by Travis Bughi
The group was led in single file down the long, square corridors to the outpost’s banquet hall, which was the only room large enough to accommodate all two hundred of the dwarves who dwelled in the mountain. From what Emily had been told, this outpost was one of the many that made up the dwarven kingdom. Each outpost acted independently, for the most part, governing itself according to the laws written and agreed upon by all dwarves, eons ago. When Emily had first arrived at the outpost, she’d wanted to know more, but the dwarves insisted such questions could wait until her expedition returned.
Now that it had, those questions still seemed inappropriate.
The stretchers bearing the dead entered the banquet hall, which was already filled with food. From the outpost’s vantage, their approach would have been noticed several hours before they’d arrived, so it came as no surprise to Emily that the place was already prepared. Hard bread, wheels of cheese, and hunks of cooked meat had been brought out to fill the tables, as had what seemed like every keg of ale. The tables were also lined with dwarves; nearly every inhabitant of the outpost was in that hall. All stood in stoic silence with solemn faces, and Emily was shocked to see they already knew of the deaths. This wasn’t a celebration, but a funeral. When she glanced to Helga, though, the dwarf showed no signs of surprise. She took her place and stepped forward to announce those who had fallen.
The funeral was long. Any dwarf who had a tale to tell about either of the fallen was allowed to speak, and amongst a group of two hundred, that turned out to be quite a few. No tale was short, either, for each one started out with how the speaker knew the fallen, and how their ancestors knew each other, and then how their ancestor’s ancestors knew each other. It was worse if they were related, for then the speaker would be damned if the whole outpost didn’t know which set of parents had forever bound the both of them in blood.
The speeches went on well into the night, and it would have been difficult to stay awake had the festivities not gone on alongside the speeches. Endless food and ale were provided, leading to many brawls, some horrid singing, and more than a few tears. Dwarves were many things, but reserved was not one of them. When they were pained, they let it be known, and promises and oaths were sworn to avenge the fallen two to a hundredfold.
To Emily’s surprise, more than a few toasts were raised in her honor, and a good half of those were led by the elders.
Old dwarves were a sight to see. Despite faces wrinkled worse than pruned skin and voices hoarser than death’s rasp, they never faltered in their steps nor needed assistance in rising. According to Helga, dwarven strength did not perish until the moment they died from old age, and Emily could see that from the way the elders carried themselves and spoke to her.
Their speeches—at least the ones she could hear over the racket of dwarves feasting—spoke of apology. They lamented their reluctance to trust her, seeing that she had come back with those they had lost to slavery. The elders bestowed her with stories of Hadkar’s bravery and willpower, lamenting how he had shown them the errors of their ways and had paid the ultimate price for their negligence.
“Could I go back,” one old dwarf said, scratching her chin, “I’d give ye twice as many as we did. Ye have me deepest apologies, little missy. I wish every human was like ye.”
Emily tried to shake off the compliments, but it seemed the more she refused, the stronger the dwarves insisted. In short time, she was accepting the compliments with a nod and a toast, and then suddenly she was being encouraged to speak, and all feelings besides apprehension were washed from her mind.
“Speak!” the dwarves chanted. “Speech! Go on, missy!”
She wanted to deny them, or perhaps flat out refuse, but her short time with the dwarves had made her realize that would only encourage or insult them, and she was too much in their debt to be held back by pride. She stood on the table, towering over them all, and held her drink in hand.
“Uhm,” her voice cracked.
To her shock, the room quieted down. It was still loud, with a good half of the dwarves engaging each other in conversation, tests of strength, or loud boasts, but the hall quieted enough to be noticeable, and Emily felt the attention of nearly one hundred dwarves focusing on her. She tensed up, and her tongue felt thick, making her stutter as yet more dwarves turned to look her way.
Get ahold of yourself, she scolded. You’ve faced a charging bugbear.
Emily tried to think of something to say, something fierce or passionate, but nothing came to mind. The silence grew worse until she couldn’t bear it anymore. Her mouth fell open, and she let the truth pour out.
“I want to thank you all.”
“Louder, missy!” someone yelled, and many concurred.
“I want to thank you all!” she shouted. “I know you all have been thanking me for coming to you, but it’s really me who is most grateful. When I came to you, I had nothing. I had no way to free those I came to save, and without your help, I would have died trying. I want you to know I was never offended by your skepticism, and that I would have acted the same in your situation. In truth, I was skeptical of you, too. I’d never met dwarves and was unsure of how I, a human, would be treated. It’s easy to see now that I never had anything to fear, only much to gain. We had the same cause, and it was Hadkar who saw that. Everyone we freed, all we have gained, we owe it all to Hadkar. He was a great dwarf! To Hadkar!”
She held her drink high, and a thunder of cheers rose before the hall drank in unison. When Emily was seated again, she winced as a plethora of dwarven hands clapped her back.
“Aye, fine speech!” yelled one.
“Real honor, that was, missy,” said another.
“I think Hadkar would have liked that,” Takeo said.
Emily regarded her love with a smile, which he returned. Takeo was still in drabs, as were the other former slaves, but no one seemed to mind. The funeral was given precedence, and Takeo was not offended by that. He seemed happy, smiling more than Emily had ever seen him do before. He had even laughed with the dwarves, exchanging stories while sweeping aside his long hair.
Emily would cut that hair again. She liked Takeo with shorter hair. First, though, he needed a bath. She intended to help him with that, too.
The funeral went until morning. By then, a good half of the dwarves had passed out in the hall itself, lying on the tables, the stone benches, or even the floor, considering it was just as comfortable as every other surface. Another quarter of the party had sneaked off at some point, and the last few were stumbling out, both drunk and exhausted.
Emily and Takeo were part of that last group, and as tired as she was, she was determined to get some direction before the dwarves passed into food- and ale-induced comas.
“Helga,” Emily called to the dwarf. “Is there a place for a bath?”
“Aye.” She waved, smirking. “We don’t call it ‘the bath house’ for nothing, missy. It’ll be cold unless ye haul some hot water up from the boiler, but it’s down that hall, ye’ll find.”
The bath house was, indeed, easy to find, and the water was, indeed, cold. That didn’t stop Takeo, though, and he slipped into the chilled water without hesitation, though a few cries and sharp intakes of breath discouraged Emily from joining him.
“Cold as it is,” Takeo sighed, “this feels lukewarm compared to sleeping barefoot in that cave.”
“I came as quickly as I could.” Emily lay down on the stone floor beside Takeo. “I’m sorry I couldn’t reach you sooner. I had to travel by foot the whole way.”
“You came. That is all that matters. I couldn’t ask for more. I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
They kissed, and Emily helped scrub the dirt and grime that had collected on Takeo’s body and in his hair. Then she cut the hair to just above his shoulders, ignoring his hesitation.
“It’s okay to be a ronin,” she explained. “You serve no lord. People should know that.”
The bath darkened with dirt, and after
wards, Emily pulled the chain that drained the murky water away. It was mesmerizing to watch the innovative technology at work. The whole place was filled with such useful contraptions. Chains that would bring flowing water in, levers that would lift gates and doors, and even small mechanical devices that counted the passage of time. It was all truly impressive.
Emily had been allowed the use of one of the guest rooms. Although the room was small by human standards and had only one bed and no door—like most of the rooms in this outpost—none of this bothered them. After such a long funeral, she did not expect to be disturbed. She and Takeo fell into each other’s arms, whispering sweet nothings and sharing long kisses between short breaths. Their exhaustion was forgotten as their passions ignited. Emily kissed those thin lips she loved and ran her fingers through Takeo’s straight, wet hair. She pulled his body close, feeling his noticeably thinner, yet still rigidly strong, muscles push against her own. She took in sharp breaths when his hands gripped her thighs, and she whispered to him over and over that she loved him.
When they finally let sleep overtake them, Emily passed into a deep slumber with her nose pressed into Takeo’s chest. That night, she dreamed her favorite dream, which was no dream at all.
Beneath the dark seas, Emily felt a masterwork of stone trudge ever forward along the ocean floor. For months, the colossus had been too deep for light to reach it, casting Emily’s dreams in darkness, but now it had traveled high enough for tiny rays of light to reach her human eyes trapped within the colossus’ empty, stone head.
The ocean floor was beautiful. Colored coral mixed with blue water and tiny, sparkling flakes to make a foreign landscape so unique that Emily could think of none like it.
So this is what the merfolk and naga see, she thought. How privileged am I to know their world?
The colossus was getting closer to her with every step. Currently, it was climbing a steep mountain beneath the sea, slamming its rocky fists to make handholds when none could be found. It was unstoppable, this moving statue given life by angels, and Emily felt empowered every time she dreamed of it.
It was closing in on her. She didn’t know how much longer it would take to reach her—at least a few months, she guessed—but as it got closer, her connection to it strengthened. Her dreams came more frequently and felt more vivid. The commands she issued the colossus were obeyed more readily, and sometimes when she was conscious, she could swear she felt its presence.
Come to me, she repeated her command, and then awoke to a rap of knuckles on stone.
When her eyes cracked open, she saw Helga standing in the doorway. The dwarf had a thin grin on her face as she stared, unabashed, at the intertwined humans. Emily jumped and stared back, covering herself with the blankets. Takeo awoke, too, and breathed deeply as he blinked the sleep from his eyes.
“Sorry to disturb ye two,” Helga said, voice teasing, “but I was told to come fetch ye after the funeral was over. Ye have visitors, Emily.”
Emily blinked twice: once in shock that the funeral had still been going on and a second time for Helga’s last words.
“Visitors?” Emily balked.
She shouldn’t have visitors. Only Katsu and the ninjas knew she was here, and neither had the combined reason and ability needed to reach her.
Unless those ninjas had sold that information to the highest bidder.
“Damn,” Emily swore. “Who?”
“Five samurai.” Helga demonstrated by holding up her hand. “They arrived while we were out and were made to wait to speak with ye until after the funeral was done.”
Emily and Takeo shared a glance at the word ‘samurai.’
“Did they say whom they serve?” Takeo asked.
“Aye.” The dwarf nodded. “Lady Xuan Nguyen, Empress of Juatwa.”
Chapter 4
Takeo was given a spare set of winter clothing from the dwarven stores. They had precious few for humans, but fortunately Takeo only needed one set. He donned it as quickly as he could while following Emily and Helga down the halls.
“Ye don’t seem pleased,” Helga said. “They assured us they meant no harm. They even relinquished their weapons, though only upon request. Say the word, missy, and we’ll dump them out in the cold.”
“It might come to that,” Emily replied, “but if they only want to talk, then I want to listen. If you and a few others could stay close by, though, I’d much appreciate it.”
“Ye still aren’t explaining why ye’re nervous at all. They gave up their weapons, assuming ye could call them that. Those flimsy blades could hardly cut freshly fallen snow.”
“You underestimate the katana,” Takeo said. “As for why we’re nervous, the last we knew of Lady Xuan, she’d paid to have me killed.”
“And she didn’t even know I existed,” Emily added.
Five samurai were waiting patiently at one of the tables in the banquet hall when Emily arrived. The hall was still in disarray from the previous evening’s festivities, but the dwarves were nothing if not mannerly, and no other hall would do to receive guests. Leftover food and ale was being swept up along with leftover dwarves who had yet to awaken from their slumbers. Those who were awake helped carry their comrades out, while others worked to put things back together. Amazingly enough, nothing had been broken, despite how rowdy the night had gotten. Stone benches and tables combined with metal plates, utensils, and cups were to thank for that. The hall was still bustling with activity, and that made Emily’s tension ease a hair.
One of the elders, a dwarf with pure white hair and bushy eyebrows, was seated with the samurai, pontificating in a boastful voice of his deep past and honorable ancestors who had done their entire race proud. All five samurai listened with stoic faces, the middle one nodding at times that seemed appropriate. When Emily and Takeo entered, they all looked to her and stood from their seats.
That made Emily stop, and her hand twitched toward her dagger’s hilt. For a moment, she thought they’d stood up with the intent to charge her, but they only bowed deeply.
Calm yourself, she huffed. They came to talk.
And she was vastly interested in what Lady Xuan had to say.
The samurai wore laminar armor with a green hue. It wasn’t the most elegant garment Emily had seen, but she had to commend the samurai for being more prepared than she was. Around the armor’s edges, patches of fur fluffed out to reveal how they had been readied for Khaz Mal’s harsh weather. True to Helga’s word, none of the samurai were armed as far as Emily could tell, which did wonders for relaxing her tensed muscles. It was no simple thing for a samurai to relinquish his katana, especially when such a sword was as much a family heirloom as it was a weapon.
“Miss Emily Stout,” the middle samurai called across the hall, still bowing. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Emily squinted and wondered why he’d called out to her from so far away, but then realized she was hesitating in the doorway. Feeling embarrassed, she crossed the hall and took a seat opposite from the samurai. Only once she was seated did they sit as well. The elder dwarf and Helga took their leave from the group but stayed in the hall, directing and assisting other dwarves in cleaning up the place.
Emily regarded the samurai who’d spoken. He was at least a good foot taller than her, and only a few years older at the most. He had a very thin mustache and gaunt cheeks that made him look older at a distance. The rest of his party, which included three men and one woman with greying hair, was young, too. Emily wondered for a moment at why this young woman had grey strands of hair, but then cast the curiosity aside. None of them introduced themselves, and Emily cleared her throat.
“Hello,” she said, “and who are you?”
“Oh,” the same samurai said, “I’m sorry. Where are my manners? I was just surprised. I was expecting someone . . . taller.”
“How tall was I supposed to be?”
“I was never told. I didn’t mean to offend; it’s just that the way others speak of you, one would think you
taller.”
Emily paused and swallowed. Her ears told her she’d just been complimented, but her mind had not been prepared to receive. Her eyes blinked away the confusion, and her fingers lightly touched her dagger’s handle for comfort.
“Your name?” she asked.
“Oh.” The samurai pursed his lips. “I am truly sorry. I am Hyun Jee, and I serve Lady Xuan Nguyen, the Empress of Juatwa.”
“She is empress already?” Emily asked. “No one is left to challenge her?”
“There are a few daimyo who hold out,” Hyun admitted. “The Katsu family fell into infighting upon his defeat since he left no heir. Many of his family are claiming the right to his seat but have yet to take it. They function together well enough to form a loose alliance, but we expect them to be stamped out before my return to Juatwa. It’s entirely possible they’ve already fallen.
“And as for Lord Jiro’s wife and son, they were much smarter. They abdicated the shogun title in exchange for some of the hostages we took during the sacking of Katsu’s Keep. They’ve already knelt to Lady Xuan, and so have the vast majority of the daimyo who followed Lord Jiro. It wasn’t difficult for them. Lady Xuan stayed out of the war for the most part, so she did not incur the ire that Katsu and Jiro earned for each other. So yes, when you speak of Lady Xuan, know that you speak of all of Juatwa.”
Hyun’s tone held just a hint of smugness, which for a samurai was like a wave of superiority. Emily watched him carefully. Most of what he’d said came as no surprise, but she had heard one thing that mattered.