Emily's Saga

by Travis Bughi

  To Emily’s complete shock, the ogre at the door snarled but did and said nothing. Its lips and eyes twitched, its hands balled into fists, but it didn’t move otherwise. It didn’t even look in the viking’s direction. Emily was so stunned that she stopped moving, coming to a halt a few paces from the line’s end. How was it this ogre hadn’t charged the viking yet?

  “Didn’t like that, eh, ugly?” the viking taunted. “How does your kind even mate anyway? You all look like a bunch of men to me—ugly men. I’ve taken dumps more attractive than you! Honestly, I wouldn’t even know what to do if I met a female ogre. I’d rather go to hell than kiss her, that’s for sure. What’s your mating ritual, eh? Beat each other until one passes out then rape ‘em?”

  The ogre was growling, both of them were now, but they would not look at the viking. They stared straight ahead as if their lives depended on it, and Emily realized all the others around the viking were breaking away from him. The viking had a good, full pace of space between him and the next person, and space was hard to come by on Lucifan’s busy streets. However, the viking had yet to notice, judging by the wicked grin on his face, and he took in a breath to speak again.

  “Hey!” Emily shouted.

  Nearly everyone within earshot turned to look at her, even the ogres. She hadn’t meant to shout so loud, but she’d lost control of her voice before speaking. She was still stunned neither ogre had moved to crack the viking’s skull open.

  “Hey! You there,” she yelled again and walked towards the ogre who’d spoken.

  Emily motioned to her companions to stay. The crowds looked away when they realized her shouting did not interest them and the potentially violent situation had melted away. The ogres were distracted from the viking as this short, human came running toward them.

  “Hey, girl!” the viking yelled as she passed. “Hey! You have to get in line, scrawny!”

  “Just a quick question,” Emily said to the ogre. “I’m looking for Sir Mark O’Conner.”

  The ogre snorted and rolled its bulky shoulder before looking down. Its emotions were difficult to discern through that hideous face, but Emily had the feeling it was embarrassed.

  “Don’t know,” it grumbled. “Doles knows.”

  Doles, Emily did a mental slap to her forehead. Of course he’d still be working here.

  “And do you know where I can find him?” she asked.

  “Inside,” the ogre grunted and elbowed the door. “Must wait in line.”

  “Thank you,” Emily said and then added a respectful nod.

  The ogre looked lost for a moment and then nodded back. Emily went to the back of the line, ignoring a rather colorful statement from the viking involving her and the ogre. Emily, in turn, silently hoped for the viking to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when Jabbar invaded.

  “Please tell me that was strange,” Emily said to Abe.

  “What was?” he replied.

  “Did you not just see that? A viking was taunting an ogre, provoking it to violence. And the ogre did not immediately roar and attack. Am I crazy? Don’t you remember the last time we were in Lucifan?”

  “Psh, last time?” Nicholas scoffed. “What about the first time? Don’t you remember when I touched that piece of silk off a leprechaun’s cart? Just touched it, and we all had to run before an ogre took our heads off. I’m with Emily; that level of calm was insane.”

  “Oh,” Abe said, blinking, “yes, I suppose that is strange. I’m sorry, I keep forgetting you two haven’t been here in a while. Sir Mark has been recruiting ogres for some time now, and they’ve been growing remarkably more tolerant ever since. I really never paid much attention to it, honestly. I just buy my bullets, sell my services, and leave. The only time I’m in Lucifan for more than a couple of days is when I’m here with Adelpha.”

  Adelpha gave Abe a light smack to the back of his head. His wide-brimmed hat nearly fell off, and he had to catch it before it was trampled by the crowds.

  “That’s the kind of information you say right away,” she scolded him. “Things that have changed.”

  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  “I need to find Sir Mark right away,” Emily said and sighed. “Stay outside. I’ll go in and speak with Doles.”

  The doors were opened soon thereafter, and the line shuffled slowly into the tower. Emily hadn’t been entirely sure what to expect when she got inside, but she was relieved when she saw the interior. The last she’d seen inside the tower, Count Drowin had turned the place into ogre communal housing. It’d been trashed, and the smell had been rank. Now, though, it looked like the tower had been returned to its original purpose. There were tables and lines set up, directing people to information or to request scrolls and pieces of parchment that guaranteed them one right or another. Emily had never had much knowledge of what the papers and lines were for because the Great Plains had no real government to speak of—there was too little of value. Lucifan was considered as good of a government as any, and most of the plainsmen adopted the angels’ laws out of practicality.

  They were Sir Mark’s laws now, though, and whatever those laws were, they required just as much paperwork as the angels’ did. Emily wasn’t entirely sure that was a good thing.

  He killed the angels, she reminded herself. Remember that.

  And standing in the midst of it all, looking over and down his nose into every business that could fit in these walls, was a short, middle-aged man, going bald with pudgy cheeks and thick eyebrows.

  “Doles!” Emily shouted and bolted from the line.

  Doles startled and looked wide-eyed as Emily ran up to him. With recognition written starkly on his face, he gaped at her, almost fearfully, and took a reluctant half step back.

  “Hey!” she smiled, waving as she came to a stop a pace away from him. “It’s me. Emily Stout!”

  “I know damn well who you are!” he huffed. “Must you insist on being rude every time we meet? That is a proper line you just detoured from, young lady!”

  Emily’s smile was wiped away. Whatever words she had next were caught in her throat as frustration coursed through her veins. She always forgot that Doles thought himself a minotaur.

  “I’m sorry, Doles,” she said cordially. “I apologize for leaving the line and shouting at you. That was rude of me, but I only came here to speak with you. It is a pleasure to see you once again.”

  She considered adding a bow, but dashed it. Doles was smart enough he would have seen the sarcasm in that action. Thankfully, he seemed satisfied with her words.

  “I wish I could say the same, Emily Stout,” he replied. “You’ll have to pardon me for saying so, but unfortunately, your presence always seems to be a herald of war. Please, please by the angels, tell me your business here in Lucifan is not of a violent nature . . . for once?”

  Emily had to tighten her jaw to prevent herself from flinching. She was guilty as charged, but didn’t want to give that away just yet. A lie lingered on her lips for a moment. She wanted to tell him no, this little man who thought himself so important, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not even a white lie could be told here. There was nothing peaceful about her visit to Lucifan this time, or anytime, or to any place, anywhere, actually.

  And that realization saddened her again.

  “I,” she faltered, voice heavy with regret, “I need to speak with Sir Mark.”

  “Oh no.” Doles covered his eyes. “Oh dear no, damn it all. In Ephron’s name, what about?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “You’ll tell me, or you’ll never see him.”

  “He’ll want to know I’m here.”

  “You are of no concern to him. You, or your trouble, young lady!”

  “Listen.” Emily stepped forward to look at Doles, eye to eye. “I don’t care what good you think you’re doing by trying to slow me down. What is coming, you cannot stop. I wish we could meet on pleasant terms, I really do, but this is reality, Doles. Either you tell me where I can f
ind Sir Mark, or this city will burn to the ground.”

  Doles’ stature took a drastic change. He shrank from Emily’s harsh gaze, and his eyes popped with apprehension. He looked left and right, and Emily could see him contemplating calling the ogres to his aide.

  “Don’t make a scene,” Emily whispered. “We’ve already drawn too many eyes as it is. Don’t make me threaten you, please. That was a warning, is all. I’m trying to help. Come on, Doles, you know me. The angels trusted me. Remember? Do you remember the angels?”

  “Of course I remember.” He was fuming. “Fine! Wait here.”

  He trudged off, and Emily relaxed. It was then she glanced around, catching sight of the eyes of others. More than a good quarter of the room had noticed the short encounter, and Emily could see those judging her from afar. She felt an odd sense of wanting both to shout at them angrily, but also to turn away and disappear. None of these people had any idea of what was to come. They never did—not when the angels were killed, Ephron escaped, the colossus awoke, or an army approached. Their ignorance was almost offensive, considering how much each of those actions had and would affect them. How dared they feel they had any right to judge her?

  But then again, Emily wasn’t much better. She had always been a step behind until this moment. She had been ignorant once, too, more than once—often, actually. Were it not for the valkyrie, Emily would be just as much in the dark as them. Jabbar would be on his way now, and she’d be none the wiser.

  Yes, she was being too harsh.

  “Emy!” a deep voice boomed out her name.

  Emily jumped, heels coming off the floor as she spun towards the sound. Instinctively, her hand reached for her bow, and she was just about to unsling it before she exerted enough mental awareness to pause. She scanned for the voice and was shocked to see an ogre grinning and waving at her.

  “Emy!” it yelled again and waved vigorously when she made eye contact with it.

  The ogre was standing guard at the entrance into the knights’ barracks. The door was closed, and the ogre stood beside it, holding a meat-cleaver-like sword and grinning widely. It seemed smaller and shorter than an average ogre, and then Emily had the sudden realization this was a younger one. She couldn’t remember seeing many young ogres before and briefly wondered why that was.

  Equal parts perturbed and stunned, Emily waved back. The ogre’s grin grew wider, but it did not move toward her. It stayed standing guard, watching over the entrance with a straight back and cheerful demeanor.

  Emily’s curiosity overwhelmed her, and she approached it.

  “Um, hello,” she said, trying and failing not to sound timid.

  “Emy!” the ogre grinned again, ecstatic as she neared. “It nice to see you!”

  “I’m sorry,” Emily said and shrugged, “but I don’t know who you are. Have we met?”

  “Know me?” The ogre laughed. “It Krunk!”

  Emily mouthed the name as her mind searched. It took a second, but then all the connections fired in her mind, and she took a sharp inhale.

  “Krunk!” she exclaimed. “From Madam Sweeney’s orphanage! Really? Are you sure? It’s really you?”

  The ogre nodded vigorously.

  “You’re.” She took a breath. “You’re huge. It’s only been two years. How could you have grown so fast?”

  “Ogres full grown in five years.” Krunk smiled and held up his four fingers. “I soon there. You big, too.”

  “Huh?” She blinked. “Me? I’m not any bigger.”

  Krunk laughed, and Emily realized he was joking. Then she laughed, too.

  “Krunk.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I ran into you. How have you been? How is Madam Sweeney?”

  “Life good.” Krunk nodded. “Madam good. Krunk still visit and give money. Madam nice to Krunk, teaches me more words. Friends still there, too. Clyde still little. Very little next to Krunk. Sometimes, Krunk lift heavy things for humans. Make Krunk feel good. How you?”

  Emily couldn’t help it and laughed again. Krunk had been the height of a small child last she’d been in Lucifan, and Madam Sweeney, a gnome who ran the orphanage where Gavin was raised, had taken the little ogre in because she was convinced she could turn it from the life of violence that plagued the rest of the race. Emily hadn’t been convinced that was possible then, but she was feeling very hopeful now.

  “I’m well,” she said. “I’ve been better, but I’m well as of now. Thank you for asking. It’s good to see you doing well, Krunk.”

  The nearby door was flung open to reveal a sullen looking Doles. Krunk’s grin disappeared, and he stood at attention with weapon held up straight. Doles glanced between Emily and the ogre, his eyes darting back and forth with eyebrows furrowed in suspicion. Emily instinctively pursed her lips in a way that probably made her look guilty, but talking to the ogre must not have been a crime because Doles said nothing. He sighed like a man defeated.

  “Sir Mark wants to see you right away,” Doles said. “Follow me, please.”

  Emily followed, nodding to Krunk as she left through the door. They entered the darkened hallway that led into the knights’ barracks. Emily was surprised to see the hall so dark. If her memory served, the way should have been perforated with openings that allowed sunlight to illuminate the place, but candles were the only source of light. For a moment, Emily thought they were going somewhere she’d never been, perhaps not down the corridor of her memory, but then she saw that the old windows had been boarded up with stone bricks.

  She needed no help in figuring out why.

  “Doles,” she said. “How long has that ogre been with the Order?”

  “That one?” he scoffed. “Only a few months would be my guess. It’s hard to tell. We’ve been recruiting so many lately.”

  “How do the knights feel about that? The ogres?”

  Doles’ only response as he led her onwards was to give a wave, which she took as a sign to let the question go. She knew where he was taking her now: Sir Mark’s personal office.

  “I have friends waiting for me outside the tower,” Emily said. “Could you send someone to let them know where I’ve gone? Perhaps someone they’ll recognize, like Sir Duncan?”

  Doles stopped in his tracks so suddenly Emily nearly bumped into him. His head dropped, and her heart clenched.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, turning towards her. “I forgot you two were friends. Sir Duncan Macalister got very sick not long after you left. He passed away nearly a year ago.”

  It was Emily’s turn to have no response. She clenched her jaw and swallowed the thickness in her throat. She hadn’t exactly been close to Duncan, but they had been allies, friends even. He’d helped her and stayed by her, despite their differences. He’d been diligent, orderly, and good—everything a knight should be.

  Try as she might, though, she could not bring herself to say anything.

  “It’s a tragic thing, really.” Doles sighed. “When the angels were here, they could take away any sickness with the touch of their hands. Knights never died to things like that. Unfortunately, it’s something we all have to deal with now.”

  Why didn’t Gavin mention this? She felt a tick of anger. Was it my fault? Was it because I didn’t ask? Duncan had been a good soul. He didn’t deserve to be taken so young.

  “What about the others?” she asked. “Sir Mathew? Anyone else I know?”

  “Only Duncan passed. Sir Mathew healed up nicely from his wounds, fortunately for him. He took up the position that Gavin’s leaving left open. Oh, I didn’t tell you about that either, did I? I suppose you ought to know. Gavin is no longer with the Knights’ Order.”

  “I know. I’ve seen Gavin already.”

  “Of course you have,” Doles said, his voice a bastion of condemnation.

  “It was a chance meeting.” Emily glared back. “I didn’t come here seeking him, and even if I did, it’s none of your business. He told me he resigned over the colossi being dismantled. You also neglected to tell me
about that. How much more of the angels’ legacy has Sir Mark destroyed? Care to enlighten me?”

  “I won’t speak about that.” Doles started walking again. “That is a tragedy that could not be avoided. You will have to ask Sir Mark about it.”

  “Oh, I intend to,” Emily muttered under her breath.

  Their travels took them down several more darkened corridors. Every window had been sealed with stone bricks, leaving only candlelight to show them the way. They passed a few knights, human ones, and even a couple of ogres, though those were rare. The ogres had difficulty moving about in the small and humble hallways and rooms. The knights and ogres stepped aside for Doles, most even giving a grudging nod as he passed. Doles never returned the nod, though, and Emily thought it might be a sign of something, but couldn’t understand what. It didn’t help that she was distracted.

  She sensed Sir Mark before she saw him. As they walked the corridors, a chill that seemed to come from straight out of the Khaz Mal Mountains prickled her skin. Her fingers twitched next, and then her spine tensed. Doles stopped at the next door and turned to her, his breath forming into wisps of steam.

  “You can enter,” he said. “He’s expecting you.”

  Emily took a calming breath and closed her eyes. She reached out and touched the colossus lying still at the bottom of Lucifan’s bay. For what it was worth, she asked it to be ready to kill again. Then she entered the room.

  The chill air took another plunge, causing Emily’s skin to form bumps and her extremities to plead for cover. She could not see her breath, though, for the room was too dark. Only a single candle, sitting on the desk that separated Emily from Sir Mark, was lit. The vampire did not move upon Emily’s entrance, not even to raise his head to look at her. He was completely bald now, without a single grey hair, and his dark skin was also significantly paler than last she remembered. His head reflected the flickering candlelight while he hunched over a piece of parchment, scribbling with a quill. Over and over his hand went, writing several more lines before he finally bothered to lift his head.

  His eyes met Emily’s, and she felt a stab of cold in her heart that matched the icy air of the room. Sir Mark’s lips were parted just a hair, just enough for his two fanged teeth to show. Emily resisted the urge to grab her knife, but remained strong in her stance.