by Travis Bughi
By the time Emily was led to Dirthzea, it was late, dark, and not the best time. Dirthzea had to be woken up, and besides being unhappy about it, he was also unsympathetic. He made it clear that he did not much care if the other amazons left. They were not his problem. Only she was, and that was trouble enough.
When the appeal to emotion failed, Emily tried a more logical approach and explained that she would not make it far in this forest without the amazons’ protection. It was a true enough statement, and after thinking it over, Dirthzea called Nathok over and gave him yet another unpleasant duty. Apparently it was not enough that Nathok had saved the amazons’ lives and then brought them to his home. Now, he must convince them to stay. Needless to say, Nathok was having a bad couple of days.
Emily took the disgruntled elf back to the amazons, all the while trying to quell his frustrated feelings.
“They’re not so bad, Nathok,” Emily said. “Besides, I really appreciate it.”
The only response he gave was a grunt, which Emily decided was good enough. He would have to talk soon anyway, and talk he did. He explained to the amazons that Lok’har was gathering together more centaurs and that if they left now, he’d be hot on their trail.
“Your best chance of survival is to keep hidden for a time,” Nathok explained, “and you’ll find no better hiding place than amongst us. I can guarantee it is the last place Lok’har will check. However, you must not stay any longer than one week. If so, he will only have one place left to check, and you will be ambushed the moment you leave.”
Nathok fell silent after adding that last part. He had done what was asked of him. He had tried to convince the amazons of staying for one week, and he had justified it to himself by pressing the need for a quick escape when that one week ended. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a strong speech, but it laid down the basis that Emily needed.
Nathok left, and the amazons discussed it amongst themselves. There were arguments on both sides, with most of the doubt stemming from Nathok’s untrustworthiness and from Emily’s reluctance to divulge information.
“For all we know,” Hanna said, “that damn elf is just keeping us still until Lok’har has gathered enough forces to finish us off.”
“The centaurs and elves are sworn enemies,” Chara argued back. “There’s no way that the elves would risk their lives just to make us easier for the centaurs to hunt. Besides, we’re vastly outnumbered here. They need no assistance in killing us.”
“Yet another reason I say we leave,” Hanna replied. “What’s to stop these elves from turning on us sometime during this week? We could all be dead tonight on a whim!”
“Are you all forgetting the huge, overriding issue of the werewolves?” Heliena added with controlled anger.
That reminder brought a wave of silence. It was a wake-up call. Time was of the essence.
“We’ll have enough time,” Emily spoke up in her own defense. “We have more than a week before the first full moon, right?”
“If we headed straight south when we left here, yes,” Adelpha confirmed, “but even that would be pushing it. Two days at a brisk run, at least, and the last night would be a full moon.”
“We still haven’t answered the first question,” Iezabel interrupted, and then purposely looked at Emily. “You still have not explained to us why we are here at all.”
One by one, the amazons followed Iezabel’s gaze until every eye was turned to the young girl from the Great Plains. Emily swallowed under the attention, and she was reminded of the first time she’d seen the amazons in Lucifan. In The Kraken’s Eye tavern, all eyes had also been on her, and Emily had not enjoyed the attention then, either.
“The elves are helping us because I, and Adelpha, helped save the treant from the centaurs,” Emily said. “The treant pleaded with the elves to help us.”
“You, not us,” Iezabel clarified.
“Yes, me,” Emily admitted, “but I feel you guys are looking at this all wrong.”
“Really?” Adelpha raised an eyebrow. “And what would be a better way of looking, Emily?”
There was more than a handful of sarcasm in Adelpha’s voice, but Emily ignored it and continued with a theory she’d recently worked out.
“You should be viewing this,” Emily cleared her throat, “as a chance to make amends with the elves.”
As one, Hanna and Iezabel, along with several others, groaned loudly.
“This could be your one shot to re-form an alliance with them!” Emily continued through the groans.
“Have you seen the way they treat us?” Hanna replied back. “Or the way that elf talks to us? We’re no better than the werewolves in their eyes. And if we wait too long, we’ll be looking right into werewolf eyes!”
“You’re looking at that wrong, too!” Emily argued. “We could use this time to place pressure on Lok’har. We can use the werewolf threat as a chance to make our escape. He would never pursue us through werewolf territory with the full moon leering over him.”
The groans cut out, and Emily knew that she’d struck a chord. She’d thought of something they hadn’t.
“If we wait the week here,” Emily pressed her advantage, “and then make a dash south, Lok’har will know that, if he follows us, he will be locked into their killing grounds even if he catches us. While we only have to travel through once, he will have to travel back north as well, through werewolf lands.”
There were several slow and begrudging nods to this. Still too few to sway any decision, but there was one notable person who also nodded: Adelpha. She rubbed her chin and looked down in deep thought.
“Thinking it over?” Chara asked.
“Adelpha,” Iezabel said, “you can’t possibly be considering this.”
“And so what if I am?” Adelpha said finally. “So what if I am.”
With that, she turned and strode, still holding her hand to her chin, into the darkness of the camp. There was silence following her absence, and the others shared looks of puzzlement. Emily caught her grandmother’s eye and was rewarded with a smile and a wink. Then Chara took Emily’s hand and led her away from the gathering. The amazons cascaded into another argument, but it was clear no decision would be made that night. Emily did not even bother to listen as she walked with her grandmother to someplace quiet.
“So what is going on here, really?” Chara asked.
“I can’t tell you, Mother,” Emily repeated again. “I gave them my promise. I can only tell you that they’re teaching me skills to survive.”
“It has something to do with your dreams, doesn’t it,” the old woman stated.
“Yes,” Emily replied, taken aback. “How did you guess?”
“I know my own, Daughter,” she smiled and placed a hand on Emily’s leg.
They shared a warm, knowing gaze, and Emily thoroughly enjoyed it. The moments away with Chara were the only times Emily felt truly accepted, at peace, and wanted. These were feelings she could get used to, and she desperately wanted more of them. They talked more after a time, and Chara told Emily that the first thing they’d do when they were back home in Themiscyra would be to hunt a manticore. Emily asked what that was, but Chara told her it could wait. It was late, and they were going to need plenty of sleep because this was likely going to be a very, very long week.
She was right of course. Each day began bright and early, and Emily’s training started long before that. To add to the difficulty of shooting two arrows, Emily now had to fight off the armies of yawns that threatened to overwhelm her before each shot.
The first day had been like a mid-afternoon nap compared to the next, and the next one after that. She could no longer take her time with each shot. Nathok gave Emily mere seconds to aim and waited to tell her the targets until after she’d drawn. If she took a fraction of a second too long to fire, the elf would slap her bow down with a stick, usually striking her hand in the process, and then demand for her to start over.
She would and, even with these restrictions, her
shots came closer and closer to their targets. However, there was little time to tell, because the very instant her shots began to improve, Nathok would vigorously invent new ways to make things harder. First, he had her turn around before she drew, so she would not even know where the targets were. Emily would spin around and have to aim while her eyes adjusted. When she began to grasp this, Nathok made her run while she did it.
With all the added adversity, Emily’s aim vastly suffered. She rarely hit her targets, even with one arrow, and her efforts were starting to draw a crowd. Other elves were usually at the shooting range, though most were young and looked at Emily with curious eyes. They practiced, too, though only with one arrow, carefully drawing and aiming as they took instructions from whomever was teaching them that day. It seemed all the elves in the village shared a part in the education of the younger students, and each day brought a new face to explain the finer parts of archery.
Nathok never took a turn though. His efforts were focused on making Emily’s experience as difficult as it could be and raising his voice loud enough for all to hear his insults.
“Surely you did not help capture that treant,” he said. “You’re as graceful as a bugbear, which is extremely clumsy if you didn’t know.”
Emily missed again and stopped to catch her breath. She was actually panting now, because she’d been constantly running as she attempted to shoot both arrows.
“Don’t stop!” Nathok gave her behind a rough kick. “You think centaurs or werewolves are going to let you take a moment to relax?”
The little elves chuckled at Nathok’s comments and turned back around only when their teacher snapped at them to focus. Emily did not pay them much mind, though, because thanks to Belen, ridicule had become an integral part of her training. She drew from it the will to keep fighting. She could not guarantee that she would reach her goal, but if she did not, it would not be for lack of trying.
Each training ended like the previous one—her arms sore, her fingers aching, and her ego bruised. Not that she’d had much of an ego to start with, but Emily was beginning to doubt her capacity to learn this difficult technique. Maybe Nathok was right; perhaps she should just give up altogether.
She knew she wouldn’t, though. Even with imminent, colossal failure hanging over her head, she’d never just give up. That was something she’d inherited from both her mother and her father: stubbornness. At least Chara would never know of her failure thanks to all the secrecy.
Emily could not even catch a break when she returned from her training lessons to the amazons. Adelpha had thought long and hard about Emily’s proposed advantages to staying for a week and decided to go for the impossible. She was going to attempt to make inroads with the elves. For this, Adelpha definitely had her work cut out for her from both without and within. Few of the amazons wanted anything to do with the elves, having spent long hours doing nothing in the elven camp except being a target for loathing eyes. The elves tolerated the humans, but partook in every chance to make it known how much it pained them. Adelpha saw only one way to get through this wall of hatred, and that was to use whatever power Emily had over them.
However, Emily knew she had no power. In their eyes, she was as much an abomination as the rest, and when she attempted to talk with some of the elves and introduce Adelpha to them, she had no better luck. In fact, she was actually shown more spite than the others, something Adelpha could not understand. Emily understood, though. She knew they hated her more because she was being taught and entrusted with one of the elves’ most precious secrets.
The good news was that, after a few attempts, Adelpha had stopped pestering Emily, who could finally get some much needed sleep after her long training. Adelpha did not give up so easily, though, and continued to play the diplomat. She offered her assistance constantly, helping those who would allow her and also those who wouldn’t. No matter the rudeness she was shown, Adelpha kept her own anger hidden. Emily was truly surprised. Adelpha’s temper was anything but long, and the big woman often found arguments easier to solve with a quick threat of violence—not unlike all amazons—yet she showed remarkable restraint here and now. Adelpha was on a mission for her people and was going to do everything in her power to make things better for them.
It was an admirable feat, to be honest, and although Adelpha’s persistent attempts garnered nothing but scorn from the elves, they quickly had a more positive effect on the other amazons. They watched her try and try again, and fail and fail again, but never quit. Adelpha’s insistence, rather than squander hope, actually revived the fight in the amazons. They were warrior people, after all, and they would rather rise to a challenge than risk the shame of sitting it out.
Iezabel was the first one to start helping Adelpha’s cause. On the third day, Adelpha finished her breakfast and stretched dramatically before walking out into the elven village.
“There she goes again,” Hanna noted and then sighed as Adelpha was given another cold shoulder. “She’s not going to give up, is she?”
Iezabel sighed, too, as Adelpha moved on to a different group who was trying to construct a new home against a tree.
“Damn her,” Iezabel said. “She’s a little gremlin and a half.”
“I agree, this is rid—” Hanna paused mid-sentence, in shock, as Iezabel stood up and walked over to Adelpha.
“Where can we help?” Iezabel asked one of the elves.
Hanna froze with her mouth open and then quickly shut it to hide her embarrassment. The group watched as Iezabel and Adelpha, a bit forcibly, lent their assistance to the elves by pulling on ropes to lift a freshly made roof into place while others fixed it into position. The elves didn’t put up as much of a fight this time. The village was quickly learning that it was easier to say ‘yes’ to Adelpha than ‘no.’
When they were finished, Adelpha smiled at Iezabel and held out her hand. Iezabel stared at it and then took it for a quick shake before letting it go.
“Come on, you selfish girl,” Iezabel said. “I can’t let you get all the attention.”
The next day brought more amazon recruits, including Hanna’s daughters. Hanna murmured and huffed about ungratefulness as she watched Leda and Kirke make their way out to the village. The two paid their mother no mind, though, and pushed and laughed their way from group to group. Their childish nature was met with sharp failure faster than any of Adelpha’s approaches. They were avoided so quickly that they didn’t even get the chance to ask half of the time. However, the twins would not be defeated so easily and made their way to the elven youth, a group that could have been designed just for them.
Most of the older elves were quiet, secluded, calm, and pristine. On the other end, like humans, the younger generation was much too energetic for that, and when Kirke and Leda started a pushing war, the children joined in with only the slightest hesitation. None of them could resist the laughing twins who were obviously having more fun than them, and in almost no time at all, the elves were playing with the two amazons like they had been best friends for eternity.
The adults, upon noticing this, hastily moved to break up the successful playtime by calling their children to chores and work. The children hesitated momentarily, but relented to their parents. They waved goodbye to the twins with smiles on their faces, though, and come early in the morning, before their parents were even awake, the elven children were back to learn new ways to have a good time from the two most entertaining people they’d ever met.
Emily saw only bits and pieces of this in between sleeping and training, but was kept well informed by Chara.
“It’s amazing, Daughter, really,” Chara commented. “I really think we might have a shot at re-forming an alliance. I mean, I don’t think it will happen this week, but Adelpha is laying down the foundation for communicating with them.”
“It’s,” Emily paused to yawn, “awesome.”
“You’re really working hard, aren’t you?” Chara asked.
“You have no idea,” E
mily said.
The only good news was that the dreams, her nightmares, had miraculously stopped. She slept each night all the way through, uninterrupted, and it was a blessed sleep. Emily asked Dirthzea why this was, and the elf admitted to asking on her behalf.
“It is difficult enough to learn to shoot two arrows in one week without having nightmares to distract you,” he explained.
Emily thanked him graciously, even after he warned her that once her training was over, the dreams would likely resume. Emily did not care, though. For one solid week, she would sleep like a rock.
Unfortunately, in place of her dreams, Nathok arose. He started arriving earlier and earlier to awake his new student. His goal truly seemed to be set on making sure Emily’s eyes were shut when he approached her. He tapped her on the head every morning and made her eat hurriedly as they walked to the training area. He actually seemed to be eager after the first couple of days, and Emily couldn’t help but feel some of her contempt for Quartus slide onto Nathok. Good sleep was too hard to come by, and she knew her training was being affected by it.
Her shots, with all the added challenges, were actually getting worse rather than better. It was vastly discouraging, and if Nathok had given Emily any time at all to stop and breathe, she would have felt a great disappointment in herself. Her shots were becoming sloppy, missing wider, hitting less often, and striking with less force. She cursed herself after each shot and tried to focus her thoughts, her energy, so that she could master this difficult technique.
Nathok, if he noticed Emily’s failure, made no mention of it. His ridiculing came less and less often until finally it stopped altogether. Emily pondered if he had stopped out of pity and then decided that he probably had. He could see her skills become increasingly worse, rather than better, and knew that there was no hope for her. He didn’t have to insult her anymore. She no longer stood a chance, or perhaps she’d never stood a chance to begin with.
Emily would not quit, though. She would fight her yawns every morning with quick slaps to the face to wake herself up. She made every effort to learn and would not stop. She gave each shot her best effort and fought against her own weariness, her own feebleness, and against the elf that had told her she was wasting her time.
