Emily's Saga

by Travis Bughi

  She looked up at the rocky mountain Mosley had been trying to reach—a barren, brown, jagged pile of dried rocks. It looked easy to climb but seemed to give no reason to do so. Emily wondered how such mountains could form out of nothing but sand and dust, but then she thought that maybe her logic was backwards. Perhaps it was the sand that had fallen from around the decaying mountains? She blinked and rested her chin in her hand, thinking she’d probably never know. Perhaps no one ever would.

  Noticing something even more peculiar, Emily stared in awe at the collection of trees on top of the mountain, supposedly the nest of a roc. Now that she no longer feared losing her life, she could finally look at it in detail and took her time doing so. Alana and Mosley were still arguing, over what she didn’t care.

  The nest was massive. It looked large enough to hold three or four ships, and Emily wondered at the size of a creature that needed so much space and even more so about where a roc could find so many trees at all. They obviously hadn’t grown out of the mountain, so the roc must have traveled far and carried them back to construct it.

  The trees were odd, too. Emily had only seen two types of trees in her life: the short, thin ones on the Great Plains and the massive, leafy ones of the Forest of Angor. In actuality, Angor’s trees had really just been bigger versions of the Plain’s ones. These trees, though, lacked one particular feature, puzzling Emily to no end: they didn’t have branches. The trees that made up this nest were each just one large column that ended in a bush-like sprout of humongous leaves.

  What kind of a place grew trees like that?

  As Emily sat contemplating this, she realized that Alana and Mosley were no longer in a shouting match. They were talking normally now, and that was a good thing, for it indicated that this could come to a close and Emily could finally get off the ship. In the pleasant quiet that followed, she listened to the wind blow past her ears and felt her short hair whip against the side of her face.

  And then she heard something different. Beyond the normal sounds of nature, she heard a subtle, yet deep, whoo sound, like someone had swept a hand past her ear. She blinked and listened intently this time, then heard it again.

  Whoo pause whoo pause whoo.

  It was getting louder, and Emily noticed it was coming from somewhere overland. It was like a vibration in the air now, and Emily felt her breath catch in her throat as she stared in the direction of the heavy sound.

  Then, from over the mountain, Mosley’s long awaited roc finally showed.

  It had brown and white, feathered wings, a yellow beak, and an absolutely massive body. The roc was so massive, in fact, that it took several seconds for its entire body to be lifted up over the mountain. Emily’s jaw dropped open at its size. She had anticipated something large, perhaps even larger than a behemoth, but certainly not something as monstrous as what she saw before her now. This roc could carry a behemoth in its talons. Nothing that big should be able to fly, she thought.

  It wings flapped up and down, pushing the gargantuan creature further into the air. As its wings pushed down, the whoo sound—as of great volumes of air being pushed aside—swept past Emily. She continued to marvel at it, realizing that such a creature could block out the sun. As its wings beat down, great plumes of sand billowed up and took flight, scattering in the winds. The roc’s eyes, proportional to its body, were discernible even at this distance, and it was looking directly at the ship.

  The roc opened its mouth and let out a deafening screech. Emily felt the piercing noise in her heart and slapped her hands to her ears, crying out from the pain it caused. The roc landed behind the empty nest and continued to look at the ship. Its legs were hidden, but Emily could tell it was moving its talons. Then, the roc screeched again, and Emily was thankful she hadn’t taken her hands off her ears yet.

  The roc opened its wings and thrust itself back up into the air. Emily saw that it was now carrying a ship-sized boulder in its talons. It flapped its wings, the whoo swept past Emily, and the roc had already halved the distance towards The Greedy Barnacle.

  “By the angels!” Emily gasped in awe and fear, “Mosley!”

  Emily whirled around to see Mosley was already in a dead sprint, running across the ship directly towards her.

  “What do we do?” Emily screamed.

  Whoo.

  Emily’s hair flailed about as a rush of wind cascaded down over her. She risked a glance up and saw the roc hovering directly over the ship, still visible despite the colossal boulder in its talons.

  Just as the roc released the boulder, Emily felt Mosley slam into her, wrap his arms around her waist, and hurl them both over the side of the ship. On her way down to the water, she watched the ship splinter and burst as the boulder crashed through it.

  The two humans struck the ocean at the same time as The Greedy Barnacle erupted into a fountain of water and boards, and the ocean lurched in a sudden wave.

  Mosley and Emily were assaulted by a bird-made hurricane, choked with wooden debris from the destroyed ship, and yanked apart. Emily lost contact with Mosley and tumbled through the water like a ragdoll, rolling over and over again by waves created by the boulder. She sputtered and gasped, kicked and waved, futilely gasping for air. Great chunks of wood slammed into her body and whirled her about, tossing her further out and raking against her skin.

  When finally the great waves subsided, her tumbling ended, leaving her only an arm’s length from the surface. Rays of sunlight pierced the water around her, and she began to struggle toward the surface. Yet, she could not make progress. She jerked her limbs in every way, but her body would not rise. Her lungs were on fire, and above her she could see the bright sun shining on the water beyond her reach. She could not swim. She had never in all her life been in any water deeper than a bathtub.

  Fear gripped her heart, and she began to flail and kick and claw, but she was sinking. Slowly but surely, the ocean was swallowing her, and the cold depths below pulled her away from the light.

  She tried to hold her breath but couldn’t any longer. Her mouth burped open, and a flood of saltwater streamed into her lungs, causing her to gag and choke and cough, releasing more bubbles of air that drifted effortlessly to the surface without her. As if this torment was not enough, she began to sink even quicker despite all her efforts. Her lungs, her body, everything hurt and burned and screamed, and she could do nothing.

  Panic blared red in her mind, but it was all for nothing. She reached for the surface, watching it fade away as her vision began to blur.

  The world closed in on her, growing dark. Her lungs clenched as they filled with salty water, and she couldn’t find the energy to kick anymore. Her arms were reluctant to move, like she’d lost connection with them. She blinked, and her eyes didn’t want to open again.

  So close, she thought.

  Her mind began to fade. She lost track of where she was, what she was doing. Was she even in the ocean anymore? It didn’t feel like it. She felt grass in her hands, not water. She felt wind on her skin, sunlight on her face, and yet none of it made sense. Where was her mind? Where had it gone?

  Quartus?

  Suddenly, a strong hand touched her stomach, and her blurry mind returned to the ocean. She felt the cold of the water surrounding her, the taste of salt in her mouth, and the burn for air within her lungs. She felt an arm wrap around her, strong and thick, pulling her back tight against a solid wall of muscly flesh.

  “Take her,” Emily heard loud and clear through the water.

  Something scaly slapped against her legs, and her body jerked with the sudden motion. The movement proved too much, and everything went dark.

  Chapter 14

  Emily’s lungs expanded involuntarily, and consciousness was forced upon her. Her eyes flew open to see a merman over her, lips locked with hers and breathing deeply to push air into her.

  Immediately following this realization, her seawater filled stomach and lungs tightened, then lurched to expel all the liquid she had swallowed.
The merman noticed this as well and pulled back just in time to avoid the volcano of vomit that erupted from her mouth. She gasped for air as she upchucked and sputtered with tormented sounds of coughing and belching until she could finally breathe again, though it was painful to do so.

  She heard a splash of water and looked to see the merman swimming away. His scaly tail shimmered beneath the water and then disappeared altogether.

  “Wait,” she gurgled and belched. “Thank you.”

  She collapsed, astoundingly exhausted, and breathed hard. After a moment’s rest, she tilted her head to take in her surroundings.

  The merman had taken her to a rock near the shore. It was barely big enough for her, and the ocean waves sprayed up onto the rock to soak her feet. The water was just shallow enough for her to see the sandy bottom, a fact she was most thankful for. Mosley was nowhere to be seen, and Emily was soaking wet from head to toe. Her left arm was covered in vomit, her stomach gurgled, and her throat burned with an acidic taste.

  But she was alive.

  Emily gave a feeble laugh and then coughed in pain. She placed one hand on her stomach and moaned. She noticed her skin was covered in small scrapes, probably from being hauled onto the rock, and her head was pounding. Her breathing was starting to settle, though, and she placed her other hand on her lips.

  “He kissed me,” she smiled.

  As she lay out over the rock, she listened to the sound of waves crashing upon it and the shore. Mists of cool ocean water sprayed over her, and she welcomed them. The sun’s intensity was not so unbearable now that she was thoroughly soaked.

  Emily remembered the letters beneath her vest and frantically felt for them. She found them, still shockingly secure, and pulled them out. They were wrapped in water-resistant leather provided to her by the pirates, but had it been enough? The envelopes felt damp, and she opened Belen’s letter.

  The writing was still legible. Emily sighed in relief. She dared not unseal Mark O’Conner’s response to find out if the same was true of his; Emily would just have to assume it was. The seal needed to remain unbroken for Belen, assuming Emily ever found her again.

  She packaged up the letters and secured them back under her vest. It seemed a fitting place for them now, especially since her backpack was gone.

  At that exact moment, Emily had a terrible realization: her bow was gone, too.

  “No!” she cried out, bolting upright. “No, no, no!”

  She patted herself down. It had been strapped over her—like it always was—when Mosley had flung them off the ship, yet now it was nowhere to be found. She scanned the water, searching for something, anything that resembled the bow her mother had given her. Out in the distance, she saw the debris from The Greedy Barnacle floating in the waves. However, it was too far out for her to see anything distinctly.

  “No!” Emily cried out, punching balled fists onto her thighs. “NO! Come back!”

  She couldn’t survive without her bow! She just couldn’t! It was more than a weapon, it was a tool. It was how she caught food and kept herself alive, how she would defend herself from the dangers that surely awaited her. It was the symbol of her freedom from the Great Plains, the enduring memory of her grandmother, her companion in the Forest of Angor, and her champion in Lucifan.

  She couldn’t lose her bow! She was her bow.

  Tears came to her eyes, and she buried her face into her palms.

  “No,” she begged softly. “No, please. Not my bow.”

  She felt naked. Her entire soul was exposed like a fragile flower to harsh sun. She dragged her knees up and curled into a ball. Her heart began to ache, and breathing became difficult again. Tears welled in her eyes, and she felt lost. Over the past year, her bow had become an extension of her body, as natural to her as her arm, had protected her from harm, had been with her through so many hardships, and had survived just like her. It was special, and now it was gone.

  Emily closed her eyes tightly and swallowed the pain. Despite the weakness she felt, she had to be strong now. She had to carry on. Tears wouldn’t save her. There was nothing else she could do. She needed a plan.

  Emily took in a long, stuttering breath, pushing her sorrow down to lock it away for the moment. She’d done it before, though mostly in combat, and she did it again with an ease born of practice. If there was one gift the Great Plains had given her, it was the ability to suppress her emotions, her pain, and even her hunger. She had gone all her life without; she could go without again.

  She patted her side and frowned, unsurprised to find that her hunting knife hadn’t made the journey, either. She was alone, weaponless, and lost. No, wait—she touched her hair and realized her lockpicking pins had made the journey, somehow getting tangled up in her hair. Not that they would help her much now—on the shore, lost, in the middle of nowhere. Carefully, she tried to untangle them from her hair, but it proved more difficult than she imagined. With a frustrated sigh, she stopped and let the tools hang like wind chimes.

  “Damn it all,” she gritted her teeth. “What am I going to do now?”

  Emily heard a loud rustle behind her and jerked around. She saw that the mountain with the roc’s nest was right behind her and that the roc was still there, settling in its nest, high above her on the mountain. If the sun hadn’t been out over the ocean, the roc’s outstretched wings would have shaded a large swath of the beach.

  Frantically, Emily leapt off the rock and made a beeline for the shore. She ran through the shallow water, tripping over herself and sending waves splashing in all directions. The ground was covered in rocks, and she stubbed her toe on more than a few of them, but she was in far too much of a hurry to worry about that. She didn’t stop when she reached the shore, either, and kept running while her lungs heaved, barely able to withstand the strain.

  She wheezed but pushed on, trying to put as much distance between herself and the roc as possible. She risked a glance over her shoulder and saw it was settling in for a nap. It didn’t seem concerned with her anymore, not now that she was just a tiny human and not a large ship, but Emily took no chances.

  She ran up the first sand dune and stumbled down the other side. Her feet kicked up dried sand, and it clung to her wet legs and encased her soaked feet. It got into everything, everywhere, and the tiny grains ground into every gap and crevice. Her toes scratched each other as they moved, and the leather straps of her sandals rubbed the skin raw.

  And it was hot, too, the sand as warm as freshly baked bread, and after Emily scaled another dune, she stopped to catch her breath on the other side. She could feel the heat rising up from the ground to assault her.

  “What nightmare have I entered?” she gasped, breathing hard.

  She was exhausted. Climbing those two little hills had taken more out of her than she’d expected. The sand crumbled with every step she made, each stride taking far more effort than it should have. Either that, or her lungs had not yet recovered.

  Emily’s legs were shaking, so she collapsed to her knees, and the burning sand assailed her legs. Her wet hair dripped onto the soil, and Emily watched the thirsty sand absorb it instantly. Despite the sand’s softness, it was uncomfortable to kneel, but it felt a whole lot better than standing up. As if to compound her problems, Emily realized she was also thoroughly parched. The seawater, stomach acid, and now the hot sun had all combined to leave her body racking with thirst. Her stomach shuddered, and she felt like throwing up again. In painful gulps, she swallowed the urge and gripped her sides.

  She lifted her head and looked around, but the only thing that greeted her were the endlessly rolling sand dunes marching away into the distance. The sun was at her back, preparing to nestle in for the night and plunge the world into darkness, and the fading light did not help her see much.

  “Eh, heh, heheheh,” she laughed through ragged breaths, trying to avoid the hopelessness that was creeping into her mind. “Oh, this is great. Just great.”

  She buried her face into her hands and l
eft it there, leaving only enough room to inhale through her nose.

  What am I going to do?

  It would be dark soon, and she had no bow, no knife, no water, and no shelter. She wasn’t even far enough away from immediate danger. That roc could wake up at any moment and devour her with ease.

  She had to keep going. Whatever she was going to do, she couldn’t do it here.

  Fighting the tremendous reluctance in her body, Emily forced herself to stand again and continue walking. Behind her, she heard the roc rustle again.

  * * *

  Emily was almost dry by the time the sun stopped providing heat. Her skin had dried fast, her hair had taken a bit longer, but her clothes had been the slowest. They were still damp when the sun was nothing but a sliver of light on the ocean’s surface. This didn’t concern Emily too much, though. She figured that with such a hot day, the night would stay relatively warm.

  She was wrong.

  With the sun gone, the wind effortlessly swept away the heat of the day and kept on blowing without mercy. It was as constant as the wind on the Great Plains and used Emily’s damp clothes to chill her to the bone. As night began to fall, Emily rubbed her arms and shivered with every passing gust. At the crest of each dune, she ducked her head and covered her body as best she could. She tried to turn her back to the wind, but it changed direction so often that it seemed to come from everywhere at once. Not even the valleys offered much protection and sometimes just turned into relentless wind tunnels. The lockpicking tools tangled in her hair banged against the side of her face until she was able to pull them free and bury them deep in the locks at the top of her skull.

  As she traveled, Emily kept an eye out for any signs of life, water, or shelter. Having such a vast, unobstructed view, she had hoped to see some form of civilization in the distance, but only the old ruins Mosley had mentioned back on the ship met her eye. Without much choice, Emily decided to head for the ruins, figuring she was probably about an hour’s walk away from them.