The Sons of Animus Letum

by Andrew Whittle

  “Help me a bit,” Raine called to Odin. “He’s a little heavier than he looks.”

  Odin quickly leapt to Raine’s side.

  “Did it work?” he asked as he helped Raine place Galian down on the bed.

  “Igallik thinks so.”

  “He’ll be alright, though?” Odin tried to confirm.

  “He should be,” Igallik answered as he entered the room. “But he is going to need all of our help.”

  After eyeing the unconscious Galian, Igallik reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a large hourglass. The hourglass was crafted with a light blue glass and thick white ivory, and the sand grains within it were noticeably larger than what was typical.

  “This will be a long fight,” the head monk said as he set the hourglass down on the room’s lone table. “It could last days, even weeks. Our task is to be as vigilant in this realm as Galian must be in the next.”

  Odin nodded, not even knowing what Igallik meant. Even though he had not agreed with the trial, he was eager to help his brother in any way he could.

  “How do I help?” he asked.

  “You watch,” Igallik said as he pointed to the hourglass.

  “Watch?” Odin repeated.

  “In anticipation of Descent,” Igallik explained, “your brother and I linked his soul to this hourglass. The purpose of that rite was to create a totem that allows us to clearly observe when Galian’s soul will return to this realm.”

  Odin was still confused. “So, when the sand runs out, it means he’s returning?”

  “Quite the opposite,” Igallik said. “If the sand runs out, it means he is never returning. It means time has run out on your brother. The sand in the hourglass represents Galian, and the hourglass’s upper and lower bulbs represent our world and Animus Letum. If all the sand falls, it means your brother has died. It means he has completely fallen into the afterlife.”

  Odin had always known that time was the villain for all monks attempting Descent – the body cannot survive long without the soul – but to have a tangible measurement of Galian’s life unnerved him.

  As Odin fell silent, Raine tried his best to be Odin’s voice.

  “So what are we watching for?” he asked. “I mean, how do we know when he’s coming back?”

  “We are looking for a reversal of the fall,” Igallik replied. “There is no doubt that sand will fall in Galian’s fight – the hourglass will drain. Depending on his condition in the second realm, it may drain very quickly. However, the moment Galian’s soul begins to return to our realm, the sand will stop falling and float back up into the upper bulb. The floating sand represents Galian’s soul emerging back into our realm. It represents resurrection.”

  “So we just wait and watch?” Raine asked, suddenly understanding the powerlessness Odin was feeling.

  Igallik nodded.

  “I will take first watch,” Odin volunteered.

  Igallik was not surprised.

  “I figured you would. If you are to watch him, I should inform you that there are a few severe but common side effects of Descent. Firstly, tremors and seizures indicate the separation of body and soul. They will look painful, but they are common. Secondly, blisters, heavy sweating, and the loss of Galian’s skin pigment will occur. These symptoms will carry on for a few weeks, but as Galian’s soul begins to return to this realm they will stop.”

  Igallik stroked his beard for a moment.

  “I believe that is all. Anything else would be irregular.”

  Odin looked back to his brother, his fingers drumming an anxious beat against Galian’s bed.

  “He didn’t rush into this, did he?” he asked. “He should be fine?”

  “I’m sure your brother will return soon,” Igallik said. “I have seen many monks attempt Descent. And I have seen a few become Seraphs. Odin, believe me when I say that your brother is the strongest monk to have ever attempted this trial.”

  With an airy breath, Odin let some of his anxiety dissipate.

  “In these hours,” Igallik continued, “Galian will be greatly tested. But I believe he should pass this test with relative ease.”

  Igallik looked to the hourglass and then brushed his hand through his beard.

  “That being said, if at any point you think he is in grave danger, alert me as soon as possible. I will be in the High Temple.”

  “I will,” Odin affirmed.

  “Very well,” Igallik said.

  After another look to Galian, the head monk began to back towards the door.

  “I will return at daybreak,” he announced. “Let’s hope for a good night.”

  Igallik seemed to bow, and after a slow turn, he disappeared into the night.

  With the head monk gone, Raine leaned over Galian, examined the scar over his right eyebrow, and then turned back to Odin.

  “I think he’s going to be fine,” he said. “You boys could wrestle greatness out of a shit pile.”

  Odin looked to the floor, and after shaking his head, he chose to confide in Raine.

  “I don’t feel good about this one,” he confessed. “He’s leapt into it, and to be honest, I’ve never felt further from him.”

  “Well, he is in Animus Letum,” Raine pointed out.

  “Not like that, Raine. He didn’t even care that I asked him not to do it. He brushed me off like I didn’t have a say.”

  “And you think you should,” Raine realized.

  “It’s always been he and I,” Odin said. “Always.”

  With a sigh, Odin’s eyes fell to the floor. “It’s not his fault, Raine. He wanted this for our entire lives, and I…”

  Odin went silent. Dutifully, Raine lowered his own gaze and tried to catch his apprentice’s eye.

  “You what?”

  “He told me that I was nothing more than a body,” Odin said.

  “He was heated,” Raine replied.

  Odin shook his head. “He was right. He amazes everyone, Raine. He is the Lyran. You saw what he did to the Scale. Galian grows stronger and wiser every day, and I don’t. I do the same thing. I brawl in the Damns. I feel like he’s leaving me behind – like he doesn’t need me.”

  Raine scratched his temple as he thought.

  “I get it,” he said finally. “Probably more than most.”

  “Then what am I missing?” Odin asked. “How do I fix this?”

  “With people like Galian,” Raine said, “we have to concede a lot of ourselves. Stars like him, they don’t know how to stop shining. It’s their nature. It’s all they know. They brighten every place they go, and although they don’t intend it, their brilliance casts us in the shadow.”

  Odin let out a deep breath. “That’s how it feels,” he said. “Like with or without me, he’d be doing exactly the same as he does. Like he doesn’t need me.”

  “It hurts to think that way,” Raine said, “but it’s probably true. And it’s not his fault, either. God built him to shine.”

  Odin was silent for a moment.

  “So what do I do?” he asked. “I have to do something. I won’t let myself resent him.”

  Raine shrugged – a shrug that said there was only one option. “We dig through the shit, Odin. It’s the price we pay for being that close to greatness. Galian will shine – no matter what. But for him, we dig through the shit. It’s our duty. Darkness will hunt him. They will try to make him suffer for no other reason than the way he was born. But for him, we fight. We wage the wars that the stars should not. We dig in the shit because a soul like Galian’s shouldn’t have to.”

  Odin slumped. “That’s all?” he asked dejectedly.

  “That’s all,” Raine confirmed. “But it is enough. Our job and duty – the one we must never abandon – is to let them shine. We take the hits for them. We take the beating. Trust me, Odin, even when we watch from the marsh, we get a pretty great view of the stars.”

  There was noticeable hurt in Raine’s voice.

  “You sound like you’re remembering,” O
din said.

  “I am, mate.”

  Before Odin could reply, Raine bumped him with his shoulder and rose to his feet.

  “I’d love to stay here with you,” he said. “But a hell of a day deserves a hell of a night’s rest. Take care of your brother, Odin. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  Odin nodded. “I will,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Morning?” Raine said with a wry smile. “I intend to sleep past lunch.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll send a wakeup call.”

  “You do,” Raine said as he held up his fist, “and I’ll brick you in the pouch.”

  “No wakeup call,” Odin decided.

  With a laugh, Raine patted Odin’s shoulder and then left Galian’s quarters.

  With only Odin and Galian left, Odin sat and settled in for a long night.

  As the night progressed, Odin kept very close watch over Galian’s body and the hourglass. At times, Galian’s arms would release a spastic punch, but otherwise, it seemed like a serene calm had encompassed the quiet monk. Similarly, the pace of the hourglass’s sand-fall was incredibly slow and without change. Judging by the speed of the hourglass, it appeared that Galian had an abundance of time to complete Descent. As he acknowledged the hourglass’s pace, Odin became less and less anxious about Descent. In fact, an excitement began to grow. Odin knew that the bounty of Descent was great, and the prospect of Galian inheriting a great power fascinated him. However, as Odin dreamt of Descent’s reward, suddenly the pace of the hourglass surged, and with a violent jolt, Galian’s body seized and began to showcase the great price of splitting body and soul. Galian’s body, as if it were fighting suffocation, began to thrash into violent, painfully contorting bucks. Seeing blood leaking from Galian’s ears, Odin quickly latched onto his brother and tried to outmuscle the seizures, but the fits were nearly impossible to wrestle. Instead, as Odin struggled to control Galian, he was repeatedly struck by the spastic releases of Galian’s flailing limbs. As the welts began to amass on Odin’s face, he began to yell furiously for help. In quick moments, three torches, and then Igallik and Raine, rushed into Galian’s quarters. Even with their added strength, Galian could not be contained. Instead, the monks’ attendance only added more witnesses to Galian’s suffering. They were powerless – paralyzed by Galian’s growing spasms and fading hourglass. Without entertaining any other course, the monks stayed with Galian all night. In hopes that it might better his condition, Igallik called on Wylak the herbalist. Wylak soaked Galian’s body with potions and herbs, but it was to no avail. The seizures and sweating continued. Although refusing to say it aloud, the monks were in unanimous agreement that Galian was enduring hell.

  Fortunately, hell seemed to prefer night. As the sun began to rise, the sand-fall of Galian’s hourglass slowed, and a gentle breeze and calm returned to the monastery.

  However, the weather would not argue the monks out of what they had seen. After have being rendered bystanders, Odin and the monks of the Throne’s Eye could only acknowledge one truth: the first night of Galian’s battle was an excruciating loss.

  It would be the first night of many.

  As days passed with Galian’s body enduring Descent, the hourglass spoke nothing of resurrection. Instead, there were painful repetitions of the first night. Each day, after sunfall, the hourglass drained and Galian’s body suffered. Morning brought ease from Galian’s hell – his body and hourglass slowed – but any hope that daybreak instilled was thieved by dusk. For Galian, and all who tended to him, nighttime had become torture. Odin, who was at his brother’s side each night, was the most distraught. The days of Galian’s torment turned into weeks, and soon after, marked by the half-empty hourglass, the torture reached a month. Although never doubting his strength, the monks of the Throne’s Eye began to fear for Galian. The quiet monk had already endured Descent longer than any other monk in the monastery’s history.

  Taken with worry and holding new information, Igallik called Odin to the High Temple. Odin was not ignorant of the monk’s concern, nor did he resent it. He wished only that it would prove false. Gripping to hope and stubborn against his worry, Odin began his march to the High Temple.

  Odin ascended the staircase and pushed through the massive bronze doors. Igallik was alone inside, and with his hand he invited Odin to join him at the Temple’s front pew.

  “How are you doing?” Igallik asked as Odin sat down.

  Odin fidgeted in his seat. “I’m fine.”

  “This is a difficult time,” Igallik said, “one where truth can be painful. But honesty should never be compromised.”

  “Okay,” Odin said. “I’m afraid.”

  Igallik nodded. “I understand. And I wish I had good news for you. I wish I could lie to you now, but if I fail to give you the complete truth, you can never honestly weigh the situation. Do you understand?”

  “I do.”

  “Let me begin by assuming you know that time is not on your brother’s side.”

  “I am aware,” Odin said.

  “Then I will speak no more of it. But there is another matter I feel should reach your attention. A new voice has emerged from the second realm – a voice faithful to your father.”

  Odin was shocked. “My father?” he repeated. “I was told that those faithful to my father were being hunted in Animus Letum.”

  “That is true,” Igallik said. “This voice, however, is operating in deep secrecy. As a name he has only offered us the letter V.”

  “Why is this important?” Odin asked.

  “Because V has given us word about your brother.”

  Odin immediately turned his full attention to Igallik.

  “What word?”

  “V believes there is a specific reason your brother has not returned. It appears that Galian is using all his might to avoid the detection of Forneus.”

  Odin’s posture crumpled, and as he exhaled deeply, the accompanying sound was more emotion than breath.

  “Odin,” the head monk solemnly reported, “V believes that Forneus is getting very close.”

  Futilely, Odin tried to argue against Igallik’s news.

  “It can’t be like this,” he started to ramble. “This is Galian we’re talking about. Galian,” he repeated. “He doesn’t lose.”

  “Odin,” the head monk said. “V is certain.”

  Odin keeled over. His brother’s peril was the realization of his greatest fear. Descent had ripped Galian from his reach, and for the first time Odin was unable to protect him. Igallik tried to place his hand on Odin’s shoulder, but Odin quickly shrugged it off and stood up from the pew.

  “This was your plan,” he scolded as he began to pace. “You asked him to do it. You should have known!” Odin yelled. “You should have known he wasn’t ready!”

  “You are right,” Igallik said. “The blame is mine to bear. But there is hope. V suspects Forneus is still unaware of you and your brother’s survival. It appears the Serpent only detects a relic of your father, not his actual son.”

  “What do you expect me to take from that?” Odin complained. “That’s not hope.”

  “It’s what we have,” Igallik campaigned. “V has committed all efforts to return Galian to this realm. This is something we can hold onto.”

  “Forgive me if I’m skeptical,” Odin said dryly. “You’ve given me next to nothing.”

  “You need to trust this, Odin. Fate doesn’t roll dice. I believe we can rely on V.”

  Odin turned briskly to the door. “Is there anything else?”

  “Yes,” Igallik said sternly. “I’m ordering you to take the night off from Galian’s side. You need rest.”

  “I don’t and I won’t,” Odin said.

  “You do and you will,” Igallik countered. “I will watch Galian tonight. You will go and find Raine. Just rest until tomorrow.”

  Odin was not foolish enough to argue with the head monk. But with his anger still dominating his mind, he made a mocking bow and then
stormed out of the Temple.

  As Igallik watched Odin’s departure, the head monk lingered in the High Temple for a long moment.

  “V,” he whispered, “we’re counting on you.”

  As morning broke the next day, the weather was peaceful. The sky was clear and a light breeze gusted through the monastery. Odin awoke early and immediately set his steps to Galian’s quarters.

  Igallik was just exiting as Odin arrived.

  “It was a bad night,” the head monk said, “but a good morning, thus far.”

  The morning had not washed away Odin’s anger.

  “Alright,” he said curtly. “I will watch him for the rest of the day.”

  “Very well,” Igallik agreed. “For now, I will be found in the infirmary.”

  Odin paused for a moment. “Why’s that?” he asked, remembering that every time Igallik had finished a watch, he had immediately set his steps to the High Temple.

  Igallik momentarily reserved his answer, conceding it to a regretful shake of his head.

  “I have an idea,” he said finally. “It’s one that I’m not entirely set on, but give me a few days.”

  With tension still lingering between them, Odin nodded to the head monk, and the two went their separate ways.

  Odin surveyed his brother’s body as he entered the room. Galian’s body was badly blistered, and the pigment of his skin appeared as if it had been drained to a pale white. Although he hated the painful routine, Odin leaned over and investigated the hourglass. The night had stolen even more time from Galian. The hourglass’s upper bulb was less than a sixth full. With the surges of sand-fall it was impossible to determine exactly how much time Galian had, but if the established pace continued, the hourglass would be empty in roughly six days.

  With his mind burdened by that truth, Odin watched Galian until midday. Odin’s thoughts were heavy with the conversation he had had with Raine a month prior. Raine had said that for the stars we must often take a beating. For them to shine, we must wrestle in the dirt. Odin had believed the fight was waged with weapons. He didn’t realize that they were waged with a heart.