by Travis Bughi
Then Chara lit up with an idea.
“I can come with you!” she said. “Only a day away, you said? That’s not far. The group does not leave for another three days, and that gives me more than enough time to go with you and come back.”
“Chara, no! Please!” Adelpha jutted in. “That’s far too much traveling for you.”
“Oh that’s nonsense and you know it,” Chara chided. “I’ve made it here nearly twenty years in a row haven’t I? I’d travel much farther to spend time with my lost daughter, and you, too, if you left me. If you don’t like this, then you can stay here, Adelpha.”
“You know I won’t leave your side,” Adelpha replied, eyes narrowed.
“It’s settled then!” Mariam exclaimed, grinning widely. “Absolutely you can come with us, and we leave now. Come on! Children! Finish packing our things into the cart, please.”
There wasn’t much to pack, not with the meat sold and only a few empty crates left. They were off in a short time with a minotaur and two amazons in tow. Shortly after that, Adelpha ran off to tell the other amazons about Chara’s decision, but she met back up with the group while they still followed Lucifan’s busy streets out toward the Great Plains.
They were not alone in this. There was still plenty of light left in the day, but many other families and groups were leaving Lucifan as well, their business apparently complete. Paul led the unicorns while Chara and Mariam walked beside them, making a path through the crowded streets and passing shops that Emily felt drawn to. Meanwhile, Adelpha followed behind the cart, keeping a close eye on Chara, and Emily walked with her brothers a few paces behind Adelpha. The minotaur was the last of their group, lingering far in the back to the point that most might not know he followed them.
It didn’t take long for mother and daughter to start chatting away, their carefree voices occasionally making it through Lucifan’s shouting match to reach Emily’s ears.
“How have you been, Daughter, truly?”
“I’ve been good,” Mariam nodded. “Honestly, I have. I like being a mother, and a wife. My children, my husband, they give me so much joy. It’s easy to look past the harshness of the Great Plains when I wake up to them each morning.”
“Do you come to the city often?” Chara asked.
“No,” Mariam frowned. “We don’t normally have enough crops to sell. It’s not easy.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Is it the banshees and thunderbirds? A banshee took one of ours once, a good fifteen years ago. Dreadful things.”
“Yes, they are,” Mariam said. “The thunderbirds are easy to see and avoid, though. As for the banshees, they aren’t much worse than basilisks.”
“I suppose that’s true. What about trees to make arrows, though? You must have been starved for wood.”
“I guess I’m lucky I didn’t need them, then. Bows and arrows make terrible farming tools. Also, wheat is much easier to hunt than a manticore.”
They shared a glance and then laughed loudly. Emily felt entirely lost.
Lucifan’s clamor died out as they exited the city and began to climb the huge basin that contained the bay. Chara scolded both Mariam and Adelpha for suggesting she ride in the cart, but relented when they asked her to do it just to make them happy. With the cart empty of meat, the unicorns had no trouble hauling it and Chara up the incline and back onto the Great Plains, and once they were back on the ceaseless rolling hills of golden grass, the going was very easy. They turned southwest, and started to make their way home.
“Have you really been coming back to the city every year since I left?” Mariam asked.
“Yes, I have. I planned on making this trip until I died,” Chara answered. “Not that I wanted to, of course, and Adelpha would have made me stop going eventually, I’m sure. This might have been my last trip for all I know. I’m glad your daughter was brave enough to ask for directions.”
“Especially after the way my son was treated,” Mariam added.
“You know the rules, Mariam. The Kraken’s Eye is for women only when we’re in town, unless we drag them in ourselves for a bit of fun. Even the pirates know to stay clear. Your children would have known this if you’d taught them anything useful.”
Emily was only vaguely listening to their conversation, finding herself much more interested in Adelpha. Emily took a moment to study her, though she tried not to appear obvious in doing so. Just like the other amazons, Adelpha kept her hair cut short, never past her shoulders, and had an athletic body despite being bigger than most women. She was thicker and taller than some men, too, and this made her look even more capable as a fighter. Indeed, Adelpha was broader in the chest than Emily’s father and brothers were. Looking at her now, Emily wondered how she could have ever mistaken Adelpha as one of Chara’s daughters. No freckles, high cheek bones, slim eyes, or brown wavy hair graced her body. Adelpha was something different altogether, and yet Emily envied the way she carried herself.
Emily tried to imagine how Adelpha had attained such a visual display of strength and confidence but nothing came to mind. So, she decided to ask the young amazon herself. Emily picked up her pace until she caught up with Adelpha, and it was then that Emily noticed another glaring dissimilarity: Adelpha looked far from happy. Her broad shoulders slumped, her mouth frowned, and her even her eyebrows drooped, although Emily guessed that feature was circumstantial. It was the only expression Emily had seen her make. Perhaps a few questions would soften that gaze.
“Hello,” she said. “We haven’t been formally introduced yet. I’m Emily Stout. How long have you known my grandmother?”
“Don’t you have some grass to pick, farmer?”
Emily stumbled at the sudden hostility. The response was so quick that Emily had to blink to catch up. Even after she’d taken the insult, she wasn’t sure what to say in reply.
“We don’t pick grass,” Nicholas called out from behind them.
Adelpha turned, surprised to hear the young boy speak. She decided to ignore him and turned back to Emily.
“I’ve known her a lot longer than you,” she said, answering the question. “And make no mistake, you are not an amazon.”
“No need to tear up my garden,” Emily shrugged in defense. “Tell that to Chara.”
“An amazon is a warrior woman, you stupid girl. You may be a woman,” Adelpha paused to look Emily up and down, “at least as far as I can tell, but you are certainly no warrior.”
Emily tried not to take the stinging words to heart. They were true, Emily knew she was not a warrior, but she had a burning desire to become one. It flared strong in her heart, sudden yet undeniable, and Emily found the will to barrel onwards through Adelpha’s rudeness. She’d been looked down on before, being a lowly farmer. She could handle a few honest criticisms from a stranger.
“Well then,” Emily opened her palms, “why don’t you teach me?”
“Ha!” Adelpha cracked a smile for the first time. “Why would I teach a farmer our ways? What would your weapons of choice be? A shovel and pick, I’m guessing. You’d be better off learning from dwarves. Listen, not to break your heart, but after this little family reunion is over, we’ll be going our way. You’ll go back to poking the dirt with a stick.”
Emily had nothing to say to that. Her heart still yearned to discover and learn, but it was obvious this was getting her nothing. She had no more stomach for this beating, and worse, nothing with which to fight back. Adelpha was clearly a fighter, with her leather-armored skirt, bow slung across her chest, quiver of arrows to compliment it, and the thick knife at her waist. The only thing Emily had was dirty overalls. Adelpha was roughly the same age as her brother, Abe, but like Sir Gavin Shaw, she had made something of herself and looked as deadly as an ogre.
I would look like this if my mother had stayed with the amazons, Emily thought. She might be younger and smaller, sure, but she would at least be a warrior. Emily looked away and dropped back to walk with her brothers. Her father was also dropping back, passi
ng the reins to Mariam and then strolling back to walk alongside the minotaur. He was probably explaining the particulars of the farm, such as the soil’s composition. The minotaur only nodded and, occasionally, said a few words back in that deep, slow speech of theirs.
And just like that, Emily remembered the treasure she already had. She looked at her brothers and decided it was a good thing her mother had run off—or at least a good thing she’d run off with Paul. If she hadn’t, Emily Stout might never have been born.
Besides, there was little to gain off dwelling in the past. Hadn’t Chara said that? Emily shook her head to clear her thoughts and struck up a conversation with her brothers.
“So how much did the guns sell for?” Emily asked. “Did either of you ask?”
Her brothers shook their heads.
“I don’t want to know,” Nicholas replied.
“Probably not enough,” Abe said. “Those guns were priceless.”
“I’ll bet a leprechaun would disagree with you,” Emily said.
“Yeah, but not one of those short, snobby, suit-wearing merchants would know that the real value of a six-shooter isn’t in gold.”
“I wish we could have kept some of the behemoth meat, at least,” Nicholas cut in. “Or at least shot the gun once. It would have sold the same with three less bullets.”
“Yeah,” Emily hung her head along with Abe, “that would have been nice.”
They walked on. The two mothers never stopped their chatter, and Emily had not known her mother was capable of such conversation. She’d surely never bothered to make such a connection with her own children. It soured Emily’s mood and fostered her jealousy as the afternoon sun dragged on, and they climbed and descended the shallow hills. Chara and Mariam’s conversation was as constant as the landscape and only stopped when the sun set and food was distributed.
It was bread, just plain bread.
“I wish I had brought some fruit from back home for you,” Chara said to Emily’s mother. “If I had known I’d see you this time, I would have.”
“Mangos would have been a treat,” Mariam replied after a hum of agreement. “On the plains, I can handle the creatures, the dry weather—but the food is what gets to me. Out here we get nothing but bread, corn, and the occasional meat. What I wouldn’t give to have a mango once again.”
Mangos, Emily thought. Mother likes mangos, whatever those are.
They made a fire. As with any fire on the Great Plains, the trouble wasn’t in starting it, but containing it. The weeds had to be cut and a hole made in the dirt to shelter the fire from the wind, or rather to shelter the surrounding grass from the windswept flames. Grass fires were no joke; if the dried weeds surrounding them caught fire, it would kill any nearby inhabitants faster than a thunderbird. But sometimes a fire was worth the risk, and although it was never cold out on the plains, it did provide some feeling of comfort as well as light. Everyone, even the minotaur, took a seat around the flickering flames.
“Emily,” Chara called from across the circle.
“Yes?”
“What did you think when you saw your mother kill a full grown behemoth with one arrow?”
“It was,” Emily smiled and looked at her mother, “amazing. I just wish she had done it every season.”
A chuckle went around the fire, and Emily shied at the attention. Her smile was real though, and she was glad that Chara was talking to her again.
“We would have eaten well, yes,” Paul said, “but your mother wanted to leave that life behind. I respected that, deeming it more important than our stomachs.”
“But not our house, apparently,” Mariam noted.
A few smiles were cracked, though Adelpha and the minotaur had yet to flash any teeth.
“Well,” Chara reached out to rub Mariam’s shoulder with one hand, “even though I wish you had never run away, I’m glad you ran away with this man.”
The mood shone brightly for the rest of the night. After their meal was finished, they covered the fire with the dirt they’d used to dig the pit. When the last ember was covered, they could sleep in peace. The wind drowned out the all other noise—even the minotaur’s snoring—and hummed Emily to sleep with its constant drone. Emily’s eyes only parted in the morning when she heard her name.
“No!” her mother shouted. “Not for Emily. NO!”
Chapter 11
Emily’s eyes flew apart and fell upon tall, yellow grass blowing gently in the morning breeze. She resisted the urge to jolt upright—her back was turned towards the group that had circled about the buried campfire. Her stillness was rewarded, and she heard quiet voices carried to her by the wind.
“You don’t have a say in this, Daughter,” Emily recognized Chara’s voice. “She is of age.”
“On the plains, she’s not,” Mariam responded.
They were trying to stay quiet. Whatever loud tone Emily’s mother had used before was gone now and replaced by a firm yet subtle voice. It was one Emily had heard rarely, when she was most in trouble.
“As an amazon, she is,” Chara pressed.
Mariam responded, but the wind carried nothing but whispers. Emily lifted her head slowly but still heard nothing. She turned then, and through the blades of grass saw the two women were the only ones awake and were standing near the cart. Mariam glanced back, and Emily let her head fall, hoping she hadn’t been seen.
“This is exactly why I didn’t want to come to the city,” Mariam’s voice carried again. “This conversation is over. We’ll talk later.”
Damn, Emily thought. Did she see me?
Emily had half a mind to jump up and ask what they were talking about, but then she second guessed herself. She didn’t want them to know she’d been eavesdropping. That might make them take a unified front against her. Her parents were that way, disagreeing sometimes, but always together when it came to the children. Maybe it’d be better to get Chara alone? Yes, that sounded like a much better plan. That way Mother couldn’t interfere.
Emily decided to stay still a little while longer, just to be sure, but Nicholas awoke immediately, sitting up and stretching his arms with a yawn.
“Talk about what, Mother?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Mariam replied and started hitching up the unicorns. “Nothing that concerns you.”
Knowing Nicholas, he was surely not convinced, but his lazy-morning attitude overcame his curiosity. He stretched again and then rolled out of his blanket. Emily decided to forgo her ruse and followed suit, waking to fold up her sleeping quilt. Emily thought to question Chara soon, maybe even call her over, but that would have been too obvious. She’d have to wait, unfortunately, which meant Emily would be forced to spend vast sums of time contemplating what little she’d heard. Whatever it was, her grandmother wanted it, and her mother did not.
That could be anything, Emily frowned.
Maybe she was going to receive her own bow! Emily’s heart leapt at the thought. Maybe her mother would teach her how to use it, as well. That chance seemed slim, but one could only hope. Or perhaps it wasn’t something good. What if there was a price to pay for leaving the amazons, and now Emily would have to carry the burden of her mother’s decision? Clearly, Adelpha would enjoy handing out such retribution.
Emily dashed that possibility from her mind as quickly as it came, however. The amazons couldn’t possibly care about some twenty-year runaway and her young daughter. Adelpha had only agreed to come along for Chara’s sake. Emily was making wild exaggerations. She’d just have to accept that she didn’t have a clue. All she knew was that she had a big bag full of dreams and wishes and a burning desire to find a way to reach them. So Emily finished rolling up her quilt and tried to think of something else.
Yet it did not leave her mind. As the rest of the group rose, Emily checked their faces for signs that they had overheard the discussion. Nicholas seemed to have forgotten the one sentence he’d heard and didn’t bother to pull Emily or Abe aside to discuss it. He wouldn’t have had
much time anyway, because the five Stouts, three unicorns, two amazons, and one minotaur were back on the move shortly after waking, for time was a valuable thing. They were not far from their home now and would reach it by midday. With luck, the minotaur might feel up to beginning his duties early, and the Stouts could plant some of their seeds tomorrow. In their anxiousness, they ate their breakfast bread as they walked.
Emily bit down into her loaf and realized she’d never traveled with so many companions before. She hadn’t traveled much at all really, but their little herd would have been quite the sight had Emily watched them approach from her home. She decided she rather liked the extra company and chomped away until the last piece of stale, dry bread clawed its way down her throat. As she swallowed it, she heard a grunt from behind her.
Emily did not look back, because she knew it was the minotaur. The group had taken up the same positions as yesterday, with Paul leading the unicorns, Chara and Mariam walking beside them, Adelpha behind the cart, the Stout children behind her, and the minotaur in the back. The minotaur always traveled more than a few paces behind everyone else, which was not uncommon for their kind. They kept to themselves and rarely shared the company of anyone else except another minotaurs. So, Emily thought nothing of it. Minotaurs were known to grunt occasionally, so she did not look back.
The minotaur grunted again, this time with a bit more vigor.
This time Emily did glance back. Her brothers did as well, and they saw that the minotaur was looking at Emily. He held her gaze, hardly blinking or looking away. The Stout children shared a glance.
“I think he wants my attention,” Emily whispered.
“Better not keep him waiting then,” Abe replied.
“Ask him—!” Nicholas started but was interrupted by a nudge from Abe.
Emily stopped walking, letting the group venture ahead while she waited patiently for the huge creature.