The Sons of Animus Letum

by Andrew Whittle

Struggling in such a battle, Odin found himself at his brother’s side knelt in prayer – not to one god, but to the kings of the Lyran House.

  “I am not one to beg,” he began as he looked skywards, “and I pray that makes me more worthy of your help. But this,” he argued of Galian’s suffering, “leaves me no option but bent knee. I am told that you are great. I am told that you are gods. My adopted home bombards me with the legends and stories of our bloodline. To be honest, I don’t really care for the stories. It is very difficult for me to take pride in triumphs that I had no hand in. It is very hard for me to feel a connection to men that I have never met. That being said, I do not doubt the might of the Lyrans. I have witnessed it. I believe in our bloodline because of Galian. Surely, you see yourselves in his greatness. He proves to me that you existed. But now, I need more… from you. I am not offering to barter. I am offering a sacrifice. I am begging you: steal all powers of my life, even breath, and with them aid my brother’s battle. Damn me,” Odin begged. “Throw me to the wolves. I will suffer the darkness of one thousand years, as long as a star can hang high once more. Please, if ever there was a time, prove to me that the Lyrans are just.”

  As Odin’s hands – in fear of unworthy appeal – refused to unfasten from their plea, a familiar voice sounded from the door to Galian’s quarters.

  “If both of you fall comatose,” the voice said, “I really won’t have any reason to be here.”

  As Odin turned, he was met with a set of strikingly dark eyes.

  “Usis!” Odin cried.

  “Good to see you, too,” Usis grinned.

  Odin quickly rose to his feet and offered his hand in welcome.

  “A handshake?” Usis marvelled. “You have grown up.”

  As Odin grinned, Usis ushered Odin’s hand away, and then wrapped his arm around Odin’s shoulder.

  “It’s been a long time, brother. A handshake simply won’t do.”

  “Perhaps,” Odin replied as he grabbed Usis’s wrist, “you’d prefer this.”

  With abrupt torque, Odin wrenched Usis’s arm back.

  “And the skills are sharp,” Usis smiled. “But not sharp enough.”

  With a quick twist, Usis reversed Odin’s grip, and sent his old friend tumbling to the floor.

  “Not too bad,” Usis said as Odin collected himself. “Just not better than me.”

  Odin, still the student, shed a respectful nod to Usis and then rose to his feet.

  “When did you return?” he asked

  “Only moments ago,” Usis replied.

  “Have you met with Igallik?”

  “Just briefly,” Usis answered. “He informed me of Galian’s condition.”

  “It’s been over a month,” Odin reported. “It was supposed to be a few weeks at most.”

  Usis and Odin took a seat at Galian’s bed.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Usis said. “Fear is seldom rational and almost always a behaviour. Praying, as you just were, is a far better habit.”

  “You almost sound wise,” Odin joked.

  “I’ve learned a lot. The last three years have been the gravest of my life. But in pain and in loss, I have found new purpose.”

  “So the mission was a success?” Odin asked.

  “It was a good start. But my work is far from over.”

  Usis leaned over Galian and studied the scar that had been left from Vinculum Imletalis.

  “I heard whispers of Haren’s treachery,” he said. “Many in certain circles believe she was turned.”

  “And what do you believe?” Odin asked.

  Usis traced his hand over Galian’s scar and then examined Odin’s.

  “It is hard to condone the danger she put you two in. I strongly doubt she was an agent of Forneus. But if the question is raised of whether her mind had been corrupted, I offer no more evidence than your two scars.”

  “There has been no sign of her since,” Odin informed, “no path to follow, not even a trace of my father’s crown.”

  “Whatever Haren has done was accomplished with no lack of foresight,” Usis said. “We will hear nothing of her, until she decides it is time. But I trust,” Usis predicted, “that we will hear from her again.”

  Odin nodded.

  As the two continued to talk until dusk, Usis regaled Odin with tales of his adventure, and with ease, the great amity between them was recovered. After a couple of days, however, Usis’s presence in Galian’s quarters became less and less frequent. For the most part Usis remained in his old quarters. It was unusual, but Odin chose not to encroach on the time and space that Usis had made for himself.

  With Galian gone, Odin was just happy that a brother was near.

  24

  After Usis’s return, Galian’s physical condition had neither improved nor degraded. The only measure of change was the ominous hourglass. If the hourglass’s sand-fall remained consistent, it promised a haunting deadline: Galian had two days. Unrelentlessly, Odin had been at his brother’s side for each moment. At the close of a particularly bad night for Galian, fatigue stole Odin from his wakefulness, and the young monk fell asleep.

  When he woke, the sun was emerging on the horizon, and Igallik and Palis, the Order monk who had saved Odin during the Scale battle, sat quietly next to him.

  “I must have dozed off,” Odin apologized as he wiped his eyes.

  “No need to apologize,” Igallik said. “Take a moment to wake, and let us know when you’re focused. Palis and I have something important to discuss with you.”

  Odin nodded in understanding, and then rose to his feet and shook and stretched off the sleep. After a few moments he sat back down, and invited the Order monks’ counsel.

  “Let me not mince words,” Igallik started. “This issue is best served directly. We have received more word from V: more word on your brother.”

  “What word?” Odin asked.

  “As V first suspected, Forneus was only aware of an energy in Animus Letum similar to your father’s. Forneus, at this point, is still unaware that you and your brother exist. He does not recognize your brother’s energy as anything more than a relic of your father’s reign.”

  “He hasn’t investigated?” Odin asked.

  “As of yet, no.” Igallik answered. “But I will not underestimate the Serpent King’s curiosity. He will investigate, very soon.”

  Odin’s eyes lowered. But his moment of grieving would be short. He understood the urgency of the dilemma and could not condone wasted time.

  “So what do we do?” he asked.

  “It’s not what we do,” Palis stepped in. “It’s what I do.”

  Odin failed to understand the implication, and he looked at Palis quizzically.

  “But you’re wounded.”

  “Not just wounded,” Palis corrected, “dying.”

  “I don’t understand,” Odin confessed.

  Palis smiled. “Allow me to explain. Our advantage in this situation is that Forneus is unaware of its gravity. If an actual relic of your father’s, like the mighty staff your mother brought to this realm, could enter the afterlife, we could buy your brother more time. The staff is an energy Forneus would instantly recognize, and using it, we could lead Forneus’s attention away from your brother.”

  “How, though?” Odin wondered.

  “Like I said, Odin, I’m dying. What I am saying is that I will gladly surrender my last few days, for an earlier and more purposeful death. I will die and complete this deed. I will take the staff with me to the afterlife and lead Forneus’s attention away from your brother.”

  Odin shook his head in disbelief of Palis’s proposal.

  “You’d do that?” he challenged, “understanding what Forneus will do to you if he finds you with the staff?”

  Palis smiled again. “Do you know what position I hold in the Order?” he asked.

  Odin nodded. “You are the Mercy totem.”

  “Very much so,” Palis said. “It is my speciality. I have delved very far into its truth, fur
ther than most go in any direction.”

  Odin didn’t follow. “What are you saying?” he asked.

  “I am saying,” Palis said, “that I understand much about mercy. And my greatest discovery about its power is that mercy is not just an act, it is a state of mind. It is not just an event. It is a way to see the world.”

  “And what are you seeing?” Odin asked.

  “A chance to prevent innumerable deaths,” Palis replied. “A chance to be merciful to the souls that haven’t even suffered yet. I am volunteering to get your brother back, because I expect that one day, you and the Forge will reclaim the throne. I am doing this so we will have a chance.”

  The words were daunting, but even with their gravity, Odin was compelled to address a pressing issue.

  “What I don’t understand is why you have come to me like this,” he said. “If you are sure, then that is enough for me.”

  Igallik was first to speak. “There is one hitch to this plan, Odin, one that I feel you need to be aware of. If the staff crosses back and Forneus were to claim it, the Serpent King’s power would grow immensely. His malice would delve even deeper into the afterlife, and there would be even greater suffering for the people of Animus Letum. That,” Igallik forewarned, “is the risk we run.”

  Odin rested his head in his palm, taking time to weigh the consequences of Palis’s proposed sacrifice.

  “And you expect me to make this choice,” he realized.

  Palis spoke solemnly. “Odin, I need no one but you to make this call. This is a choice that affects your destiny more than anyone’s. I just ask that you remember what I have said. Remember that a great part of mercy is extending it to the people who haven’t even suffered yet. Mercy is a foresight, Odin. People are going to suffer regardless of which decision you make. The point is, you can decide if the suffering ends.”

  Palis then pointed to the hourglass. “Time is ticking,” he said. “If I were you, I’d make this call as soon as possible. I have learned, my friend, that you must never miss an opportunity to kick dirt in the devil’s eyes. Now is as great a chance as any.”

  With a smile, Palis rose from his seat. He was quickly joined by Igallik. As Palis limped to the exit, Igallik offered Odin a final counsel.

  “Believe me, Odin, I understand the weight on your mind. I will give you the day to consider. Think it over and know that whatever your decision may be, we will stand behind you.”

  Odin managed a nod, and after the Order monks had left, he sat quiet and alone at his brother’s side.

  He would do so all morning.

  As he watched Galian, he knew he needed him back. But how could he justify the price of Galian’s resurrection when its cost carried the potential of the harming millions? As the sun rose to midday, Odin left Galian’s quarters. There was no agenda to his departure, but without realizing it, Odin’s steps soon led him to Usis’s door. Odin knocked and waited for Usis in the hopes that his old friend would have some insight. But minutes passed with no answer. Resolving to wait, Odin leaned his back against Usis’s door and used the solitude to deliberate. However, even as the hours passed with Odin’s debate, there was no sign of Usis.

  As evening fell on the monastery, Odin, drained but decided from a day of consideration, elected to take his verdict to the High Temple. As much as he hated it, Odin had his answer for Palis and Igallik.

  The staff would not cross back.

  Just as Odin began his ascent of the High Temple staircase, a firm hand fell across his shoulder.

  “You’re in a daze, mate,” Raine joked. “I thought I’d taught you to be more aware than that. You ought to have seen me coming from thirty yards.”

  “Sorry, Raine,” Odin said. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

  “I know you do, mate,” Raine said. “The Order monks let me know what they’ve asked of you. And I’d guess with you heading up these stairs, you’ve made your decision.”

  “The staff is not crossing back,” Odin said. “Galian would make the same call.”

  Raine thought about it for a moment. “He might, but then again he might not.”

  Odin shook his head.

  “I need him back. As much as I want anything, I want Palis to do this. But I can’t justify what it brings. The hourglass still says two days. Galian can still do this without sending the staff back.”

  “Can I tell you what I’d do?” Raine asked.

  “Please.”

  “I’d send the staff back,” Raine said. “And let me tell you why: first and foremost, your dad sacrificed himself for you and your brother. And do you think the wisest king of the afterlife didn’t know Animus Letum would fall on hard times because of it. I’m telling you, Odin, you owe your dad this one.”

  “One life is not worth millions,” Odin argued.

  “What if that one life could save millions more?” Raine asked. “We’ve talked about this,” the old warrior reminded him. “This is the time when we have to dig through the shit.”

  Odin slumped. “I figured you meant in battle, with swords and shields.”

  “I did mean a battle,” Raine said, “the fiercest one there is: the battle inside you. People are going to suffer because of what you do today – either way. If you send the staff back, people are going to be broken beyond repair. Worse still, if Forneus claims the staff and grows in power, every soul that he tortures will be a weight upon your soul. It is a truth that should not be avoided. The weight of hell will be on you. And it makes sense that it should be. The price of digging in the shit is that we get dirty – a filth beyond physical.”

  “Why would I choose that?” Odin asked. “Why would I surrender my soul to that?”

  “For your brother,” Raine replied. “You’ll dirty your soul with countless deaths, so that Galian can shine once more.”

  As Odin’s head sunk, Raine remained assertive.

  “You have a chance to be the catalyst,” he said, “the soul who would not break – even under the weight of hell. Animus Letum is going to bleed regardless of what you do. But with your brother, you can stop the bleeding. You’re destined to, Odin. With Galian and the Forge you can salvage the afterlife.”

  “What if I can’t stop the bleeding?” Odin asked. “What if the best I can offer is to limit Forneus’s power?”

  Raine looked sternly at Odin. “You’re wrong to assume that’s your best.”

  Odin began to run his hands through his blonde hair, and then, with a defeated exhalation, he stood and looked up to the High Temple.

  “Well?” Raine prodded.

  “There’s still two days.” Odin said.

  “So you’re not going to let Palis do it? After all that?”

  “Still thinking,” Odin said.

  With another deep breath, Odin turned and began his ascent of the stairs.

  “You better make your call!” Raine shouted after him.

  As Odin ascended out of earshot, Raine shook his head.

  “Do the right thing, mate. You’re too important to be selfless.”

  With one thousand thoughts weighing him down, Odin reached the High Temple. He slipped quietly through the bronze doors, and as he sauntered into the Temple, he remained unnoticed by Palis and Igallik who were at the altar.

  Palis had removed the top of his robe, and Igallik was re-bandaging the wound on Palis’s back.

  Seeing the Order monks in such a private moment, Odin sat back and chose not to interrupt.

  Palis’s wound was grave.

  “How long do you think?” Palis asked the head monk.

  “Optimistically?” Igallik said. “Two weeks. This wound will kill you very soon.”

  “We all must go sometime,” Palis said with a strange smile.

  As Igallik pulled the bandage tight around his back, Palis’s face wrenched into a grimace.

  “You know,” he grunted, “this isn’t a fair fight.”

  “In what sense?” Igallik asked.

  “All odds are against us. Doesn�
��t that worry you?”

  “Of course,” Igallik said. “But the truth is, our team still holds the most powerful piece. You must realize that Odin has no idea how powerful he and his brother are. They are a hurricane, Palis.”

  “A hurricane?” Palis repeated.

  Igallik smiled, the great wisdom in his eyes beaming just a little brighter.

  “Under the right pressure and circumstance,” he said, “they will grow to be unstoppable. Together, they will crush even Forneus.”

  Palis laughed. “I’d love to watch.”

  But with a sigh, Palis’s smile left his face. “Odin needs to trust this,” he said. “If he says no and this wound kills me, I will die with only regret.”

  “There will be no need,” Odin said from the back.

  Palis and the head monk turned back to Odin.

  “You’ve reached your verdict?” Palis presumed.

  “I have,” Odin replied.

  Igallik tilted his gaze. “And?”

  “Let’s kick some dirt in the devil’s eyes,” Odin said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  25

  After Odin’s decision, Igallik went quickly to work on preparing what was needed for Palis’s sacrifice. As two fervent hours passed, Galian’s fading hourglass suggested that about only one day remained. Acknowledging the time, Igallik hurried himself, The Book of the Eterna, and the mighty staff of Serich into Galian’s quarters.

  Palis, Odin, and Raine were waiting.

  “The moment has arrived,” Igallik announced as he entered the room.

  Palis nodded.

  “I trust you were able to reach V?” he asked.

  “I was,” Igallik answered. “V will keep Forneus busy for a while, but our window is not large.”

  “I’m a small man,” Palis joked. “Even a small window will suffice.”

  Exhaling deeply, Palis seemed to collect himself, and after a series of small nods, he rose and walked into the center of the candles that had been set up for the rite.

  Odin quickly leapt up and grabbed Palis’s arm.

  “You will never be forgotten,” Odin said. “Our fates have been bound forever. Whatever I accomplish is built on what you do now.”