Emily's Saga

by Travis Bughi

  “Oy!” Carlito yelled. “I asked you a question! You going to serve me, Mosley, or will you be walking the plank with Emily?”

  “Hm?” Mosley took down his spyglass and turned to face Carlito. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t hear you the first time. Now that I have, though, I choose not to answer.”

  “What?” Carlito scowled. “Why not?”

  “Because it don’t matter,” Mosley said and extended his spyglass out to Carlito. “See for yourself.”

  Carlito squinted in a mix of confusion and suspicion. He looked left and right, as if expecting a trick. Seeing nothing, though, he walked forward and grabbed the spyglass out of Mosley’s palm. Mosley, in turn, held his hand out toward the sea, inviting his ally-turned-nemesis to have a look for himself.

  Carlito paused for another moment and gave Mosley a lingering scowl before holding up the spyglass to his own eye.

  “North, northwest,” Mosley said, “and you might have to adjust the lens. My eyes are older than yours.”

  Carlito started twisting the various cylinders. Mosley turned back toward the crew.

  “When did you turn on me, Lonzo?” Mosley asked.

  “I was the first one he recruited,” Lonzo replied without an ounce of shame or hesitation, “on the first night we set out from Lucifan. If you’d been honest when you recruited me, Captain, I wouldn’t have had to turn on you.”

  Mosley snorted in disgust and looked away. A moment later, Carlito stopped shifting the spyglass, and his body stiffened.

  “Aye, you found it,” Mosley smiled. “Go on now, tell your new crew whatcha be seein’.”

  Carlito lowered the spyglass and gave a heavy sigh.

  “Vikings,” he seethed.

  As one, the crew took in a sharp breath.

  “That’s right,” Mosley smiled. “It doesn’t matter whether I join you or not. In just a little bit, we’ll all be either dead or slaves.”

  Mosley held his hand open for Carlito to return the spyglass. Carlito shook his head again, folded the tool, and placed it in Mosley’s hand without thinking.

  “Thank you,” Mosley said.

  Then he pulled out his pistol and shot Carlito in the neck.

  Chapter 10

  Emily had once thought pirates moved fast at the sight of a storm. Now though, when compared to the sight of vikings, she realized the pirates of The Greedy Barnacle had moved like slow behemoths before. The moment Carlito was shot, Mosley turned to the crew and began barking out orders. Carlito fell to the deck where he twisted and gurgled through the two holes in his throat. The agony alone might have prevented him from stopping Mosley from resuming command, but the inability to speak put a final nail in that coffin.

  “Get your weapons ready, lads!” Mosley shouted. “Don’t just stand there, you blasted idiots! Get to the cannons! You there! Go below and get the powder. You! The cannon balls! I need shot, and I need it now! You men there, get to the rigging! You! The sails! The vikings are already at full row, so let’s get moving! Damn it! NOW, LADS!”

  The pirates erupted into a flurry of activity like nothing Emily had ever seen. So great was their haste that a few of them slammed into her in their hurry to get moving. None of them stopped to question the fact that just a moment before, they’d all denounced any authority Mosley had over them, which in a way was a tribute to both their fickleness and the urgency of the situation.

  Emily found Priscila in the crowd.

  “Why didn’t you warn me?!” Emily demanded as she jumped in front of Priscila.

  “This isn’t the time, Emily!” she screamed back.

  Priscila forcibly shoved Emily out of the way and bolted to the hatch. Emily followed and fought her way into the crowd of pirates that were trying to get down in the hull as fast as possible. Emily elbowed, shoved and pushed until she finally caught back up with Priscila down in the armory.

  “No!” Emily yelled to the older woman. “I demand an answer! Why didn’t you warn me? I thought we were friends!”

  Priscila gave a deep and hearty laugh as she grabbed up an armful of axes and began passing them to the pirates choking the area. The men were everywhere, rolling barrels of gunpowder to the hatch door, carrying cannon balls with locked arms, lugging boarding axes, sheathing daggers, adjusting cutlasses, and strapping on bucklers. They were arming to the teeth, and Emily thought of her bow and quiver in her room.

  Priscila stopped laughing and gave a heavy sigh.

  “You are so naïve, Emily,” she smiled. “You really are an amazon, aren’t you?”

  “What does that mean?”

  Emily hadn’t told anyone that she had been a farmer on the Great Plains. Only Captain Mosley knew, and he hadn’t bothered to mention it either.

  “I’ve heard the stories,” Priscila rolled her eyes. “You forget that pirates and amazons visit the same tavern in Lucifan. Margret told me all about your concepts of family and how you all call each other ‘sister.’ All of you place so much trust in each other, like children. Naïve concepts for a naïve people. You do what you must to survive, Emily. That’s the only real law in this world. I’d have told you, but I knew you’d tell Mosley in a heartbeat. Carlito said as much, so it was either you or me, lass, and that was an easy choice. Not that it matters anymore, ‘cause we have vikings rowing towards us, so I’d go grab whatever weapons you have, because you’ll need them.”

  Emily didn’t like that answer. She felt hurt to say the least but was surprised at how well the pain was muffled by her anger. It wasn’t abandonment she was feeling; it was betrayal.

  She had nothing to say in return, so she let the conversation end there. As Priscila continued to help the other pirates prepare for battle, Emily left for her room to gather up her own gear. Once she was inside, she slammed the door behind her and gave it a vicious kick. Her eyes started to blur for a moment, but she swallowed the pain. She wasn’t going to cry now—not now, not over this. Priscilla didn’t deserve her tears. Stomping to her bed, she thrust her pack upon it and rolled up her blanket. She paused at the letters and, thinking over how things might turn out, decided to tuck them under her vest. She tightened the strings to keep them in place and then packed the rest of her remaining possessions. No matter how the next few moments played out, she was leaving The Greedy Barnacle one way or another.

  She left her bow for last, and when Emily picked it up, her angry hands calmed at its familiar touch. Of everything she could be mad at, her bow was not one of them. She strung it, tested it, and held it close. Then she left the room and went back up to the top deck.

  Out in the midday sun, Mosley was back at the ship’s helm and shouting commands. The flurry of activity had not diminished, but there seemed to be more coordination now that tasks had been assigned.

  “Get those cannons ready!” Mosley shouted. “We don’t have the artillery needed to sink their ship, but we’ll kill as many of them as we can before they get to us! You men there! Tighter on the rope! We need to MOVE!”

  Amongst the chaos, Emily spotted Carlito kneeling on one knee in a pool of his own blood. He had a single, red-soaked hand around his throat, while his other was holding the railing for support. He wasn’t crying out in pain anymore, but his eyes were filled with such fury that Emily’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Captain! Captain!” Lonzo called out. “You can’t take us that way! That’s a roc’s nest!”

  Emily searched out and spotted Lonzo in the crowd. He was pointing toward the ship’s bow, and Emily followed the finger to see that Mosley was directing his vessel toward the shallow mountain range on the coast.

  “You’re damn right I am!” Mosley shouted back. “I don’t see no roc, but hopefully whoever is in charge of the viking ship is just as afraid as you are!”

  Lonzo swore, and Emily heard many of the others do the same. None voiced further concern, though, and Emily sprinted over to Lonzo. She hated having to talk to him again, but she desperately needed some answers.

  “What is going on?�
� she demanded.

  “The Captain is steering us straight toward death!” Lonzo yelled. “Blast! You don’t know what a roc is, do you? Aye, I guess I owe you that much. Rocs are massive, flying birds that will drop ship-sized boulders on anything passing them by, especially to protect their young. You see the top of that mountain? What looks like a bunch of fallen trees? You think trees grow like that on top of a mountain in Savara? That’s a nest, Emily, and judging by the fact that there’s no roc there now and no chirping of youngins, that means only one of two things: either the nest has been abandoned or it has yet to be used. The Captain here is hoping the vikings won’t take the risk and will leave us alone.”

  “And what do you think?”

  Lonzo grabbed Emily by the shoulder and jerked her around to face the viking ship. It was still coming at them, visible now in a level of detail Emily hadn’t expected to see so soon. They really did move fast.

  “You ever seen a viking?” he asked.

  “Yes, in Lucifan,” Emily answered.

  “Then you understand what I’m about to tell you. That ship there is full of warriors whose sole purpose in life is to die a glorious death in combat so they can be revived in their heaven and continue fighting for all eternity. They like to plunder the rich and fight the strong, and they’ll sell every one of us who doesn’t die today into slavery. Now, you tell me. Do you think us getting closer to an empty roc’s nest is going to concern them one bit?”

  Emily swallowed and gritted her teeth.

  “No,” she said. “Can we abandon the ship?”

  “Depends,” he smirked, “do you think you can out row them in the launch?”

  “No,” she repeated.

  “Can you swim?”

  “I’ve never tried.”

  “Then that answer is also ‘no’. Do you understand now? Course you do, you’re a smart lass,” Lonzo took his hand off her shoulder. “Now, cover your ears.”

  Emily didn’t ask why and immediately did as she was told. A moment later, she heard a muffled command from Mosley followed by the massive boom of all four cannons going off. They’d all been wheeled into positions pointed toward the viking ship, and the entire world exploded with the noise they made when they were fired.

  The shots all missed, as evidenced by the four pillars of water that erupted all around the viking ship. That was to be expected, though. The first shot was the least accurate according to what Emily had been told. Once the cannons warmed up, the shots would become increasingly accurate. However, looking at the advancing viking ship, she doubted the crew would have time for that.

  “Reload!” Mosley commanded unnecessarily.

  The viking ship sped through the water as if born of it. It was roughly the same size as The Greedy Barnacle, though a bit shorter and wider. It had a mast but flew no sail, and, in spite of the wind’s southern angle, it came straight at the pirates. This puzzled Emily for a moment, as she was unsure how it moved at all. Then the distance closed further, and Emily saw great oars extending out from each side of the ship. There were at least a dozen on either side, massive in size, and the vikings pulled them in unison to propel their ship like a colossal rowboat.

  On the wind, through the ringing in her ears, she heard the slow, deep, rhythmic pounding of a drum. The oars moved in time with it, and accompanying that drum, she heard chanting.

  Ah-uo, ah-uo, ah-uo.

  Her skin crawled.

  “Fire!” Mosley yelled.

  The cannons boomed as fire was set to them. The gunpowder exploded and rocketed the four-pounder balls through the air. Three shots struck the sea this time, sending heaps of saltwater into the air, but one ball hit the ship, tearing through the wood siding and sending a cheer through the pirates. The mark was high above the waterline, though, and the vikings continued to row.

  “Again, lads! Again!” Mosley yelled.

  The pirates set about the reloading process, which was a laborious task that took at least half a minute to complete. The Greedy Barnacle had finally picked up on the wind and was making headway toward the shoreline. The vikings were still coming toward them, and once The Greedy Barnacle changed course, the vikings quickly and easily adjusted their own with no more than a sudden shift in oar strokes. Emily wondered at the impressive maneuver.

  Another salvo from the cannons was discharged with only two shots missing this time. Of the two that hit, one slammed directly into the ship’s side, and the other bounced along the top deck. The pirates cheered some more as it became apparent the vikings would now be taking on water, but it wasn’t a big leak, and their ship hardly slowed. The Greedy Barnacle’s guns weren’t meant to sink a ship, only to slow and disable it for capture and ransom. The pirates weren’t accustomed to being the ones hunted.

  As the cannon crew reloaded, the viking ship shifted course again. The oars on the left side dipped into the water hard, which yanked the ship both closer to the shore and also conveniently behind The Greedy Barnacle. With that single move, two of the four cannons became unusable. The angle was too severe to shoot all four cannons from their place on the main deck. It was clever, but Emily noted that the vikings had lost some speed to accomplish this.

  “Damn them!” Lonzo shouted out.

  Mosley said nothing and continued to sail the ship toward the mountains. He was getting close now, and Emily watched him furrow his brow as he searched the skyline for signs of a roc.

  “Ahh!” he cried out. “May a kraken take me! I have no luck at all!”

  The vikings continued to chant and row, their voices now strongly heard, and Emily felt her heart begin to beat along with the drum. The pirates took another shot, but the sudden shift of their target had ruined their hard work adjusting the cannons, so both cannonballs missed. Judging by the distance left, they’d be lucky to get in another shot.

  Mosley kept a firm grip on the helm as the distance to the mountains closed. Emily had no idea how close they were supposed to get, but she was convinced that if Mosley went much further they would strike land. Behind them, the chanting grew louder.

  “Come on!” Mosley shouted up at the roc’s nest. “Damn it all!”

  “We can’t make another shot, Captain!” one of the pirates called. “We can’t see them!”

  Mosley gave a heavy sigh and then lunged onto the steering wheel, shoving the rudder hard to starboard and throwing The Greedy Barnacle sideways and to a dead stop.

  “Fire!” Mosley yelled.

  The cannons were shifted and fired for the last time.

  Huge plumes of black smoke churned out of the barrels as four solid balls rammed straight into the viking ship. The thunderous noise drowned out the drum for one glorious moment, and Emily’s ears rung in agony. Then the smoke blew away in the wind, and in the clarity that followed, Emily saw that the cannons had barely affected their target. Her ears eased their ringing, and she noticed that the drum had ceased. A moment later, the viking ship rammed full speed into The Greedy Barnacle, sending a massive shudder through both ships.

  The chase was over. They would be boarded.

  Emily drew her bow.

  Chapter 11

  A deep, war cry erupted from the vikings as their ship rammed The Greedy Barnacle. Their massive forms were visible now, both tall and strong with thick arms laden with heavy muscles, and the few women in their war band resembled Emily’s friend, Adelpha, who had a broader chest than some men. The vikings were dressed in a mixture of cloth, fur, and patchwork iron and steel armor. Some had helmets, others did not. Most carried shields, but all of them were armed.

  They charged onto The Greedy Barnacle, screaming like madmen, bellowing in voices as deep as one would expect from a people so bent on war. To their credit, the pirates yelled back and met the charge head on.

  The first viking into the fray was so eager that he foamed from the mouth. In his hands, he hefted an axe that resembled the massive hunks of metal used by the ogres in Lucifan. He swung it sideways in a wide arc, cleaving through o
ne of the slower pirates who had failed to get out of the way in time. His blood spilled onto the Barnacle’s deck and mixed with that left behind by Carlito.

  The viking roared in victory and shouted his name, “I am Kall Utherson! Son of—”

  Emily never found out Kall’s father’s name, because a pirate stabbed him in the stomach with a cutlass.

  The vikings poured around and over the corpse of Kall. His demise seemed to invigorate them, and they eagerly came to blows with the pirates. The next one to go was a pirate who tried to block a hammer with his buckler. The viking he faced put such force behind the swing that the buckler shattered, and Emily heard the pirate’s bones snap. He cried out in agony but then went silent forever when the viking struck him in the head.

  Emily recoiled at the brutality. She was no stranger to death, but she’d never seen such bloodlust in a human. The other vikings were no different, and they roared with bestial wrath as they laid into the pirates with maddening strength, relentless in their assault. So aggressive were their attacks that despite having just jumped from one ship to the next, they’d already pushed the pirates back. Within moments the floor was littered with bodies, and that was only the first charge. Behind them, more vikings climbed aboard, all looking just as eager as the rest.

  The pirates fought as hard as they could. They were faster than the vikings and surprisingly more coordinated. While the vikings singled out opponents like for a sporting match, the pirates never hesitated to stab an unwary viking in the back. At times, they even seemed to plan it as one pirate would distract a viking only to have another sneak up and down the foe. Those without bucklers or axes fought with two blades: cutlass in one hand, dagger in the other. They’d parry and fight with the cutlass and, when they saw an opening, would lunge with the dagger at whatever the vikings had exposed.

  Emily had her bow drawn and an arrow ready but couldn’t seem to find an opening to use it. The melee was thick, and opponents and allies choked the ship’s deck. The Greedy Barnacle wasn’t made to house this many people, and along with rocking waves, Emily realized she wouldn’t be able to hit anything beyond point-blank range. Still, archery was her primary skill, and she couldn’t find the willpower needed to put it down. She decided to get a better view and looked up. There, she thought, spotting the helm.