Emily's Saga

by Travis Bughi

  “Emily,” Chara said. “Wake up.”

  Emily stirred and, just as the banshee went to tighten its death grip on her throat, awakened.

  “Oh,” Emily sighed in relief as she stretched awake, trying to appear calm. “Thanks, Mother. Is it my watch now?”

  “No,” Chara said, “I just knew what was coming.”

  Emily paused, unsure of whether to thank Chara or curse Quartus first. Why was she still having nightmares? What was he trying to warn her about now? Surely, surely it could wait one night. It did not though, so instead, Emily said nothing to her grandmother and just favored her with a smile.

  “But,” Chara continued, “if you’d like to do an old woman a favor, you can take the rest of my watch and let a weary amazon sleep.”

  Emily relished the opportunity to return the kindness that had been freely given to her. Chara thanked her granddaughter and went to sleep within moments of lying down. Emily watched her breathe a few deep breaths and tried to remember what it was like to sleep an entire night through. What little comforts she’d had as a child had been grossly taken for granted. Emily knew that now, all too well.

  So she took up Chara’s shift with a measure of integrity and scanned the dark forest for signs of movement. She listened as well and noticed how well she could hear in Angor’s silence.

  The fire had died, leaving the air open to invading noises from elsewhere. There was Gaia snoring, for one. It was as ragged as her laugh and made Emily want to stuff her mouth with leaves. There was another sound, too, the creaking of wood from just beyond the camp. Emily knew it was the treant breathing because there was no wind this deep in the forest to make the other trees move. Then, quite faintly, Emily thought she heard the treant murmur. Is it dreaming? she thought. If treants could talk and think like humans, surely they slept and dreamed as well.

  It piqued her curiosity, so she tried to put the thought away. However, every time the treant made a sound, Emily looked in its direction and wondered. The time ticked on, and her interest grew. Even as the end of her watch neared, she glanced frequently into the dark.

  Finally, her watch did end, and she awoke Iezabel for her turn. Emily laid her head down, closed her eyes, and allowed the treant’s soft, rhythmic murmurs to put her to sleep. It worked, and she passed into the nightmare that had become all too much of a routine. She stalked the behemoths and then died to the banshee. The air was cool against her sweaty skin when she lurched awake, and Iezabel’s watch had ended. In her place was Kirke, who had cleared a section of leaves and was drawing in the dirt with a stick. She said nothing to Emily about any thrashing that might have occurred and chose instead to pretend as if nothing had happened.

  Kirke had last watch, and despite the crescent moon, it was pitch black under the dense trees. Light would be showing soon, though, because morning was coming. The treant still breathed, and Emily was far too upset to fall back to sleep with so little time left to enjoy it. She told Kirke she was going for a short walk and rose up quietly and made her way towards the treant with caution. It will only take a second, she thought, convincing herself it was worth it.

  To her credit, Emily felt she was very stealthy. None of the amazons awoke as she left the camp and made her way past the trees to where the treant was tied down. Its murmurs had stopped, but the breathing continued. Emily used the sound as a beacon and picked her way to it in the darkness.

  Emily approached close enough to see the treant’s massive, shadowy outline in the moonlight. Wood creaked as it breathed, and Emily felt eyes on her.

  “Who . . . are you?” the treant said.

  Emily was surprised that the treant was awake, so she hesitated and stayed quiet in the darkness of the trees.

  “Who . . . are you?” the treant repeated, louder this time.

  “Emily Stout,” Emily said quickly, not wanting the treant to raise its voice anymore.

  She stepped out from the tree line and into the clearing. The moonlight washed over her, and the treant’s eyes made a motion of recognition.

  “Emily,” the treant repeated, “You are the . . . one from before? The one that . . . would not help me.”

  He said it slowly, and Emily waited patiently as the heavy words fell over her.

  “I’m sorry,” she replied. “We mean you no harm. It’s just that you’ll kill us if we release you.”

  “And you will kill others . . . if I do not.”

  Those last words brought a silence over the short, awkward conversation. Emily didn’t know what to say to that. Yes, they would use their bows to kill, but it was only for protection or for necessity. The treant’s judgment seemed unfair, and Emily wanted to test if she was right.

  “Do you fight the elves when they take their bows from your,” she paused to decide on a word, “hair?”

  “The elves . . . are our friends. They protect . . . our children.”

  “Your children?” Emily paused to think. “Oh, you mean the trees?”

  The treant blinked and looked away. Emily guessed that the long night spent tied to the ground had left the treant a bit bitter, and for that she could not blame it. It did reveal something interesting to her, though; if the treant could mimic human emotions, perhaps it had them after all.

  “Do you have a name?” Emily asked.

  “Yes, but you cannot . . . speak it. It is in a language . . . humans cannot use.”

  “Can I hear it anyway?”

  The treant stayed silent for a moment, then adjusted itself under the restraints. It opened its mouth and Emily heard the sound of rustling leaves.

  “That is what . . . my children call me,” the treant said afterwards.

  “Well, that’s a beautiful name. I wish I could say it myself,” Emily said, then added after a pause, “How did you learn to speak our language?”

  “Yours is the same . . . as the elves. We learned . . . from them.”

  Emily was about to ask another question, but the treant spoke again, and she realized he was not finished.

  “You are . . . different. Where are you . . . from, amazon?”

  Emily hesitated for a second. She had not anticipated the treant would ask her questions about herself. At first, she thought perhaps it would be better not to say anything. She’d already said too much, she was sure, but there seemed to be nothing threatening about this creature. So, against her better judgment, she decided to trust the tree shepherd.

  “I’m actually from the Great Plains. I grew up as a farmer with my father, mother, older brother and younger brother. My mother was an amazon, though she never told us until we saw her, with a single arrow, kill a behemoth that was going to trample our house. I’m here now, because when we went to Lucifan, I met my grandmother who invited me to come with the other amazons. We’re traveling to the jungles now, to Themiscyra.”

  Emily decided to leave out the events that had transpired in Lucifan, those about the traitor.

  “You left . . . your family?” the treant clarified.

  “Well, yes, actually,” Emily stuttered, then added hastily, “I didn’t want to. Well, I did want to leave home, but not them along with it. I just—ah, this isn’t easy. I just wanted to leave the plains and venture out. I wanted to live my own life. If I could have done that and stayed with my family, I would have, but that was impossible. So, instead, I took the opportunity that was given to me and ran with it. As for my family, I miss them dearly, all of them, and every night I make a promise to visit them as often as I can.”

  “Do you . . . keep your promises . . . Emily Stout?”

  Once again, the treant caught her off guard. It wasn’t an unusual question, but to be asked something so intimate so soon was not something she had anticipated. The treant moved against its restraints as it waited for Emily to respond. It was then that Emily noticed the ropes had made a slight cut in the treant’s bark, as if it had been rubbing against them all night.

  “Of course I do,” she answered.

  “Then . . . promi
se me,” the treant said, “you will free me before . . . the centaurs . . . catch me.”

  The treant’s calm expression had transformed into a look of urgency so slowly that Emily had not noticed it.

  “The centaurs?” Emily asked.

  “Promise . . . me.”

  “Wait, are there centaurs nearby?”

  “They will . . . chop me up!” the treant said in fear, “like they have done . . . to others. Promise . . . me!”

  The urgency that had taken so long to creep across the treant’s bark-covered face was quickly swapped with an expression of fear, almost terror. It panicked and pushed against the rope, then turned to Emily and opened its mouth to boom its voice at her.

  “Okay!” Emily said, trying to calm the treant before he woke up the others. “I promise to free you. Now, tell me, are there centaurs nearby?”

  The treant’s head attempted to move in the restraints, but they were too tight so he just murmured a ‘yes’ instead. He pushed again as if he could not wait for Emily’s useless questions and so would free himself no matter the cost.

  “How can you be sure? Have you seen them?” Emily asked.

  “I can hear them . . . through the ground, and . . . my children whisper it . . . to me, as they did . . . when I fled from your kind. Please, Emily Stout. I am slow, and . . . they are coming for you . . . but they will find me . . . instead.”

  “They’re coming for me?”

  “For all . . . of you.”

  Emily put her head to the ground and tried to listen, but she heard nothing. Once, when she was scouting behemoths with her father, she’d been able to hear the behemoths by placing her head on the ground, but she could not hear the centaurs like the treant claimed he could. As for the trees, they made no noise that she could hear.

  Could she trust it? Surely this creature was not a friend of theirs, but that didn’t mean it lied. Emily contemplated what to do, then thought back to when she had been in Lucifan. She’d seen Belen sneak out the night before the raid, yet she had remained silent. That had gotten three amazons killed that night, almost more. She didn’t want that to happen again. The treant’s fear was real enough, so perhaps it spoke the truth. However, even if it didn’t, Emily would rather not take the chance.

  “Thank you,” Emily said.

  “Don’t forget . . . your promise,” the treant said as she turned to leave.

  Emily stalked back to the camp, following her senses so she would not become lost. They did not lead her astray, and she found the clearing the amazons had taken refuge in. She listened to the sound of the amazons breathing when she suddenly noticed one was missing.

  “Where were you?” Belen snapped and, when Emily didn’t reply, snickered. “You don’t have to answer. I already know. Making deals with that treant, huh?”

  “That’s none of your business, traitor.”

  “Don’t call me that, you pathetic little wench,” Belen seethed. “I’ll see you dead for this. Mark my words.”

  “Consider them marked.”

  Belen would have to wait. Emily had news of centaurs approaching and had to wake her grandmother. Kirke nodded to Emily as she approached in the light of pre-morning, and Emily replied with her own nod.

  Emily found Chara sleeping in the exact same position in which she had left her.

  “Mother,” Emily whispered and nudged. “Mother, wake up.”

  “Huh, what?” Chara snorted awake. “What is it?”

  “Look, Mother, I went to talk with the treant—”

  “What? You left the camp? Emily!” Chara scolded. “Emily, we don’t speak with treants.”

  “I know, I know, I’m sorry, but listen. The treant told me it hears centaurs approaching.”

  Chara remained quiet for a moment.

  “It probably only said that to make us leave sooner, Daughter.”

  To Emily, the statement sounded like it was supposed to reassure Chara more than her.

  “Perhaps I should go wake Adelpha?” Emily asked.

  “Yes, why don’t you do that?” Chara replied.

  Emily leapt over the amazons that lay about in her path until she found the princess. Even though Adelpha had covered her entire body with a blanket, there was no hiding her size, and thus Emily shook her without bothering to pull back the cover.

  “Adelpha,” Emily said.

  The woman slept like a rock, and Emily’s gentle nudge elicited only a snore.

  “Adelpha!” Emily said louder and jerked Adelpha from side to side.

  “What!” Adelpha griped back.

  “I was talking with the treant and—”

  “You were doing what?” Adelpha interrupted, throwing the blanket back to reveal an angry scowl.

  “I was speaking with the treant,” Emily raised her voice louder to override another of Adelpha’s interruptions, “and he said centaurs are coming this way!”

  Adelpha let Emily finish and then looked at her as if she was the most innocent child in the world. Considering Emily and Adelpha were only a few years apart in age, Emily did not appreciate this.

  “I’m going to go back to sleep now,” Adelpha explained, “and I don’t want to wake up again until it’s time.”

  “But—”

  Emily was about to explain the fear the treant had expressed and how honest his terror had been, but Adelpha had already turned over and laid her head down on her mat. Emily, hurt at the distrust she’d been handed, stood up and balled her fists in anger.

  Surely there was another. Emily thought quickly and spotted Heliena’s shivering figure close to the dead fire. She skirted over to her and pressed gently to wake her up.

  “Heliena,” Emily whispered.

  “Go away,” Heliena shrugged Emily’s hand off and pulled her blanket further over herself.

  Emily stood up and bit her lower lip.

  She was tired of people not giving her a chance. The amazons, though they tolerated her, were never going to give her the love they freely gave each other. Heliena had turned from her, and Adelpha was brushing her concerns off without hesitation. Sure, there were others that were kind to her, but that was not enough. Only Chara never let her down. Her grandmother had never, not since the day they’d met, done anything except show Emily the respect she’d always craved. If it wasn’t for her, Emily realized, she would take the knowledge she’d gained and run back to Lucifan to go exploring on her own. She knew how to shoot, make arrows, hunt for food, and make a camp. She could clean her own gear, forage, scavenge, and make her own way in this world.

  However, Emily realized, if it hadn’t been for Chara, Emily would never have gained that knowledge in the first place. She’d still be back on the Great Plains, looking out past the endless rolling hills and wondering what was out there. And for that, Emily was eternally grateful, and she would tolerate these amazons just as they tolerated her. If only to stay with Chara, she would do that, because Emily loved her.

  Then, the sound of a centaur horn washed over the camp.

  Chapter 7

  They packed up faster than one thought possible. Everything was shoved into knapsacks without care or hung over the body for easy carry. Bows were kept strung.

  “That horn was announcing to the other scouting parties that they found our trail,” Adelpha yelled. “They’ll be coming after us fast, so we’ll be moving fast, too! I’ll take lead. It’s possible they aren’t after us, but I’d rather assume the worst.”

  Adelpha slung her quiver over her shoulder.

  “We’re headed due south. Any concerns?” she asked.

  “What about me?” Belen cried out from the back. “You don’t expect me to run with my hands tied, do you? I thought I wasn’t on trial yet!”

  “You don’t need your hands to run,” Adelpha replied. “Keep up or leave your fate with the centaurs.”

  This brought much disagreement among the other amazons. A few raised voices concerned about how Belen would be unable to fight if the centaurs found them. Gaia wa
s especially disgruntled, but Adelpha turned on them.

  “We’re not fighting the centaurs; we’re running! We’re outnumbered, in their land, and far from our own. Belen doesn’t need to shoot a bow, and even if she did, it wouldn’t save us. Now let’s go!”

  “What about the treant?” Emily shouted.

  “What about it?” Gaia cackled. “We’ll leave it as a distraction. Give the centaurs something to play with while we gain distance.”

  Emily waited for another response, one that wasn’t dripping in cruelty, but none claimed a dissenting view.

  “Mother,” Emily turned to Chara, “I have to go free the treant.”

  “This isn’t the time, Daughter. We have to leave.”

  “Well, I’ll stay behind then and do it myself,” Emily said. “Run ahead, and I’ll catch up.”

  “Ugh,” Adelpha slammed a palm to her forehead. “We don’t have time for this, Emily!”

  “Then get moving!” Emily shouted back.

  She didn’t bother mentioning the promise. There were too many good things out there for Emily to spend time worrying about the bad, and she wasn’t going to waste time explaining herself to a group that wouldn’t take her seriously. The treant was an example of that. It had tried to warn her and had trusted her above the others. There was no way Emily was going to break her promise and leave it to die.

  Emily walked away from the amazons, ignoring their stammering warnings. Their voices faded as she stepped through the tree line and into the clearing where the treant lay tied down. The big eye swirled around and focused on her. Then the treant’s wooden lips twisted into what Emily could only assume was a smile.

  “You . . . came back,” it said, “and you . . . brought a friend.”

  “Huh?” Emily asked and looked over her shoulder.

  Adelpha walked up behind Emily and pulled out her knife.

  “Let’s make this quick,” she grumbled.

  Adelpha walked over to the first rope and started to slice through it. Emily hid a smile and walked up to the rope next to that one.

  “Why’d you come?” Emily asked.

  “Mother knew she couldn’t stay behind because of her age, so she begged me to help you, considering you’ll never make it back to us if we leave,” Adelpha teased. “And, also, I owe you for ignoring you.”