In the outskirts of the village and beyond the meadows, poured down a small stream which directed people down the rocky road which ends in the southern graveyard. Every men, women and children of the village are accustomed to this road, it's coarseness doesn't hurts them no longer anymore. One can still find traces of footsteps left by the black death at every door. It is now to die in the house or to die in the journey to the capital.
Look at the girl, clearly malnourished yet dressed well on the occasion of her father's funeral this morning. Those are the garments borrowed from her aunt who lives three houses apart. Her father was buried beside the graveyards of her two mothers and her siblings who perished within a year of the plague.
In the funeral she stood apart far from the casket. Aloof from the ceremony, running her thin fingers on the rugged bark of Yew tree wondering if this century old behemoth is satiated with all the fresh lives it's root has suckle upon. Yet as she followed the roots they extended far beyond the lands, it's seeds hatched into the ever extending nameless graves.
When the old pastor arrived he called out for her. Lucidly she dragged her naked feet and stood in front of him where upon he hugged her, trying his best to comfort the heart of the teenager.
Yet she never reciprocate, silently stood there.
No tears came out from those darkened eyes... Upon release she poked them, rubbed them hard as she could to squeezed out a drop but it was famine everywhere, even in the blue sky. Even in this occasion she could not bring out the emotion of sadness.
At noon she returned home, a ghost house the biggest one around here. All pompous outside but it's innards were all auctioned away until cobweb and dust was all that is left. The prizes were all spent away in gambling and in alcohol right after the eldest of women died.
Day after day she and her sisters nursed the men, the abuse grew with each hours pass bye. The smallest were first to die followed them their sisters. The elder men pined away soon after.
The breaking point of her father came after the loose of his favorite son, not the oldest but the fourth, spitting image of his own father. After his death he crawled into his bed and never touched the floor again…. no sunlight, no food nothing but to wait in patience.
Sometimes he would throw tantrums when she came to clean him up
"If only one of my sons were alive."…."Why are you still alive?" He mumbled all day.
Now there was nothing, just silence and darkness, the plague has extended even to the birds and the crickets of the fields.
The girl sat on the stairs looking at one trophy still left in the ceiling, it was a tiger's head, said to have killed around a thousand….. Terrorized at least ten village and three generations of family. The bravest were all culled down by it's claws. A beast that only prays for men is more deadlier than any three-faced ape, Werewolf or Gryphon. Slowly the beast's teeth wore down along with claws in a distant river, wounds never filled up again. No mortal overcame it only time eroded it slowly and painfully. Her father was the one to deal the final blow.
As a triumph of humanity, he was hailed as a hero. The nobles of the capital, the saints of the mountains and the King of Angleland all gave him titles and riches. Boys yarned to be like him, while the girls flocked his bed. The adventurous ones took the soil of his house as charm, the old ones created folk tales not inscribed but passed down by mouth. Before the plague arrived all his sons were trained to have a legacy just like his.
"what will become of me?" She said to herself. The lands, the trophies, the titles and even the cattle will soon be her uncle's property by the law. Naked all her lives right since her birth and deprived of her name in that household.
Soon she got up to head outside, to see what was salvageable and in front of the gate stood her uncle along with a wrinkled old man richly worn clothes but still appears poorly fashioned due to the mass of his body.
"Oh! The daughter of my poor brother" Said her uncle," It seems you have been grieving all day but worry not I've brought Mr.Dylak here, who has taken great interest on you, wants to share your unfortunate fate."
The girl looked at Mr.Dylak, he looked older than her own father, and more overweight than the pigs in the backyard. He steeped forward with his fat thumb running on his chin. He observed her like a cattle hanged up for sale.
"Bit scrawny but she will do." snorted Mr. Dylak.
"What's it all about uncle?" She was genuinely astonished.
"It's about your marriage, you are already of proper age and Mr. Dylak is willing to take care of you."
"Isn't he married to three women already?"
Her uncle stature became wider, it was a posture of threat and authority "A man as rich as Mr. Dylak needs more labore both for his household and in his bed." He continued in a self-servient tone ," As a daughter of my unfortunate brother you are now my responsibility and so like a good child you do not have to think but do as the elders tell you. It's all for your own interest. Besides, he is willing to give us a plot of land in exchange as marriage gift."
".…."
Her uncle didn't wait, he proudly continued.
"Oh! No need thank me my dear. It would be a sad matter if I as your uncle couldn't secure your future. Now would you please hurry and get dressed, the date for your marriage is set today we will be waiting for the church; Be there within an hour"
There was no reply, just a nod. Like she had always given in approval. Her uncle closed the door of the house.
--
Through out her entire childhood she had nothing of her own, either it was of her sibling or it was of her mother. Even now looking at the wardrobe there was not a single thread to her name. They were always borrowed, every trivialest of matter be it. Now that the individual properties were buried along with the owners, she looked at the blank wall, under the bed, pieces of cloth of her siblings in the kitchen but nothing could be wore as a weeding dress. The borrowed dress got darker and dirtier from all the searching. Finally under the bed she found a coat and a long- legged pant made of cotton her father used to wear on ceremonies, gifted to him by the Great Valka Family residing in Astongard the capital of Angleland.
--
It was afternoon, as the wind blows in the deserted land there was a bizarre figure in coat, a pant and an insignia of a royal and a long hat to cover the long white hairs, the dog's escaped at the first sight, while the woman hide their suffocating child under their arms. When the church was on sight the girl, in a fancy getup resembling a war general went to the garden. Most of her childhood was spent here, collecting flower to make ornament which wilt by the time she reached home. As the autumn continues the barren garden replicates the look of the graveyard just with the plague loitering closer than ever.
"You always liked them. Didn't you?" Said the pastor, he had a somber look in his eyes. "Heard you'll be married of to that old pig Dylak."
She nodded.
"So? Why dress up like a man? Where is your weeding dress woman?"
"Don't know" She said, "Buried with my family I guess. Searched every corner of the old house and found tis."
The pastor scratched his gray hairs, there was a faint smile "The way I see it, its a farewell to this garden too."
The girl didn't reply.
"Well Come inside its getting colder, I got things to convey to you." the pastor lead her to his quarters. From his cupboard he took out two small glasses and a bottle of rum. "Have some, this old stuff will give you clarity."
"I am underage." She replied. This was the first time someone had offered her a drink.
Ignoring her he poured until a quarter of the glass was filled and said, "When I was your knee high I used to get onto all kind of stuff. Searched every tavern or corners of the barn and even ventured into the great forest for fermented fruit. Its was never to get high or something. It was always curiosity. Why would people like it? Why this bitter thing that makes my head spin was gurgled under their tongue and bind it with vow to only speak it's praise. One day I saw a mountain in my dreams, The scenery I saw from that make believe world is still in mind. I yarned it, became more curious and even learned to read and write just to read about this mystical highlands. I wanted to taste the thing they called snow. If it weren't for my older sister I would've been an adventurer by now."
He took a sip, eyes looking, wrinkles in his mouth disappeared hiding up a fading smile, the potential future lost forever. He chugged another one and earnestly looked straight at the girl's eyes, carefully he engraved words into his tongue to articulate something profound. "Your father's presence used to ignites such curiosity within the young. But the plague wiped it all clean, not even spared mine own curiosity towards the world. The chicks that flew away from the nest now return as men. They are coming back to this dying land. No ambition, just a family to save. You have no such thing now, why tie up to a new one?"
She listened silently, holding the cup tightly.
"Become a servant of the god girl. Least you will die in one of the sties of that old fool."
The girl eyes wandered around the church wall which outlasted several civilization and the faith erected by a thousand hands. She thought of becoming a nun wasn't bad after all. But the lifeless courtyard made her think. Something was amiss.
"Father why are you always alone? The nuns I see never stay even for a week." She said in a soft trembling tone.
"Well, the mortality of this job is quite high, even I am quite surprised how I am alive this long, Haa..Haa" He laughed a bit.
The girl didn't laughed. Her fate is to die like a slave or to join the list of insignificant life lost in the name of faith. She reflected back at her life. All her efforts were for someone else, all actions of a upstanding maiden selfless and dumb to her own pains. Meritless and with no goods.
Thus a fire burnt in her heart, a raging one...one with the lust of selfishness... one that her father had instilled within his boys. A heart that hunts for significance in society and seeks for the one jewelry owned by none but her. A legacy to be looked back upon fondly just like her father.
"I don't want to stay here any longer, I too want to see the mountains that you dreamt off" She whispered.
The pastor smiled, he got up and from his drawer he produced a letter.
"Say little miss, Can you use magic?"
"A little bit of water magic."
"Then how about you enroll in the Angolob Magic institution in the capital. My sister's son works there I will write an introduction letter to him for you."
The girl's eyes sparkled, for the first time in her life there was life in those eyes.
"Don't worry I will cover your fees."
"Father, Why would you go this far for someone like me?"
"The poor chap, whom I call nephew. Well his father died by the jaws of the gnarly beast which your father famously slew" he said in a soft voice, there was regret, "I always wanted to avenge the man I once called brother. But was too coward to take up the arms, even now I feel nauseatic at the sight of that beast's head. I think this is how I will repay the debt I own your father."
The girl opened her mouth to say something but there was a banging in the door.
"Father are you there." the voice was of her uncle.
"Seems like they have come, now what will you do?"
The old man sank into his armchair.
The girl looked at he letter and then took a deep break.
"I will be answering them." she said with a renewed vigor. As a first step of her courage she raised her glass and chugged it all in at once. The liquid burned her throat, spread to her lungs and then her stomach, she could feel each drop traveling down. The roughness of the drink cracked her voice, she was on her knees coughing vigorously. The faint gurgle was all broken.
The pastor did nothing, he sat and watched, his hands hiding his smile.
After a minute, she got up the dullness vanished. Her blood was running high and her breathe deepened. She would go on to open the door and face her uncle.
"Why are you dressed like that?" her uncle was flabbergasted.
"Has your family never taught you to dress up girl." Added the fat man from behind.
The intoxication although made her unstable, gave something she missed- courage to speak out for herself, words that never came out of her mouth, "I don't owe you anything." said in a low but audible tone.
"Have you gone mad?" screamed her uncle." Who will take care a wench like you? Did your father never taught you how to respect adult's wish?"
"This bratty girl" shouted Dylak." Just because you are daughter of a hero doesn't mean you can just turn down my generous offer. If you want to make a good name of Mr Megrek you should join my harem."
The girl glared at him, his own legacy had crushed her all the time, all her life she was the daughter of Megrek but never called for her truest self.
"i've a name." She mumbled.
"What are you saying? Speak loudly Megrek's daughter."
The cloud growled up, the echo shook the branches which bash against each other to scratch out even a little fluid, Maluk Etoile who lived under his brother shadow stepped back for a moment as the shadow of the girl fell on his flesh. His blood was cold, and so was his Dylak's. The clouds rushed to their heir, to witness the first step of the coming heiress.
"My name is Erekviya Etoile daughter of Megrek Etoile and I no longer choose to be toiled by you all to be enclosed by four walls of your own creation. My destination is mine own to choose."
Thus began Erekviya's journey of finding her own legacy.