Emily's Saga

by Travis Bughi

  Suddenly, it struck her. Like a lightning bolt to her veins, Emily’s heart stopped as she felt a tug at her consciousness. It was so sudden that her eyes popped open wide and her lips parted, and for a moment she thought she was mistaken.

  No, she thought. I’m not dreaming. It’s here!

  “Ragnar decides he wants to fight someone,” Carlito continued. “Ain’t no problem with that, right? Vikings love a good fight, right? Well, his crew knows their jarl, and they know that after he’s been drinking, he’s been known to take things a tad too far. Broken bones take a long time to heal if you don’t got any griffin claws on hand, see?

  “So they all tell him no—they back down—and Ragnar works himself into a rage. He’s got to fight someone! This storm is driving him nuts, and then it dawns on him: he’s got a perfectly good immortal lying in chains below his feet. He could beat me bloody over and over and over, and he’d lose nothing. Sound like a good time to you? He thought so. He has his men fetch me, unshackle me, and tells me him and I are going to fight to the death because he’s drunk and I’m a no good, rotten pirate who doesn’t stand a chance against him.

  “He says to me—Hey! Listen! This part is important. He says to me, ‘I’m going to kill you,’ and I have to tell you, love, I was never so glad to hear such words. You see, unfortunately for Ragnar, one of his old crew slipped me a knife. They had had it with their drunken jarl who didn’t care for naught except some farmer’s boy. They’d been listening to me tell them the truth of it down in the dungeons, and they realized they’d rather follow an immortal.”

  Emily let Carlito go on and closed her eyes slowly. She hoped he’d take that as a sign of her relenting, and he must have because he didn’t slap her to regain her attention. When her eyes closed, she saw not the darkness of her own eyelids, but instead the ocean waves breaking over her head and, through them, a village surrounding a lagoon.

  Hurry, she commanded.

  “There were a few who were unhappy with Ragnar’s death,” Carlito admitted. “But who was going to challenge me, hm? One did for honor’s sake, and I let him die with his weapon in hand to appease the others. Time or untimely deaths have pacified the rest. Am I boring you, love?”

  She felt his lips on her stomach, and her eyes flew open as she screamed and jerked violently against the restraints, but she couldn’t stop Carlito. He kissed her again, near her bellybutton, and she screamed at him.

  “I hate you!” she yelled. “I don’t care what Ragnar said. I’m going to kill you! I should have killed you back on that ship, you ugly bastard!”

  His hand came fast across her face again, striking so hard that her head spun and her nose struck the table, knocking the wind from her and making her ears ring. For a moment, she forgot where she was. The lagoon filled her eyes, the mansion coming closer and closer, appearing no more than a small wooden box floating on the surface of a bathtub-sized puddle in the snowy ground. She was walking through a tiny stream towards it, nearly there. Then she was back on the table, hearing Carlito start to unbuckle his breeches.

  “Just for that,” Carlito said, “I’m going to make your brother watch. You there! Go fetch him.”

  “Wait,” Emily mumbled. “Don’t go. You’re going to want to see this.”

  Carlito paused and looked at his vikings. They looked back at him, then at each other, every one of them struck with surprise, and then the whole group burst out laughing. Carlito’s fingers were still hooked about his belt, and he took one hand out to grab her thigh again.

  “I knew you wanted me,” he said and smiled.

  And then the house rocked, and Emily smiled back.

  Chapter 14

  The waves hit first. Emily could tell by how the house rocked like it was rolling over a small hill on the Great Plains. Up and then down, and Carlito and his men staggered as they were caught completely unaware. The table Emily was strapped to slid a hand’s width across the wooden floor, and Emily laughed.

  “Open the roof!” she called.

  The roof above split apart as massive stone fingers, each the size of a man, drove through the pines. They knocked loose timbers and beams, sending them swinging down to slam hard against the rest of the home. The fingers caught a few of those beams, though, and with remarkable ease raked the roof apart to leave a gaping hole to the heavens above. Heat washed out in droves, sending an icy chill down into the hall.

  Carlito and his vikings cried out, staggering further back as they dove out of the way of falling timbers and pines. Emily heard screams, too, female screams, and hoped the slave women were keeping themselves safe.

  Don’t destroy this place, she thought. My brother is still down below.

  The colossus leaned forward until its helmeted head filled the gaping hole it’d made. Grey eyes, glossed over with no detail at all, stared through narrow slits down at the tiny humans below. It saw its master and thought nothing of her predicament. The only thing it wanted to do was obey her next command.

  “What?” Carlito sputtered. “What is that?”

  “It’s a colossus!” one of the vikings yelled.

  Carlito shook his head, the word seeming to be foreign to him, but then a spark went into his eyes. He looked from the colossus to Emily, and he reach for the knife at his belt.

  He could not draw faster than Emily could think.

  The colossus reached one long, stony arm into the house, bashing aside the hanging beams and splintering another column without stopping. Carlito balked and then dove for cover, trying to reach the corner of the house. Unfortunately for him, the colossus’ hand did not care. It pinned him in the corner as he screamed for help, shattered the walls he tried to hide against, and closed him in a deathly grip of rock.

  “Help!” Carlito cried. “Help me, damn it!”

  The vikings drew axes and hammers and hurled them at the colossus. Emily nearly broke into laughter.

  “No! You idiots!” Carlito yelled as the colossus lifted him back toward the opening. “Get the gi—”

  The colossus squeezed and forced the air from Carlito’s lungs. Even from down below, Emily could hear his bones snapping, and he couldn’t even muster the air required to scream. He gasped, ugly mouth flapping, and shuddered while his eyes showed the immense pain he felt.

  “You’re lucky I’m not as cruel as you,” Emily yelled up at him. “Now die.”

  Upon Emily’s command, the colossus made a fist and squeezed the immortal Carlito into nothing.

  What remained of the pirate fell and splattered on the wood below. Red blood ran down the colossus’ stone hand and oozed through its fingers. Bone splinters and strips of burst flesh rained down, too. There was so much gore across the colossus and home that it appeared as if the statue itself was hurt, like its hand had been slit, and it was standing in shock as it looked at the wound. Carlito’s head was the only thing to remain intact, and it hit the bottom floor a few paces away from Emily. His face was still stained with the silent scream he’d died wearing.

  The vikings around her stepped back again, this time to avoid the falling guts and innards of their former jarl. They were stammering, shaking even, and Emily frowned at them. They were finally realizing that this was what she had wanted all along.

  Takeo would not be afraid, she thought.

  “Hey!” she yelled.

  The vikings’ attention snapped to Emily. She was still strapped to the table, but from her vantage, she could see them all. Their fear was almost palpable under her glare.

  “Run,” she said.

  They did. Like kobolds, they clambered for the door, knocking each other to the side in their frantic hurry to get it open. They thrust the doors wide and dove out through the entrance, taking a sharp left toward the waiting boat. They left the door open in their hurry, and the cold air from outside swept in to leach the last bit of warmth still coming from the hearth’s fire. The vikings’ footsteps on wooden planks died away, and she heard their voices screaming at each other to make for shor
e.

  Emily laid her head back and felt all the tension rush out of her. She chuckled first, then started to cry, shaking, feeling such relief wash over her that she forgot about the cold—more relief than she could remember feeling in a long time. Not even when she’d faced death at the hands of those orcs had she been so scared. Her naked skin was beginning to prickle in the encroaching cold, and yet all she could think about was just how terrified she had been.

  “That was too close,” she breathed out, trying to stop her tears. “Far too close.”

  She looked at Carlito’s head and spat at it. Then she started to wiggle against her restraints. She wanted to be free as quickly as possible.

  “Damn,” she yelled after a few attempts proved too hard. “They made these tight.”

  She looked up at the colossus, which stared back at her with a stillness not unlike death. A slight portion of its helmet was splattered with Carlito’s blood, and its hand was still closed and oozing red.

  “I suppose it would be a mistake to ask you for help,” she said to it. “You might break my bones on accident.”

  Emily heard a shuffle and a quiet whimper nearby. She looked around for the source, as much as her restrained position would allow, and saw two of the women peeping out from inside one of the rooms. Upon catching Emily’s gaze, they ducked back out of view.

  “Hey!” Emily yelled. “Hey, help! Can you get me free? I won’t hurt you, I promise. Please, help me.”

  There was silence for a few moments, followed by a few hushed words, and then one of the women stepped timidly out into the doorway. She looked younger than Emily, perhaps by a few years, with red hair and freckled skin. Emily thought her rather attractive, and not just because she had freckles, too. The girl looked embarrassed, unsure of what to do after revealing herself. Her eyes were averted, too shy to look at Emily’s naked body.

  “Thank you,” Emily said. “Can you get me free? Please?”

  The woman nodded, slowly, then vigorously as she gained confidence and approached to begin working on Emily’s knots.

  “Thank you,” Emily repeated. “What’s your name?”

  “Gunnhilda,” she said meekly, then added, “my lady.”

  “I’m no lady.” Emily laughed. “Well, I am, but not like a jarl lady. You know, I’m a woman, but not like royalty or something but—never mind. I’m Emily. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You, too.” Gunnhilda blushed.

  The three other women poked their heads out to watch Gunnhilda untie Emily from the table. None of them moved to assist, though, and Emily didn’t bother to address them. Once her hands were free, she sat up and bent over to untie her legs. Once she was free, she gathered up what remained of her clothes to cover herself and keep warm again. She used the rope to make a haphazard belt to keep her tattered clothes in place. She’d have to repair them back on the ship.

  She looked to the open door, and to her delight, she saw Valgrith’s ship sailing down the channel towards the house.

  “Gunnhilda,” she said. “Do you see that ship? Those are my friends. Can you greet them for me? They won’t hurt you, I promise.”

  The girl looked at her feet, but nodded.

  “Your brother,” Gunnhilda started, “he’s in the jarl’s prison below. I don’t have the keys, though. The one who did ran when you told him to.”

  “It’s okay.” Emily smiled and touched Gunnhilda’s cheek. “I won’t need them.”

  “It’s dark down there. You should take a candle.”

  Emily took a candle and followed Gunnhilda’s directions to reach the cells below. They were simple instructions, thanks in part to the jarl’s hall not being very large, and Emily found what looked like a cellar door that opened to reveal a thick, wooden ladder. An icy chill wafted up the opening towards her, prickling her skin, and the candle in her hand flickered. At that moment, she realized she’d forgotten to ask if the prison was guarded.

  “Anyone down there!” she called in.

  Silence.

  “Hello?” she called again. “Nicholas?”

  A few more moments of silence, and then, “Yes?”

  “Is anyone else down there with you?” she called, her voice growing louder with excitement.

  Another lengthy period of silence followed before Nicholas responded with, “Who is this?”

  Ugh, this is stupid, she thought and then leapt down into the hole. Her feet struck wood, and the candle flickered violently, but its weak light was more than sufficient to fill the small chamber. There were only five cells in all, made by vertical bars that Emily knew and understood all too well. Only two were occupied; each held one young man and was secured by a padlock on the outside. One of those two men was Emily’s brother, Nicholas, and he stared at Emily for five seconds of shock before he burst into tears.

  “Emily!” he cried. “It’s you! Emily! I, I . . . oh . . . I can’t believe it. Emily! I really can’t. . . It’s, it’s you! It’s really you! Ah, haha! You . . . you . . . you came. . .”

  The rest of his words were lost as he wept into his open palms. He sunk to his knees and bawled, full, thick tears dripping from his eyes and snot trailing from his nose. Emily felt tears in her eyes, too, and not just because Nicholas was crying. Pain filled her heart the moment she looked at him.

  The last Emily had seen her brother, he’d grown so much in size and strength that he’d beat Carlito to a bloody pulp with nothing but his bare hands. He’d been like any viking, a towering mass of muscle and fury, capable of pulling a ship by oar alongside other warriors who lived only to fight and die. His skin had stretched along his chest and arms, showing white streaks where his muscle had grown faster than his skin could expand and acting as a roadmap for the eyes to follow his well-defined physique. Now though, all of that was nothing but a shadowy dream. The current Nicolas was a nightmare, scrawny and lanky with malnutrition. His skin was pasty white and gaunt where his ribs were exposed. His once muscular frame, visible despite the thick grime of dirt and dust that clung to his body, had decayed to skeletal proportions. His hair and beard, long and matted with dirt, tangled into thick strands like rope. As he bent over to cry, Emily saw the scarring on his back from the whipping that Carlito had spoken of. Some of the lashes weren’t scarred at all, and only just appeared to have stopped bleeding.

  Across from Nicholas sat another man about his age. He seemed in no better condition, and his tearful brown eyes held a mixture of shock, concern, and hope. He clutched the bars of his cage while his lips parted with unsaid words.

  Emily ignored him and ran straight to her brother. She put her arms through the cage, and he crawled toward them until she could wrap her arms around his grimy, withered skin and he could clutch her shredded clothing. He continued to sob, and Emily felt tears fall down her cheeks and her throat thicken.

  “It’s okay,” she said, at a loss for words. “I’m here now. You’re safe.”

  Emily didn’t know what else to do. She knew there were many things that needed to be said, but none came to mind. She patted his back instead and reached a hand up to touch his neck. He was as cold as the air.

  “Here,” she said, pulling back. “Let me get you two out. Hold this.”

  Nicholas, sucking back his sobs, only nodded as they parted. Emily passed him the candle, and a level of control came over him. He collapsed back on his heels to draw in painful breaths, while Emily reached into her hair to draw out her lockpicking tools. With a measure of awe, he watched her pick away at the padlock on his cell in the shadows.

  “If you think this is impressive,” she said with a smile, “just wait until you see what’s waiting outside.”

  “I’m so happy you’re alive,” he blurted out.

  Emily stumbled in her movements, but only for a moment. She gave him a quizzical stare to illustrate her confusion at his words.

  “It’s just, Carlito,” he said. “He told me I was only alive to lure you in. It’d been so long, such a long time we were down here.
I thought you were dead, or worse, that you’d come. I didn’t want to imagine what Carlito would do to you if. . . Emily, your face, what happened? What did he do?”

  He touched Emily’s face where Carlito had hit her. She tried to ignore it, not because she didn’t want to answer, but because she was trying to focus on freeing her brother.

  “Slapped me is all,” she muttered. “He’s dead now.”

  “Huh?” Nicholas gasped. “How? Did he go on land?”

  “No,” Emily sighed. “Just, stay quiet until I finish this, okay? I’m not the best. I don’t get a lot of practice.”

  He obeyed, and Emily took her time so she could get it right, but when the padlock clicked open, she couldn’t rip it free fast enough. She flung back the iron-barred door so hard it slammed into the next cell, and she wrapped her brother in a tight hug, ignoring the horrendous smell of him.

  “He’s dead?” Nicholas asked. “You said he’s dead. How?”

  “That’s a surprise.” She smiled. “Now let’s free your friend.”

  “Hello,” the friend spoke up immediately upon being acknowledged. “Yes, please! Thank you. I’m . . . I’m Fritjof Fritjofson. You’re Nicholas’ sister, aren’t you?”

  He extended his hand through the bars towards Emily, and that made her hesitate. The formal action seemed so uncharacteristic of any viking she’d met that at first she thought Fritjof wasn’t a viking at all. She cautiously accepted the handshake and gave a single nod to answer.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he said, sounding shy. “Nicholas, he . . . he talked about you the most.”

  Emily glanced at her brother and, to her utter shock, saw him blush.

  And then she remembered that Carlito had said he’d locked Nicholas below with his lover.

  “Oh,” she mouthed, glancing between the two. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Fritjof. Can you step back while I open this?”

  He did, and Emily picked the second padlock. It took her less time than the first, and she stepped aside as her brother and Fritjof embraced and shared a passionate kiss that made Emily look about the prison awkwardly. However, she couldn’t help herself and chuckled.