Emily's Saga

by Travis Bughi

  “If it will shut you up, yes.”

  “Why is Lei so talkative?” Emily asked, keeping her tone light as if unoffended. “The other ninjas are so silent. I don’t hear them talk half as much as him.”

  Ehuang sighed, long and exaggerated, while Emily waited.

  “Every ninja has their skills,” she muttered. “Assassination isn’t our only task or tool. Lei is our diplomat, and although we believe every fight can be won with a well-placed knife, some fights are better handled with words alone. Satisfied?”

  “Yes, actually.” Emily nodded.

  Ehuang huffed, and Emily turned back to the duel.

  “On three?” Lei asked.

  “Just so you can leap at two? I think not.”

  Lei shrugged and then lunged at the samurai, dashing in with a forward thrust. It was clumsy, Emily thought, and Takeo seemed to agree as he batted the thrust aside and countered. Lei only just avoided being struck by rolling to the ground. Takeo did not pursue and even allowed Lei to stand up unmolested.

  “Giving up so soon?” Lei taunted.

  Takeo shrugged. “I enjoy watching you struggle.”

  The samurai attacked this time, swinging fast and strong like all the times Emily had seen before. Lei was instantly on the defense, backpedaling in desperation as he parried what blows he could. Takeo’s strikes came too fast, one after the other, for Lei to make any counters, and it seemed all the ninja could do was hold the samurai at bay. The battle appeared over before it began when Lei’s footing betrayed him and he fell flat on his back.

  Emily felt a smile touch her lips as Takeo stepped forward to put his stick to Lei’s throat, but in that moment the fight changed.

  Lei struck out his left arm, and a black wire came whizzing out of his sleeve to wrap around Takeo’s ankle. Then Lei gave a monstrous tug, and Takeo’s foot went sliding across the mud, sending the samurai toppling to the ground. Just as Emily had done, Lei was on top of Takeo before he’d finished falling, and the ninja had drawn a hidden dagger to place against Takeo’s throat. Emily’s almost-smile disappeared into a frown.

  Takeo should have seen that coming, she mused. Did he let Lei win?

  Lei grinned and took the knife off of Takeo’s throat.

  “You’re not going to accuse me of cheating, are you?” he asked.

  Lei stood up and offered a hand. Takeo accepted it and stood up, as well, then dropped to untie the string from around his ankle.

  “Not at all,” Takeo said, looking up. “I knew I faced a ninja.”

  Lei sheathed his blade, and Emily drew her hands up to clap, but then awkwardly set them back down when she saw none of the other ninjas moving. Ehuang saw the movement out of the corner of her eye and sneered.

  Really, Emily thought. Is she so childish? Well, she is younger than me.

  But still, Emily didn’t remember ever acting like that when she was the ninja’s age. There was a time when Emily would have been appalled by such terrible manners and might have tried to make peace with the ninja, but it seemed that time had passed because Emily felt no desire to weather Ehuang’s attitude any longer. She stood up and scraped the mud from her leather skirt, letting the rain wash her hands clean as she closed the distance to Takeo and Lei.

  “I’d challenge you to best two out of three,” Takeo said to his friend, “but I have another favor to ask.”

  “Another favor?” Lei bounced his eyebrows. “Will you be expecting this one for free, as well? I’ll lose my reputation as a ninja if I keep this up. I’ve never worked for so many favors in my life. At the least, please tell me this is the ‘scratch my back’ kind and not the ‘fight a war’ kind?”

  Neither Takeo nor Lei had turned to acknowledge Emily, and she feared that perhaps she should have stayed put. A glance over her shoulder cleared that thought, though. The seating area, once full of five ninjas plus Ehuang, was now empty. All six had melted away, and Emily had not heard them despite being only a pace away.

  She shivered and flushed from the eeriness of it. She wished she could move like that, and Takeo must have been reading her mind.

  “Close enough,” he said. “It shouldn’t be hard, even for a ninja as terrible as you. I was hoping you could train Emily here to walk without being heard. She’s light footed already, but I think with a little training, she could be quieter than you.”

  “Hm.” Lei folded his arms. “Quieter than me? I’m assuming you mean when I’m not talking. Sure, sure, I can do that. You know we only have a week, though, right? Even less if my men find Lord Jiro quickly.”

  Takeo folded his arms across his chest and gave Emily a smile.

  “You’ll be done in two days,” he boasted.

  Both Emily and Lei scoffed.

  “Two days?” Emily smirked. “Even I don’t learn that quickly.”

  “Really?” Takeo challenged. “How long did it take you to shoot two arrows?”

  Emily’s smirk disappeared. Shooting two arrows was a coveted skill of hers. She’d been trained by elves in the Forest of Angor on the sole promise she would teach no one else. They’d given her a solid week of thorough training that had instilled only the basics. It had taken another few days and an hour of desperation to actually be able to pull it off. After that, she’d spent considerable time perfecting the technique, and although shooting one arrow was still more accurate, shooting two came in handy when she found herself outnumbered. And that happened often.

  But there was no way Takeo could have known how long it’d taken her. She’d never told him.

  Lei’s smirk had also disappeared, and the hard look he’d been giving Emily turned to a shocked one.

  “You can shoot two arrows?” he asked. “At the same time? Accurately? I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  Emily took that as a challenge and retrieved her bow and arrows. At first, no one noticed as she took up a stance opposite a wooden target that had several rings painted on it. They did, however, turn their heads when she strung the bow and nocked two arrows to the string.

  “If you miss, I won’t count it,” Lei said, arms over his chest.

  “Fine, then.” Emily shrugged. “Call the targets. I won’t even draw until you do.”

  “Cocky.” He frowned. “I like that, honestly. First ring outside the center on the left target and dead center on the target to the right.”

  Emily drew the string and brought the bow up, slanted, at the same time. She aimed the first arrow, slid the other with a finger push, then released and watched both leap from her bow to strike their targets. The first arrow she’d aimed struck perfectly, dead center on the right target. The second arrow went half outside the second ring on the left target. Still though, she smiled, for her shot had been fast, and Lei’s face went limp.

  “Wow.” He licked his lips.

  Takeo’s smirk had grown to grin, and he gave Lei a rough nudge.

  “Two days,” the samurai said, “at most.”

  * * *

  Learning the art of stealth was both fantastic and disappointing.

  It was fantastic because she loved to learn. Growing up on the Great Plains—where every year was a simple repeat of the last, a harrowing drum of repetition where the same old methods were used over and over and over and over again—had ground into her a burning desire to discover. A pirate once told her that she sprouted new skills like a hydra grew heads, and to some extent, that was true. She’d learned hunting, archery, knife fighting, fletching, lockpicking, and sword fighting, all within the last two years—on top of that, she’d discovered countless creatures. The knowledge was both vast and insufficient, and no matter how much she seemed to learn, she always desired more. Emily was a master of none of these skills, but the combination of their teachings had given her a certain adaptability that suited her tendency to travel far and wide. This new skill she was to learn, that of stealth, was not something she was entirely unfamiliar with, but it was something that she’d never purposefully learned. At least, not from a ninja
.

  And therein lay the source of her disappointment. Somehow, in the short time she’d spent with these trained assassins, she’d managed to convince herself that there was a certain magic to their movements—the uncanny way they walked, the wondrous lack of sound. As it turned out, she was just walking wrong.

  “Touch the ground with your big toe first, not the heel,” Lei had instructed. “There, now turn the foot a bit and slowly roll your foot down from one end to the other. Yes, you got it. The idea is to only have one part of your foot moving at a time, spreading out your weight and putting pressure on what you know is silent. If you can hear yourself, so can everyone else. That’s it, yes. Now all you need is practice.”

  Lei’s short lesson made Emily beyond dubious of his ability to teach. She did as instructed—rolling her feet, touching lightly, and spreading her weight—but the concept seemed too easy, especially since she was still making noise. Less noise, sure, but she could still hear herself.

  But she did not argue. She’d heard—or rather not heard—enough from these ninjas to understand that they knew more than her. She practiced, pacing in the mud with slow, careful steps, placing one toe at a time. Sometimes, the rain made it difficult to tell if she was making any progress. The puddles grew in size, causing the drops to crash hard into shallow pools instead of splash softly onto moist ground.

  Takeo and Ehuang watched from within the tent but offered no advice over what Lei had said. Ehuang, her artwork in hand, scribbled in slow and purposeful arcs, only pausing to look up when Emily slipped. Takeo, on the other hand, rarely blinked. He sat cross-legged, chin resting on clasped hands, and appeared to find nothing more interesting than Emily’s work. Occasionally, he would glance at Ehuang and say something, but Emily couldn’t hear more than a word or two of their mumbled conversations. She worried they were talking about her clumsy movements or her disheveled hair.

  It was a mistake to grow it out, she thought. This thing is a monster.

  It was only just past her shoulders, but she already felt the difference. Over and over, she’d run her fingers through her hair to loosen the tangles that came night after night. It took many more pulls than it ever used to, and she feared it was only going to get worse as it grew. One glance at Ehuang’s hardly-finger-length hair was enough for jealously to flair. The ninja could shake it dry after being drenched in the rain while Emily’s stayed wet day and night.

  Emily had picked a bad time to try something different.

  After a time, Lei stopped giving Emily any instructions at all. He paced to the tent and took a seat with Ehuang, lying on his side so that his stomach wrapped around the small of her back. Emily went to follow, but he shooed her back outside.

  “Practice!” he commanded. “You don’t need me for that.”

  Emily felt annoyed, but it was a truth she couldn’t argue. She shook the anger from her mind and the water from her hair before returning to her new studies. Although the rain made it hard to hear, she sensed some progress after half a day’s practice. Walking as Lei instructed was far more laborious than her normal walk. Despite doing nothing but pacing, her feet were aching, the muscles sore and tender, like her legs might feel after a hard run. It surprised her, and she wondered if perhaps this was a sign that she was going to improve.

  They ate lunch and supper, another two bowls of slop that sat heavily in Emily’s gut after what seemed like ages later. As the sunlight faded and set far off beyond the western trees, Emily hobbled on weary feet into the tent for a good night’s rest and tried her best to hide her disappointment that there was now plenty of space for everyone to sleep. The fourth ninja under Lei’s command had yet to return. Emily asked Lei about it as they were settling in for the night, but he just told her not to ask questions he couldn’t and wouldn’t answer.

  Ehuang and Lei went to sleep in each other’s arms, curled up in a position that seemed both uncomfortable and warm. Emily was envious, and as Takeo lay on his back and she on hers, she carefully spread out to touch her elbow to his.

  It was comforting that he didn’t pull away—not even as his breathing went deep and the slow patter of rain put her to sleep.

  Chapter 18

  Sometime in the night, the rain stopped. It went just as pleasantly as it had come, disturbing no one as it slowly faded to nothing. Emily didn’t know when the rain stopped, but it must have been early in the night because she awoke to a clear, dark sky long before morning came. The slight chill was offset by the humid air that lingered in the now silent world. It was comforting, and Emily smirked. She had thought that once the rain stopped, it would be chilly until the water left behind had dried out, but she should have known Juatwa would do no such thing. Instead, it wrapped her in a warm blanket of humidity until the sun came up and burned away the shallow pools.

  It took her some time to fall back asleep. Takeo had pulled away, turning to his side so that they no longer touched. She ran a finger down his tattered kimono, wondering if she’d ever work up the courage to tell him how she felt. The idea of rejection stung almost more than the thought of never asking in the first place. Try as she might, her thoughts drifted to Gavin—the handsome knight from Lucifan who had made his attraction to her well known.

  It had seemed so much easier with him. A smile and a laugh, and they had shared looks of deep longing. She knew now why that was. Her attraction to Gavin had never been more than skin deep. He was too—her mind stumbled as she searched for the proper words—honorable? That couldn’t be right. Having too much honor shouldn’t be wrong, and yet it was. He had been too honorable to let her fight, too honorable to respect her plan of revenge, too honorable to take a life out of the heat of combat—so many restrictions Emily couldn’t contemplate or follow. She was not built that way. She did not want to live that way.

  In many ways, Gavin was like Quartus, and that made her sad. Just as she was slowly losing respect for Gavin, so was she also slowly losing her admiration of Quartus. Takeo was right; there were things that needed to be done that the angels and knights could not do. That was why Emily was chosen, and that was why she loved Takeo. It was a crazy thought, but it seemed that Takeo knew her better than she knew herself, despite the short time they’d known each other.

  Sometime amongst the thoughts of her past and present, she drifted off to sleep again. When she awoke, it was to a gentle touch just behind her ear and Takeo holding a bowl of steaming-hot ninja slop.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I let you sleep again,” he said.

  She breathed deeply, blinked at the bright sun shining through the open tent flaps, and stretched.

  “No.” She yawned. “I like sleep.”

  Emily took her breakfast and ate it voraciously after the first few bites ignited her hunger. She only paused between swallows long enough to step out into the sun, slurping the soup down as she glanced up at the crystal-clear sky. She cleaned her bowl, set it to the side, and huffed.

  “What is it?” Takeo asked from where he sat just a pace away, shaving himself with her pesh-kabz.

  Emily gave him a glance. White mush adorned his face where he had yet to clear his stubble away. He had to wipe the knife in a bowl of water after every stroke, and there was a second bowl of water nearby with a piece of torn cloth draped over it.

  “Why didn’t you do that when it rained?” she asked in return.

  “Because the rain would have washed away the cream before I could shave,” he said.

  Emily’s throat clenched. I am such an idiot, she thought and resisted the urge to slam her forehead with an open palm. He must think I’m a child.

  “Looking at the sky,” she said, “I was just noting how Juatwa is so pleasant that I find it smug. It reminds me of the leprechauns, in a way, from Lucifan. They look and dress so nice and pretty—from their suits to their buildings—in a professional way that’s almost insulting.”

  “Now you’re getting it,” he said, a thin crack of a smile opening in the white mush that covered his
face.

  Emily smiled back, and Lei plopped down next to her.

  “How do your feet feel?” he asked.

  “A little sore, but not enough to slow me down.”

  “Then you didn’t try hard enough yesterday. Up! Practice! The samurai set us a deadline for today, and I would hate to insult his honor. Wouldn’t want him to seppuku simply because you walk like a normal human being, now would we?”

  Takeo narrowed his eyes and continued to shave. Emily saw no reason to disagree and commenced practicing right outside the tent. She spent all day doing so, feet growing sore as the day dragged on at an agonizing pace. The few distractions that did occur were a welcome break from the monotony.

  First, Ehuang finished her picture. It was a drawing of a komainu fishing a kappa out of a stream—or so Emily was told. She had yet to see either creature in person, but she judged Lei’s proud smile to be a stamp of legitimacy. Ehuang had used only black chalk to draw the image, smearing the stream and the komainu’s fur with her palm to make them flow. It was skillfully done, Emily thought, and she weighed the idea of giving Ehuang a compliment, but decided to keep it to herself when Lei swooped in to take Ehuang in his arms.

  He held her and planted a warm kiss on her lips, saying the picture was both as beautiful and dangerous as her to which she giggled and kissed him back. Emily averted her eyes, suddenly wishing she could walk like a ninja for an entirely new reason. Her eyes found Takeo—also seated in the tent, no more than a pace away from them—desperately staring into the katana he was sharpening for what seemed the tenth time that day and brushing away whatever tiny flakes of rust might have stained it from the constant rain. There was none now, but as Ehuang and Lei nestled into each other’s arms, he invented some and polished away.

  Emily tried to ignore it, but she realized her feelings weren’t entirely embarrassment. Part of them were envy.

  They look so happy, Emily thought. Is it really that easy? She could only hope. Practice and hope—and learn, she could always learn.