Emeline: A Gisborne Tale

Prologue

The branches of the brambles clawed at her flesh, tearing through the fabric of her dress as she fled. Each sharp sting was a reminder of the horror that had shattered her world, the malevolent force that had obliterated her family and now sought to claim her as well.

From the shadows, one assailant emerged, his intentions as vile as the darkness that cloaked him. With a predatory gleam in his eyes, he lunged forward, hands outstretched to seize her. Panic surged through her veins, but her instincts kicked in. Her fingers brushed against the cool surface of a large stone, and with a desperate swing, she brought it crashing down upon his head. He crumpled to the ground, a pained howl escaping his lips, echoing through the trees like a mournful wail.

But there was no time to celebrate her small victory. Another figure loomed, his grip like iron as he tried to ensnare her. With a surge of adrenaline, she wrenched her arm free, the roughness of his touch leaving a lingering chill on her skin.

She was on her feet again, darting through the underbrush, heedless of the thorns that flayed her limbs and tore at her face. Each step sent a jolt of fire through her shoulder, but the thought of what awaited her if she faltered propelled her forward. The specter of violation and death loomed large in her mind, a fate she could not allow to befall her.

Behind her, a man on horseback pursued, his steed snorting in frustration at the dense thicket. He was forced to circle around, giving her a fleeting moment of hope as she lost sight of him. But terror clawed at her heart, urging her to push onward.

Gasping for air, her lungs burned with exertion, and fatigue began to seep into her bones. Even if she did survive, the husband her now-dead father had intended for her would never want her—with no dowry, and soon, as her strength gave out, no virtue either. She could no further. Her limbs grew heavier with each step as she stared at the forest floor, her only wish that they would end her suffering quickly.

With a final, desperate gasp, she tumbled to the ground, lying defenseless before her assailant on horseback. She was only vaguely aware of him dismounting, the sound of his boots crunching on the fallen leaves, the metallic glint of his sword catching the sunlight. The world around her faded, the edges of her vision blurring as a terrible scream pierced the night, echoing in her ears as darkness enveloped her.

~~~~~~

The nobleman wiped the blood from his blade on the dead man’s jerkin and sheathed it, his heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and fury. The other man stood paralyzed by fear as the swordsman approached him, two soldiers now holding the assailant prisoner, ensuring he could not flee. Two more soldiers flanked him, their expressions grim and resolute.

“What do you want with that woman?” the nobleman demanded, pressing the tip of his sword against the assailant's throat, the cold steel a reminder of the consequences of his actions.

Almost too afraid to speak, the man stammered, “We robbed her family. They... they killed them and... we... we were going to take the girl.” He glanced down at the woman, her form crumpled and broken on the forest floor. “And…”

The nobleman's mouth curled in a snarl, his anger boiling over. “I know what you were going to do to her. Who else is with you? You said ‘they’.” He pressed the sword blade just enough to draw blood, the crimson trickling down the man’s neck.

Near to tears, the man replied, “There’s only one other, and I don’t know where he is. He was on a horse. He must have run off. He had all their money and… anything of value.”

“Take him to the castle and lock him up!” the nobleman shouted, directing his order to the soldiers who restrained the man. He turned to the other two soldiers, his voice firm. “Get after his accomplice and bring him to the castle as well.”

The girl lying on the forest floor in a bloody heap did not move. The nobleman knelt beside her, his heart heavy with concern. He could hardly tell that she was a woman; she was covered in mud, her hair matted and darkened by the earth. Yet, amidst the grime, he could see strands of blonde, long and tangled. He leaned closer, listening intently for any sign of life. She was still breathing, but barely.

With a gentle yet firm grip, he lifted her into his arms, cradling her as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

Another soldier arrived. The nobleman ordered,
“Search that body,” the nobleman commanded, gesturing towards the man he had just killed. “And take it back to the castle. Perhaps someone will know who he is, and his accomplice will be found. Bring my horse back to the manor!” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

As the soldiers moved to carry out his commands, the nobleman felt a surge of determination. He would not let this girl’s suffering be in vain.   
He carried her all the way back to his home.