Part 10
Deep across the rose-filled fields there lay a mighty castle, Walls made of titanium and windows made of glass. It had been built long ago, and nowadays was rotting: Windows broken, towers crumbling, decay setting in. But it still was a great seat, the seat of a great warlord-- Henry was his name, and he was quite a nasty man. He ruled all the fields around him, full of precious roses, And from each of his villages he demanded pay. So they gave him bunches of their roses as a tribute, Bunches he would sell, and gather wealth all for his own. But lately a village on his southern, western border Had become a nuisance, and had risen in revolt. They had a great champion, some strange, magical creature, Something that called itself “Rose” and wielded wind and sky. He had sent his knights against her, now three times, but each time They had been defeated, though they were always well-armed, Always better armed each time—they’d even had a warmech, This last time—it had not mattered! Rose had won, the same. So he growled, and walked behind his throne room, to a thin door, To a hidden door behind a great red tapestry. He walked down a corridor of stony steel and onyx, ‘Til he reached a chamber where a system pulsed with light. He pressed buttons on it, and its bright blue light shone brighter, Until it was gleaming, and that blue light turned to red, Turned to neon red—a gleaming light, hellish, infernal, And he knelt, as that red light now blossomed in the air, Forming a great shape: a man, whose robes were black in color, Black robes framed in neon red glow, hov’ring in the air. “What is your report, Henry?” the robed man’s image crackled. “Well, O Father Barnabas, of the Technocracy, Well, my men were once again defeated by this Rose girl. She dispatched the Kali-Yuga mech you sent to me. My men say she summoned up a rock spire against it, And that spire punched through its chest armor, killing it.” He bowed low his head, his fear was great as he now waited. But the anger that he had expected did not come. Silence reigned, except for the loud crackle of the image, Of the holograph projector that now popped with life. “Interesting,” Barnabas’ voice at last came crackl’ng. “This creature, this Rose, has now defeated all your tech. She has beaten all the weapons, from the rifles given To the exoskeletons, and also the warmech. She must be impressive, to triumph over and over. There is something strange here, something I don’t understand. But any good scientist supports investigation-- And I wish now to investigate this creature, Rose.” “So… I’m not in trouble?” Henry asked, his voice a waver. “Not at all, dear Henry,” Barnabas said, affable. “No, you could not have foreseen the forces that you deal with. And, please, have no fear—this Rose will be dealt with quite soon. We ourselves shall deal with her, then study her intensely. I shall send OUR tech to you, along with one of ours. Sister Murasaki is reliable and trusty; She’s a Technocrat as good as any in our ranks. She is coming now to visit you, and see this Rose thing. And she brings enough force to ensure you’ll be quite safe. She’ll come to you in ten days’ time; just sit tight and wait, now. And I promise you—we’ll deal with Rose quite soon enough.” All four Elementals sat one day next to the fountain, One day before it would be one week since they had come-- THEY had come, the bandits, with the warmech they’d brought with them. Would they come again, as they had done the week before? Rose had fought them off three times now, but they’d kept on coming. Would they come again? That was the question in the air. “Everyone seems nervous,” Marin said, glancing around them, As her fingers dabbled in the water, splashed a bit. “I can’t blame them,” Terry said. “They know what to expect now. They don’t know if tomorrow will be worse than last week.” “I don’t think so,” Ardo said. “I have faith in you, Saera. I think that you’re right—I don’t think those bandits will come. You fought them off three times now, I don’t think they’ll come four times.” “I hope so,” said Saera, sighing, knees against her chest. “You know, we could--” “Don’t start,” Terry said, as Marin spoke up. “What?” asked Marin. “Just saying, we could do somewhat more. We could find this warlord’s castle, and--” “And what?” asked Saera. “Burn it? Drown it? Crush it? Blow it down with mighty winds?” Bring it down with earthquakes and tornadoes, floods and fire? Is that what you want, Marin?” “Well, maybe,” Marin said. “I’m just saying, there are ways to solve this permanently.” “It’s too risky,” Terry said. “It’d cause way too much harm.” “I suppose you’re right,” said Marin, playing in the fountain, Flicking sallow fingers in the water, back and forth. “Hey you all!” Chrysanthemum said, running over to them, Orchid coming close behind her, wearing overalls. “Hello, we were hoping that you’d walk in the fields with us!” “We’d love to!” said Marin brightly, rising to her feet. Saera, Terry, and Ardo likewise agreed, so they all Walked out to the main road, where the roses swam and swayed. Chrysanthemum looked back at her four friends as they followed, Marveling at how strange the two boys and two girls were. In particular, their hair was wondrous in its strangeness, Colored in ways that Chrysanthemum had never seen. Saera’s hair was white as snow, Marin’s as blue as ocean, Ardo’s hair was brilliant bright red, as bright and hot as flame. Terry’s hair was brown, but even this brown was not normal; His hair had a kind of metal glint to it, a sheen. Chrysanthemum giggled—she knew those four had their secrets. If they wished to keep them, that was their business, not hers. “Oh, hello there,” Marter said, and came and walked up to them. “Orchid, you and your sister are wanted back at home.” “Aww,” said Orchid, sighing. “Well, we’ll see you all again soon! Come on, Chrysanthemum!” and the two children went off. “So,” said Marter, gazing at them, hands inside his pockets, “So, tomorrow we will see if Rose has won the day.” “That we shall,” said Saera. Her white hair the breezes ruffled. “I have faith in her.” “I’d like to, also,” Marter said, “But my suspicions keep rising, and I can’t ignore them. We’ll see what tomorrow brings, I guess.” And then he laughed. Saera felt her cheeks go hot, and felt a flush creep up them. Marter smiled at her; his cheeks flushed a bit as well. Marin sensed the moment, so she told the boys: “Well, let’s go!” And she drove Terry and Ardo back into the town. “If… if, maybe, Rose has won,” said Saera, with a smile, “Then that means that it may be safe for us to move on. Us four, I mean—my friends and I, move on from here, sadly. We need to keep moving; we’ve a long journey ahead.” “I know,” Marter said, and sighed. “I know you need to leave soon. I’ve detected it within your nervousness, and sighs. But I’ll miss you four when you’ve departed from our village. You four are the most excitement we have had in years. Well, you four and Rose, of course—and funny that those two things Have come at the same exact time, isn’t it?” he laughed. Laughed, and Saera hid the terror that raced up her spine then. Did he know? Could he have found out? Now she held her breath. “Secrets,” he said softly. “I know you four have your secrets. I know there are things that you have kept from all of us. But, I wish you wouldn’t, because...” Marter couldn’t speak then, Turning his head to the side, his cheeks a fiery red. Saera’s silver eyes were bulging, and the wind blew fiercely, Hot, fast wind of summertime went whipping through the fields. “Because… what?” she slowly said, a pale hand clasped to her chest. “Because you’ve become dear to me, and I care for you.” “I… care much for you, as well,” said Saera, stiff and formal, Prim, reserved, and quiet; it was how she dealt with stress. They stood staring, gazing at each other in the flowers, Until Marter sighed, and said, “We’ve been out here a while. I am sure the others have been wondering about us. So, let’s go, eh?” And he started walking back towards town. Saera sighed, the wind blew o’er her, billowing her green dress, But she started walking also, followed after him. The next day dawned slowly, lowly, sun a blood red, burning, Coloring the fields with crimson light of fiery gleam. Everyone within the village woke nearly at daybreak, And they laid there, in their beds, awake and silent, still. So they lay, as red light turned to orange outside their windows, And the rosy sky of dawn gave way to blue of day. So they rose, because they had to; they could not avoid it, And they dressed, and fed their children, all with trembling hands. And they waited, waited, waited, waited for the moment, Moment when the bandits would appear with weapons drawn. What would they have this time? What could be worse than the robot? Its steel corpse still lay within the street, foreboding, vast. It remained there, crumbling, as a threat to them—a warning That their warlord, he who ruled them, had not gone away. But as hours passed, and all of them went ‘bout their business, They began to realize that the day was going on. They worked, and they planted, and they gathered up their roses, As the hours passed, and morning became afternoon. And within their hearts now, secret, quiet, wild, gentle, There now grew the faintest light of eager, desperate hope. As the hours toiled away, and as the Sun bent westward, This hope caught its kindling and bloomed in a vibrant flame, Flame that burned within the hearts of all the people present, Kindling their joy and making them watch out the sky. Finally as evening drew, they started talking, speaking, Murmuring amid themselves as red grew in the West. The chief of the village, an old man with a great white beard-- Oakflower was his name, an adroit and doughty man-- Watched the sun sink lower, lower, lower in the West sky, Bathing all the fields around them in a scarlet hue. “Rose,” the murmur went up, as the solar star went lower, “Rose has done it!” someone shouted loudly, voice high, thin. “Hold,” said Oakflower, his vibrant cloak rustling about him, As he waited, and he watched the sun sink, burning, down. And, at last, amid the Springtime night, so cool and gentle, Finally the sun, red-gleaming, sank beneath the Earth. “ROSE!” the shout went up, and suddenly there was great crying, Crying and great laughing, and great shouting of great joy. “Rose has won!” the shout rang out. “She beat them all forever!” So the crying rose, and a great joy filled up the air. “Henry’s bandits have not come!” said Oakflower, voice ringing. “Rose, our champion, has triumphed, driven them all off! People of the village of the roses, hear my voice now! We must celebrate our freedom. We must have a feast! I decree, in three days’ time, a Festival Of Roses! We shall have a Rose King, and a great making of joy! Ready yourselves for great merriment, my weary fellows! Let us gather, and sow joy about our humble town!” So he spoke! The cry went up, a raucous, joyful cheering. And the Elementals did not find themselves unmoved. “You did it,” Marin whispered in Saera’s left ear softly. Ardo came and kissed her on the forehead, with a smile. “Heh,” said Terry, sighing, shrugging his broad shoulders, chuckling. Saera herself sighed, and she deflated with relief. Out of the corner of her left eye, she soon saw Marter, Gazing at the people celebrating in the square. She stared at him, silver eyes agleam amid the darkness. He returned her gaze, and nodded, and he walked away. So the preparations for the celebration started. Banners soon were hung, and streamers flitted through the air. All the townsfolk were obsessed with making preparations, Until roses and bright colors were nigh everywhere. All the Elementals, too, were ready for their party, Ready for the party that was thrown on their behalf-- Though, of course, they could not openly take credit for it. Rose was still to be a secret, kept all of their lives. So they smiled among themselves, and helped with decorations, Hung the streamers, spread the flowers. Incense filled the air. And they ran upon the treadmill for the multiprinter, To print out new outfits, and new decorations, too.
If you like what you’ve read, please consider donating. Any amount is fine!
Venmo: @Charles-Shoultz
CashApp: $CAShoultz