by Travis Bughi
“Before I begin,” he said, “how much do you already know?”
“Is this another test of honesty?” Emily asked back. “Can’t you read my mind?”
“Although I have seen the conversation you had with the treant,” Dirthzea replied, “I do not know everything from reading someone’s mind. Also, I do not know how much of that conversation you understood. Please, humor me.”
“I know that you left the forest, crossed the ocean to the desert, and learned to read minds while losing your sight,” Emily summed up. “What I want to know is how, and what you want with me.”
Dirthzea nodded slowly.
“It’s quite a story,” he repeated, almost as if trying to delay the conversation. “Are you sure you want the whole thing?”
Emily said nothing this time, and the elf understood that meant her first answer remained unchanged.
“I’m going to assume you do not know how the vampires came to be,” he continued. “Most people from the Great Plains, at least those few that I have met, have never heard of the jinn in the desert, or even of the desert itself.
“Across the sea—before you reach the grasslands of Juatwa, where the shogun rule, the samurai serve, and the ninjas plot—there is a great desert that the locals refer to as Savara. It is a desert in every sense of the word with sand for miles and a scarcity of water that makes men desperate and harsh. You should know that Savara was not always so. Once it was a thriving kingdom with lavish palaces and an honorable fighting force known as the Kshatriya.
“Unfortunately, the landscape changed over time and lost its resources to the encroaching sands. It has become nothing but a starved world of anarchy where the Kshatriya are but mercenaries. The kingdom was lost to greed, you see? The Kshatriya suffered the unfortunate downfall born of being ruled by men, rather than by angels. That is the key to the knight’s honor—the angels.”
“The knights are honorable all on their own,” Emily jumped to Sir Gavin’s defense.
“No,” Dirthzea replied. “They are only as faithful as their leaders. The knights are only human, just like you and just like the Kshatriya, and are therefore bound by the inherent cruelty that plagues your race.”
Dirthzea said this, what Emily considered to be an insult, without any hint of contempt. He stated it as if it were a simple fact, as if he had said humans possessed two legs. It was said so plainly that Emily did not know how to respond, and Dirthzea took her silence as the cue to continue.
“Of course, I am getting off to a bad start here. You wish to know my story, not Savara’s, so let me get onto it. There is another creature in that desert, one that appears human but is far more powerful. It is called a jinni, or jinn if you speak of all of them. The jinn have an extraordinary ability to grant powers to others, though at a cost. The vampires, or ‘Counts’ as they like to call themselves, started with one man who made a deal with a jinni in the desert. He asked to be an immortal ruler of the night with the ability to raise his own army. No doubt he paid a vast sum, but the jinni did grant him that ability. As a result, he lost his ability to survive in sunlight. I do not know how that first vampire survived to make it to Lucifan, but I know that there is no other place in the world, besides that city, where vampires could thrive. All those large buildings give their kind an abundance of shelter.”
“So,” Emily could already see where this was leading, “you made a deal with a jinni?”
“Yes, I did. I asked to see the thoughts of others so that I could understand them better, and the jinni granted me that sight. However, I lost the use of my eyes as a cost. It was a foolish decision, one that I regret, but I was young and thought I could overcome any adversity, especially if I could have such power. I cannot begin to describe to you just how difficult it was to return home to the forest.”
Emily nodded and then remembered that Dirthzea could not see her.
“I suppose the jinn are difficult to find?” she asked.
“Very,” Dirthzea answered, “and even harder to make a deal with. I was able to do both and now here I am, reading your mind.”
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Emily asked. “You risked the lives of ten of your elves for this, so I’m going to guess there’s something you must have wanted.”
“When the treant was brought to me,” Dirthzea said, “I could see his memories played out as he explained them to me. I could see you, and I could also see your thoughts.”
“What?” Emily balked. “You can read the thoughts of people in memories?”
“No, not quite,” the elf hurried to rephrase his statement. “I can only see bits and pieces, like the fallen leaves of a tree. I can tell by the leaves what kind of tree it is, maybe even how healthy it is, but I could not describe the tree itself. The same goes for the treant’s memories of you. I could see only the most recent things that had happened in your mind.”
Emily thought back to that night, and it only took her a moment to realize what Dirthzea had seen.
“You saw my dream,” she said.
“The entire dream,” he corrected. “And in great detail, with stunning clarity. I could also see that the dream was not of your making, and I knew that was why I could see it so clearly. I knew then that I had to meet you.”
“Do you know what it means?” Emily asked quickly, scooting forward towards the elf. “What the dream means?”
“Unfortunately, no. The meaning is between you and the angel, Quartus, who put it there,” he said regretfully. “But, if you like, perhaps I can speak with the angel and ask him.”
“You can do that? Through my mind?” Emily asked, suddenly apprehensive.
“I have never tried it,” Dirthzea admitted. “I have never come across another being that had someone else in their mind. However, I can try.”
“Will it hurt?” Emily asked.
“It shouldn’t,” the elf made it sound like a question.
“That’s not comforting.”
“It’s the best I can do if you want my help.”
Emily contemplated the elf’s proposal. She did not like the idea of her mind being used as a channel, but she also knew she could not walk away from the unknown. Surely the dream would be revealed to her in time? But then Emily thought of the innocent behemoth being shot with her arrow and the banshee choking her, and perhaps that was a sign that she would decipher the dream too late. Perhaps, fate had landed this elf in her lap, and it was her only chance to decode Quartus’ message before it was too late. She had to take the risk.
“Do it,” she said.
“Okay,” the elf said. “Just hold still.”
Dirthzea bowed his head and went still. Emily could feel him in her mind again, pushing through her thoughts and pulling at her memories. Then, quite suddenly, she felt another presence in her mind, followed by the strange feeling of being pushed out of her own head. Like too many people in a tight space, someone had to leave.
She retracted from the entities to a place in her mind that was far from the forest and far from her hated home. She thought of Sir Gavin Shaw. What was that knight doing right now? Was he battling more ogres and flying on his pegasus? Did he remember the poor farmer girl he’d helped save, and would he keep his promise? He had promised her he would tell her how he became a knight, and Emily was determined to make him keep his word. He had said, ‘I promise, Miss Stout. I swear on my honor, my promise, and my oath.’
Those were their parting words outside the angels’ chamber where Emily had been given a warning. She’d been told to be impartial, to avoid the sway of emotions that so plagued humankind. Quartus had touched her for the first time, and she’d known true love in a heartbeat.
Finally, her mind was given back to her. Both entities vacated, and she was at last left alone. She reached her hands up to touch her head but could find nothing different.
“This angel, Quartus,” Dirthzea said. “He does not speak.”
“He can’t,” Emily corrected.
“Well
, I was able to reach him,” Dirthzea said, surprisingly coarse and bitter. “Though I believe it was him reaching out to me rather than the other way around. I feel my abilities are quite poor in comparison with his.”
“So,” Emily urged on, “did you get any answers?”
“No,” the elf sighed, “I did not.”
Emily sighed, too, and slouched back. She felt hopeless again, like a wandering gunslinger without his guns.
“However,” Dirthzea said, “we have much work to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“I cannot explain how or why, but Quartus made it clear to me what I must do with you,” Dirthzea said, voice strained with regret.
“What?” Emily was beyond apprehensive.
Dirthzea sighed and then mumbled something to himself, like he was having an inner argument. Then, one of the sides won and he sighed again.
“This angel,” he said, “has great plans for you, Emily. Although I do not know what they are, I can sense that they are important plans, and he wants me to teach you one of our closely guarded secrets.”
“He does?” Emily’s heart both leapt and fell.
“He does. But listen closely, for I will not repeat myself.” Dirthzea’s face hardened to the likeness of stone. “The treant says you keep your promises, so you must make a promise—here and now—that you will never, upon your life, teach anyone else what you learn under our care. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Emily replied, hesitation choking her words.
“Promise me,” he said again.
“I promise,” Emily replied, still shocked at how quickly this was all transpiring.
Dirthzea nodded, clearly not satisfied but acting under an influence that he could not deny. He sighed once more and then argued with himself again until one side claimed victory.
“You will be given no more than one week’s training,” Dirthzea said. “If you stay any longer, I fear Lok’har’s anger and sense of vengeance will drive him to attack our village.”
“Dirthzea,” Emily said, “I still do not know what it is you will teach me.”
“You are to learn,” the elf paused, clearly hating himself for doing this, “to shoot two arrows at once.”
Emily blinked, opened her mouth to respond, but had to take a breath before she could actually do so.
“How am I supposed to do that?” she asked.
Dirthzea looked toward her voice, shook his head, and said, “Firstly, draw two arrows.”
Chapter 12
Her training didn’t begin until Nathok had had a private word with Dirthzea—a private word that could be heard clear across the village and made Nathok’s displeasure abundantly clear. Dirthzea would hear none of it, though, and after the conversation, Nathok took Emily to a secluded practice range. When they arrived, he demanded to know Emily’s history with a bow and clenched his fists in anger when Emily warned him that she’d only been training for a couple of months. He finally breathed out his frustration and told her to shoot an arrow at the nearest target.
Emily did so and surprised herself when she hit it dead center. Nathok’s eyebrow cocked up ever so slightly, though his face was still twisted in a disgruntled rage. He made her shoot at a farther one, then another and another until she had hit all the targets square in the middle. Emily wore a wide grin after her last shot.
“You told me you’ve only been using a bow for a month or so,” Nathok grumbled.
“I have,” Emily said, still surprised at her score, “but all the targets I’ve been shooting at have been small, fast-moving dirt clods.”
“Very clever then, your teacher,” Nathok said. “It should have taken you years to have this kind of accuracy.”
Emily smiled at the elf, thinking he was complimenting her, but then realized that was not his intention. Nathok, staring at the targets and contemplating his next action, was unaware of Emily’s jolly mood.
“Alright then,” Nathok said. “We’ll get right to it. No need to draw out this displeasure any longer than needed. Draw two arrows, Stout.”
Emily did as she was told and noticed how it took her longer to do so. She was so used to drawing one arrow that she had to focus on drawing two instead. Stringing them, too, was a more difficult task than she had thought it would be. As she tried to hold the bow and the two arrows and aim them at the same time, she felt the same awkward feeling that she’d felt when she’d first tried to shoot an arrow.
“This is how you shot the kobolds, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” Nathok asked back.
“When the kobolds surrounded Belen and me, I distinctly remember twenty arrows being shot at once. But, when you appeared, there were only ten elves. You all fired two arrows, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Nathok said after a pause. “It’s not something we like others to know—”
“Much less be able to do themselves,” Emily finished the thought.
Her words startled Nathok with their boldness. Emily just stared back at him, and he suddenly realized just how little his distrust of her people affected her. She had grown weary of his consistent, petty comments and had let him know this, craftily, by finishing his sentence. Now, his surprise at her sharpness showed just how much he had underestimated her.
Or at least, that’s what Emily hoped she’d done.
“Um,” Nathok coughed. “Yes. We prefer to keep our advantages to ourselves.”
“I won’t teach the other amazons, Nathok,” Emily said. “Besides, if you must know, I don’t really feel like I’m one of them anyway.”
Emily said this as she turned away, wishing she hadn’t said it, yet feeling the truth pour from her lips. She tried to rush past the statement by drawing the bow and attempting to aim both arrows. Nathok saw this and, although he surely wanted to press the issue, decided he’d embarrassed himself enough already. So instead, he instructed her.
“The trick is to aim each arrow with one of your fingers,” he said. “You must also tilt the bow somewhat sideways. Unless your targets are in a straight line, you’ll never hit both with a straight bow. Also, the tilting helps to hold the arrows steady.”
Emily tilted her bow and used her fingers to aim each arrow. She selected two targets close together, steadied her arms, and found yet another problem she did not anticipate. Normally, one would aim both arrow and bow at the target, but with two arrows and thus two targets, Emily also had to make a choice on which target to aim her bow. She swept it back and forth, not sure of the appropriate angle, and then looked back at Nathok. The elf only shrugged at her, and it was clear that the first shot, and mistake, would be on her. So, Emily went back to considering her options.
She finally decided to aim the bow and lower arrow at one target and use her pointer finger to push the other arrow into position. This way, she wouldn’t have to concentrate on moving both fingers at once. Still, Nathok said nothing and waited patiently as Emily fiddled with the top arrow until she was satisfied and then released.
The lower arrow struck the target, though not in the center, and the upper arrow veered off course to the left of its target.
Emily sighed.
“Again,” Nathok commanded.
* * *
So the training continued. Emily shot until her arms hurt, and then she shot some more. She felt she improved quickly, but the moment she was able to hit both targets, Nathok switched them to moving ones. The targets were hung to lines of rope and sent swinging from one side of the course to the next. She usually hit one of the targets, for they were much bigger than dirt clods and moved much slower than Adelpha could throw. However, Nathok gave her no credit and was always there to remind her that hitting one target while shooting two arrows was just a waste.
“You might as well not even bother,” he’d sometimes say.
She ignored his words and let her mistakes be made. After weeks of hitting nothing on the plains, Emily had learned that mistakes were simply lessons for improvement. As she practice
d for long hours, she knew she had much to improve on.
Fortunately, Chara did not ask about the long hours Emily spent away from the other amazons, nor did she question Emily when they were informed about their enforced, week-long stay. She only gave Emily a serious look and asked her one simple question.
“Are you sure of this, Daughter?”
“I must stay, Mother,” Emily replied honestly.
Emily would not, or rather could not, tell her anything else, but that statement had been enough for Chara.
It had been less than adequate for the other amazons, though. Adelpha, especially, made no effort to hide her feelings of betrayal. For all the kindness and training she’d shown Emily, she could not grasp why this secret had to be kept. The others were also short on manners and patience, though Emily had fully expected that. The only amazon to show a reaction Emily didn’t expect was Heliena.
Normally, Adelpha’s younger sister took nearly every decision with the mildest interest. However, when Emily told the group that they had to stay for a week, Heliena was the first to shout out a protest, and the fact that she shouted it at all took everyone by surprise. It also had the undesired effect of making the others feel that it was okay to be outraged. So, outraged they were.
“Whose side are you on?” one shouted.
“We don’t have to listen to these pointy-eared, short creatures!” yelled Hanna.
“What for?” Kirke asked roughly.
The others nodded at that and then looked back to Emily.
“We need a reason, Emily,” Iezabel said, “or we’re leaving at first light.”
“Something better than ‘I can’t tell you’ would be preferred,” Adelpha muttered.
Emily sighed and went back to Dirthzea. She had to receive Nathok’s permission first, but that actually turned out to be easy to acquire. Emily had thought it would be difficult, but he agreed without much argument. Emily guessed that not much was going to shock him anymore. Compared to teaching elven secrets to a human, other requests were of little concern.