Emily's Saga

by Travis Bughi

  As the week drew to a close, Nathok no longer made condescending remarks, but still kept the pressure on Emily.

  “Again, again, again,” seemed to be the only words he knew.

  His face lost its edge of sarcasm and superiority. He was all business now, instructing his student with stern, unyielding orders. Nathok expected no slack and gave no breaks. Adelpha had been an angel of mercy compared to this little elf who made Emily run from one end of the field to the other, shooting at targets he only called out at the last possible moment. He no longer said anything when she missed. His face didn’t even twitch in satisfaction.

  Emily stared at the moon often on those last few days. She watched it each night before she passed out into a coma-like sleep from exhaustion. Every night there was more of a moon to see. It was more whole. It wasn’t full yet, but it would be soon. Time ticked in the back of Emily’s head, indeed in all of the amazons’ heads. They had, for better or worse, made a gamble with their lives. Lok’har wanted their blood, and he would track them down and kill them all. So, they wagered on the only card they had left: werewolves.

  They would race south and reach the territory of the full-moon killers before Lok’har could corner them. With no delays, they might just be able to make it through the rest of the forest and into the jungles before the first full-moon night. Lok’har, on the other hand, even if he made it through as well, would be trapped by werewolves at his back, away from his home and allies, in amazon territory.

  Surely he would not risk that. Surely Lok’har, or at least his brethren, would not take that chance. They had already lost so many that, surely, they would risk no more. Those were the assurances uttered around the campfire each night. The amazons had made the right choice, for surely sanity would prevail. Lok’har would not chase them, and they agreed they had made a good decision.

  They were all liars.

  But what was done was done, and Emily slept each night in a dreamless, much appreciated, sleep. Even on the last night, the night before they would leave, Emily did not wake once. She only awoke early in the morning when Nathok, like usual, pushed her awake.

  Chapter 13

  “Emily,” Nathok whispered. “Wake up.”

  “Huh?” Emily’s eyes fluttered open then closed. “There is no training today, elf.”

  “You’re right,” Nathok said. “Today is your test.”

  “Test?” Emily muttered, still trying to drift back into sleep. “What test?”

  “Just get up,” Nathok gave her a rough push.

  Emily grumbled awake, the words ‘what test’ still lingering on her lips. She did not need a test; she needed rest. The amazons were leaving today at mid-morning. Their theory was that if Lok’har had discovered the elven camp, then he was having them watched and would be prepared for them to move out at night. So, they planned on leaving mid-morning in the attempt to lull him into a false sense of security that they were staying that day. They had also gone to sleep earlier, so that they would be well rested for a run through the night. Every second counted now. Their lives depended on it.

  Emily was thus very displeased with Nathok’s insistence on testing her. It didn’t make sense. She had been practicing this entire week, doing a horrible job, and could not see any benefit to testing what she already knew she failed. The knowledge of that hit her heavily just then. It hadn’t been as forceful before when there were still days to improve, but it hit home now. She had been given a precious chance, a beyond rare opportunity, and squandered it. Some might disagree with her and point out her faithful attempt as an indicator of success, but Emily had not been raised on trying. On the Great Plains, if one tried to grow crops and didn’t, there was no reward; there was starvation. If one searched day and night for a behemoth and did not find one, there was no pat on the back. If a banshee came for you and you almost made it to hiding, you still died.

  No. In Emily’s mind, she’d failed, and she felt guilt for that failure. As they walked through the elven camp, Emily’s head hung low in shame.

  “Eerrm,” Nathok cleared his throat.

  They were almost to the shooting range now. They had walked the entire way in silence, which was not unusual at all. Nathok’s clearing of the throat, however, was a first.

  “Yes?” Emily asked.

  “Your friends have,” Nathok paused to choose his words, “been rather persistent this past week.”

  “Yes, they have,” Emily admitted. “They really want to show their gratitude.”

  “Well, I must say, they’re quite the talk of the village.”

  “Good talk?” Emily asked.

  “Eh,” Nathok made a questioning glance, “you could say that.”

  Emily felt better about that. At least Adelpha had made good use of their time here. All the amazons had stocked up on arrows, lots and lots of arrows, and food, but Adelpha had made a successful attempt to break the dirt with the elves. Emily could only hope that it was enough to build a relationship upon.

  They reached the shooting range as their short conversation came to a close. It was quiet, like always, but Emily felt it was less inviting, too. It had never been comfortable to begin with, but on their final day here, after all her hard work had been for nothing, Emily felt like she was being mocked. She let loose a sigh to enunciate the feeling.

  “Are you ready?” Nathok asked.

  Emily looked to Nathok and raised an eyebrow. That was a first. Nathok had never asked Emily if she was ready before. He either demanded it or assumed it. The patience in his voice also caught her attention. It actually sounded like an honest question, one where more than one answer was allowed. She had to stop and think about it for a moment.

  “Yes,” she decided, “I’m ready.”

  “Then choose your targets and shoot,” he replied.

  Emily hesitated before stepping forward. She did it with caution, expecting at any moment to be struck or pushed, or given a sudden command that would throw her off balance. She pulled out her bow quickly with arrows already in hand.

  Nathok did nothing.

  Emily pulled the arrows back, taking aim.

  Nathok did nothing.

  Emily selected her targets, tilted her bow, spread the points with her fingers, and made every adjustment she thought necessary.

  Still, Nathok did nothing.

  Emily released her arrows. One sunk into a target, the other missed. She sighed in frustration.

  “Again,” Nathok said.

  Angrily, Emily shot fast, and both arrows missed. Her muscles tightened, and her teeth clenched.

  “Again,” Nathok said.

  “What’s the point?” Emily turned around and demanded fiercely.

  Nathok went rigid, and Emily let loose her closed up feelings of failure.

  “You have what you wanted, elf!” Emily said. “I missed; I failed; I’m terrible. I should have never tried, right? Didn’t you say that yourself? What is the point of this test now? To prove that to me? I already know!”

  Emily turned back around and let her head drop. She’d let too much of her anger show and had vented it on her teacher. That was not right. Students should not blame their teachers. Her mother had told her that once, and Emily recalled it clearly at that point. “A lack of success cannot be allocated to others,” she’d said. “Responsibility is always in your hands.” Emily clenched her fists.

  “Why do you torture yourself, Stout?” Nathok asked. “I do not see other humans punish themselves so.”

  “Heh,” Emily smiled at Nathok’s insight. “I guess you could say it runs in my family. My father never blamed the weather when the crops didn’t grow.”

  Nathok hummed an agreement, and if Emily had turned around, she would have seen him nod and look away.

  “May I offer some advice?” he asked.

  “It couldn’t hurt, could it?” Emily replied after a pause.

  “First, let me say you are right,” Nathok began. “When we first met, I did say you might as well not t
ry. I wanted you to fail. Our secrets are not to be shared with anyone, including humans. Not to mention your kind, the amazons, have already proven themselves to be untrustworthy in the past.”

  “But I—” Emily started.

  “I know you don’t consider yourself one of them,” Nathok stopped her, “but perhaps maybe you should. You shouldn’t be so quick to exclude yourself from a group that opens their arms to you. And you also shouldn’t be so quick to discount your achievements.”

  “Why are you saying this to me?” Emily asked.

  Nathok sighed, and Emily turned to face him.

  “I’ve watched you struggle this week, and I must admit that I found your perseverance . . . inspiring,” the elf admitted. “I did not expect to see someone like you, looking full-force into the eyes of defeat, still push onwards without hesitation.”

  “Someone like me?” Emily interpreted. “You mean someone human?”

  “Yes,” Nathok replied. “I watched you accept your imminent failure, set it aside, and continue forward every day. Afterwards, I actually started looking forward to our sessions, and I pushed you hard to test your will.”

  “Did I pass, elf?” Emily asked bitterly.

  “You did,” he replied. “Admirably, if I might add.”

  Emily tried to hold onto her anger. She was still upset at her poor aim, especially after all her practice, but she couldn’t ignore the compliment Nathok was giving her. He was a hard being to impress, that much was abundantly clear. So, she sighed and decided to accept the one achievement she had earned. It was a rare one, an elf’s respect.

  “Thank you, Nathok,” Emily said and extended her hand.

  Nathok took it and they did a quick shake before releasing. There was a long pause afterwards, each party not sure how to continue. In the end, it was Nathok that felt the need to speak first.

  “You know, I wouldn’t let this setback upset you.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Believe it or not, you actually have the knowledge you need to shoot two arrows,” Nathok said. “I believe the only thing you’re missing now is the proper motivation.”

  “Well, I guess that’s good to know,” Emily responded, unsure how to accept the statement.

  “It is,” he confirmed. “Now, follow me. Dirthzea wishes to speak with you one more time before you leave this morning.”

  * * *

  Dirthzea did not attempt to hide his worried feelings. When Emily came in, the stress hung heavily in his breath and in his mannerisms. The way he carefully folded then unfolded his hands was not normal when compared to Emily’s other visits. She came in quietly and sat down before him, wondering what was troubling the old elf.

  “I’m going to assume you’re not an idiot,” Dirthzea said.

  “Well, that is much appreciated,” Emily replied dryly.

  “Please, don’t,” Dirthzea replied, holding up a hand. “I’m trying to warn you of something I do not think you comprehend.”

  “If you’re talking about my dream,” Emily started.

  “I’m not,” he finished.

  He was speaking hastily and appeared eager, yet he hesitated to explain his nervous behavior. Emily felt confused and, admittedly, a bit unsettled. Dirthzea, actually all elves, had always appeared completely calm and at peace with themselves. They were rarely angry, excited, or anything other than controlled. Even teaching a human one of their guarded secrets was done with a dignified grace. To see this old, knowledgeable elf in such a state did not bode well.

  “What is it then, Dirthzea?” Emily asked. “We should be leaving soon.”

  He took in a large breath before answering.

  “You know there is one in your group who is your enemy, yes?”

  “Yes, her name is Belen,” Emily nodded. “We have her under watch and are taking her back to stand trial.”

  “You have her under guard?” Dirthzea asked, completely surprised.

  “Yes,” Emily confirmed. “We caught her. Why are you surprised?”

  “I have been listening,” he explained. “I have seen into your thoughts, I have glimpsed into those who have come near, and I have found a dastardly plot in the mind of one. It was faint, but I could sense its evil. Your foe has been plotting.”

  “She really wasn’t that hard to capture,” Emily explained. “Really, we have her watched carefully.”

  “That may be,” Dirthzea continued, “but I will say this: watch her better.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because, from what I sensed,” Dirthzea leaned in to whisper, “she feels like she has already won. I sensed nothing but pure confidence, a feeling of complete freedom without the slightest hint of doubt. It seems your enemy has taken this long week to formulate a plan, and she is precisely where she wants to be.”

  Emily felt a lump swell in her throat.

  “Is she planning on escaping?” Emily asked.

  “I do not know of her intentions,” he admitted. “All I will tell you is that she is very, very comfortable. Now, hurry. Your group will be leaving soon, and they stand very little chance without you.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Emily blushed.

  “I do,” he replied. “Now go, and be careful. Whatever happens after today, you won’t get another opportunity to make it right.”

  Dirthzea said those last words as Emily was leaving. She paused and turned back but could think of nothing to say. He was right; she knew that much. The way they were going, there would be no going back.

  Emily left Dirthzea without saying goodbye. After the warning she’d received, there was no place for it. This would not be a warm goodbye, but a silent farewell. Even as she met up with the other amazons, that same feeling choked the air. The women packed up their gear in silence, stocked their quivers with the knowledge they’d be used, and strung their bows as if this might be the last time they’d get the chance.

  Even the elves were not as callous when they watched the amazons prepare for their hard journey ahead. They made nods of acknowledgement and did not look away as the humans left their camp in rapid order. Emily noted that Adelpha had done well. The elves did not consider the amazons friends yet, but it seemed that they were no longer hated enemies, at least not in this village.

  As they left the camp, Emily was surprised to find Nathok waiting just outside the perimeter. He was high in the trees, sitting on a hippogriff. As the amazons passed by, he motioned the creature down, and Emily watched him glide gracefully through the air. He landed down below, just in front of her, and dismounted.

  They were out of sight from the other elves now, and Emily was surprised to see him. He looked tense and determined as he dismounted from the beast, and all the amazons took a step back as the hippogriff screeched and spread its wings wide.

  “Easy,” Nathok turned and calmed his mount with nothing more than a wave of his hand.

  The creature breathed deeply and swept its feathered wings back in place. It still eyed the amazons with suspicion, though.

  “What is it, Nathok?” Emily asked.

  Then, in a move that shocked everyone, Nathok stepped forward and placed his hand on Emily’s shoulder. He held it there for a moment, looking into her eyes, and then pulled her in for the faintest of hugs. The amazons let loose a hushed gasp of surprise, and Nathok let go just as quickly as he’d pulled her in.

  “Good luck,” he said, then mounted up and flew off into the air.

  Emily blinked several times, mouth open in disbelief as the elf disappeared into the tree line.

  “Well, well, well,” Iezabel said. “I guess now we know what special lessons you were receiving.”

  The other amazons burst into laughter. Emily’s cheeks burned red as she looked away in embarrassment.

  “It wasn’t like that,” Emily said.

  “Yeah, I’ll bet there was much more to it,” Hanna commented. “Takes more than a hug to be as exhausted as you were!”

  The amazons nearly doubled over this t
ime. They slapped each other on the back and had a grand time making up as many assumptions as they could about Emily’s time with Nathok. Each new innuendo brought a roar of outrageous laughter and a new level of red to Emily’s cheeks. She cursed Nathok’s name and wished he’d had the courage to give her a hug back at the archery range. What had that damn elf been thinking?

  “I guess they like them shorter out on the plains,” Kirke said.

  “Hey, at least it wasn’t a gnome, right Chara?” Leda called out.

  “I wonder what little half breed they would make, eh?” Iezabel howled.

  Another chorus of laughter ensued. Emily looked back to see that Chara wasn’t smiling. She only shook her head and kept walking. Emily felt ashamed for the affection she’d been shown and wished that Chara didn’t have to suffer this embarrassment, too. Fortunately, after a few more jokes had been made, Adelpha cut them short.

  “Alright,” she said. “That’s enough. I’m sure all the centaur clans in Angor know where we are now.”

  “Oh come on, Adelpha,” Leda said, and then was followed by Kirke, “We were just having some fun.”

  “Laugh when we’re in Themiscyra,” she replied.

  At least Sir Gavin hadn’t seen any of this, Emily thought. That would have been worse.

  A few more mumbled laughs escaped the lips of some, but the importance of stealth eventually won over juvenile prodding. Their clock had officially started ticking. They had one more night without a full moon, and it would take two full days of running to reach the safety of the jungle. If they could avoid or otherwise outrun Lok’har’s forces long enough, then they could make it home alive.

  Emily’s mind still lingered on Nathok’s show of affection, and she slipped back to try and explain things to Chara.

  “Mother, I,” Emily started.

  “Save it, Daughter,” Chara cut her off.

  Emily’s heart felt a sharp pain and she clutched a hand to it. She lost her pace, and Chara jogged ahead, not even bothering to look back. Emily watched her run and fought hard to stifle a tear. Her heart felt twisted and mangled, and she could barely run. Never before had Chara shunned her so quickly and harshly.