Part 5
Roses bloomed along the road that led into the village, Even when the road itself led very far away. So, some miles off from where the Elementals rested, Roses bloomed, along the road that stretched forever on. There was a small hut along the road. A lonely couple Lived there on their own, away from all the other folk. Now the woman of the house, with hair so long and silver, Stood and swept the doorstep as the springtime sun beat down. On a whim she looked up from her chore and scanned the highway, And she saw two figures slowly walking towards her house. They were clad in black, and long black shawls were wrapped around them, And the shorter one bore a black staff within her hand. HER hand, for the shorter one of them was clearly female, While the man behind her was quite tall, with shoulders broad. “My,” the woman murmured, as yet closer drew the strangers, “What an odd sight on the road, at this time of the day. These folk seem mysterious, and mayhap bear ill tidings. But I’ll wait here, for perhaps they’ll prove friendly enough.” So she waited, and at length the strangers drew up to her, Where she could behold them better—get a better view. Both their shawls were hooded, both hoods drawn over their faces, But when both of them drew up before the little hut They pulled back their hoods, fully revealing both their faces. So the woman and the man stood plainly in the sun. The woman was very tall, though her male friend was taller. And her form was slender, shapely, packed with life and strength. She had olive skin, and her short-cut hair was a blond hue, And her eyes were wide and sharp, and colored gray as steel. Her companion, that man looming tall and broad above her, Was also gray-eyed, and he had long hair colored black. This man was gigantic—he was nearly two heads taller, Taller than his companion, and his shoulders were broad. His skin was of ruddy hue, a tanned and strange complexion; But when she looked up at him, he smiled, seeming kind. The blond woman smiled also, seeming more mysterious, And she opened up her mouth to speak, her accent light: “My good lady, greetings! I hope you are in fine spirits. We are travelers, as you can see from our strange dress. We are seeking to learn more about this land we’ve entered, And a little shade from the bright sun would be quite nice. So, we, ask, could we perhaps come in and rest a moment? We’ll trade company for news, reports from the wide world.” “I should be quite fine with that,” the rustic woman answered. “My husband and I are always keen to hear new news. Come on, come inside now! I will get you all some water, And a little bread with salt, if you would like it much.” So the travelers in black advanced unto the doorframe, But the woman stopped, and paused upon the threshold there. “My good lady,” she gently began, “I am in error, Entering your house with my black staff held in my hand. Though it may not look so, it is a terrible weapon, And ‘twould be improper taking it inside a home. If I did I would invite bad omens to your household, So I’ll set it just outside here, ere I come within.” Saying so, she leaned the staff against the rustic doorframe, And the elder woman took a moment to observe. It was long and shiny black, a rod of perfect darkness, But at either end of it there was a silver ball, Two round orbs of silver, like two knobs, were placed at each end, Shiny and resplendent in the noontide springtime sun. The old woman swore that both the knobs vibrated gently, But it might have merely been a trick of the daylight. “My companion speaks the truth,” said the tall, broad man after. “It would be improper to bring weapons through your doors. So I’ll lay my axe, my own weapon, beside her staff here. So the two of us may come inside intending peace.” Saying thus, he reached behind his back, within his garments, And the woman gasped as he pulled forth a mighty axe. It had a black haft of mod’rate length, and two broad, sharp bits, Mostly black, but with edges of gleaming silver-white. The old woman thought the silver parts were glinting gently, But, as with the staff, it may have been a trick of light. So the large man leaned his axe next to the woman’s long staff, Both weapons now propped against the doorframe of the house. Then he smiled at her and he said, “Lead us inside, please.” So the older woman nodded and brought them indoors. They entered into a kitchen, small but swept up neatly. Her old husband sat there at the table, whittling wood. “Sumac, look up,” said the elder woman as they entered, “We’ve guests now. Please get them water, and a little bread.” Sumac said “Good day to ye,” and rose to do his business, Shuttling to a pump off in a corner of the room. “Well, then, let’s have introductions,” said the tall blond woman. “Gabrielle is my name; it is what I call myself.” “I am Uriel,” said next the giant man beside her. He and Gabrielle now at the table took their seats. “Well met then, both of you,” the old woman to them answered. “I have heard your names before, but I can’t quite place where. Still, good travelers, be welcome! My name is Poinsettia, And my husband Sumac lives with me out here alone. We are from the village that lays half a mile distant, But we chose to move away, and settle ourselves here. We enjoy the peace and quiet, and the tranquil silence. No sound out here but the wind that blows about the fields. We also keep eyes upon the road, in case of danger. We’ve a horse with us, and we can ride to warn the town.” Gabrielle reached out then with her hands gloved in black armor, Reached out for the center of the table where she sat. There were roses in a vase there: red and pink and white ones, Blooming and sweet-smelling as they sat there in their dish. Gabrielle reached for the vase, remarking, “All these roses.” Plucking one of them, she brought it closer to her face. “Yes, the village tends all of the rose fields,” said Poinsettia. “We grow roses here that are the finest in the world.” Gabrielle trained her piercing gray eyes upon the roses, And amid the silence she began to softly chant: “Oh, rose! Oh, rose! Thy sweet scent fills the air. It weaves a spell of lingering perfume. Of all the flowers thou art the most fair, And great our joy to see thee in full bloom. Yet what we ask of thee is beauty true, And not the kind that works but to deceive. Do not beguile our minds, we ask of you; Let what we see be what’s true to believe. Be truthful, rose, and wear not a disguise; Let not your bloom and scent be only lies.” Words hung in the air, and both the travelers were pensive, As the older couple stared at them with massive eyes. Gabrielle gazed at the rose in her hand, sniffed it gently, Then she put it back into the jar where it had been. “My word,” said Poinsettia, who came over with some water, “Dear Miss Gabrielle, I did not know you had such skill.” “I can be a poet when I choose to,” Gabrielle said. “And I saw these roses and the verses came to me.” “Well, you have some mighty skill!” Sumac observed intensely. “I have not heard rhyming like that in many a year. But, come, come, the missus says you have some news to give us. Tell us of the world beyond the roses in the fields.” “Ah, the world keeps turning on,” said Uriel, beginning. “And the powers that abound in it keep on their way. To the west the English and the Nordics keep their kingdom, A kingdom of isles and inlets, up in the North Sea. To the south the wrath of kings is swallowed by the desert, And the cities of Italia spin their covert webs. To the distant east the Persians sit in their empire, While amid Byzantium the nobles plot and scheme. Cities lie beneath the sea, with domes made of bright silver. Cities also float amid the air, on moving clouds. Cities sprawl upon the earth, with walls that cover miles: Rome, Ascêz, Kyoto, Tripoli, and many more. Many folk are farmers; more are tinkerers and craftsmen, And the lands are wild and green, with forests springing round. Robots roam the roads and cluster in the crowded cities, Old and rusted, their glorious years so long ago. And they say a shadow moves; it creeps just out of eyesight, Skittering about the distant edges of the page. It has claws and tentacles that guide and shape Creation, Ruling from the darkness, with a might and strength unseen. But it orders things in silence, and, so far, is peaceful. How long it remains so, we cannot, thus far, discern.” Uriel had in a kind of pulsing chant just spoken, And, now finished, he sat back, his fingers on his chin. “Blimey,” muttered Sumac, taking stock of what was uttered. “It seems that you two have seen a bit of the wide world.” “How about yourselves, then?” said Poinsettia to them after. “You must be quite interesting folk, to know so much. And that black you wear, it has the shine and glint of armor. What, exactly, are you two? I’d truly like to know.” “We--” Uriel slowly started, feeling somewhat nervous, But Gabrielle tapped his bicep, and ‘twas she who spoke. “We are knights,” she softly said, and sipped her water gently. “We are knights pledged to a queen that rules off to the west. We are here on errand; she has sent us as her servants. There is something she wants us to find, so here we’ve come.” “Can you say the thing you seek to find?” Poinsettia asked her. “Alas, we cannot; it is a secret, private thing.” Speaking thus, she ate her bread, and slowly drank her water. Uriel did likewise, and the two in silence sat. Sumac and Poinsettia were a pair of hosts most gracious, Giving their two guests all the attention they could need. In return the black-clad strangers talked more of the wide world, Speaking of the wild and wondrous things they’d seen and heard. Finally, the bread was gone, and Gabrielle stood upwards, Rising from her seat, and nodding gently to the pair. “Well, you two have been so kind! We are indebted to you. Hopefully some day we can repay you, in our way. But now both of us must leave, and get on with our business, Tending to the matter that has brought us to these lands.” “True enough,” Poinsettia said, and them to the door followed. “It has been so nice to have your company today. Do think on us, when you’re out amid the world’s great wonders. Spare some care for us, and we will keep you in our prayers.” “Thank you kindly,” Uriel said, as they left the cottage, Where he grabbed his axe, and Gabrielle took up her staff. “We shall keep you in our thoughts in distant times and places, And we shall recall your love for us. We love you, too. So, goodbye!” “Goodbye, dear friends!” called Gabrielle in parting. The old couple stood in their doorway and watched them leave, Watched them go, black figures in their black shawls wrapped up loosely, With Gabrielle’s staff a long black line against her side. Once Gabrielle and Uriel had moved far enough off, Gabrielle against her left temple pressed fingers paired. <That was nice,> she thought, projecting her own mind’s voice outward, And Uriel heard her thoughts inside of his own head. <Indeed it was,> Uriel thought, fingers on his temple. <They were kind and sweet, and they treated both of us well. It makes me feel that much more that we should work to help them. And to do that, we need to find the Technocracy. All the reports from intelligence converge on this place. Somewhere ‘mid these fields our enemy has been at work. The Technocracy has business in these fields of flowers, And they have connections with the lords scattered around.> <Yes,> thought Gabrielle, and scanned the fields of lovely roses, Seeing how their brilliant colors swayed amid the breeze. <All the folk around here seem in thrall to several warlords, All of whom seem to do business with the Technocrats. So let’s poke around a bit, go to the nearby village, And try to discern what more there is for us to find.> Thinking thus, she grimaced, and looked up into the Spring sky, As she and her fellow Seraph walked along the road.
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