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Fiction » Historical » Shadows Lifted font: B s : A A A . width: full 3/4 1/2
Author: Emma.Q.Wilkinson
Fiction Rated: T - English - Adventure/Drama - Reviews: 50 - Published: 01-27-07 - Updated: 04-23-07 - Complete - id:2311063

A/N: This is a story I wrote for an assignment last year. I'd been toying with the idea for a while, and English class finally showed me a way to get it onto paper. The first version of the story (the one for class) was eleven pages, but I decided to continue it and it is now six times that length (brevity is not one of my talents). It is complete, so I will be posting regularly, if anyone likes it.

One other thing: I wrote this when I first fell in love with Phantom of the Opera, so the theme is similar, and the characters are perhaps a bit predictable, but the setting and circumstances are quite different. Enjoy!


Chapter One: Rude Awakening

“What is it that you wanted, father?” a soft male voice said, careful to use hushed tones. “It’s past midnight.”

The nobleman – the young man’s father – sighed, shaking his head wearily and not looking his son in the eye. At last he answered, his voice tight.

“There’s been another murder.”

“Another? That fiend!”

“Quiet, boy. You’ll wake Rose.”

But Martin’s sister was already awake; she had been ever since a scream from a nearby street had startled her into wakefulness some time ago, and she heard every word. Her brilliant blue eyes widened as she listened, her already fair skin blanched. Another murder?

“The other men are taking their women and children away from here, tonight. I want Rose to go with them. Take her to stay with your cousins on the other side of the mountains.”

“You know she will never consent to that,” Martin noted. His father sighed again.

“Who was killed, Father? What happened?” Martin said after a moment of silence, turning the conversation away from Rose. Looking slightly sick, his father answered slowly.

“It was earlier tonight, on the east edge of town – not far from here…”

“Father, who was killed? Why are you so keen on getting Rose out of the village?” Martin asked again, more firmly this time

“It was a child. A young girl. Hit over the head. I’m surprised the commotion didn’t wake you…”

Rose had to stuff her fist into her mouth to keep from crying out in horror as fear took her in its icy grip. A girl? A little girl?

“And so…” Martin began, then cleared his throat and tried again. “So you think he’ll attack Rose? But… but why?”

“Martin, I am the only nobleman for miles. Use your head, boy! He may very well try to hurt me through Rose. If he’s harmed a child, he’ll have no trouble in killing a young woman like her.”

“But Father, won’t it be easier to keep her safe if we simply keep her at home?”

“You know your sister couldn’t bear to be cooped up until this fiend is caught.”

“Father, I really don’t think…”

“I don’t care! I just want Rose safe, Martin!”

There was a pause in their discussion. Martin must be considering that, Rose thought. Would father really send me away? Would this… man really attack me

“All right,” Martin said resignedly, “I’ll take her.”

“Good lad. Now hurry.”

Rose could hear her father turn and begin his descent of the stairs, and Martin turning the door handle, but she was too shocked to feign sleep. Martin opened her door, saw her sitting up in bed watching him, and almost laughed.

“You heard every word we said, didn’t you? Rose, I tell you, that insatiable curiosity of yours will be the death of you. Ah well, at least there’s no need to explain what’s happening.”

“Must I go?”

Martin sighed and looked hard at his sister as she swung out of bed. Her soft, round face held questioning sapphire eyes and was framed in long, red-brown curls –

even in her nightgown Rose was beautiful. Martin shook his head solemnly and handed her a long white dressing gown that had been slung over the back of a chair.

“Put this on, and your shoes. I’ll ready the mare.”

“Shouldn’t I at least…”

“Father said now, Rose.” Martin turned and left the room. Staring intently at the place where he had stood a moment before, Rose slipped her arms into the sleeves of the robe and tied it tightly around her waist.


Soon afterwards, Martin led Rose’s horse along a dark, wooded mountain road, one hand on the reins, the other on his shotgun. This did nothing to calm Rose’s nerves. Several other groups were walking slowly along around them, and she watched them without really seeing them. Their little mountain town had long been plagued by a shadowy thief, but recently, more than food had been stolen. A month before, a man had been found dead, a knife hilt-deep in his chest. A week later, another man had been murdered, this time with his head smashed by a stolen frying pan. Her father had refused to speak of the third death… and now a child had fallen victim to this night-shadow.

As Rose was thinking, they walked deeper into the mountains. The trees thickened; those with lanterns held them higher, trying to light their path in the darkness. Suddenly, Rose abruptly returned to the present when she saw her horse’s ears flick back. Though she was not a master rider by any means, she knew enough to recognize a distress signal.

“Martin…” She said, but suddenly there was a loud rustling in the bushes nearby. One of the group completely lost his head and screamed “It’s him!” Moments later, a gunshot rang through the darkness.

That was all it took. It was not long before the air around them was filled with gunsmoke; no one even considered the logical possibility that they were panicking over a fox or a deer. Men were yelling, women and children screaming, horses wheeling in terror. Rose found it impossible to control her own mount; the frightened animal took off like lightning. Rose had no idea how far they had left the confusion behind when her horse stumbled and threw her hard to the ground, but no one would have noticed one more horse’s terrified whinny, one more scream of fright…

But one man did. He had heard the commotion and was creeping through the shadows towards it to see what was happening when he saw a young woman, lying still on the ground beside the road. She appeared to be unconscious. Without realizing that the panic was thought to be caused by him, he hoisted her over his shoulder and disappeared into the forest, taking her away from the gunshots in the distance.

Martin waved smoke away from his face, searching for Rose in the smog. He knew she was a poor horsewoman – he would find her on the ground somewhere close by. But even as the guns died down, he did not see her. She had vanished.

ROSE!” he cried, but got no answer. Pushing away the thought that she might be hurt, or worse, he began to search the roadway for her, knowing that his father was very possibly going to kill him.


A/N: So, what thinkest thou? Please let me know - feedback is always welcomed and always helpful! Thanks for reading! --Emma



© Copyright 2007 Emma.Q.Wilkinson (FictionPress ID:553821).


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