Emily's Saga

by Travis Bughi

  A small trickle of moonlight shined through the hole but was so far removed from everything else that it illuminated nothing. Emily’s torchlight steadied in the room now that the winds no longer tugged relentlessly at its flame. Its yellow glow stretched about in the open space, barely touching more than one wall at a time. She walked the edges of the room, keeping her eyes open and knife ready. She passed several more doorways that led to more rooms, and the urge to follow them tugged at her mind.

  However, she did not. Her watchful gaze had picked up on something rather intriguing.

  With every step, her feet disturbed the layered dust caking the floor, and the particles swirled in the torchlight. When they settled, her tracks were clearly visible, and try as she might, she could not prevent this. Slowly, Emily traced her footsteps back, seeing how easily her path could be followed, and she thought on it for only a moment before she came to a realization.

  Why are there no other footsteps?

  If there really were others here, then they would have left a trace. If they were living here, they would leave a painfully obvious trail, but even a casual visit would have left some signs of disturbance. So, where was the evidence? Hadn’t the merchant said she’d stored treasure here? Shouldn’t there be drag marks or something from hauling her wealth?

  Emily followed her own trail back to the lobby. She swept the torch about the place but found only her, Takeo’s, and Koll’s footprints in the dust.

  “Is there another way in?” she pondered.

  That was believable, almost guaranteed. No place this size should or would have just one entrance. Emily raced back into the communal room and began to follow the wall’s edge again. In all, there were eight doorways that led to and from the meeting place of ancient lords. As she walked by each one, she held the torch out and scanned for footprints, and one after another disappointed her.

  No one had entered this room on foot.

  As she frowned, trying to decide what to do next, Emily took interest in one of the doorways, the one opposite where she’d entered. She sprinted back over to it and held the torch out again.

  Light spilled out into yet another large room, and Emily inspected the threshold for traps before entering. Once inside, she saw what could have been either a dining or service room.

  It was only two stories tall, this one, and with no hole in the ceiling, it was completely drenched in darkness. Its big, boxy shape swallowed Emily’s torchlight like the sands swallowed water. She had to make several passes across the hard, stone floor to scan the entire place for tracks.

  There were no footprints, marks, or scuffs of any kind. She frowned and bit her lower lip.

  “How could anyone drag treasure into here without leaving a mark?” she mused.

  She had no choice but to push on further. On either side of the room, she found doorways leading to smaller rooms, each with permanent counters made of stone—preparation areas, she assumed—and when she entered the doorway on the right, she followed the curving room all the way around to the dining room’s left doorway.

  “Huh,” she huffed.

  She went back and followed it again, this time checking around each and every counter left standing. They were the only things remaining thanks to being embedded into the floor. As she reached the back end between the two doorways, she found an opening in the floor and a set of stairs leading down.

  A cellar? From its position in the back of the room, Emily assumed it was for storage, possibly for food and drink, and she suddenly felt thirsty. She took a swig from her waterskin and looked down into the darkness, holding the torch over it. The flickering glow touched the bottom, revealing a cellar barely taller than Koll and covered in stone tiles just like the room she was in now. A twinge of fear touched her heart as she considered descending into the cellar, but she banished it with a breath. There were still no footprints, and so she felt no need to be alarmed. She held the torch out and stepped down into the cellar.

  The air was chill to the touch, both still and stale. It clung to her like water as she sank into it, and she took an involuntarily deep breath as it rushed up her leather skirt and clawed her sunburnt skin. Her grip on the pesh-kabz tightened, and she peered across the cellar.

  It wasn’t big, perhaps only fifteen paces wide and deep. The ceiling never gained nor fell in height, and was similar in style to the rest of the inn. However, what she saw in the middle of the cellar made her freeze in place and her blood run cold.

  * * *

  Arranged in the center of the cellar—absent the ancient layers of dust caking everything around them—were three weapons: a double-bladed axe, a katana, and a bow with a quiver of arrows. Each stood upon its own pedestal. The weapons were simple and practical, intended for use. The axe sharp, the katana unsheathed, and the bow strung—they waited patiently and beckoned to the trio of warriors that now watched them in total confusion.

  “By Valhalla, this makes my skin crawl,” Koll snarled. “What do you think it means?”

  “I’m not sure,” Takeo answered, “but it seems like someone knew we were coming.”

  “Of course someone bloody knew we were coming!” Koll shouted. “But what does that mean?”

  If Takeo was offended by Koll’s tone, he did not show it. His eyes, normally calm, betrayed his apprehension through the rapid flutter of his lids. Emily watched the two of them for only a moment before giving the bow a look of longing.

  At first, the sight of the bow had unnerved her, and she’d sprinted back to collect Koll and Takeo before doing anything else. They hadn’t believed her, but now they stood like statues in the cellar alongside her. After the initial shock had faded, Emily began to realize that a perfectly good bow was sitting right before her. Her hand was itching for it, and she could practically hear the bow calling to her.

  “Did you two find anything?” she asked.

  Koll scoffed.

  “Nothing,” Takeo said, speaking slowly. “I could only scout the outer rooms, though. The inner ones were too dark to explore without a torch.”

  Emily took in a deep breath and let it out. The torch she held flickered only a touch at the disturbance to the otherwise still air.

  “Well, I guess that doesn’t mean anything anymore,” she frowned. “This proves someone is now—or, at some point, was—here. And they apparently knew us well.”

  “Damn this rotten place,” Koll said. “I say we run for it. I don’t like this. Only one thing alive had any idea we were coming here, and I thought we were going to beat his furry arse here! It’s a trap, and I don’t want to die without an enemy’s throat in my hands. I say we go outside and shout for Jabbar to meet us on open ground.”

  “I don’t think it’s Jabbar,” Takeo said. “As much as he seems the logical choice, it doesn’t add up.”

  Koll’s eyes twitched as he watched the weapons along with Emily and Takeo. Emily continued to eye the bow and arrows, and in the silence following Koll’s echoing voice, an idea struck her. She wanted that bow, and she would have it.

  Emily raised her pesh-kabz and took aim. Koll was so absorbed that he only noticed after she flung the knife at the katana. He gave a cry as the pesh-kabz struck the weapon, ramming it off its pedestal and sending both the katana and its sheath crashing to the ground. They rang like bells in the silence of the inn, and Emily’s companions turned on her in shock.

  “What are you doing!?” Koll shouted. “Damn it girl, don’t you know that thing is trapped!? You could have set it off!”

  “Why’d you hit the katana?” Takeo asked, appearing hurt.

  Emily waited a moment, listening carefully for any grinding of mechanical parts. She scanned to see if anything in the room had changed. There was nothing. The katana, dagger, and pedestal stood perfectly still.

  “Because,” Emily answered, letting her confidence show, “the axe is too heavy to knock off, and I wasn’t going to risk cutting the bowstring accidently. I’m sure it’s fine, Takeo.”

  Her v
oice was strong and assertive. It was bolstered by the fact that nothing had happened and the ringing had died.

  “I don’t think it’s trapped,” she announced. “I think whoever put these here wanted us to have them.”

  She put strength to her words by taking a step forward but was immediately stopped by Takeo’s hand on her shoulder.

  “Wait,” he asked, then drew his sword. “Just to be sure. There might be something on the floor.”

  He went forward with his scimitar held out. He tapped the floor in front of his feet, using the tip of the blade. Each step was slow and cautious, and Takeo swung the scimitar in all directions as he closed the few paces toward the pedestals. Emily held the torch up high, trying to lessen the influence of Takeo’s shadow.

  When the samurai reached the pedestals, he stopped as far from them as he could and reached the scimitar out toward the bow.

  “Careful,” Emily begged.

  Takeo tapped it and jumped back. Nothing happened. He inched forward again and then knocked the bow off and leapt back. Nothing happened.

  “Huh,” Takeo huffed, relaxing.

  “Told you,” Emily sighed and smiled.

  She walked up and shoved the torch into Takeo’s hand before snatching up the bow. Her eyes pored over it with the same eagerness she’d shown water these past few weeks. This one was made of simple wood, not treantwood like her amazon one, and from what she knew, that would lessen its power. By how much, she could not be certain, so she tested it by drawing it. The bow gave little resistance, at least nowhere near what she was used to, and she sighed.

  Also of note was that this bow was not recurved like her treantwood bow had been. It was a simple ‘C’ shape, which also worked to lessen the bow’s power, and Emily couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. Still, it was better than nothing, and she grabbed up the arrows next. There were twenty of them—each merely sharpened on one end with no arrowhead—and the fletching was hardly functional.

  It would have to do.

  “We’ll need to learn who gave these to us,” Emily said, “but I say we bother with that after we defeat Jabbar.”

  “I think that’s reasonable,” Takeo nodded.

  The samurai sheathed his scimitar and placed the weapon on the pedestal. He picked up the katana and held it horizontally near his eyes, drawing the blade sideways and following the single edge carefully. What he saw seemed to please him enough, and he gave the blade a quick swipe through the air. He seemed to mull something over in his mind for a moment, glanced at the scimitar, and then secured the katana within its sheath and slid it beneath his belt.

  Koll watched this all from afar with one foot on the bottom step of the stairs. He waited, poised to run at a moment’s notice, until Emily and Takeo turned to look at him. It was at that moment that he realized what his actions were saying about him.

  “Eh,” he spit. “Fine. I guess the damned thing isn’t trapped.”

  He shambled forward and looked at the axe on the pedestal.

  “I’ve seen ogres use better weapons,” he scowled.

  “Yes,” Takeo nodded and glanced at his new katana. “I agree. They should work, though. We’ll have to test them on Jabbar.”

  Koll smiled then.

  “Yes, Samurai. Yes, we will.”

  Koll picked the up the axe, and the entire floor beneath their feet disappeared.

  Chapter 27

  Emily, Takeo, and Koll plunged into darkness as the entire stone floor simply ceased to exist. It faded like an illusion, leaving nothing but open air that swallowed all three of them and the cries they let out. Little more than a second later, they crashed to the ground, this one solid yet sandy. The pedestals clattered around and on them, striking on odd ends and shattering under their shoddy workmanship. The torch, a precious item Takeo had refused to release, flickered to the strength of a candle, threatening to go out, but then returned strong despite the swirls of dust and sand that were thrown into the air.

  Koll cursed and shouted in a rage, flinging a pedestal off of him and sending it crashing into a nearby wall. The shattering of wood overwhelmed his angry cries for only a moment as the viking stood up and roared.

  “I knew it! By Valhalla, I knew it! I told you it was trapped! I rotten told you both! Damned children, the both of you! Never listen! Never!”

  Emily and Takeo were scrambling as well—Emily frantically checking that her bowstring hadn’t snapped and Takeo checking that his katana was intact and had not come free to slice open his own flesh. Thankfully, neither party found anything worth concern.

  “But why listen to Koll, eh?” the viking continued to yell. “No, not the elder! Not the wiser! Not the Sturdy! You foolhardy and brash fools! You see something odd, it’s for a rotten reason. You think I’ve survived this long by being stupid? Huh? And where did the rotten floor go? I don’t even see it anymore. What in the frozen wastes were we standing on? Get up, Samurai. Be useful! Hold that torch up! I want to see just how much trouble you two landed us in. May a valkyrie cut you down!”

  Takeo stood up, Emily following, and held up the torch. The trio let loose a few coughs as the dust and sand around them slowly settled, but their surroundings were clear enough almost immediately.

  They’d fallen no more than the height of a minotaur, maybe twice Emily’s height in all. The floor to the cellar above had reappeared, once more a seemingly perfect barrier. Emily was so baffled that she jumped up to touch it, using her bow to reach, and was shocked when the impact told her it was solid stone.

  “What in the world?” she asked.

  Takeo patted her shoulder then, and she turned to him. He was looking away, however, and when Emily followed his eyes, her thoughts on the reappeared floor-ceiling vacated her mind. Something else demanded her attention, and it absorbed both Takeo and Koll, silencing the latter’s swearing. At the back of this hidden pit was a large, open doorway that led into a well-lit room.

  The doorway was wide and tall enough for two mounted knights to ride through it. They were so close that the entrance provided a perfect view of the other side, all of which was clearly visible because of the many torches secured in sconces along every wall. It was a hall, not much different in shape and architecture to the one Emily had passed through to reach the preparation area. The walls were hardened, faded stone with delicate carvings and unique designs etched into them, and they made a simple square. The floor was not stone, though, only sand that was cool to the touch. The ceiling was high, and there were four large columns arranged within the room for support. Unlike the hall before, this one had a raised section at the back where special guests could oversee all. On it was a throne carved from dark wood, complete with red cushions and golden lining that showed no signs of age. On that throne sat a human-like figure draped in a dark, full-bodied robe that concealed everything except the hands. Both were blue with exceptionally long fingernails.

  “Thou hath finally arrived,” an old, female voice echoed through the chamber. “Prithee, come hither.”

  Emily felt a chill run up her spine and her knees become weak. She looked to Koll, hoping to find strength but saw a ghastly look on his face. He clenched his axe tightly in one hand but was too shocked to raise it. Even Takeo was breathing faster than normal, and his eyes were alight with tension. None of them moved. Their feet felt frozen to the ground.

  “Must I beseech thee again?” the voice asked. “Come hither.”

  Emily assumed the sound came from the figure, but she wasn’t entirely certain. No mouth was visible under the hood, and its body did not move, not even to breathe. The blue hands with their wicked, claw-like nails stayed so perfectly still that they mocked the dead.

  “What is it asking?” Koll stuttered.

  “Come forth!” the voice commanded. “I have awaited this moment too long. Durst thou delay me further?”

  The trio exchanged glances, unsure of what to do. Koll ended up making the first move, lifting his axe and stepping forward. Takeo foll
owed, drawing his katana, and Emily took up the rear, nocking an arrow to her bow. They entered the room.

  “Ah, thy strength returns,” the voice cooed. “Do not tarry. Closer.”

  Koll continued forward, walking between the pillars slowly while twisting his axe handle with both hands.

  “What do you want, monster?” he demanded. “Speak clearly!”

  The voice laughed, and although the figure remained motionless, Emily could have sworn she saw the sides of the hood flutter.

  “Monster?” the old voice asked. “Surely, thou jests. Do not play coy with me; it will grant naught. Thou wit thy purpose! Hath thou not sought this as well?”

  Koll stopped in the middle of the room and planted his feet firmly into the cool sand. Takeo stepped to his right and held his katana high, ready to charge at a moment’s notice. Emily stayed behind, fingers holding the arrow steady.

  “Damn it, Samurai,” Koll’s voice was alight with anger, “look what you’ve gotten us into. Do you know what this thing is?”

  Koll made it sound like he already knew the answer, and Takeo nodded in reply.

  “A jinni,” Takeo confirmed.

  Emily took in a sharp breath. She’d heard of these mystical beings in passing but never thought she’d meet one. They were ancient, magical beings. They made deals, granting people wishes while taking something from them in return. Emily had been told the first vampire was created through the wish of a jinni.

  “I can’t understand a word it’s saying,” Koll said. “Can you?”

  “I think so,” Takeo replied, then spoke louder to the jinni. “We don’t know what you want. We only came to slay the rakshasa called Jabbar. We have no quarrel with you.”

  “Dearest Takeo, of that I am certain!” the voice seemed to smile. “I hath no quarrel with ye either. However, to thy misfortune, ye art already in my debt. Did ye think I would bequeath ye arms for naught? Oh, and do not trouble thyself of the rakshasa’s presence. My sphinx shall delay him with a fair bid welcome!”