by Travis Bughi
And then Nicholas sat next to her, and her concentration waned.
“Hello,” she said, genially surprised. “Come to say goodbye?”
“Why’d you call me a coward?” he asked, sullen.
Straight to the point, she noted, but said, “Because you are acting like one.”
“How so? All I’m doing is being true to myself. It’s all I had in the prison, Emily.”
“No, Nicholas. You’re being true to your fears. I’m not heartless. I understand it took courage, real courage, to leave home like you did and suffer through what you have done. There’s a lot of pain you’ve had to suffer through, and I’m sorry for that. You left home with nothing and made something of yourself, never giving up no matter how hard things got, even when Carlito locked you away. It’s amazing, Nicholas, really. So many others would have fallen into despair, yet you act like you were hardly touched.”
“It was Fritjof who kept me grounded,” Nicholas muttered. “We kept each other sane. I would have broken without him. I couldn’t have done it alone.”
By now, Nicholas had shaved and, thankfully, bathed. His eyes started to redden, and a lone tear formed in one eye, but did not drop. Emily reached out and touched his shoulder. With a slight tug, he fell forward, and they hugged hard.
“I missed you, I really did,” he said. “I’m angry at our family, but not you. I want you to know that.”
“And I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” she said. “And I’m sorry I called you a coward. You’re not.”
“Why’d you say it then?”
They pulled back, and Nicholas composed himself. Emily quickly dashed the water from her own eyes and tossed it aside.
“I’ve seen this world, too, you know?” she said. “I’ve been a slave once before, as well, and I’ve been whipped. I understand what you were up against, and I saw how you grew in such a short time. I’ve been there. We’ve been there. We’re more alike than any of our other family, Nicholas, and you know that. But do you want to know the difference between you and me? I’m not afraid to face my past. Despite all your gains, despite all you’ve suffered, you’re still afraid to face Mother.”
“I’m not afraid of her!”
“I didn’t say you were afraid of her. I said you were afraid to face her. Listen to me!”
Emily grabbed him by the shoulders again and drew him in, bumping their heads together and digging her fingers into his hair. He sniffled, the tidal wave of emotion flowing into his heart just like before. Emily took a deep breath, trying keep her voice strong, trying hard not to break along with him.
“Listen to me, Nicholas,” she repeated. “You say it was Mother who wouldn’t let you leave, and so you left to pursue your dreams in spite of her. Do you think I’m any different? Do you think, when I returned home after you left, that Mother welcomed me with open arms and a pat on the back? No. She yelled at me, made me cry, told me how much of a disappointment I was and all the pain I caused her. But unlike you, I had the courage to face her. I weathered the storm she summoned and showed her my strength. When I left, it was with her blessing, and for that reason, I will always be stronger than you. Don’t! Don’t laugh. Don’t be so stupid as to judge me by my size. I’ve killed more than one person who made that mistake.”
Nicholas’ hint of a grin disappeared. Their foreheads were still touching, and he looked down and shuffled one foot in the snow. Emily kept her hands on him, letting her harsh yet caring tone flow to him through a firm grip. She had to be tough, especially now, because if Nicholas did return with her, he was going to be dealt a much harder blow from Mother.
“Don’t stay,” she said. “I love you, Nicholas. Come with me. Be strong like I know you are. Let this grudge go. You’ve been alone for too long.”
“I,” he paused, pulling back to meet her eye, “I’m not a coward.”
He parted with her and left. Emily let him go.
The ship was to leave at midday the following day. It had already been packed, leaving an entire evening for the crew to spend with their families. The jarl had even gone a step further, allowing those who wanted to stay the right to do so. This was a voluntary journey, he said, so only those who chose to go would be allowed on his ship. He made no lies and told them what Emily had said about the dangers ahead. Most pledged to follow their jarl to the end, if that’s where it led. A few declined, leaving a group to watch the children, and so Valgrith allowed the old man, Gelik, to join them.
Emily had rarely seen an elderly man so close to the grave so happy.
“Thank you,” he said to the jarl with tears in his eyes.
He tried to take a knee, but Valgrith stopped him and said, “Save your strength, old man. You have to survive the sea, first, before you can reach Valhalla.”
“That I’ll do.” Gelik grinned. “Seawater runs in my veins.”
That evening, the old man sharpened and oiled his sword until it shined. He ran his sharpening stone down the edge, over and over, before testing it with a piece of leather. It was a thick, straight sword, not unlike a knight’s longsword, but much broader. Gelik had to put some strength behind his motions, although Emily noted the sword was already in pretty good condition. She guessed it hadn’t been used in a while, but didn’t voice her suspicions. Gelik sharpened each side of his sword until it cut through a piece of leather as if it was snow and then began to oil it.
“I used to use my finger to test the blade,” he said, then held up one scarred finger to prove his words. “I’m too old for that now, though. I nick myself on this thing, and I might never stop bleeding. Unfortunately, battling with one’s own stupidity does not qualify as a legendary death.”
Emily and Takeo were sitting up in their bed, legs beneath the covers while the fire raged in the nearby hearth. Gelik made it clear he had no intention of returning, so he’d spared no wood from the fires tonight.
“I hope Ulfar’s son treats this place well,” he muttered. “Did you meet him?”
“Ulfar Ulfarson?” Emily asked.
“Yes, him! Strong lad, isn’t he?”
“Don’t know.” Emily shrugged. “Never heard of him.”
Beside her, Takeo muffled a laugh. Gelik just looked at her, confused. He shook it off, though, and went back to oiling.
“He’ll be eleven soon,” Gelik continued. “Good age to take up this old place. There will be lots of work to do. The roof will need fixing, more wood for the fire. That should breed some good strength in him. I trained him, you know? Good lad. He’ll make a fine viking.”
At first, his words seemed like ramblings to Emily, but then a thought came to her mind, and as the fire cracked and popped, she leaned forward and took a deep breath.
“The children will be fine, Gelik,” she said. “You trained them well, and I’m sure they’ll never forget you.”
Gelik paused, swallowed, and then nodded. He put his sword away and climbed into his bed. He was asleep soon thereafter, snoring before Emily and Takeo had even shifted down beneath the sheets.
She dreamed that night of darkness at the ocean’s floor and awoke the next morning with an astonishing amount of confidence and determination in her heart. When she boarded the jarl’s ship, she did so with head held high and fingers twitching to be used. Nicholas and Fritjof followed right behind her, both as silent as the snow that fell softly around them.
While the rest of the crew boarded and the village helped launch the vessel into the bay, Emily leaned on the railing and admired the way the falling snow muffled the air; like a quiet hush over the world, sounds were absorbed by the little white flakes that floated about. The creak of wood, the slap of waves, the clunk of boots, all were strangled and dampened by a slight, yet measurable degree. When a brief respite occurred, the silence was absolute. Emily tried to put her thoughts to words, but couldn’t bring herself to break the mood. She couldn’t even hear herself breathe.
The falling snow dissipated as they went beyond the bay—oars were dipping and pull
ing, each stroke increasingly louder than the last—and Emily watched the white blanket that clouded the world fall behind, suddenly nostalgic for the unique land of ice, snow, and mountains. She’d never stopped to admire it, not once since first entering it from Juatwa. That was unlike her, she realized. She used to be so curious about each and every thing she came across, yet this time she’d let nearly all of it slip by without a thought.
She hadn’t asked about griffins, wargs, or even valkyries for that matter. Her brother had told her about one without her even asking. That didn’t seem right. Where was her curiosity?
Emily was suddenly fearful. The absence of curiosity bothered her, as it had always been a cornerstone of her personality. When she’d been in Juatwa, chained to a stone floor and whipped by her mortal enemy, she’d still thirsted for knowledge, listening greedily when Ichiro Katsu told her something she didn’t know. That same feeling seemed diminished now, and Emily knew it was sign that she was changing.
But into what?
And then she shut that thought out because she wasn’t sure she could handle the answer.
* * *
They would be at sea for several months with no way to shorten that time. To the crew, this time was spent adjusting the sails when winds were right, rowing when winds were poor, training when time allowed, scooping out the water that inevitably leaked into the bilge, and, in general, fighting off the inevitable boredom that came with anticipating something grand that was both too close to forget, yet too far away to prepare for. Emily remembered a similar boredom plaguing the pirate crew she’d sailed with some time ago, but they’d filled the time with drinking, games, and thievery. The vikings weren’t as heavy on their drinking or thievery, though whether that was normal or due to Valgrith’s preference (Emily noticed the jarl never drank anything but water), none would say. They did have games, though, and nearly all involved some measure of strength.
Wrestling came first and foremost. Large, grown, and often hairy men and women would strip down on the frigidly cold upper deck to tangle with each other until one cried out for mercy. As far as Emily could tell, there seemed to be no established rules, but the contestants refrained from throwing punches, likely out of mutual, unspoken agreement. Only two wrestled at a time, and the rest of the crew would make a circle and cheer the entertainers on.
Other games included arm wrestling, lifting heavier and heavier barrels, pushups, axe-throwing, and even short sprints from one end of the ship to the other. Emily only participated in those last three. She was under no illusions that her short stature put her at a massive disadvantage to the other competitors, and Takeo was of a similar mind, but Nicholas and Fritjof joined in eagerly. Their long captivity made them easy to defeat, but both made it clear they were too happy to care. Freedom had never tasted so sweet, and they would not sit out on the fun.
As the weather warmed, the frequency of the games increased. The snow stopped falling, the ice in the water dissipated, and the day’s sunlight grew warm enough to heat them. The nights grew less and less cold, too, as they traveled further south, and she cut her hair back to shoulder length because her winter-grown bun was becoming a sweaty mess. Emily found herself stripping off articles of clothing and never putting them back on, and by the time they were nearly halfway to Lucifan, she was desperately missing her leather skirt and vest. Winter undergarments were now the only things that she’d purchased back near the Khaz Mal Mountains remaining on her body, and they were absolutely terrible gear for a warrior. The vikings were more prepared. Underneath their thick winter gear, they wore boiled leather armor, which was better suited to the increasingly warmer weather. Fortunately, Valgrith, having the material for this armor, was generous enough to lend some to Emily. With a knife, sewing supplies, and ample time, she stitched together a crude skirt and vest and wore them happily. She didn’t look so much like an amazon as a very skinny viking, but she was just as glad to be neither freezing at night nor sweating during the day. It made watching the games much more bearable.
The games had two benefits, Emily realized: they harmonized the crew and also exhausted them. The exhaustion part was the greater benefit in her opinion, for tired warriors made peaceful warriors, and they all slept soundly each night. The various competitions also bred a sense of teamwork amongst those on the ship, and Nicholas and Fritjof greatly benefited from that. Despite having been brought on as pure strangers, they’d taken only a few weeks to integrate themselves back into the culture they knew so well. They blended so thoroughly that, for a moment, Emily forgot that she’d actually met Valgrith’s people first.
It was heartwarming to see Nicholas throw off the shackles of slavery so easily. She had worried he’d be damaged forever by what Carlito had done to him. Emily’s brother was stronger than that, thankfully, or at least he’d been right about Fritjof’s influence. The two of them were great companions, and Emily wished them nothing but the best. When she partook in the games, she tried to join with them most often.
She also joined with them because the rest of Valgrith’s crew was hesitant to interact with her, never treating her as part of the crew, but she couldn’t blame them. What sane person would? She controlled a colossus, and for that, they treated her like something more than human. Thankfully, that was done out of fear rather than scorn. When she took the ladder to travel between decks and encountered someone going the other way, they always let her go first. When games were played, she was never pressured to join in, like Takeo was. They rarely spoke to her, or even made eye contact. Whenever the crew rowed, they never questioned why she did not join in.
It wasn’t that she thought herself above rowing. Menial labor was in her blood as much as basilisk poison, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to sit on the bench and perform the task. She made excuses to herself, such as that she didn’t know how to row in time along with the others. With several oars moving at once, they had to be rowed as a single unit or they’d bump into each other, but that hadn’t stopped Takeo from learning. Emily held onto that faint excuse for some time before admitting the truth: she didn’t want to become part of the crew. Being separate from them made it easier to acknowledge that they all might be rowing to their deaths. Sure, it was what they wanted, to be chosen by a valkyrie and enter Valhalla, but that didn’t ease the guilt in Emily’s mind. She was still the beneficiary of services unearned—or at least they felt unearned. The only thing she’d ever done for these people was show them something they’d never seen, and now they would lay down their lives for her.
It felt cheap, and she wondered if the angels ever felt this way.
They sat in their tower, doing nothing but speaking words all day, and yet they were worshipped.
And now a vampire held that throne, and a rakshasa was coming to take it.
But Emily was still in high spirits, because halfway through the trip, she realized what time of the year it was.
Chapter 18
A long time ago—or rather, a short time that felt like a long time—Emily had been a naïve girl from the Great Plains who knew very little of the world. She’d dreamed big of traveling far and wide, but was too timid to take a risk and make it on her own. Then she’d stumbled upon her grandmother, an amazon, and joined a group of warrior women who taught her more than she could ever hope. They gave her the tools, knowledge, and confidence to go out on her own, to live her dream.
Once a year those amazons traveled to Lucifan, near the time when farmers plowed their lands and planted their seeds. It was also near Emily’s birthday, and that time was approaching again. The anticipation was so palpable that she launched herself into Takeo’s arms at the thought of it.
“I missed you, too,” Takeo said, raising an eyebrow.
“I just realized we might be in Lucifan at the same time as the amazons!”
“We will?”
“Hopefully. We might be too early or late, but I can only hope.”
Emily had only traveled with the amazons for a short tim
e, less than a year, but she’d made some of her first friends amongst them. One in particular, the amazon queen, was a strong woman about her age named Adelpha. Emily couldn’t contain her excitement at the thought of seeing her again.
The thought made time pass even slower, and Emily began to wish she hadn’t remembered until later. It seemed an age and a day before they sailed over the colossus, just one week out from Lucifan. Emily was both thrilled and nervous about that. On one hand, she was glad the colossus had made such good time—its long head start from Ragnar’s lands had worked wonders—but on the other hand, Emily was still depressed about the fact that she would arrive in Lucifan several days before the colossus.
This left her only one of two options; she either had to enter Lucifan undetected or remain aboard the ship until the colossus arrived. As the safest place to wait would be outside Lucifan’s bay, she chose to voice her options to the jarl. Takeo stood at her side when she did so, but not Nicholas. She did not want her brother’s advice in this matter.
“We could wait out at sea,” Valgrith replied, his tone bordering on indifference. “We have the supplies, and I intend to restock in Lucifan before the battle begins.”
“Why restock?” Takeo asked. “Wouldn’t you want to wait until the battle is over?”
“Not all my crew is going ashore,” the jarl said. “A few will stay aboard, just enough to sail her home in case we all find ourselves at Valhalla’s gate. Worse yet, can you imagine if we survive this, but my ship burns down in the battle? Bah! This place has so few trees, I’d have to steal a ship, and that’s hard to do in Lucifan. No, no, my ship is going to drop us off and then sail far away from the danger.”