Emily's Saga

by Travis Bughi

  The orcs never balked. They flung themselves eagerly, still howling like animals, over their fallen comrades. The third and fourth arrows flew, knocking one to the ground and making another stumble as the arrow pierced its ear. Yet not even that injured one stopped its charge, and Emily swore as she continued to draw and release.

  They were nearly on Takeo, and Emily managed to get off three more arrows before they clashed with him. She downed each target, killing all but one, which she left writhing in blood-drenched snow, barely able to crawl. Its howls turned to screams, and it flailed its weapon like it could still reach the battle if it only tried. The single-mindedness of its murderous brain unnerved Emily as she drew another arrow and prepared to save Takeo’s life.

  The first orc came at the samurai in a dead sprint, howling so loud that it made Emily’s ears ring. Takeo sidestepped, dodging the cleaver and opening the orc at the stomach, sending it sliding across the ice behind him, smearing the land red with its blood.

  Seven more, Emily counted off in her head. Too many.

  The next two came together, and Takeo had only enough time to dodge one and parry the other. The orcs’ swings were so brutal that Takeo stumbled as he parried, tripping and staggering back onto the frigid ice. Emily’s arrow leapt into the air and pierced the nearest orc’s throat, letting loose another jet of dark red blood to dirty the snow.

  Takeo quickly cut down the remaining one, hacking the beast down at the knee and then finishing it with an upward cut across its face. He was just in time because three more descended upon him, and he staggered to keep his footing as they charged into him. He dodged one, then another, and only just got his blade up in time to block the final blow. That orc’s swing was too much, though, and it sent Takeo flying into the air. When he hit the ground, he slid for several paces, but even then, he never had a moment to breathe because the orcs followed him, still howling like mad.

  Emily’s hands and fingers danced, drawing and shooting, downing another orc before she realized the last two were charging for her. The next arrow took one of them in the gut, which was enough to cause that one to stumble and strike the callous ice face first. It did not rise—either dead or unconscious—but Emily barely had time to notice because the last one was on her.

  It came at her, leaping in the air, legs and arms back, weapon held in both hands, screaming like a thing possessed. Emily gave her own cry and tumbled back, barely dodging the blade as it struck the ground where she’d stood a moment before. Huge splinters of ice exploded into the air, spiraling in all directions, and the orc fumbled its landing and fell prone on the ice. Emily was on her back, scrambling away, trying desperately to grab her knife with hands too numb to feel it.

  The orc howled and screamed, wrenching its blade free and swinging it at her again, hacking apart more chunks of ice, while Emily frantically swung her legs back and forth to dodge the massive cleaver. For every bit she scampered away, the orc scampered closer.

  I cannot reach it, she realized. Not with my knife.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Takeo faring no better. He had managed to wound one, leaving it limping along with a bloody stump for a left hand, but the orc did not seem to care. Blood poured from its wound, and still it howled and fought and swung alongside its partner, preventing Takeo from doing anything other than fending for his life against two swinging blades the size of himself. The ice seemed to help in this regard, preventing his enemies from gaining the mobility to flank him.

  Emily’s attention was forced back to the orc as it swung again, cleaving open another wound in the ice while it clawed across the slippery surface on two knees and one hand. It found purchase in the holes it created and scampered faster toward her. Emily’s hand finally found her knife, and she drew it.

  I’m going to die, she realized. This is what it all comes down to.

  In a last, desperate hope, she tried in vain to reach out to the colossus.

  Go to Lucifan, she commanded, hoping that it would obey her in death. Kill Sir Mark O’Conner.

  There was no hollow reply, nor did she feel her mind tugged off to a faraway place. She searched frantically for the colossus’ empty shell of a soul, but found nothing.

  And then there was light—sudden, inexplicable, bright light on herself, on the orc, on the ice, all around her—bright, yellow light, and heat. Warmth touched her cheeks, her clothes, even her frigid, bloodied fingers. And then came a whistle in the air, like an arrow through the sky, and Emily knew not what to think because the orc was still trying to kill her. It had closed the gap between them, ignoring Emily’s kicks to its green, ugly face. It snarled and howled and raised its sword high to cut Emily in two.

  And then she saw the source of the whistle and the light: the most beautiful angel, encased in leathered armor, soaring in on feathered wings with a sword in hand and light pouring out from behind her. She dove from the clouds, hardly more than a blur, reaching Emily and the orc in the span of a heartbeat. Her sword, held in front, drove straight into the orc’s back.

  The orc screamed, and a fountain of blood erupted from its wound. The death strike it had prepared for Emily fell limp as the orc howled, and the creature was lifted up into the air on the angel’s sword alone, sliding down the blade until it settled on the hilt, still screaming in agony.

  The angel, hardly bigger than Emily, appeared calm and collected as she hoisted the orc into the air without effort. She continued to hover over the ground on feathered wings—her golden hair spun in spirals down her back and fluttered from the wind created by her own flight. Her eyes sparkling green like emeralds—

  Green eyes, Emily’s mind blared. Green eyes!? That’s no angel!

  Emily gasped as the warrior woman—the orc impaled on her sword like a helpless toy—looked back and smiled warmly.

  “Hello, Emily,” she said. “My husband sends his regards.”

  Chapter 8

  The winged creature flung the orc off her sword and through the air, where it conveniently crashed into the injured one that was still trying to kill Takeo. Both orcs fell to the ground with the sword-impaled one dead and the injured one snarling as it tried to break free.

  It never did.

  The woman shot through the air on feathered wings and slammed her sword down through both orcs and a layer of ice, killing the injured one and sending a pool of blood leaking out from them both. When she ripped her sword clean, it was drenched, and Emily scrambled further back.

  Her husband sends his regards, Emily repeated the line. Who is her husband? Who is she? WHAT is she?

  The woman turned her eyes to focus on Takeo and the orc. Both had stopped to gaze in shock at the winged warrior, now caked with thick blood.

  “Takeo.” The woman flashed a warm smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Takeo!” Emily called out in warning.

  The woman soared across the ice, bolting faster than a bugbear’s charge. Takeo’s blade came up in defense, but it was perilously slow in comparison. He only just got it up in the air before the woman’s blade reached the last orc and decapitated it in one swing. The orc died with its face frozen in shock, slumping to the ground where its head fell free to roll on the ice.

  “Pesky orcs,” the woman tisked.

  She rested her sword, point down, thrusting its tip into the ice, despite that she was still floating a hand’s width above the ground, wings flapping in long strokes. Around her, the scene looked like the aftermath of a battle in Juatwa with corpses all around and a silence so deafening it rang. Only the wind, weak compared to the howling of orcs, made noise now. Blood dripped thickly down the woman’s sword, clotting fast and pooling at the bottom. On either side of her, Emily and Takeo were both gasping into the biting cold, their attention completely absorbed by the miracle before them.

  That was until Emily felt a sharp sting and took her hands off the ice. They were starting to turn blue. She grimaced and buried each one inside the opposite sleeve before struggling to s
tand.

  “Are . . . are you an angel?” Takeo asked, standing awestruck.

  The woman turned away from the orc and gave Takeo a motherly smile. She was beautiful, like the way Heliena had been beautiful. It took one’s breath away, only paling when compared to an angel. The woman’s golden locks fell down to her back, and her green eyes flashed brilliantly. The yellow light still pierced a small hole in the clouds above, and as the snow drifted through it, it melted and dropped as water.

  Wait, Emily thought. Where is that light coming from? That’s not where the sun is.

  “Of course not, dear,” the woman said. “I’m a valkyrie.”

  “I. . .” Takeo’s lips opened and closed. “I don’t know what that is.”

  “Thank you,” Emily stuttered. “Thank you so much for saving us. Um, uh, ma’am? Can I, um, ask who your husband is? If you don’t mind?”

  “Oh!” the woman covered her mouth with a dainty, blood-soaked hand. “Dearest me! I’m so sorry. You don’t know who I am, do you? I do apologize. I’m not used to having to introduce myself. Silly me! My husband is an old friend of yours, he tells me. You two helped him reach me, and he is very thankful for that. Me, too, of course. Would you by chance remember a Kollskegg Ludinson the Sturdy?”

  Emily’s jaw would have hit the ground had it not already been wide open. All tension evaporated, and her body went limp, exhausted and amazed, too elated and shocked to care that the snow clung to her hair and clothes. She was alive, saved, and for a brief moment, she remembered what it was like not to worry.

  “Yes,” Emily whispered, voice hoarse, a tear forming in her eye.

  “That is good.” The woman smiled. “Oh! Takeo dearest! Please, come here. You must be freezing. Step into the light. Come, come.”

  He stumbled as he obeyed, but the moment the light touched his skin, he shuddered and sighed.

  “Don’t worry about it melting the ice,” she insisted. “The ground is too cold here to be warmed so easily. You too, Emily. Can you feel it?”

  Emily realized her hands were no longer cold. Neither was any part of her body that wasn’t in contact with the ice. Even the biting wind did little to chill her ears when the light touched them. She took her hands out of her sleeves and touched her nose, ecstatic at the fact that she could feel it again.

  “I know who you are,” Takeo said. “Your name is Ingrid. Yes, I remember now. Koll told us about you, his wife. The golden hair and green eyes, I thought you were dead?”

  “Oh, I still very much am.” Ingrid chuckled. “You truly know nothing of valkyries, do you, my dear?”

  “I don’t either,” Emily said, standing up to soak in more light. “However, I’d like to know.”

  Ingrid wiped her gigantic sword on the nearest orc corpse and sheathed it diagonally across her back. She floated on her white-feathered wings—never once touching the ground—until she was centered between them. With hands still covered in blood, she gestured for them to come closer, and they obeyed, closing the gap between them until Takeo’s fingers intertwined with Emily’s.

  “Valkyries are chosen when they die,” Ingrid said, “to become keepers of Valhalla. It is our duty to decide who is worthy to reach that heavenly hall full of warriors who died brave deaths. That is where my husband is now, you see? He died a legend, fighting a legendary battle, and I chose him to become an einherjar, a champion who will fight for the forces of good when the world comes to an end. We do not normally interfere with the lives of mortals, as I have just done, but I find it hard to say no to my Sturdy. He has a message for you two, and he claimed we both owe you a great debt for reuniting us.”

  “Consider it paid,” Emily replied, breathless. “Thank you so much for saving us.”

  “You are too kind.” Ingrid reached out and gave Emily’s cheek a pinch, leaving blood smeared on her cheek. “And so sweet, your mother must be so proud of you. Such a bright, strong girl. I would have liked to have had daughters like you.”

  Emily didn’t know what to say. She just looked down at her feet and blushed. This Ingrid made her feel like a little girl from the plains again, innocent and naïve to the world.

  “I see you two found each other,” the valkyrie continued, looking at their intertwined fingers. “Now, that is something beautiful. Koll will be most pleased to hear! Doubtless he will take credit for bringing you two together, the big rascal that he is. I wish you both many beautiful children! Twice as many as I had once.”

  A quick memory dawned on Emily’s mind. She remembered Koll saying he’d had six children with Ingrid. Takeo glanced at her, eyes just as wide as hers, and she realized they were both sharing equally embarrassed feelings.

  “Uh, well, thank you,” Emily managed to mumble out.

  Twelve children, she could have said. What, are you insane?

  “Thank you, my lady.” Takeo bowed.

  “Oh, you are just adorable now, aren’t you?” Ingrid covered her lips and blushed. “I’m no lady, Takeo, you flatterer. You should know that. Now, listen up. There are many dead and dying who need choosing, so I cannot stay long. My Sturdy wishes you to know something.”

  “I’m listening,” Emily said, while Takeo nodded.

  “In the afterlife, the strongest are chosen because it will be the strongest they have to fight. There, dark forces grow stronger, just as those of the light do, and already they skirmish in the different planes of existence.”

  Emily gasped and burst out, “Are there angels? In these other planes of existence! Is one named Quartus?”

  “I know of no angels, my dear.” Ingrid’s face grew solemn to the point she might have shed a tear. “I am sorry. I shall be watchful for them, I promise. Now shush, I am trying to tell you something.”

  Emily gulped and stared at her feet again.

  “Already my Koll fights,” Ingrid went on. “He leads his warriors bravely, fighting alongside his fallen brothers and so many others of his family before him. He has fought hydras and vampires, orcs and pirates, even some of his old foes, but not once has he seen one particular rakshasa that he had hoped to meet on the battlefield of the dead.”

  The coldest chill that Emily had ever felt started from the base of her neck, ran down her spine, and stretched all the way down to her heels. Her heart stopped—she was sure of it—and when she looked at Takeo, she saw in his eyes what she felt in her soul.

  “Jabbar,” they both whispered.

  “The very same.” Ingrid nodded. “There is one more thing Koll wishes you to know. He has faced off against someone he finds dastardly clever and coldly calculating, a commander of evil forces. He believes you know him, too.”

  Takeo inhaled sharply and instinctively tightened his grip on his katana. His other hand squeezed Emily’s, and she squeezed back.

  “Ichiro Katsu,” Takeo whispered, eyes and mouth held wide open. “He’s dead.”

  Ingrid only nodded, but Takeo exploded.

  “AH!” Takeo threw his katana onto the ice. “Damn it!”

  He pulled his hand from Emily’s to bury his face into his palms. He paced in circles, stopping to kick a dead orc and swearing loudly.

  “Jabbar is alive and gathering an army,” Takeo said through fingers that slid along his face. “A rakshasa, and I helped him. Damn it. DAMN IT!”

  His fingers slid past his face and through his hair, pulling it back to stretch his skin before he crumbled to his knees. Emily just stood quietly. It wasn’t that she disagreed with Takeo’s outrage, quite the contrary, actually.

  Jabbar had been one of the fiercest opponents Emily had ever faced, perhaps even worse than the vampire, Count Drowin. Jabbar may not have been immortal, but he was just as strong, if not stronger. Unlike a vampire, he was unfazed by sunlight, and as a rakshasa, he could change his appearance at will. He was cruel and terrifying, preferring to consume his enemies alive. Emily had watched him do so once, and the memory still gave her chills at night.

  The reason she stayed still was that she was shock
ed that Takeo didn’t. She had never seen this much anger from him before, not even when his old friend had betrayed him. It was more than enough to give her pause.

  “I did this,” Takeo muttered, eyes peering down. “I gave him the knowledge and the drive. I convinced him it was possible and made it so by providing the names and places. He probably impersonated a guard, Osamu most likely. He was the quietest. From there, Jabbar could watch and observe, see everything, and then he would have impersonated the sennin during the siege while Katsu escaped to the ship. It would have been the best time. With Heliena dead, Katsu would have been alone with the sennin with no one to see him die. Just like I told him, ‘Wait until Katsu is alone, and no one will question it or see it coming. No one, not even me.’ Damn it!”

  He slammed both fists onto the ice, and Emily winced. She looked up to Ingrid, who stood solemnly with bloodied hands clasped together at the waist.

  “I’m sorry this pains you, Takeo,” she said, “but I must be going. Good luck to you both, and I hope that one day I’ll get to see you two again. The end comes for us all.”

  “Wait!” Emily called, but Ingrid ignored her.

  Her wings flapped strong, bearing her up into the air and through the tunnel of light. Emily called out again, but Ingrid did not turn that time either. She continued to fly up towards the falling snow, higher and higher until she was a speck in the sky. Then she was through the clouds, and the hole closed, the light was shut out, and the cold returned.

  “Damn.” Emily clenched a fist. “I was going to ask her if she knew where Nicholas was.”

  She glanced at Takeo and saw him still resting on his knees, swaying in the wind. She thought to comfort him, but then decided against it. It wasn’t sorrow he felt; it was anger, and they were going need that.

  “If we do see her again, I hope it’s later rather than sooner,” she said.