Brotherhood Saga 03: Death (60 page)

“But you don
’t honestly believe that,” Virgin said.

“Of course not,” Odin replied. “It
’s not like I haven’t had my near brushes with death.”

Neline, Ohmalyon, Herald during their initiation ceremony, the war, just a few short months ago with the Nagani—he bore no shortage of life-threatening moments and would never, he imagined, be free of them, so long as he continued to serve the king and wear swords upon his
belt. That, however, wasn’t necessarily the issue, as his companion’s thoughts on his invincibility seemed almost too concrete for him to imagine.

If one could learn,
he thought,
all the magic in the world, all the ways to defend oneself and how to kill in each and every way possible, could they be invincible?

Was
there an invincible creature, like some rightfully claimed there to be? The Elves said the Godly Ones were the closest thing to supreme beings that existed within the mortal world, and history had shown that in the past, the Giants that once walked the earth were immune to almost any human or magical weapon, but neither could be proved to be immortal. He knew nothing of the Godly Ones, save the history of the Elve’s enslavement by them, and he knew only that Giants oftentimes were killed by men clever and calculated and by nature itself, but both could not surely claim to be invincible, could they?

Of course not.

To think that anything was invincible would be to give it power that it surely could not control. No man was capable of slinging from the earth an entire mountain, for it was without compare that he rip from the ground a structure that had been there for far longer than he had, and for an Elf to evaporate the sea would have been a feat only capable by the Gods or the act of nature itself. Invincibility, whether one liked it or not, was unarguably unobtainable, for that was something that could not be defined by man, the Gods or even nature itself.

Closing his eyes, Odin tilted his head back.

Some may not think him invincible. Others may think him foolish, arrogant, childish and, some could say, weak-minded, but to give those that proclaimed him as things other than what he was would give them ample opportunity to build him up and then break him down.

As he opened his eyes to look at the bright new day, he was able to smile for the first time since leaving Lesliana.

“Is everything all right?” Virgin asked.

“Everything
’s fine,” Odin said.

To him, everything seemed absolutely perfect

The day
’s trek led them along the mud-slicked path and around gaping caverns in the earth where the creatures Odin had once heard described as living plants lay. Deeply-nestled within their pits, bulbs spread open and flowers in view, they opened their carnivorous maws and reached feebly from them from the depths below. Virgin, who guided Odin around the open pits as carefully as he could, reached out and grasped his arm when Odin lingered one moment too many, but even then his companion’s touch was not enough to keep him from leaning forward to examine the tentacles that would never reach him but surely strangle him were he to fall in.

“We can
’t get sidetracked,” Virgin said, guiding Odin away from the pit and toward the last big stretch of the forest. “We should be out of here by dusk.”

“Dusk?”

“You know, the time when the sun’s setting—“

“I know what dusk is, you idiot.”

Virgin offered a slight smile Odin found hard not to return.

“You
’re saying we could be out of here before it even gets dark,” Odin said, grimacing as his foot kicked a stray rock into one of the pits. Below, the definitive sound of a gaping mouth snapping shut cracked the air and raised every hair on the back of his neck. “Shit.”

“Shit is right,” Virgin said. “Be careful. I don
’t want to have to fish you out of one of these pits.”

“Could
you?”

“Possibly… maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Let
’s not try it, shall we?” the Halfling asked, raising his free arm and offering a brief laugh. “As to your question, yes—we could be out of here before it even gets dark.”

“How far back do you think the Elves are?”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t really want to think about it. Do you?”

“Not particularly.”

“Then let’s focus on the goal beforehand.” Virgin straightened his posture and cocked his head to the side, as if stretching his neck before rolling it about his shoulders.

“What about you?” Odin frowned.

“What about me?”

“You
’ve asked how I’ve been, but I don’t think I’ve ever asked you if you were all right.”

“I
’m fine, Odin. There’s no need to worry about me.”

“I
’m trying not to.”

“What I
’m most concerned about is keeping up our progress until we’re out of the Abroen. I know you understand that.”

“I do.”

“If the Elves do happen to be close,” Virgin continued, “which I highly doubt they are, but let’s be on the safe side here, we should probably be as quiet as possible.”

“All right,” Odin said.

That cue was as good as any.

Dusk came with an irrational fear that they were being followed.

It
began first with the static in the air and soon eclipsed when it became so apparent that it felt as though several thousand flies were filling the hollows of their ears. The sound insane, like nails across the chalkboard, and the notion all too real for Odin to almost comprehend, he reached up to put two fingers in his ears to try and clear them of the sound, as it seemed impossible for such a thing to have been occurring were they not being followed. However, when he pulled his fingers out and continued to hear the noise, he turned his attention on Virgin and offered a frown that his fellow Halfling soon returned.

What do you think it is?
he mouthed.

As much of the afternoon had been spent in silence, it made no better sense than to con
tinue this tradition by speaking without making noise. Regardless, though, Virgin seemed lost, as he offered yet another frown and cocked his head to one side, playing the dumb cat mystified at the fact that its mouse had suddenly disappeared out of nowhere.

“Virgin,” he whispered.

“I hear it,” his companion said, raising a finger to his lips.

Can you read lips?

The Halfling nodded and turned his head to examine the expanse of ground they’d just covered.

“Let me see the book,” Odin said.

“What do you mean?” Virgin frowned.

“I said
let me see it.”

“All right, all right.”

Reaching up, Virgin slung the pack off his shoulder, placed it onto the muddied ground, then crouched and pulled the drawstrings that kept the knapsack together apart

Immediate
ly, Odin reached in and grabbed the book.

A whisper on the wind thrust Virgin to his feet.

“What was that?” Odin asked.

Virgin drew his dagger without bothering to respond.

“Virgin.”

“Shh,” the older Halfling replied.

In the distance, what appeared to be a series of brightly-shining orbs hovered just off the ground—dancing, twisting and rotating about the air as if searching every nook and cranny for the two people they were most intent on capturing.

Shit.

Instead of directly responding to the apparitions, Virgin slung the pack over his shoulder, reached down, then gestured Odin toward the last stretch of ground beneath the covered woods.

You can do this,
he thought, sighing, trying his hardest to control his breath in order to not succumb to anxiety.
Come on, you can do this.

Though the whisper o
n the wind seemed ever stronger, Odin was somehow able to maintain control over his emotions, thereby eliminating the need for true panic in the presence of danger.

The world opened before them.

The forest ended.

The Great Divide began.

“Are they,” Odin began.

“Quiet,” Virgin whispered. “They might hear us.”

Slinging his dagger out in front of him, the older Halfling threw a glance over his shoulder and at the distant pool of water and shrubberies that lay in the near distance.

It would, Odin knew, be a desperate shot, but he knew it was more than possible to make it.

“Come on,” Virgin whispered, sliding his dagger into its sheath and bending at the knees.

“Are we running?”

Virgin took off without responding.

Surprised and almost unsure w
hat to do, Odin took off into a full-out run, desperate to catch up with his Halfling companion as they bridged the distance between them and the pool at an alarming speed. Flying on the wind, feet in the air and seemingly-never touching the ground, they could have been birds at that very moment—great storks who flew upon the wind with grace and speed that could not be matched by any land animal.

Come on,
Odin thought, pumping his legs as fast as he could.
You can do this. Come on, come on.

The tree line rushed to greet him.

Odin ducked.

Closing his eyes, reaching up to guard his face from the low-set trees and the branches they bore
, Odin threw himself into the brush just in time for a pair of hands to grab him by the shoulders.

He cried out in surprise.

His hand flew to his sword.

The book fell down.

He drew his father’s silver-bladed sword just in time to look up and see Virgin standing above him, hands up and arms spread out.

“Virgin,” he breathed.

“It’s all right,” the older Halfling whispered, crouching down as Odin sheathed his sword. “See that?”

The orbs of light—in various shades of yellows, reds, greens and even orange—danced around the line of trees, shot into the air, then settled back down to the ground and waded as men
would in deep water as they pushed their way out of the forest.

“The book
’s still there,” Odin whispered. “Right?”

Virgin lifted it within one hand and pushed it under the brush.

Pressing himself to the ground, Odin curled himself into the tightest ball he could manage and pulled the book to his chest as no more than a few feet away the Elves continued their frantic search. Though he could see nothing, as his eyes were forced shut, he could still feel the static in the air, bugs on his skin and the hairs on his neck alight with life.

“It
’s all right,” Virgin whispered.

“I know,” Odin whispered back.

“You’re shaking.”

He ceased the incessant movements and tightened
his muscles as much as he could.

You
’re going to get caught,
his conscience whispered, bearing down upon him with tooth and nail.
They’re going to catch you and strip you naked before they throw you so deep into the Abroen that you can never find your way out.

No they
’re not,
he thought, trembling, once more unable to control the emotions flooding through him.
They’re not, they can’t, they won’t.

The dragon in his mind reared forward and breathed fire across his being.

No!

He would have screamed had Virgin not clamped a hand over his mouth.

“You have to be quiet,” his companion whispered, brushing his lips so close to his ear Odin thought he could feel the Halfling’s tongue along his skin.

How desperately he wanted to say
I am,
to hold within his cause an ounce of sanity of which he could use to keep himself from going over the edge. That would have been a blessing, a Godsend, a
truce
he could have used to his advantage, but since there were none, and as there was no one who would offer it upon a silver or golden platter, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath through his nose, then expelled what little he could of it out his mouth.

Virgin pulled his hand back.

A tear slipped from Odin’s eye.

They couldn
’t be captured—not here, not now, not after so much work and after all the time they had spent desperately escaping from their pursuers.

“I think,” Virgin whispered, drawing close enough to where their chests could touch had they not the book between them, “that we need to stay here for the rest of the day.”

Odin had no word of response.

Within his mind
’s eye, so horrible and open, he could see the Elves waiting them out throughout the entire day—still, stoic, and without a breath from their lips.

They could do this.