by Travis Bughi
“You did.” Takeo nodded. “In Lucifan, you told me. Even though we were enemies, I heard the truth in your voice.”
“You know, I was there,” Emily said after a pause. “When your brother died, I saw it. He was very strong; even with an arrow in his heart, he tried to keep fighting. He never let go of his weapon, and he was never anything but calm. He didn’t even seem angry that Heliena betrayed him.”
“That sounds like Okamoto,” Takeo replied. “Maybe one day I’ll ask to hear the whole thing, but not now. I owe you a story.”
Takeo wrestled with his lone strand of hair again, and while she waited for the samurai to gather his thoughts, Emily reflected on why samurai grew their hair out. She resolved to ask him some time, perhaps soon, and wondered if she would do so as well. She’d never grown her hair out past her shoulders, and now she pondered how it would look. It might be beautiful. She would like to be beautiful. She’d been called cute more than once, but as of late, she hadn’t had much time to worry about how she looked.
Was it weak of her to think this way? She’d never given much thought to her hair when she was growing up with her family. The amazons never seemed to worry about beauty, and was Emily not an amazon? Still, as if out of nowhere, she had a strong desire to dress in a nice gown and grow out her hair. It was sudden, so seemingly unlike her that she pondered where such a notion had come from. All her life, all she’d thought of was how to be strong and survive on her own, and now she could. Is that why she had these thoughts? Wasn’t it normal for people to seek the things they did not have?
She looked into the dark water and touched a hand to her face. She could not see her reflection, but she pictured the freckles on her cheeks. They had grown dark and bold under Savara’s desert sun when last she’d noticed them. Had they lightened since then? Did she even want them to?
Her thoughts might have continued to spiral, but they ended there when Takeo finally spoke.
“Okamoto always assured me that we had the same father, and the only thing he ever told me about that man is that he was dead. He never spoke a word about my mother, though, or his, or even if we had the same one. Despite his callous nature, I probably would have worked up enough courage to ask him who my parents were, given time. It might have been that he didn’t know, but unfortunately, I’ll never find out. Honestly, that’s one thing I’m glad about. I no longer want to know. If it had been important, my brother would have told me.
“I do know this, though: Okamoto was old enough to survive on his own when our father died. He stole us away to Savara for reasons that he would never tell me. Every time I asked, he ignored me. I assumed we were fugitives somehow, though no one seemed to know it except for him. He was as old then as I am now, and despite my extreme youth, he started my training as a samurai.
“I was told to stay calm and never drop my weapon, and we trained with wood, but only for a short while before he forced me to switch to steel. Okamoto made money for us by offering his services as a sellsword. Guard, mercenary, assassin, muscle, collector, or intimidator—he backed away from no one with coin enough to pay. He took the most dangerous jobs he could find, using them to hone his skills, and took me along. We barely survived, and I cried often at first, when I was still a child. I cannot even remember the face of the first man I killed; I was too young. I remember all the others, though—all but the first. Okamoto never cried. He told me the world was a harsh and cruel place, and that this was the only way I’d ever survive it.
“I know he sounds cruel, but I am thankful for my brother. He kept me fed, put himself in harm’s way for me, and I’d never be the warrior I am today without him. He never said it, but I know he cared for me.
“When we came back to Juatwa, he smuggled us in, like we were still fugitives, and we hid with a clan of ninjas in the forest. They taught me a few things there, like how to be silent when I walk and take things without others noticing. We were only there for a short while before we moved to a nearby village. I guess that whatever Okamoto was hiding us from wasn’t a concern anymore, and he started making a name for himself. He used that reputation to earn a place at Katsu’s side, and together, he and I rose up through the ranks of Katsu’s army.
“There isn’t much more to tell, not that you don’t already know. I warned you the story isn’t very grand, or even long. I dislike telling it because it makes Okamoto sound like a cold-hearted monster. I know he was, on some level—one would have to be to do the things he did—but he had a caring side to him, one very few ever saw. I can’t judge for you, though, and I want you to know I respect what you said about him earlier.”
“It’s okay,” Emily stopped him. “My mother wasn’t extremely warm either. I understand that love can be shown in other ways. I trust what you say about him is true, and I thank you for telling me your story.”
“I wish there were more to it,” Takeo admitted. “As short as it is, I feel almost embarrassed for hiding it from you. I’ve already told you about Katsu’s plan to invade Lucifan after he finishes conquering Juatwa. I want my revenge against Heliena just as much as you do, but I think we both know that it’s Katsu you were meant to stop.”
Emily nodded in agreement. There had been a time when Lucifan had been protected by three towering colossi, but those guardians had stopped functioning when the angels fell. Katsu had revealed to Takeo that he planned to invade Lucifan now that it was undefended, and the moment Emily had learned this, she knew that was the fate Quartus was trying to stop. He’d given his life to Emily, not so she could stop Heliena, but so that she would follow Heliena to Juatwa and, in doing so, save Lucifan from Katsu.
However, why he had chosen her of all people to do it was still unclear.
“So what’s our plan?” Emily asked. “How are two people—one a foreigner, one an outcast—going to influence a centuries’ old war fought by thousands of hardened warriors across a landscape as big as the Great Plains? Truly, I’m open to any suggestions.”
“I was rather hoping you had a plan,” Takeo replied. “It was you who took down the infamous Count Drowin in Lucifan. You and your friends, that is. I remember that big amazon especially. What was her name?”
“Adelpha.”
“Yes, her.” Takeo smiled. “Damn, that woman was fierce. Just you and she strode into Lucifan and organized a small band to bring down a vampire’s regime. Katsu isn’t even immortal. Surely you have a plan?”
“I wish I did.” Emily smiled back. “And, for your information, it wasn’t just me and her. I had friends and contacts. I knew knights, and I knew places; I had a start. I’ve never been to Juatwa. The only people I know there are the people I intend to fight.”
“Which is why it’s a good thing you joined up with me. I have friends in Juatwa, people we don’t intend to fight, and that’s where we’re headed first.”
“So where is that, then?”
“Juatwa’s southern end.” Takeo pointed ahead into the darkness, as if the destination could be seen. “It’s the village Okamoto and I stayed at when we first came. I had some friends there, one in particular I’d like very much to see again. He was a commoner, not a samurai, named Lei Gao. Hopefully he’s still there. If not, we’ll seek my brother’s widow. In that same village, my brother married a beautiful woman named Mako Tamura before he set sail for Lucifan. I don’t know if his widow is still there, either. She might have remarried and moved on by now, but that’s where we’ll stop first.”
“Both of those are on Katsu’s lands, aren’t they?” Emily clarified more than asked.
“Yes, which means we’ll have to keep our heads down. I don’t know if Katsu has branded my name dishonored or not, but more importantly, the longer we can hide our presence from Katsu, the better. A fake name will work well for you, but people will recognize me, and if word that I’m back in Juatwa reaches Katsu, we’ll lose the element of surprise. Not that that would be a total loss, but whatever little advantage we have right now, I’d prefer to keep.”
“As best we can.”
Emily blinked as ocean spray peppered her face, stinging her with tiny drops of cold. She didn’t much care for the ocean, though she never got seasick; it was drowning that she feared. She didn’t know how to swim, not yet anyway, and until she eliminated that weakness, large bodies of water were a cause for concern. She’d almost drowned once and didn’t fancy a second go.
They stood there for a moment, both staring out into the nothingness of night. It felt comforting to Emily, being on that ship beside the samurai, both of them looking into the unknown. The silence could have been ominous, but was instead calming, and Emily didn’t feel awkward. She glanced at Takeo to see if he felt the same way.
Takeo did not turn to meet her gaze, but blinked a few times before asking lightly, “You have another question?”
She hadn’t, but the moment he said something, one did dawn on her.
“Yes, actually,” she replied. “You said something about samurai mounted on something.”
“Komainu?”
“Yes, that. What are they?”
Takeo’s dark pupils shifted to different corners of his eyes, apparently confused on how to answer. The low light reflected off them until Takeo finally found what he was looking for within in his mind and turned to her.
“Well, they’re big enough to ride,” he said. “That much you’ve probably guessed. They have four legs, short fur, and extremely muscular bodies. They also have a thick mane around their neck and a disproportionately large head. Their nostrils are so big you could stick your whole fist up one. Don’t laugh; I’m serious. Their mouths are so big they can chomp your head clean off. They also pant constantly with a long tongue that is too big for their mouths, and so hangs out. It will flap like a flag as they run, and a komainu that’s been running for a while will make a puddle of drool once it stops.”
“Sounds almost like a manticore,” Emily mulled out loud, “but not as deadly.”
“I’ve never seen a manticore,” Takeo admitted, “but I can assure you that as funny as they sound, komainu are no joking matter. Although they can be raised to be docile, they are hunters by nature. Wild ones roam in packs and are terrifying. Villages often barricade their basements against the beasts because no wooden wall is strong enough to stand against them. You can’t hide from them either. Komainu have a sense of smell so strong that only complete submersion in water will hide you.”
“Are the trained ones as fierce?” Emily asked.
“Oh, yes.” He nodded regretfully. “With sharp teeth and claws bigger than a rakshasa, it’d be hard for them to be anything but dangerous. They are fearless, too. The smell of blood, the sound of screaming, and the sight of armed men don’t give them the slightest worry. Commanders joke that a man will always run in terror before a komainu will flinch in fear. Worse yet, they are fast with practically endless wells of stamina. Komainu are such good hunters, they can chase pixiu for days as they attempt to fly away, keeping pace with ease.”
“What’s a pixiu?”
“I’ll tell you if we see one,” Takeo brushed it off. “You’ve enough to learn already. The komainu, though, that’s an important one. If you see a samurai mounted on one, realize your chances of coming out of that fight alive are slim to none if you aren’t armed with a long, heavy spear and know how to use it.”
Emily nodded. She’d listened intently and fully understood the warning. The komainu sounded like powerful tools in battle, but Emily felt no fear touch her heart at the thought of them. Their ferocious nature sounded not unlike another creature she’d already met, the bugbear, and she’d dealt with that beast twice already. The connection sparked a brief flash of a bugbear charging her, mouth snarling, shoulders hunched, relentless in its desire to kill. A cold shudder ran up her spine, and Emily shook the memory away. If komainu were capable of being trained by humans, Emily couldn’t imagine them being more ferocious than a bugbear at full charge.
“Well, thank you for that,” Emily said, breathing in deeply. “I’m sure I’ll fall right to sleep now.”
Takeo gave a sly grin, revealing a thin line of teeth.
“If that alone shook you,” he said, “you might want to stay with the vikings.”
“Oh!” Emily exclaimed.
“What?”
“The vikings!” she repeated. “My brother! I nearly forgot! Damn, I’m an idiot. I have to write a letter. Sorry, Takeo, I have to go. Thanks for the talk! I’ll see you in the morning.”
She bounded away, leaving a bewildered Takeo in the dark.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Emily muttered.
Chapter 3
Emily had two brothers, one younger and one older, both separated from her in age by two years. The older one, Abraham, lived at home with her parents on the Great Plains, while the younger one, Nicholas, had decided to run away from home. He’d left no note, sent no explanation, and had left no trail. The rest of her family feared what might have become of him, but Emily’s mother worried the most. The thought of her little Nicholas starving in some far off land, captured and forced to work as a slave, scared her as much as did the nightmares of his corpse being ditched in the gutter of one of Lucifan’s streets.
What actually happened was that Nicholas had joined up with a clan of vikings and grown both in height and size. He could only be called little anymore in that he was the youngest member of the Stout family, but otherwise he had grown to be a formidable warrior in a short time, not unlike his sister. Emily had discovered all of this when she’d met Nicholas off Savara’s west coast, and she’d scolded her brother for not caring enough to inform his own family of what had become of him.
She’d promised—both to Nicholas and herself—that she would send word of his whereabouts to their mother, a notion he did not fully agree with but took no action to stop. Emily intended to fulfill that now as best she could. She found parchment before going to sleep, and then, in the morning, she used the sunbeams that slipped through the ship’s deck to write a letter in her bunk. She kept it to a single sheet, easy to fold and carry, telling her mother of both Nicholas and her, but leaving out the part that she was off to join a war. She signed, folded it up, and made her way to Matilda, the ship’s captain, for breakfast.
Matilda was tall, heavy, and older—as was expected of any viking who dared command a vessel and a crew—with long, red hair braided into two pigtails. Though homely, she was very fond of smiling and gave Emily one of her extravagant grins as she stuffed her mouth with weeks-old, salted, karkadann meat.
“Last day on the ship,” Matilda said after a loud gulp. “Glad for it?”
“Not at all.” Emily returned the smile and took up her own bowl of barely edible breakfast. “I like vikings. They remind me of amazons, only bigger and with men.”
“Hm, amazon, huh?” Matilda pondered. “Warrior women, am I right? Only accept women, give their sons away to surrounding tribes. They’re supposed to be fierce with bows and knives, right? Kind of stealthy, too?”
Emily shrugged and took a seat. She shoveled a handful of the cold stew into her mouth and talked with her mouth full. She didn’t want to be offensive around the captain when she had a favor to ask.
“You seem to know a lot about amazons,” Emily said. “Have you met any before?”
“Just one.” Matilda smiled, holding up a finger, then pointing it at Emily. “I learn by watching, and I have to say, I think I’d make a terrible amazon.”
“Oh, now that’s a load of warg waste,” Emily said. “You’d fit in better than me! They’re all much louder and, well, open about a lot of things. You fight better than me, too.”
“Not with a bow, or even a knife for that matter! That stealth thing, too, I don’t get it. Perhaps if I was sneaking up on a dragon, then yes, but a regular human? That’s no way to reach Valhalla. But do you know what the absolute biggest deal breaker is for me?�
�
Emily shook her head. Her mouth was stuffed with stew, and she dared not open it. She found the meals onboard ships easier to eat if swallowed in as few bites as possible.
“The lack of men,” Matilda answered, voice dripping with disgust. “I couldn’t stand it! Neither of my husbands would be able to stand it either, even if they did know about each other.”
Emily barely managed to swallow her food before she burst into laughter. She choked a bit, and Matilda gave her a hearty smack to the back.
“Thank you,” Emily said as she winced from both the pain in her throat and on her back. “I think you’ve made your point. You would make a bad amazon.”
Matilda gave a shallow bow of appreciation.
“Any last requests while you’re still aboard my mighty vessel?” the captain offered.
“Just one, though I’m hesitant to ask. You’ve already gone so much out of your way, taking Takeo and me to Juatwa.”
“Well, I haven’t said yes, yet. Ask first, then we’ll see.”
Emily produced the newly minted letter and handed it to Matilda. “This is a letter to my mother. It tells her I’m okay, and so is my brother, whom she thinks is either dead or enslaved. I’ve put her name on it and wrote the location on it as well: one day’s walk southwest of Lucifan. I don’t have money for a courier, so I’ll have to rely on favors, but I don’t expect you to take it to my mother directly. If you run into someone you trust headed to Lucifan, you could give it to them, and then maybe they could give it to someone else in Lucifan to deliver—I don’t know, but it’s very important. My mother will greatly appreciate it. My older brother, he’s a gunslinger. He’ll have the coin to pay for the delivery.”
Matilda looked the letter over but did not open it. She pondered a moment before slipping the letter into her clothes and extending a hand towards Emily. They shook, and Emily breathed a sigh of relief.
“I can make no guarantees,” Matilda said honestly, “but I will give a modest amount of effort. You did bring me news of Kollskegg’s death, and he’s the father of my favorite son—and if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll eat this letter right in front of you.”
