The One Path

The One Path

A Story by E.V. Black
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The beginning of an adventure.

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Here she treads one path, the one path of her life. She can’t look back, she can’t see. And if she could, maybe she could feel for her poor dying aunt, her mother’s sister, left at her father’s hands.  Her father, Lord Wendale of Shirade, was a cruel man. He had never cared for his own flesh-and-blood daughter.

            One night Lady Emiline of Shirade, the daughter of Lord Wendale, was tying back her long boring mouse brown hair into a braid. It was past midnight and the clock in the church of the village of Shirade adjacent to Shirade castle rung twelve beats. As the clock finished the twelfth beat, her room was surged into silence. Emiline brushed her hair tiredly in front of her vanity mirror. She was so dull. Boring mouse brown hair and deep set chocolate eyes. A scattering of freckles dotted her nose and cheeks. She set down her brush and sighed. She leaned over to blow out her candle when there came whispers from the hallway. Her timid heart jumped. Robbers?

            Emiline blew out her candle and rose from her vanity seat. She fumbled around carefully in the darkness, feeling around the furniture to her chamber door. The surface of the stone walls were freezing as her hands met them. Her breathing quickened and she walked farther out down the hallway. She saw shadows cast onto the wall from the torch’s light. She pressed her back up against the wall.

            “…can’t be like this.”

            “It’s what the Lord wishes.”

            “Using magic to take over the land? Hardly.”

            “He thinks I powerful enough.”

            “You are only a mage. A mage!”

            “His first mage. The second mage, my apprentice, is pathetic.”

            “How will he accomplish this?”

            “The Lord wants to use a combination of ancient magic and the Hesphereux.”

            Emiline gasped quietly. The Hesphereux? She moved closer to hear their words. Another man joined them. His features were cruel and sharp. Her father, Lord Wendale.

            “Gentlemen, I dare say that you are discussing our…engagement at this hour?”

            “I hardly doubt that anyone can hear.”

            “Yes, my Lord. Everyone is asleep.”

            “You believe every occupant to be asleep? Anyone could be listening. Now I say, move into my private chambers. We shall discuss further matters there.”

            She followed their footsteps to her father’s chamber. The door was left partly open. She heard everything that they said about merging the Hesphereux, a powerful incantation that was potentially dangerous to anyone who used it, and the ancient magic. His plans were so detailed and well laid out that even Emiline had a role. She covered her mouth as she heard what would happen to the people of the village. He was planning to wipe them out!

            Emiline turned around to run, but she tripped and fell loudly onto the stone floor.

            “There’s someone there!”

            She swallowed and fled down the hallway.

            “It’s Lady Emiline.”

            “Get her!” screamed her father. “Don’t let her escape!”

            “Mage, help!”

            A thick fog swirled around her and she disappeared. She reappeared in the mage’s chambers. There stood the apprentice mage to her father’s first mage. She fell at his feet and sobbed of her predicament. He nodded, saying he knew what to do. The mage took her by the hands and pulled her to her feet. He sat her down and cut off her braid. It fell to the ground. Chopped brown hair swirled around her head as it gently settled in place. He dressed her in boy’s clothing consisting of one of his own tunics, shoes, tights, and a sack filled with food to last a long while.

            He explained to her that disguising her as a boy would throw her father’s soldiers from her trail for only a time. He handed her a cloak. Emiline slipped into it; she pulled the hood up over her head. To the eyes of a stranger, Emiline appeared as simply a short, scrawny boy. The mage led her from the castle and into the woods that thrived to the south of it.

She escaped. It was her only chance.

            She walked along the path. She met a stranger.

            “Please…can you spare a hand for an old woman?” asked the woman.

            She shook her head, fear of her life hanging in the balance. The old woman gently encircled her frail hand around her wrist.

            “Please. This load so hurts my old back.”

            She bit her tongue but took the old woman’s heavy pack from her shoulders. The old woman walked by her side and leaded her to her cottage.

            “Please stay and warm yourself, dear. You appear to be chilled.”

            She lowered the pack from her shoulders onto the ground where it made a faint thunk.

            “I can’t. I must be going.”

            “Let me give you something for helping me.”

            The old woman tottered off to the side. She rummaged through her things and held up a necklace with a dead spider hanging on the end. She placed it in her palm and closed her hand around it. She forced herself not to grimace.

            “It is a charm to bring you luck. As long as you wear it, no harm will befall you.”

            “Thank you.”

            She bowed her head and ducked out of the cottage. Just to be courteous, she snapped the necklace on around her throat. There it hung. She barely noticed the spider. She turned back to look at the cottage. It had disappeared.

            She was flabbergasted. Was this some kind of magic? Was the old woman a witch of the forest? She herself knew some extent of magic taught to her by her father’s kind mage. The mage had taught her the recipes to few healing potions and helpful incantations, but that was all.

            She had no time to dwell on these thoughts. Surely her father had discovered her absence by now and had sent soldiers out to look for her. She passed through a village; she lowered her hood over her eyes so that no one would recognize her.

            “Did you hear that the Lord’s daughter has disappeared?”

            “Wasn’t Lady Emiline guarded?”

            “The Lord is giving a reward for anyone who finds her.”

            “Surely you aren’t thinking…?”

            “Yes, of course I am. Who would pass up a healthy sum of money such as that?”

            The chatter faded as Emiline rushed by. Her father had put up a reward for her. She strode through the village easily without being recognized.

 

_____

 

Lady Emiline walked along the one path, alone in her dealings. No one acknowledged her or sensed her presence. Not one of her father’s soldiers found her. She was safe. Her mind briefly wandered to the old woman she had helped before. Was it because of her helping her that she was safe? Was it the spider charm she wore around her neck?

The thoughts nagged at her. The mage had given her mother’s sword. Her dead mother, Lady Marian of Seran, had been a swordswoman in battles of old in the past generation. She had passed on her sword to her daughter. Unfortunately Emiline had never had any training in fencing or archery or any other type of sport. She had been sheltered inside Shirade castle for the majority of her life. Very few times had she escaped into the village of Shirade with the help of her now dying Aunt Elizabeth of Seran.

Her aunt had raised her in place of her mother. She was kind and talked about her mother’s kindness and bravery often. She could not judge whether it was because she was her mother’s younger sister and it was the sheer admiration speaking or because she was just proud of her. When Lady Emiline was the age of twelve her Aunt Elizabeth became bedridden with a mysterious illness. Her father’s personal doctors had been assigned to treat her through strange and sour medicines and bleeding by leeches. Nothing seemed to help; everything made her weaker. She was close to the point of death. It made Emiline melancholy to have left her there at the hands of her merciless father.

Nights passed and she found various places to sleep as she traveled beyond the boundaries of the village of Shirade. One evening she had stopped to rest at the side of an ancient oak tree. She took a slice of bread and a small slab of cheese from her sack and ate that as her dinner along with a sip of some rich red wine.

Emiline finished and placed her supplies back into her bag. She curled up as her father’s soldiers tromped by; she was in plain view. Her fingers trailed to the spider necklace that hung at the base of her throat. She was no longer bothered by it. Not if it protected her as well as it did. She wondered how long the magic would last. She rose to her feet, her legs like Jell-O from the frightful experience moments back. Her fingers brushed against marking in the bark of the oak tree. She lowered her hood and squinted her eyes to look closer.

There were strange X’s, stick figures, images of animals, and other things she failed to recognize. So entranced was she by these markings she did not notice someone creep up behind her.

“Hoogle-foogle-TOG!” the person bellowed.

Emiline’s eyes widened and she jumped a few feet into the air. She cowered into a ball on the ground. The person laughed at her heartily.

Really? A boy such as you frightened?” the person, a boy, guffawed. “I wonder what my generation has come to!”

Emiline looked up from the ground and glared at the boy. Black hair hung around his eyes. He wore tattered, but good, clothes. She pouted as he laughed at her fright. Her fright dissipated into rage. Rage that was hotter than flames.

“There was no reason to do that!” Emiline shouted. “You did not have to scare me! But scare me you will.”

The boy just smirked. Emiline realized her error too late and covered her mouth.

“A girl dressed as a boy. That’s not suspicious. What are you running from, Lady?”

“What makes you think I’m running from anything?”

“Only the most desperate girls dress as boys.”

“I found out something. Now somebody wants me…dead.”

“I am wanted myself.” He smiled. “I am Thomas Atkin. Thief extraordinare.”

“Never heard of you.”

Thomas clacked his teeth together.

“Well…that’s to be expected. I haven’t stole very much…”

“And you call yourself a thief?”

“You call yourself a boy?”

“Point taken, alright?”

“Very well. Since I am alone in my travels, would you like to accompany me Lady…?”

“Emily. Just Emily.”

“Emily. Nice to meet you. Well?”

“My pleasure.”

Thomas Atkin and the Lady Emiline of Shirade started off deep in conversation just as dusk turned into the dark cover of night. What would the future bring them? Would the spider charm keep Emiline protected? 

Only the truth of the one path could tell.

© 2011 E.V. Black


Author's Note

E.V. Black
This piece is something I wrote quite a few years back. I since have expanded on the idea and the world, in which the story takes place. I won't be posting anymore stories anytime soon. xD
I don't have any idea what's wrong with the font in the middle of the story. I'm sorry about how off it is from the rest.

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Added on April 1, 2011
Last Updated on May 1, 2011
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E.V. Black
E.V. Black

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My name is E.V. Black and I am honored that you have decided to peruse my profile. I started my writing career at a young age and have been writing for a very long time. I write in practically every f.. more..

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