Emily's Saga

by Travis Bughi

  “Hm, maybe,” he grudgingly accepted.

  “If anyone needs to die,” Nicholas spoke up for the first time, his tone flat, “I’ll gladly volunteer.”

  Emily’s brother was sitting at the same table, but apart from them, his arms folded before a plate of untouched bread. His eyes, cheeks, and nose were red, and he held a cold gaze upon the space in front of him. No one made a comment for a few moments.

  Emily could only imagine the pain he must be going through. Nicholas had lost his soulmate, the one man who’d gone through everything with him. Their love had been like that between Emily and Takeo, free and effortless. Fritjof had been his everything for nearly a year, and now he was lost. Emily tried to imagine that pain, what it would be like to lose Takeo, but she couldn’t touch it. It frightened her to touch it. Then Emily noticed Leda had a shine in her eyes.

  “Leda?” Emily whispered.

  “Hm? Oh, sorry.” Leda touched a wrist to her eye and drew it away wet. “I was just—it’s nothing. Your brother just reminded me of myself. I was like that, like him, for a little while when Kirke died. No one noticed since we were running for our lives, and it didn’t quite hit me until we had her funeral pyre.”

  Emily nodded. “I was there, though I was thinking of Chara when the flames went up. I remember Kirke well. You two always helped me feel better, made me remember what I loved about my home.”

  “I’m going to name my first daughter Kirke,” she went on, “and my second one Iezabel.”

  Emily forced a smile.

  “If you have a daughter,” Leda went on, “you’ll name her Chara?”

  “Of course,” Emily said, “but if I have a son, I’ll name him Fritjof.”

  She looked sidelong at Nicholas, and he returned the gaze out of the corner of his eye. They held for a moment, his pain-soaked eyes locking on to hers; then he gave her a faint nod, and something about his stature hardened. Something about that gave Emily comfort, and then there was a loud knock at the door.

  All four jumped in their seats. Emily’s hand was on her knife before she could think, and Takeo stood to attention, gripping his katana.

  “Who’s going to answer that?” Leda asked.

  “All of us,” Takeo replied. “Come.”

  The rest stood and followed. Takeo opened the door cautiously, and his stance did not ease when he saw the fully armored knight with a shaved head waiting outside. Emily blinked, thinking she recognized the young man, but not feeling sure. She blinked again when he went to one knee and bowed at the sight of her.

  “Miss Stout,” the knight spoke to the ground. “I’m honored to see you again.”

  Emily swallowed and hesitated, her mind racked trying to remember his face, though it was hidden from her. The bald head looked familiar though. She had fought alongside a young knight who would shave his head, but he had died during the fight against Count Drowin.

  “Um, me too,” Emily said finally. “I’m very sorry. I don’t remember your name.”

  “Sir Mathew, ma’am.”

  “Mathew!” Emily gasped. “Of course! I’m so sorry! I should have known! I was just asking Sir Mark about you the other day, too. When did you start shaving your head?”

  “After Neil died,” he said to the ground. “He always shaved his head, so it seemed like a good way to honor his memory. We all did it for a while, actually, but I’m the only one who never stopped.”

  Emily smiled faintly. Takeo was still blocking the way, breaking the clear line between Emily and the knight, despite that Mathew hadn’t moved. Mathew raised his head just enough to see the intense stare Takeo was giving him.

  “You were smart to change sides,” Mathew said. “I’m sure Count Drowin would have done the same if he’d known about the colossus.”

  “What’s your business here?” Takeo asked.

  “I don’t answer to traitors, only my superiors and the Angels’ Vassal.”

  Emily frowned, feeling a little confused at Mathew’s words. At first, she didn’t know whom the knight was talking about, but then Nicholas, Takeo, and Leda turned and gave Emily a long stare.

  “Vassal? Is that what they’re calling you?” Leda whispered.

  Emily gaped in sudden realization. It hadn’t occurred to her that Mathew was speaking about her, or that he was bowing to her out of anything other than formality.

  The secret is out then, she thought. They know the real me.

  “You’ll answer to me, then?” Emily managed to stutter out, her voice echoing her uncertainty. “Well then, if you say so. Start by answering the samurai. What are you doing here? And why are you alone for that matter? Haven’t you heard there’s a rakshasa on the loose?”

  “I was sent by Sir Mark to find you,” Mathew stated. “He knows I know you and vice versa, so that’s why you’re looking at me. This was the second place I came looking after I found The Kraken’s Eye burned down. I remember several years back Gavin hiding you here. Anyway, we’ve been searching ships, capturing soldiers, and cleaning up casualties all night, working in shifts so some of us can get some rest. There’s a lot of work to do, as you can imagine, my lady. We found a fat old pirate washed ashore. He started shouting your name and Jabbar’s the second we shackled him. He claims to know you and says you’ll vouch for him. Goes by Captain Mosley. Does that mean anything to you?”

  Chapter 32

  Mathew, who’d kept his head bowed even when standing up—so much so that Emily thought his neck must hurt—had come on a pegasus and only as a messenger, so he mounted up and flew off the moment Emily promised she’d come as swiftly as she could. She kept her promise and left the orphanage at a brisk walk with her three followers in tow. The load she carried was lighter than normal thanks to an unfortunate lack of arrows, which she thought about every time she took a step and no quiver bounced against her back.

  “We have to consider this is a trap,” Takeo said, his voice broken with the light jog it took to keep up with Emily. “This could be Jabbar in disguise.”

  “Oh, I am well aware,” Emily huffed. “Even if he isn’t Jabbar, I might just stab him anyway. Damn do I wish I had arrows!”

  “Who is this person, Emily?” Leda asked. “Not that I don’t like being in the dark by the way.”

  Emily grimaced. “Sorry, I thought I mentioned him. He was the captain of the ship I traveled on to Savara. The one I freed from slavery and then lost when the mermaids took me to shore.”

  “And you want to stab him?”

  “I want to know why he was in Jabbar’s fleet,” Emily said, “or more specifically, why the moron was knowingly fighting against me.”

  They had to pause to climb over a shallow pile of rubble. Shattered stone and smoking wood blocked the street entirely, forcing them to climb the wreckage and descend on the other side. Emily wiped soot from her hands onto her skirt when she reached the other side.

  “This city is a graveyard,” Leda noted. “The ruins, a tomb.”

  “I didn’t know you were a poet,” Emily replied.

  “Just an observer.”

  “Emily, please,” Takeo said when he caught up to her. “We need to talk about Mosley.”

  “I’m telling you, I’ve already thought about it. I think it highly unlikely that Jabbar disguised himself as a pirate and got himself captured and imprisoned in a cell, surrounded by guards.”

  “I didn’t say it was likely, just that we have to consider it.”

  Emily came to a halt in the street, making the others fall over themselves to stop. She gave Takeo a hard stare and shrugged her shoulders. He glanced at the ground for a second, his hair falling over his face, before meeting her gaze. His eyes both apologetic and stern.

  “So what am I to do then, Takeo?” she asked. “What is your plan? Am I to hide from every person I ever meet until they cut their veins open to show me their real blood? Do I live my entire life in fear that every person I haven’t seen in the last few heartbeats is a rakshasa bent on killing me? What kind of li
fe is that? Do you honestly think I fear death any more—or should I say less—than you do? Do you know why I’m rushing? If this is Jabbar, then I’ll be glad for it. He’ll be in a cell, surrounded by armed knights, buried beneath a tower of stone. If this is a trap, then I relish it because I have every advantage for the first time in my life.”

  The defiance in Takeo’s stance did not lessen upon hearing Emily’s words, but this didn’t intimidate her either, and she leaned toward her lover with eyes unblinking. Then Nicholas stepped between the two of them, his large torso breaking their sight of each other.

  “Hey!” Nicholas yelled, far too loudly. “Stop. Don’t do this. You’re both right, damn it.”

  Emily and Takeo, even Leda, stepped back in surprise; Nicholas hadn’t spoken since that morning. Now his rage looked to be a hair from boiling over. Gritting his teeth, he whirled on Emily first and Takeo second with hands balled into massive fists.

  “He’s right, Emily!” her brother said. “I’ve already lost too many people, and I don’t want to lose my sister, too. You say you have the advantage? Well, so did Ragnar when he died. The strongest viking I ever knew, my adoptive father, and he was taken down in his own throne room by a slave. All my friends followed him to Valhalla, everyone except Fritjof, who was only kept alive to keep me in line. We suffered a year together, lived through so much, and now he’s dead, too. The only people left in my life are those I left behind: you, Abe, Mother, and Father. I’m only just beginning to remember how much I owe you all, and it would destroy me to lose any of you now. I’m not asking you to live a life of fear, but I am saying you need to listen to the ones you love. They won’t always be around. We’re both familiar with that.

  “And the same for you, samurai. You’re smarter than this, I know it. Last night, when I wasn’t seeing red and blind with pain, I saw you fighting. There is nothing natural about your skill with a katana. You reap men like my father would reap wheat, and yet not for a moment do I fear you over my own sister. You understand this, what I’m saying, you have to. Fate is inexorable, and we are rowers upon an ocean in this storm that we call life. Let her guide this vessel.”

  A deafening silence followed Nicolas’ short speech. Emily swallowed, Takeo flinched, and Leda seemed to be looking for a place to disappear. Nicholas just glanced between the two of them, waiting for one to show any defiance, and then stepped away when they offered none.

  Emily and Takeo looked at each other again; their faces held a hint of embarrassment.

  “You commanded me never to die for you,” Takeo said. “Don’t make me break that oath.”

  “I won’t,” she promised, “but we’re still going. We’ll talk to Sir Mark first and ask for an escort to the cells.”

  “Thank you,” Takeo said with a sigh.

  The pace after they resumed wasn’t as fast as the first one. Some of the wind had gone out of Emily’s sails, and she didn’t have the energy to row. It ended up being for the best, though, because when they reached the knights’ barracks, night was coming once more. Sir Mark would be in the open.

  Awake at night again, she thought. I’m really looking forward to not sleeping during the day when this is over.

  Emily searched for the vampire within the throng of activity that had encompassed the barracks, the angels’ tower, and the entire area around it. The place was swamped in soldiers. Altogether, they looked very much like the army Emily had joined in Juatwa, except this one was made of knights, ogres, and minotaurs instead of samurai, oni, and akki. Makeshift cots were planted all around among impromptu lean-tos and carts being used as beds. Many were taken by the hundreds of wounded swathed in bandages. Besides them, some were sleeping, or at least attempting to catch a moment’s rest before they were needed again. Others were shackling prisoners—talking with them or feeding them as they did—or distributing food to the rest, nothing but bread, salted meat, and stew. The clamor of voices, footsteps, and rattling metal made as much ruckus as was normal for the market square. Lucifan was alive with sound, only this one had a dire feel to it.

  To her embarrassment, more than a few stepped aside as Emily came forward. They went silent, gasping at her existence as if in awe, creating a void in the ocean of sound. It drew attention, and Emily felt a plethora of eyes fall on her. It made her feel big at first, but she remembered how small she was when a huge minotaur with a torn-off horn bowed and moved aside for her.

  “Vassal,” he muttered slowly, graciously, voice full of respect. “Amazon.”

  “Thank you,” Emily whispered, unsure of what else to say.

  A knight on a stretcher, his leg and chest bandaged and stained red, reached out a weak hand and touched her knee as she passed. She flinched and heard Takeo’s katana click as the hilt was raised above the sheath. Her hand shot up to stop him, and the katana clicked closed reluctantly. Then another knight raised a hand to her as she passed, his fingers outstretched to run along her forearm. She did her best to ignore it, unsure of what else to do. The knight whispered something as she passed, his brown eyes shining in the torchlight that bathed the encampment. Then another hand went up, reached towards her, gracing the air between them. Then another and another, and suddenly the air was full of hands and outstretched fingers. The path before her continued to clear, but it was outlined with palms. Emily felt the light touch of fingers at every step—on her shoulders, her arms, her legs—and she stiffened a little more at every touch. Some of the hands were purple and only had four fingers.

  A minotaur took a knee as she passed, and others followed suit, stopping their busy movements to kneel or stand in awe. She heard ‘vassal’ whispered over and over. More eyes turned in the night to watch her, and even more hands rose up to touch her as she passed. One of the knights, a girl with blonde hair, took Emily’s hand in hers and kissed it, words of thankfulness flowing from her lips. Wherever Emily went, the clamor of activity was reduced to nothing but hushed whispers and reverent stares.

  She did her best to ignore it. Amongst feelings of disbelief and grandeur, a strong sense of astonishment separated her from what was happening, making it hard for her to believe it was happening at all. All of this seemed to be happening to someone else, yet every touch brought her closer to reality. Her body flashed warm and her muscles tensed. The attention commanded her to walk tall, but she felt her shoulders crush inwards and her arms tuck close to her sides, her breathing sharp and shallow. Yet the whispers would not stop. She couldn’t stand still nor could she go back, only forward until she felt an uncanny chill prickle her skin.

  “Many of Jabbar’s army fled the city.” Emily heard Mark’s voice as the crowd went silent at her presence. “I want you and you to gather up several squads to go after them. If you don’t find them, at least search for the citizens and spread word that the battle is won. We’ll need help to put this place right. Are you listening to me? What? What is it?”

  The crowd parted, revealing Mark facing a group of knights who were looking past him. Their lips parted as they made eye contact with Emily, and they began to kneel one by one. Sir Mark glanced over his shoulder and noticed Emily. His face spoke of surprise, but then he gave her a warm smile, so at odds with his cold aura.

  “Emily Stout,” he said. “Thank you for joining us. I’m glad Mathew could find you. Many of my soldiers wanted to thank you in person, and I feared you might have already left. Not to be rude, but in the past, you’ve made a habit of disappearing quickly after a battle.”

  “I had things to do then,” she said apologetically. “The war wasn’t yet won.”

  “Is it now?”

  “I don’t know.” She bowed her head, feeling embarrassed and nearly naked. “I hope so. I’ve come to find out.”

  “The pirate, yes.” Sir Mark touched his chin and then gestured towards the angels’ tower. “If you’ll be so kind as to follow me.”

  The vampire led the way. The crowd continued to part, turning at first when they felt the cold aura of their leader and then b
owing and kneeling in awe when they saw the woman they deemed their savior. In the silence her presence created, Sir Mark’s words could be heard loud and clear.

  “I want you to know that none of this was my doing,” he said. “It started in the ranks and has worked its way up. Secrets are hard to keep when an entire city bears witness. You can imagine the awe most of them felt when they saw the colossus saving them in the streets. It felt every bit as divine as the angels used to be. I even felt it a bit myself, to be honest. I never thought I’d see you as an equal.”

  “We are not equal,” Emily replied, tone harsher than intended.

  Fingers continued to touch her skin—sliding across her arms, knees, calves, and ankles. Occasionally, her skirt would take some resistance as well. Emily walked like a rigid pole.

  Mark sighed, glancing over his shoulder. “No, I suppose we’re not.”

  Emily glanced back to check on her companions. She saw Takeo first. He appeared tenser than she did. His eyes scanned the crowd rapidly, jumping from face to hand to fingers while his own hand gripped his katana. He blinked so rarely that his eyes were beginning to water.

  Nicholas and Leda faired only slightly better. They stared wide-eyed at Emily and the scene around her, mouths agape in a way that described perfectly the disbelief Emily felt. Leda was occasionally touched, too, knights whispering ‘amazon’ or ‘thank you’ as she went by. She shivered at every touch, but nodded graciously all the same. Emily wanted to say something to them, or at least to shrug to ease some tension, but every touch on her skin made movement that much more difficult.

  “Captain Mosley,” Emily spoke up, throat dry. “Is . . . is he in the tower?”