothing, that didn
’t stop him from imaging what the city must look like.

“Is it beautiful?” he asked.

“Lesliana?” Virgin frowned. “Of course it is. It’s the capital.”

“It
’s nothing like those villages that are made from the wood of trees,” Odin said, turning his eyes back on Virgin. “Is it?”

“Not in the least, my friend. Everything here is made of stone or boulder.”

“Really?”

“Easier to manage. It
’s not like we have winter or anything here.”

“You don
’t?”

“
So far as I remember, we’ve never had one.”

“But we
’re not that far from the border.”

“Maybe the hills keep it away from us,” Virgin shrugged. “Or maybe we just don
’t get any because this place is special… sacred… something of that sort.”

A place so sacred snow can
’t even fall?

If ever there was a place where things were destined to or not to happen, it would be Neline—the frozen, arctic land so cursed they said a God had destined them to live in agony forever.

His child,
Odin thought.

All sense of self left him in that very moment.

He dropped the second half of his carrot onto the bedding.

Virgin frowned.

Odin’s eyes shifted until they fell directly on the Halfling’s face.

He
’s not just missing from your life,
his conscience continued, collectively assaulting him with images of all the people he’d touched, some small, some innumerable.
He’s missing for everyone.

Never would that child in Neline know of its father, save the human one he was one day likely to have, nor would the Elves in Lesliana know of the
beautiful creature’s pursuits or the reason for his disappearance. Likely, it would fall upon the wind so swift and harsh that he had died, shot through the lung and dead upon sight, though whether or not he would be revered as a war hero was up to anyone’s recollections.