Brotherhood Saga 03: Death (80 page)

“Are you all right?” Virgin asked, as if sensing Odin
’s distress even from so many paces before him.

“I
’m fine,” Odin said, silencing his jittering teeth by clamping his jaw shut. “Just a little cold.”

“I
’m sorry to hear this. Are there any towns we might be able to stop in?”

“Not this far southwest, no.”

“Are there
any
towns this far out?”

“A few,” Odin said, “but not many.”

“Any close to us?”

“Deldon is a fair ways off, but it
’s out of our way. Then there’s Elna, but we’re headed nowhere near the direction we need to be going. That’s a port town. It’s where the three of us left the mainland for Neline so many years ago.”

“That had to have been something,” Virgin sighed, tilting his head back as if to embrace the falling
snow.

No kidding,
Odin agreed, but had nothing to say in response.

Instead, he quickened his horse
’s pace and drew closer to Virgin not only to separate the distance between them, but to allow himself comfort in knowing that he need not travel this path alone. He had a companion—a man whom, by all respects, could take care of himself—and they each had a stout mount that could keep the pace in which they traveled, so what had he to worry about if not the pursuit to Ornala?

There
’s so much to worry about,
he thought, bowing his head to shield both face from his companion.

Not only had he reason to fear for his position within the royal court, but were he allowed to stay, what might they think when the king
’s champion returned from the south without anything to say for himself? He could lie, and say the year had been spent in exile, traveling the road and living off the land, or he could be truthful and explain that he’d consulted the Elves to learn what happened after death, but would either answer give him leeway? If anything, they might suspend him from service—strip him of his swords and of his dutiful honor—or they might give him detention for disservice to the kingdom. Either way, it seemed whatever path he chose would eventually lead down a road rather not traveled.

Knowing that there was nothing he could do to predict the future or stop whatever fate destiny had in store for him, he turned his head back up and scanned the horizon, looking first from the flush in the land in the distance near where the Ela
‘Alna began, then to the swell to the northeast—where, he knew, they would have to travel the hills if they wanted a straightforward route to the roads that led between Dwaydor, Felnon and the towns within the inner parts of the country. There would be no way around the hill country unless they wanted to circle around it—which, in reality, might take them longer to maneuver than it would if they cut straight through.

“Virgin,” Odin said. “You know we
’ll be traveling through hill country in a few days, don’t you?”

“So far as I can tell just from looking out there. Why?”

“Have you ever… uh… rode a horse through such conditions?”

“You mean snow-covered hills?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“Do you have any idea if we’ll have to worry about this?”

“If you want me to be perfectly honest, I think we
’ll be fine. It’s just a little snow. Nothing to worry about, right?”

They could only hope so.

The hills began their attempts to conquer them in the days following their
entrance into the country. The snow not thick, but slick, the hills daunting, the holes made by rodents hidden and the horses’ hooves trembling in spite Odin’s attempts to warm them—it, as far as Odin understood, would take at least a day-and-a-half to travel these hills if they didn’t stop, but to think that they could continue in such conditions seemed a test of endurance neither they nor their horses could risk.

This is going to kill us,
Odin thought.

If not from the snow that dusted the ground, the holes created by rodents
or the weather and its relentless abandon, then surely the horses would cave under the immense pressure set upon them to cross territory almost impossible to navigate even under regular circumstances. They would, Odin imagined, collapse, their sound reverberating off the hills, and their legs would crack, like twigs would under the pressure of a dead thing’s foot. The stakes before them were high, the risks total, the dangers absolute, but were they to stop at the side of the hill and even attempt to camp, they would plummet to the ground below, thus ending their journey one too many weeks short of their destination.

“Virgin!” Odin cried, raising
an arm to shield his eyes from the snow. “We can’t do this!”

“Can
’t do what?” the older Halfling cried back.

“This!”

What else could he be talking about? The rain, the shine, the sun that no longer existed beyond the blanket of white or the grass that was l
ikely dead—what, under the Gods’ simple light, could he be talking about if not for the hills whose might they tested, whose purpose seemed only to hurl them back to the starting point?

Above, directly where Virgin stood attempting to help his horse out of what appeared to be one of the many holes the prairie dogs had created,
the giant stallion reared its head back and let out a scream that chilled Odin to the bone.

He closed his eyes.

The snow fell down.

Virgin cursed and screamed shortly thereafter.

When Odin opened his eyes, he expected to see both the horse and his companion falling down the hill toward him. When he saw neither, and when Virgin finally freed the beast of burden’s hoof from the ground, he reached up and snared his hands within his mount’s reins and turned his eyes to look down at Odin.

“What do we do!?
Virgin called down. “Wait?”

“There
’s no way we’ll be able to navigate these hills when they’re covered in snow,” Odin said, silently praying that his horse’s shuffling would not send the two of them down the hill. “Even if we waited for the snow to stop, we wouldn’t be able to keep going. It’ll be too slick.”

“What?”

Thunder struck overhead.

Thunder in a snowstorm?
Odin thought.

Virgin whipped his head
to look at the hills and let out a sigh Odin could hear even despite the snow that rained around them.

“All right,” the Halfling said.

“All right?” Odin asked.

“Get off your horse. We
’re getting out of here.”

Needing no ass
urance other than his companion’s words, Odin dismounted, tangled his fingers first in the horse’s mane, then in its reins before steadying his feet and beginning their trek toward the ground they had just covered. His body aching from the altitude, he bowed his head and tried to adjust his eyes to see through the snow that covered his lashes, but to no avail.

It’ll be fine,
he thought.

In reality, they
’d hardly covered any ground at all—at least, not enough to count as significant progress. Most of their time had been spent seeking out ground that would support their horses’ weight. Added to the fact that Virgin’s horse had encountered difficulties, they could easily say they’d made no progress at all.

Does it matter?

No. It didn
’t. For that, Odin counted himself not only lucky, but blessed.

As they reached the bottom of the hills—testing first the ground, then the
ir horses’ legs for signs of injury—Odin felt a sense of relief he had not encountered for weeks, possibly not since their flight from the Abroen and their resulting escape.

No more than a few paces behind him, Virgin sneezed, raised his head, then reached out and clamped a hand around Odin
’s shoulder.

“Are you all right?” Odin asked.

“I’m fine,” the Halfling said, pressing the majority of his weight into Odin’s back. “Why?”

“I was worried.”

“I was too for a moment,” Virgin laughed, smacking Odin’s back and reaching up to stroke his stallion’s snout. “You all right, friend?”

The ho
rse pushed its face into Virgin’s shoulder and offered a grunt that seemed to placate any worry Virgin had, as soon a smile crossed his face. “So,” Virgin said. “What do we do now?”

“I guess we have nothing more to do,” Odin said.

After mounting his horse, he gestured Virgin forward.

So—they would have to venture around the hill country.

In such open terrain, there was no hope for the
m to find shelter. In that regard, Odin considered them unlucky, as it seemed for the most part easy traveling, but the fact that they had made it off the hills without a scatch was enough to lighten his mood to the point where he could care less about not having anything to cover him other than his cloak and hood.

It seems like everything’s perfectly fine,
he thought, content with that knowledge.

So far, they
’d seen no sign of any animal or traveler that may hinder their progress, which meant no bandits and, ultimately, no danger. For that reason, it also meant there were no friends on the road—no merchants, messengers or fellow travelers—and while that did little to dampen Odin’s mood, it made the world seem so much smaller.

At the very least, he would have
more time to consider the future and what might happen come time they landed in Ornala.

Don’t get yourself started with that again.

What he was most interested in was the possibility that things had changed for the better—that after all this time, Nova and Katarina had finally decide
d to have a family, despite Nova’s inhibitions and unsurety in that matter, and that Carmen had managed to find herself a companion that could help ease the pain of not having her husband around. Both things were great—pleasant, even, in spite of the snow falling around them—and while the revelations had only come in a dream and might not be real in the least, there was a distinct possibility that those things could, and very likely
were,
real.

A smile spreading across his face faster than he could
have imagined, Odin focused his attention on the path.

Soon, he would be reuniting with some
of the best friends a man would’ve been lucky to have.

“Thinking about something?” Virgin asked.

“Yeah,” Odin said. “A lot of things, actually.”

His companion
did not push further.

Are you all right?
he thought.
Or are you just indifferent?

They continued on the path around the hill country until the late hours of the night—when, after traveling for the better half of the day, they settled down in a place Odin designated as camp and struck a fire from the kindling they still happened to have. The horses firmly secured by their nails, the fire strong and warming the ground, Odin and Virgin leaned over a series of biscuits warm and fresh and kept to themselves, eating slowly and enjoying what time they had now that the day was finally over.

“You
’ve been quiet,” Odin said, gingerly picking at his biscuit.

“Are you concerned?”

“I’m not used to you being so quiet.”

“I
’ve only just gotten used to having a companion.”

“You were alone before this,”
Odin said, easing back into his seat. “Weren’t you?”

“The life of a
rogue is a lonesome one.”

“No friends? No extended family? Any... uh... lovers?”

“As I’ve said before, I only briefly toyed with the idea of settling down with a companion, and had only ever decided to do so when I met with you. As to friends and extended family... a rogue doesn’t have many friends—unless, of course, you count the ones you want to steal from. My family, meanwhile, have always been distant. I believe they suspect my activities.”

“Which side
?”

“
Both, if you want the truth.”

“Is being... well, queer, I guess, scorned in the Elven community?”

“I believe any group of people have trouble looking upon one who happens share an affinity toward the same sex. It’s... different, I should say—not unnatural, because the Gods know that had we been or were we crafted in their image, they would have made us with this flaw in mind—but in Elven society, it isn’t something that is necessarily frowned upon.”

“I thought the Elves had problems maintaining their population?”

“As a creature that has no qualms with aging or dying, there is no real pressure to breed. I will say, though, that there are some population issues, but nothing that the Elves can’t handle.”

“Does there co
me a time when an Elven doe can’t have a child?”

“So fa
r as I understand, no—there isn’t.”