Part 4
The next day went passing slowly, warm and soft and gentle, As the work the men were doing gradually got less. By the third day they had finished fixing up the rose fields, So Marter could spend more time with them, and they with him. He took them out roving, to explore the fields of flowers, Showed them all the roses in each color, shape, and size. He was gentle, patient, yet still had his youth and vigor, And Saera fell more in love with him, the more time passed. “Saera,” he said, gently, softly, at the door one evening, “Come outside, the sunset’s beautiful!” And so she came. So they watched the gold and orange give way to deep crimson, And the streaks of purple that came beaming from the West, As the night drew on in vespers, silent, lovely, subtle, And the Moon arose a golden glinting in the sky. For a week had passed now, one week since they had arrived there, But it seemed to Saera that a lifetime had gone by. “Do you think tomorrow those thieves will come back?” she asked him. “I hope not,” said Marter, “but I likely think they will. If not tomorrow, then they will come the next day after. It’s always close to the week’s start that they come again.” Marter stood, and simply stood, as evening turned to nighttide, As the shadows of the Western world bore down on him. In the growing night he was a figure dim and fleeting, Something sculpted of the dusk, a dim, unsettled thing, Yet he bloomed with loveliness, his green eyes flickered keenly, And in him the darkness stirred, its power close and strong. “But if they come, we will simply do what we’ve been doing: We will work and toil, to repair what they have broke. So it is! I would not dare to wish for something better. I’m content with this life, and I would not ask for more.” So he spoke, and sighed, and gentle starlight was upon him, And amid the darkness Saera found herself in love, Not a wild love—more of a gentle, quiet yearning, Something in her that desired him to hold her close. “I’m going inside now,” Marter said, turning and leaving, Back into the house, and then he quickly closed the door. Saera stood, and marveled as the moon and stars came outwards, Waiting out a while before she, also, retired. So the next day dawned. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, As the roses sighed and bloomed amid the windy air. So the Elementals sat and ate their breakfast, quiet, Gentle, yet on guard against intrusions on the morn. Marter sat beside them; he was gentle, and yet wary, And Chrysanthemum and Orchid shivered in their seats. “Saera,” Daisy said to her, “will you not eat your breakfast?” “Sorry,” Saera murmured, and upon a biscuit gnawed. And, in fact, she ate a little more, with practiced effort, As though she were building up her strength for something soon. But their breakfast came and went, without any disruption. So they cleared the dishes, and the Elementals lounged. Suddenly, however, there arose a great commotion. “They are here!” cried Marter, who went running for the door. All the Elementals ran outside, and just like last week There was the great truck and backhoe, and the gathered men. “Howdy, folks!” cried one of them, who wielded a great rifle, “Just making our weekly stop. Please don’t pay us much mind!” “Saera,” whispered Marin, and the two girls eyed each other, And they nodded, and then Saera zoomed away, unseen. Ardo clenched his fists. “We should do something,” he said softly. “No,” said Terry. “If we did we would reveal ourselves, And that would bring our own troubles down upon these people. Do you want that? I don’t. Their own problems are enough.” “R-Right,” Marin murmured, trying hard not to look guilty, As she watched and waited, while the brigands went to work. The lead bandit was a man of hard and ugly visage, Arms wrapped in tattoos, and built with sturdy, muscled form. He gazed round the village and he could not resist sneering, Hating them for how they lived, so peaceful and so kind. So it gave him pleasure to be in his warlord’s service, Tormenting these folk, whose peaceful life felt undeserved. So he thought, and so he shouted, “Let’s be on our way now! Out to the rose fields, let’s go and get our weekly crop! These folk will just stand around and do nothing, like always, So come on, let’s get things underway. Let’s not be late!” So he spoke—but in that instant, something changed around him, Something in the space about him was not now the same. It was in the air—the wind. The breeze shifted direction, Blowing now out of the south, and bringing sweet, soft scents. Their leader sniffed loudly; rosy scents filled up his nostrils, And—behold! Now rose petals came drifting from the sky. “Thou brigand! Thou wouldst rob my people’s land? Thy kind hast been my people’s bane too long! Flee, flee! Your doom is very near at hand, For I have come, and I am very strong!” So the voice rang out into the air which it was filling! And the bandit leader whirled around, with weapon drawn. Suddenly he was caught up in wind that swirled and billowed, And it threw him far and harsh, a hundred feet or more! Yet another bandit was into the sky blown upwards. Two bandits were smashed into each other, fast and fierce! Weapons fired, filling all the air with light and blasting, But in swirls of mighty gusts those weapons were torn out, Ripped out from the hands of those who wielded them abruptly. All the men were soon disarmed, and whirled about in fear. Winds blew fiercely, and from the sky rose petals were falling, And a scent delightful wafted on the moving air. “Look!” someone exclaimed, and pointed. Everyone gazed upwards, Seeing now a figure floating, hanging in the sky. She wore a white garment with short sleeves upon her torso, Short sleeves and short pants that left her legs and arms both bare. Her pale, bare legs ended in two boots that were a bright red, Bright red, also, were the gloves she wore upon her hands. Bright red, rose red also was the cloak that blew around her, Bright red, rose red, with a rose image upon its back. This cloak had a hood and it was pulled up o’er her forehead, Hanging low. It meant that no one could observe her face. She flicked out her hand and all the men were blasted backwards! Great strong gusts of wind came down and knocked them off their feet! Swirls and billows, filled with rose petals, descended downward, Carrying the bandits off their feet, into the air. Up too rose the girl, and floated, flying upwards toward them, Flying until she was in their midst, and then she spoke: “You, bandits, your reign now is at an end! Your master, tell him that his time is done! This weekly crime has passed its final bend, Its time is up, its race has been full run! I am called Rose, and this town is my own! These are my people, and the fields are mine! I shall protect them, and what they have grown! I guard this place now, as the sun doth shine! So get ye hence! Run, run along the path! Flee, don’t come back! Or you will face my wrath!” Speaking thus the girl called Rose spun red-gloved fingers sharply, Beckoning the bandits to come higher in sky. They arose. Her hooded glance one last time fell upon them, Then she flung her arm out in a fashion that dismissed. Winds were blasted, winds howled with enormous strength and power, Flinging all the bandits out into the distant air. So they flew and so were thrown until from sight they vanished, And the sky was clear, save for the girl in the red hood. Cheers and shouts went up from down below her. She glanced downward, Turned and looked below, to see the great crowd underneath. “Thank you!” “What a wonder!” “Rose is what you called yourself, yes?” “You can fly! Amazing!” “Where on earth did you come from?” “Good people, I came from the fields themselves. I am their spirit, and they give me life. You have attended them so well yourselves That they wished to repay you, in your strife. So I am your defense, in time of need. I shall return if needed. So, take heed!” Speaking this down to them Rose went far away now soaring, Flying fast and swift in a red blur straight out of sight. All the townsfolk stood in wonder, still at the sky staring, Scarcely able to believe the things that they had seen. But a cry rose up, and then a general cheer erupted, And everyone standing cried and shouted in their joy. “Ugh,” growled Terry, as the townsfolk whooped and hollered, joyous, Sighing, as Marter next to him stood in quiet thought. “Well, that was tremendous,” Marter said, still looking skyward, “I suppose that God has given us a mighty gift. What a strange girl that was! She was flying like an angel, And the wind seemed to obey her will, and do her work.” “Very strange,” a voice said softly, and they turned around then. Saera stood nearby them, gazing up into the sky. “Where did you go?” Marter asked, with curious expression. “I was just a little scared when those bandits first came,” Saera said, and then continued, “But when I heard shouting, I came back to join you all, and saw the girl appear. What did she say her name was?” “I think ‘Rose’ was what she said,” Marter said. “I didn’t see her face that well, did you?” “I didn’t get a good look at her face,” Marin answered. “That hood hid her so well that I couldn’t see her looks.” “Yes, fair point,” said Marter, moving inside from the doorframe. “Well, she’s done a good thing, so I can’t say I’m upset. Something doesn’t feel right, though,” he said, and wandered inwards, Back into the house, and he was soon quite out of sight. “Saera,” Terry said, his brown eyebrows drawn low and bushy, “Saera, what was THAT about? What on earth have you done?” “I know,” Saera said, “I know, I knew you wouldn’t like it, But I felt that I had to act somehow, in some way. These folk have been so kind to us—took us in, and fed us, And they have allowed us to stay here long as we like. So when I saw, last week, that they are so much tormented, Every week their roses stolen by those awful men, I just couldn’t stand by and do nothing, Terry! Really!” “This is about Marter, isn’t it?” Terry inquired. “No, no, I...” Saera trailed off and turned, feeling embarrassed. “Well, maybe a little,” she said, small, demure, and soft. “But I also really want to help the townsfolk, truly! For Marter’s sake, yes, but also for the entire town! Terry, please! I’ve done it, and what’s done is done, for good now. I shan’t do it any more. I’ve done what seemed was right.” “What if they come back?” asked Ardo, who had been quite silent, But who now spoke up, like someone striking up a match. “If they come back, I’ll…” said Saera, voice trailing off slowly. “If the come back, we will have to leave,” said Terry then. “Yes,” said Saera, “yes, I shall agree to that.” She nodded. “Very good,” said Terry. “Now let’s hope they don’t come back.” But he sighed, and his eyes, copper brown, were bright with feeling. “I think it was the right thing to do,” he said at last. “You’re right: Daisy and these people have all been so helpful. And you helped them without revealing what we all are.” He chuckled. “That costume was a genius idea, really. Who came up with that?” “I did,” said Marin, smiling wide. “Well, let’s hope that Saera won’t have need to use it two times. “Now, come on, I think I need to lie down in the sun.” So spoke Terry, and the four of them now set out westward. Out into the fields of roses blooming in the sun, Blooming in the springtime sunshine, showing all their colors, As their petals gleamed, and their sweet scents festooned the air.
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