Part 14
“NO!” screamed Daisy, horror in her voice, her tears were flowing. “No! Please NO!” she screamed and screamed as she fell to her knees. Chrysanthemum and Orchid were stock-still, froze in terror, As Marin, Terry, and Ardo gaped in frightened awe. “Well, that’s done,” said Murasaki, who had watched the whole thing, And remained unmoved by all the carnage she had caused. “I’ll give my report to Father Barnabas,” she muttered, Pulling on her robe’s sleeve, bringing up a red display. “He’ll be pleased to--” “STOP!” a voice rang out: high, clear, and lovely, As the winds began to suddenly blow very fierce. Murasaki turned around and saw the sky grow gloomy, As the air began to creak and billow, back and forth. She saw a girl hanging in the air, clad in a green dress, With a bright red cloak she wore that billowed in the wind. Her hair was as white as fresh snow, skin as pale as moonlight, And her eyes shone neon white, agleam with mighty strength. White also were neon lines that round her eyes were drifting, Neon lines that traced the blowing of the mighty winds. “I AM ROSE,” cried Saera, and her voice swelled on the maelstrom. “I am Rose! It’s me! The boy you killed was innocent!” She raised her arm and from the sky came an awful groaning. “Oh, my God,” said Oakflower as he looked to the air And saw up amid the gray sky three tornadoes forming, Whirlwinds, twisters, taking shape within the gray-black sky. Murasaki was nonplussed. “Ah, the Air Elemental. I suppose the other three are close at hand, as well.” She turned to the Stalkers and she snapped her fingers loudly. “Find the Elementals! Sniff them out!” was her command. At her words the Stalkers’ massive nostrils started sniffing-- But all of a sudden a blast of red fire flew. “You don’t need to find us, cunt!” cried Ardo, running forward. “We’re right here! Come get us!” and his eyes flashed neon red. “Fine! Let’s go!” cried Terry, running from the door to join him, As the earth shook, and his eyes flashed neon copper-bronze. Ardo’s eyes had neon red flames blazing from their corners, While neon bronze specks of metal flecked from Terry’s eyes. Marin turned and saw Chrysanthemum gaze, frightened, at her. She smiled sadly. “What did I tell you, Chrysanthemum?” “Nail them, Saera!” Ardo shouted. “Blow them off the planet!” “No!” snapped Terry. “If she does that she’ll destroy the town!” “We’ll have to do what we can,” said Marin, running to them. “Saera is not in the mood to listen to us now.” All three Stalkers lunged at them and they prepared for battle. But at once a brilliant flash of silver crossed their path. Silver wings came swirling round them, and black figures vaulted. And a black staff tossed a Stalker like it was a doll. “Gabrielle!” cried Marin. It was her, Uriel with her! Both ArcSeraphs flanked them, silver wings spread wide and poised. Gabrielle’s staff twirled and spun between her open fingers, While Uriel brandished his axe, lightning on its bits. “I knew it was wise to stick around here,” Uriel said. “Yes,” said Gabrielle. “You three stay back; we’ll handle this.” “But we want to help!” said Ardo. “Let us do what we can!” “Fine, then,” Gabrielle told him. “Just don’t get in our way.” With that she lunged forward, wings spread wide in rapid motion, Catching up a Stalker as it lunged upon her staff. Gabrielle’s black staff allowed her to command gravity: One end made the gravity less, and one made it more. She spun round with one end and she sent the Stalker flying, As she made it weightless and sent it into the air. Then she flew up to it and with the other end struck it: And the Stalker was hit with a whole world’s gravity. It caved in with a great crater, oil-hued blood flying, Showering the town below as its corpse toppled down. Saera floated there, neon white tears down her cheeks running, All her tornadoes poised, spinning, howling in the air. She so wanted to destroy everything down below her, Blow it apart, so she’d never look on it again. She wanted to… she… but then she paused, and in the windstorm She heard all the words that Marter once had said to her: Words of peace, and words of patience, and words of acceptance. Like the rising tide his words washed up against her heart, And her hatred and her wrath soon gradually grew lesser, Replaced with a cold, sharp grief, but also with a peace. So she sighed, and as she did the trees below blew fiercely, But she waved her arm backwards, and her eyes ceased to glow. And the tornadoes broke up, and all the clouds departed, Revealing the bright blue sky of Springtime once again. Marin spun away within a torrent from a Stalker, Water swirling round her and amid her navy hair. Her eyes gleamed a neon blue, and from them leaked blue neon, Streams of water, neon blue, trailed down her cheeks like tears. She punched out her arm and a great spike of ice shot upward. The Stalker avoided it, but then upon its side Came a spike of rock up from the ground, sharp as a razor, Sent by Terry with a swing of his arm. It came up, Punching at the Stalker, denting its hard metal armor, And then Ardo sent a jet of fire in its path. The triple-trumpeted baying of the Stalker echoed, As it fell back, fire scorching it, then Marin twirled, Causing a great blast of whitewater to come upon it, Washing it dozens of feet away, out of the town. “Come on!” Ardo said; his arms and fingers blazed with fire. “Let’s kill this one, then go help the Seraphs with the rest!” “No,” a calm, but gentle voice was in their midst abruptly, And they turned as Saera floated down out of the sky. “No,” she said, “we’ve done enough harm to all of these people. We’ve done enough damage to this place. It’s time to leave.” “But we can help!” Ardo cried. “And shouldn’t we?” asked Marin. “This was your idea, after all, wasn’t it?” she said. “Yes,” said Saera, “but I now know that I was mistaken. Terry was right, in the end, and Marter was right, too. It would have been better if we’d minded our own business. We should have kept our heads down, and only stayed a week. Marter was right, in the end; I should have listened to him. But I didn’t, and because of that, now he is dead.” Tears sprang to her eyes again. “He died for ME, in MY place. And the least that I can do is honor his advice. We’ve done enough hurting here. We shouldn’t do any more. Let the Seraphs fight the Stalkers. We four, we should go.” “But--” said Ardo, but Terry said, “She’s right. We should leave now.” “Yeah, she is,” said Marin. “Come on, let’s go get our packs.” So the four of them ran back to Daisy’s humbled cottage, And Daisy stood gaping at them, tears upon her cheeks. “Pardon us, Miss Daisy,” Terry said, and hurried past her, Followed by Marin and Ardo. Saera stayed outside, And she floated on her winds, her red cloak billowed round her, Hovering in front of Daisy, two feet off the ground. “Miss Daisy...” she said, but Daisy cried out: “You! It’s YOUR fault! YOU were Rose! And now my son is DEAD because of you!” “Yes, he is,” said Saera, hot tears spilling down her pale cheeks. “I know that you loved him. Please know that I loved him too, And if I could bring him back, I’d do it in an instant. But I’m not that powerful—even I can’t do that. I’m never as powerful as I wish I was, really. I can’t fix things; it seems all I can do is destroy. But I ask forgiveness from you, and I thank you deeply: Thank you for the kindness that you showed the four of us.” “Help!” snapped Daisy, angry tears now flowing from her green eyes. “Help, and how you did you repay it? You’ve RUINED my life! I hate you! I hate you forever!” She sank to her knees, Crying, bawling: “Marter! Marter! Oh, my lovely son!” Saera cried too, floating there as tears flowed down her pale cheeks, As the other three Elementals came from the house. They all bore their packs; Marin handed Saera’s pack to her, And they slung their packs onto their backs with practiced speed. Marin turned round. “Goodbye, Orchid! Goodbye, Chrysanthemum!” “Goodbye!” said the children, coming forth to say farewell. “We don’t hate you!” Chrysanthemum said. “Thank you for trying!” “We’ll miss you!” said Orchid. “We’ll miss you too!” Ardo cried. “Now, come on,” said Saera, and the winds whipped strong around them, And Marin, Ardo, and Terry lifted off the ground. “Let’s go,” Saera said, and all of them into the air rose, Flying up into the sky, and off into the east. “Goodbye!” said Chrysanthemum, and waved as they departed. She sighed, and upon her little cheeks there were fresh tears. “Poor big brother,” she sighed as she cried. “I love him so much! But I don’t hate Marin or the other three at all. It does not… feel like their fault that big brother has been killed. They did not intend it. I love them still. I’ll miss them!” “Me too,” Orchid sadly said. He turned—and cried! “A monster!” Sure enough, a Stalker came at them, claws flaring wide. But in that instant a black staff smashed its head to pieces, And great silver wings went swirling as its corpse fell down. “Are you all right?” Gabrielle asked downward to the children. “Yes,” Chrysanthemum said, gazing wondrous up at her. “Miss, are you an angel?” she asked up at the ArcSeraph, With her silver wings gleaming so brightly in the sun. Gabrielle smiled. “Yes I am. Now hurry, get behind me!” So the children hurried behind her, and then she turned, Staff in hand as the last Stalker rapidly lunged towards her, But before it reached them there came a great lightning bolt, Striking it against the neck, and then an axe flashed downward, And in a bright burst of sparks the great head was chopped off. “Nicely done,” said Gabrielle, as Uriel dropped downward, Huge and gleaming metal wings folding against his back. His axe, too, had power: it could make sparks and warp metal. It controlled electromagnetism with its bits. Instantly the feathers sunk into the silver wing bones, And those bones were sucked into Uriel’s broad, wide back, Until his black armor closed around where they had come out, And it looked as if he’d never had his wings at all. “Thanks,” said Uriel. “And now for Sister Murasaki.” “Yes, indeed,” snarled Gabrielle, and both ArcSeraphs turned. Murasaki rolled her eyes. “Well, this trip was a failure. I missed all that research time for this mess! Such a waste. But I don’t suppose Father Barnabas will mind too much. After all, this whole waste of time has been HIS idea. I’ll file a field report. That should stop him complaining, When he sees the details of what has transpired today.” “Not so FAST!” snapped Gabrielle, who pumped her wings and lunged forth. But the Technocrat was quicker; she vaulted away, Boot soles glowing neon red. Into the sky she lifted, Up into her black transport, whose opening closed shut. And in a great blur of black the transport flew straight upwards, Up into the air, and then streaked off, well out of sight. “Well, so much for that,” said Uriel, who watched the craft go. “What have we accomplished here, I wonder?” he then said. Gabrielle turned round at this, and looked into the main street, And she saw the bloodstain that marked where Marter was killed, And, on seeing it, her gray eyes glinted with a fell light. “Come on,” she snarled, “come with me!” Her metal wings spread wide. Henry paced along the carpet of his throne room, worried. Sister Murasaki had been gone for quite some time. Truthfully he’d not been comfortable when in her presence; Even by his standards, he had found her cold and cruel. But Barnabas had sent her to him to do his business, To address this creature, Rose, that had so bothered him. She had said she’d be gone two hours, three at the latest. But it had been five hours now, and he was perturbed. “Where is she?” he muttered. “Has she killed Rose yet, I wonder? Maybe she killed all the villagers too—maybe so. I wouldn’t mind that; I could myself their roses harvest. If their deaths were the price of ridding my life of Rose That wouldn’t be so bad. ‘Twould be acceptable losses. Their lives do not matter to me that much, in the end.” So he muttered, and he paced—when suddenly a loud noise Thundered through his metal castle, knocked him to the ground. He looked out the window: saw a great tower collapsing, Crumbling downward in a plume of smoke and ash and dust. “What! What is this?” Henry barked; the warlord was uneasy, And he walked to his desk to retrieve a rifle there. But all of a sudden his ceiling was ripped asunder, And two figures wearing black descended from the sky. Their bright silver wings were glinting in the Springtime sunshine, And Henry felt dread and horror as their boots touched ground. “Who are you?” he barked at the tall man, and the tall woman, He with long dark hair, and she with short-cut golden locks. “I am an avenging angel,” Gabrielle snarled at him, “And I’ve come to make you pay for all your evil deeds.” “What? What have I--” but before he finished she lunged at him, And her iron fingers angrily closed round his throat. “You won’t torment any villagers again!” she thundered, And she squeezed—and with a CRUNCH she crushed his entire throat. “Shall we kill the others in the castle?” Uriel asked. “No,” said Gabrielle, and tossed the lifeless corpse aside. “No, leave them alone; they all were just following orders. We’ve cut the head off the snake, let’s leave the body be.” Gabrielle sighed, and looked out the window, at the bright day, At the gleaming blue sky as the sun was beaming down. She leaned up against her black staff. “Saera’s right,” she muttered. “Saera was correct; we all have done more harm than good. Hopefully we have avenged the loss that village suffered. But we’ve merely balanced the scales. No positives were done. We’ve merely paid blood for blood; no victories were won here. So we should leave. We’ve done all the damage that I dare.” So spoke the ArcSeraph, then she spread her wings of silver, Beckoning her fellow ArcSeraph, his own wings wide. And together both of them went soaring through the ceiling, Up into the open air, to make their way back home.
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