Emily's Saga

by Travis Bughi

  “It is a difficult place to love,” Takeo continued. “I used to hate it myself.”

  “What happened?”

  “Hard to say,” he said. “My brother brought me here when I was barely old enough to hold a sword. I still remembered home, though, and I resented him for it. I guess when my resentment of him died, so did my resentment for Savara. It’s a harsh place that makes the people who live here harsh. It hardened me, as well, and I don’t think I’d have ever made it this far without that.”

  Takeo stopped there, his last word ending quickly as if he’d said too much. Emily saw him turn awkwardly, and she felt the sudden need to change the subject.

  “Well, I just have bad memories,” she joked and was rewarded with a smirk from Takeo. “So there’s that. I used to love the idea of visiting a place like this. It’s strange, actually. All my life I’ve wanted to travel, and I’ve been lucky enough to do just that. I’ve been to the Forest of Angor, Themiscyra, Lucifan twice, and now I’ve traveled across the sea and been to a place I hardly knew existed. You’d think I’d be happy, but oddly enough, I’ve not enjoyed a single place long enough to stay there. I mean, Lucifan came close, likely because it is a meeting place for the whole world, but even there I couldn’t stay, despite having a good reason.”

  The memory of a dashingly handsome knight, Sir Gavin Shaw, flashed in her mind and then was gone. Only briefly did she ponder what he was up to, before striking her mind back to the present.

  “Yes,” she smirked once more, “I would say it was a pretty good reason. But apparently it wasn’t good enough, because here I am, and onwards I am going. Maybe one day I will come back, assuming I live to do that, and then I’ll look at this place with fresh eyes.”

  She waded out of the water and sat on the bank. Takeo followed her, and they both washed the mud from their feet.

  “So,” Takeo started, “are you going to tell me what happened to you?”

  Emily looked at the samurai and blinked.

  “With the jinni,” he clarified. “If you recall, you disappeared for a while.”

  Emily did recall, though it was remarkably vague for something that had happened so recently. She had to think a moment to gather her thoughts and also to decide what to share. She wasn’t entirely certain she could safely tell anyone what had just happened, especially Takeo. It wasn’t so much because they were once enemies, but rather because she feared he’d think her mad.

  Then again, maybe she was.

  “The jinni wanted something from me,” she started, “something that Quartus left when he gave his life to me. I’m not sure what it is, but it helped me fight her off. I was actually able to attack her with it.”

  “What is it? What did she want? Your immunity to poison?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Emily shook her head. “I think it has something to do with the colossi. When I was in Lucifan last, I touched one and . . . something happened. A bright light struck me, and, well, it was like Quartus was back with me again, sort of. This time, when the jinni went after me, I saw the colossus I touched again.”

  “The colossus acted as a gateway?” Takeo suggested.

  “I think so,” she nodded, “or perhaps what Quartus left is the gateway, and the colossi are the destination. I wish I knew. I feel like it’s important.”

  “It certainly sounds like it,” Takeo blinked. “That jinni went through a lot of trouble to find you, whatever the explanation. Perhaps you should explore this further.”

  “I would love to, but how do I do that?”

  Takeo opened his mouth but then just sighed and closed it. He looked out across the desert and ran a hand through his wet hair.

  “I guess we’ll have to figure that out as we go,” he shrugged. “But until then, we should get going. I may not hate Savara, but I wish to return to Juatwa as soon as I can. There is a fierce war waging there.”

  “You wish to die so soon?” she asked.

  Takeo turned and smiled at her.

  “Don’t we all?”

  Chapter 30

  It took them longer than a week to reach a port. They had to stop and hunt for food, which was a notoriously difficult task with only a single pesh-kabz to their name. Emily would have liked to have cut arrows for her bow, but the trees of Savara did not have branches like the trees back home. They had only trunks and leaves, and she could not carve their hardened cores with a dagger. That problem aside, she also had no way of fletching, lacking both feathers and a means to attach them to any arrow she could have made.

  That left them the single option of ambushing their prey in close quarters. It was difficult, but they were able to hide in the reeds of an oasis, covered in mud, and down a young karkadann with a bit of luck. It took one whole day to wait and kill one. They couldn’t salt and therefore store it, so they had to eat all they could and smoke the rest. It wouldn’t keep for long, but it gave them enough to make it to the port.

  They must have been a sorry sight to see, walking into that small fishing town on Savara’s southeastern rim. Their clothes were ragged, dirty, smelly, and torn, and come to think of it, so were they. They looked hardly more than beggars, and Emily couldn’t blame anyone for the disgusted looks that were thrown their way. Emily also cast her own doubtful looks, wondering if they could find a ship traveling to Juatwa from such a place.

  “This place doesn’t look like much,” she whispered to Takeo. “Are you sure we can find something?”

  “I hope so,” he frowned. “This was the closest town on the map. If it’s on the map, it must be big enough to gather some trading.”

  They asked around and, despite the initial hostility, were able to find some useful information once the townsfolk realized their intention was to leave as soon as possible. Luckily enough, there was a viking ship in port for a few nights. Emily and Takeo thanked their informants and left in a hurry.

  The captain’s name was Matilda Varindaughter. She was an older woman, yet hardy, strong, and in no mood to speak with the likes of Emily and Takeo. She wouldn’t even let them on the ship to speak and made them shout from the shore. Matilda took their request as a joke and laughed, and her crew of twenty laughed with her.

  “And how will you be of any help?” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “Have either of you used an oar before?”

  Neither of them had, and they let silence illustrate such. Emily thought to beg, so desperate was her situation, but knowing vikings, she guessed that wouldn’t get her far.

  “Besides,” Matilda ran a hand through her short, red hair, “I’m not headed to Juatwa. I’m headed home. My hull is full, and I have no room for the likes of you. My crew doesn’t need training dummies.”

  Another howl of laughter sounded behind her, and Emily flushed red. Takeo looked to Emily and shook his head, but Emily wasn’t ready to give up yet.

  “Have you heard of Koll the Sturdy?” Emily asked.

  Instantly the laughter died, and Matilda’s grinning faced was wiped clean. The reaction was so quick that it brought the hint of a smile to Emily’s face. Her heart felt a shimmer of hope.

  “There’s not a viking alive who doesn’t know that name,” Matilda replied. “How do you know him? You his friend or enemy?”

  “Friend,” Emily said. “We were captured slaves with him, and we broke free with his help.”

  “A slave?” Matilda balked. “We must know different vikings. The Sturdy I knew would never allow himself to be captured. He and his crew would have died cold, watery graves before they became slaves.”

  “He lost his crew,” Emily pressed back. “He told me they fought a hydra, and he was the only one to survive. He was drugged and sold along with me. My friend here, Takeo, helped us escape.”

  Matilda seemed to dwell on this. She stared at Emily hard, narrowing her eyes.

  “If that is true,” she said, “then where is Koll now?”

  “He died,” Emily answered.

  “Ha!” Matilda laughed sarcastically. �
�How convenient. I’m to assume the Sturdy perished while you two lived? Do I look like I was born yesterday, lass?”

  “It’s true!” Takeo jumped in.

  Matilda gave the two of them a look of disdain and scoffed. She leaned on the railing of her ship, which was pulled close to the shore, and ran a hand along her chin.

  “What proof can you offer?” Matilda asked.

  Emily and Takeo exchanged glances.

  “He had a rope burn around his neck,” Takeo offered.

  “So the legend tells,” Matilda sighed. “Even my three-year-old knows that one! What else?”

  “He had blonde hair,” Takeo pressed, “and green eyes. His family was killed by orcs!”

  “He had six children!” Emily added.

  Matilda and her crew laughed loudly.

  “Six?” Matilda repeated. “I think you’re off a bit there, lass. Come now, stop wasting my time! I’ll give you one more chance before I come to shore and strangle you both.”

  Takeo looked to Emily and stammered. Emily just looked back, equally confounded, and balled her fists up. She had to think hard. What hadn’t Koll mentioned in his stories? He’d told so many; certainly there was something about him that wasn’t well known.

  “His ear!” Emily shouted. “His left ear! He never mentioned it! It’s missing the bottom lobe!”

  Matilda’s anger dissipated to be replaced by exasperation. The quite chuckles from her crew behind her died quickly, and Emily felt another rush of hope. Matilda placed a lone hand to her own ear and looked off into the distance.

  “It’s true,” she muttered into the wind. “He never did talk about his ear. How do you two know that?”

  “I told you,” Emily pleaded, breathing fast. “We were with him when he died, and before. We traveled together for some time until he perished.”

  “How did he die?” Matilda asked, suddenly frantic. “Did he die well? Please tell me he died well!”

  “He did. He held a rakshasa prisoner to his death so that Takeo and I could escape. The rakshasa being the slaver who bought us. Koll died in combat, and I know he would have grabbed his weapon in the end.”

  Matilda’s face grew solemn, and a silence swept past her crew.

  “My love,” Matilda smiled. “I knew you’d find your doom eventually. Alright then, you two, wash in the ocean and then hurry aboard. By Valhalla, I can smell you from here. Just a warning, you’ll have to sleep with the rats in the hold, but I cannot in good conscious leave the bearers of Koll’s death in this warg’s waste of a town.”

  “You’ll take us!” Emily exclaimed.

  “Only if you promise to tell me the full story of Koll’s end. I wish to add it to his tales of legend.”

  Emily shouted her excitement and turned to Takeo. He smiled back at her and nodded.

  “Well done,” he said. “I’m sure glad we’re the only ones who haven’t heard of Koll the Sturdy.”

  * * *

  They left a day later, and as promised, Takeo and Emily told the story of how Kollskegg Ludinson the Sturdy came to an end. Takeo did most of the talking, and Emily was happy for that. She didn’t have much flair for speech craft, and Takeo was better suited for explaining Koll’s skills as a warrior.

  The vikings listened with interest, barely chewing their food so as to not miss a single detail. That didn’t stop them from roaring at Koll’s victories and weeping at his losses, and Emily found their level of interest a marvel in its own right. Even the men poured tears and wiped their eyes as Takeo spoke of Koll’s longing for his beloved wife, and Emily watched them with eyes wide open. These were not a people to hide their emotions or praise, and for once in her life, she realized that a soft side of vikings existed. These people honored their dead like family and remembered their deeds like devout followers. Emily realized how nice it would be to be a part of that, and she felt happy that Koll’s legacy would continue on.

  Takeo, as well, seemed to understand this and tailored his story to honor the fallen warrior who’d saved his and Emily’s life. Takeo used his hands to show the shackles of slavery, his wounded face to show the rakshasa’s ferocity, and his voice for everything else. He was actually quite good, and Emily thought that perhaps he had done this before.

  When at last the tale was finished, the vikings greeted the ending with a celebration in honor of Koll. Emily and Takeo attended and there was much drinking, eating, and fighting, though neither Emily nor Takeo participated in the latter. With some difficulty, Emily was eventually able to drag Takeo away from the table and out into the open air. They leaned against the railing, reveling in the feeling of being full of both food and water, and let the cool, ocean breeze sweep over them.

  It began to rain, and despite its chill, neither of them left.

  “So how long do we have at sea?” Emily asked.

  “Another question about our destination,” Takeo sighed. “Do you ever think of anything else?”

  Emily felt a blush and was thankful for the darkness.

  “I’m sorry,” she shrugged. “I’m just curious by nature.”

  “I can tell. But to answer your question, a few weeks at the most. I’m not certain. I’m not a seafaring man, and I’ve only made this journey twice, and not from that port, so that’s the best answer I have. You can ask Matilda if you like.”

  “No, no. I trust you.”

  Takeo balked in the rain and raised an eyebrow. Emily saw it out of the corner of her eye but didn’t turn to look.

  “You do?” he said, then turned to face the sea again. “Huh. How some things change.”

  They stood quiet for a moment, letting the water drench them, both enjoying it and listening to the patter of waves destroy any hope for silence. It would be a dark night, almost pitch black, and Emily knew she’d sleep better than she had for quite some time.

  “So, how much do you think you could teach me about fighting in a month?” Emily asked.

  She turned to him and him to her.

  “Probably quite a bit,” he answered, “if you’re eager to learn.”

  “I am,” she replied. “I figure I’ll need to know a lot more for where we’re going and what we intend to do.”

  Takeo nodded and put a drenched hand to his face. A dark, but short beard had started to grow there, and he rubbed his hand on it. Emily noted how the wounds on his face were healing nicely. Like she’d thought, only one of them would scar, and it ran just along the line of his facial hair.

  “I’m not much of a bowman,” he admitted.

  “Then you’re lucky I only need help with the sword.”

  He nodded again, and Emily felt the water begin to seep through her leather. She touched where the letters were, and was thankful they’d made it. Takeo saw the movement but said nothing.

  Touching the letters made Emily think of Chara, and following that, Heliena. Her heart flamed with hatred, burning just as brightly as it had those few months ago. Emily had a promise to fulfill, a promise she’d made to an angel, a promise she’d made to herself.

  “You can’t run forever,” Emily whispered, staring out into the blackness.

  Takeo looked over at her and instantly understood.

  “Fate is inexorable.”

  Epilogue

  Renshu Miyazi’s katana came down without a flinch of hesitation, nearly decapitating the man in a single strike. The neck was strong, though, and the katana was not made for such work, and so the body stayed intact as it slumped down. Renshu had to wrench his sword free but managed to do so with the sort of eloquence expected of a Miyazi descendant.

  “You know,” Heliena said, “my husband has executioners for that sort of work.”

  Renshu gave a cry and brought down his katana for the final blow. He did not miss his previous cut; to do so would be a dishonorable display of ineptitude. He hit the exact place he last struck and severed the head completely, sending the body crashing to the ground and the head spinning off to the side, slinging blood as it went.


  Renshu wiped his blade on the deserter’s clothes before sheathing it. He signaled to a servant, who came forward to bag the head and present it for inspection. Renshu gave a short nod, and the servant bowed low before running off into the camp. Renshu watched him leave, and only once that short ritual was complete did he turn, standing tall and proud to address his lord’s wife.

  “I prefer to kill deserters myself, my lady,” he said, ignoring the splash of blood that stained his cheek. “There is no greater crime than a samurai’s cowardice, for he robs from his lord that which he swore to give: his life. Goods can be found and remade while murder is but a tool of war, but cowardice is thievery of a lord’s honor. I would see such a thief die by my own hands and that the men see me do it.”

  “You take it personally,” Heliena noted.

  “I do,” Renshu admitted, “and so should you.”

  Heliena nodded from atop her komainu, and reached down to pet it, brushing a hand through its thick mane. The komainu shook its large head and pawed the ground. The smell of fresh blood made it anxious, and Heliena smiled.

  She liked the komainu of Juatwa. They were ferocious creatures, like the manticores of Themiscyra, only they had been trained and (partially) tamed by human civilization. Large enough to ride, they had four clawed feet and muscular bodies that made them formidably powerful. Their huge heads had an equally huge mouth full of sharp teeth that could bite a man’s head clean off. They often panted, lolling out a long and drooling tongue, especially after exerting any effort. It made them sound tired, but Heliena had learned that it was a sign of excitement.

  “May she eat him?” Heliena asked, referring to her komainu.

  Renshu looked down at the decapitated man and then back up at Heliena, frowning.

  “I suppose his body is not needed,” the samurai thought out loud. “His head will adorn a spike outside our camp until we move on to the next village, assuming Lord Jiro chooses to remain an insolent fool. I swear, how many of his people must we slaughter before he’ll meet us on the battlefield? If we go much further, he won’t have any human fodder to bargain with.”