Part 6
Back within the village all the week was spent in toasting, All the villagers raising their rose wine glasses high. “To Rose!” they so often shouted, drank to her good fortune, And the talk of her went buzzing all around the town. Where had she come from? How could she fly? What was that costume? What on earth was she about, and how was she so strong? Some considered magic, others thought she was a robot, While still others thought that she used lost technology. Saera wandered to and fro and hid her little smile, Trying to disguise the blush that crept up her pale skin. Marin smiled also; next to her, Ardo grinned fiercely, But behind the three of them came Terry, scowling, slow. “Rose was so amazing!” said Chrysanthemum one evening, As they all were sat in Daisy’s kitchen, eating cheese. “I can’t stop my thinking on her; did you see her flying? And I think the winds obeyed her, followed her command!” “Impressive she was indeed,” said Marter, speaking slowly, “And if she has driven off the bandits, so much more. I hope she has done everything she will need to do here, And we all at last will live in peace, forever more.” “I hope so as well,” said Saera, sitting right beside him. “But if she is needed, I bet she’ll appear again.” “I wonder if that would be so good,” said Marter gently, Biting at the soft white cheese that had been served with bread. “Dude, she saved your village,” Ardo said, a little tensely; Saera put her hand upon his wrist, to calm him down. “So she did,” said Marter, choosing not to hear his anger. “But I wonder if her actions just have made things worse. Violence is often followed by more violent doings; Maybe it was better for us to accept our fate.” “Why?” asked Marin, navy eyebrows furrowing with trouble. “Why would you not want someone to save you from your fates?” “Because there was something ‘bout it that seemed artificial, And it did not seem to be the will of the Divine. And, I feel, designs that come from outside of God’s plannings Always turn to ill, and undermine their principles.” So spoke Marter, who turned then and rose to get some water, Leaving all the Elementals pondering his words. That night they slept fitfully, and did not rest so easy; Saera in particular had tossed and turned all night. But the next day dawned more pleasant, and the next day after, So the week continued, and they settled, more at ease. “Firewood to boil water with,” growled Ardo one night, As both he and Saera made their way back to the house. They both carried dry pieces of wood from the grove nearby, Carrying them back so Daisy could light up the stove. Saera chuckled. “It’s been ages since we’ve needed firewood, When you can just kindle what we need all by yourself.” “I’ve just gotta say,” said Ardo, blowing out a smoke cloud, “I’m not sure how much longer I can go on like this. I can feel an itch inside me, drawing me to burn things, Or at least to light up fire somewhere close at hand.” “I know,” Saera said, and sighed. “We’ve all had to be careful. Hide our powers—it’s been hard for me, for all of us. Marin, in particular, seems to have tak’n it badly. She’s so used to making water move all of the time.” “So, how long are we going to keep it up?” asked Ardo. “How long will we stay here, Saera? When will we all leave?” Saera jolted, and the wind went whipping past her fiercely. It had not completely dawned on her that they would leave. But of course they would, in time; they couldn’t stay forever. The Technocracy sooner or later would come round. Sooner or later the Stalkers would bay in the distance, And the Elementals would then have to go away, Go away to save themselves, and also save the village, Keep the villagers from suff’ring from proximity. This, of course, had Saera known, but now it washed upon her, Hit her with its stark reality, and now she gasped. She saw Marter stand before her, saw his gentle smile, And a flush crept up her cheeks, and fear was in her heart. “Marter, right?” said Ardo, who had stopped and turned to see her. She shook fiercely, and the red-haired boy barked out a laugh. “Yeah, I know you like him. You’ve been obvious about it. But I guess you’ll have to leave him when we go away.” “I… I know,” said Saera softly, pale skin going ghost-white. “Yes, I know, but it had not hit me until just now. But you’re right, we can’t take him with us, and we can’t stay here-- Not forever, anyway, for his sake or for ours. But I thought...” And Saera here trailed off, speech going silent, Peering up into the sky, whose clouds bloomed overhead, Clouds that were almost like roses, with their fluffy petals, White roses that seemed to hang above the open sky. “But, I thought that maybe we could stay here for a while,” Saera said. “I thought we might not have to leave so soon.” “Eh, you know we will,” said Ardo, grunting with his log load. “You know Terry won’t want us in one place for too long. And I kind of won’t be sad to leave here. I’m real sorry,” Ardo said. He smiled at her. “I know YOU’RE happy here. But I’d love to leave, find some place with higher tech levels, Some place where the lights are bright, and where the water runs. Besides,” Ardo rumbled, as they wended to the village, “I need to make fire. Need to let my power out!” He growled as he said this, and his eyes neon red glinted, And Saera grew frightened, for she felt the heat arise. “Sorry, sorry,” Ardo said, and sadly shook his head out, “I’m so sorry Saera.” “It’s okay,” she gently said. “If you need to go as Rose again, I’d love to help you! I really support you! I think that you’re fucking great! I wish… I wish that I could help you protect this village! But I can’t because...” and Ardo sighed, and hung his head. “Because all I’d do is burn these flowers and these houses. Fire doesn’t have a place here, in a land so green. If I did what I can do, I would only destroy things. If I tried to help you all that I would do is burn. All I’d do is start fire that burned all this to ashes, And I don’t want that,” sighed Ardo, glancing past his back. “It’s so beautiful, and I don’t want to cause harm to it. I don’t want to burn a single petal of a rose. But.. I want...” And then Saera reached out and grasped his brown wrist, Shifting all the logs she carried to her other arm. “Ardo, thank you,” Saera said, and smiled, voice so gentle. “Thanks for understanding. I am grateful you’re so kind. I wish you could help,” she sighed, as they approached the village. “I would love your help, but you are right about your fire. So just… pray for me,” she gently, softly said, and smiled, Pale skin and white hair turned golden by the setting sun. “Pray and wish me well, all right? I know you really mean it.” “Sure, I will,” said Ardo, who was smiling once again. He laughed, and she laughed as well, their friendship strong as iron. And they headed back inside the house, with all their wood. The next morning dawned with clear blue skies and gentle sunshine, And the Elementals woke up early, feeling fresh. Daisy came into their rooms and said, “Would you like breakfast?” So they went into the kitchen, eager to consume. They ate peacefully, Chrysanthemum dancing around them. She and Orchid had ate earlier, and now they played. “What are we to do today?” she cried with happy soundings. “Well, perhaps we ought to venture out into the woods,” Marter said. “I saw some mushrooms growing there last evening, And I think that I could make them into a nice stew.” “I could go for that,” said Ardo, chomping at his biscuits, “Then we could--” but he was cut off by an awful sound. They could hear the fire of weapons and machinelike whirrings, As another voice filled all the air: “Outside, you filth!” Marter flung the door open and went outside, with Daisy. As the children huddled near the table, looking scared. All four Elementals vaulted to the open doorway, And the sight outside filled all of them with great dismay. All the bandits they had seen before were in the main street, And their leader was encased in armor, gleaming white, Wrapping round him, frame-like; wrapping round his limbs and torso, Making him some inches taller, and much broader, too. Each arm of the exoskeleton bristled with weapons, Gauss rifles and missile launchers thrummed amid the space. He was not the only one so armed and so upgraded, For some of his fellows were encased just as he was. Many of them wore those metal frames bristling with weapons. “Power armor,” Terry whispered underneath his breath. “Well, well, well,” the leader said, as he was smiling smugly, “Well, you lot, you’ve gone and done it now, that is for sure! When our boss heard that you had resisted his protection, He decided that he’d teach you all a lesson—bad. So we’re here, and now we say: you all must leave this village! It belongs to us now, and we tell you all: get out! Or stay here! But if you do, we’ll force you to obey us, Force you all to be our slaves and do all that we say!” Saera gasped. She backed and turned and moved out of the doorway, Heading for the room where all the four of them had stayed. But a hand reached for her shoulder. “Saera!” Terry whispered. “I have to.” You can’t! You promised!” “I did no such thing.” Saera and Terry stared hard into each other’s faces, His bronze eyes locked tight upon her silver irises. “You all won’t come out?” the leader of the bandits shouted. “Well, we’ll make you!” And with that his armor hummed to life. There was a great flash as his right arm shot out a missile, Which exploded into a small house, set it aflame. “Terry!” Saera whispered, desperate, with her wide eyes pleading. “Fine,” he whispered, grimacing, but also worried, too. So Saera went running quickly back into their shared room, Pulling out her costume—and she swiftly put it on. The villagers all went stumbling out of their small houses, Worried, trembling, gawking in their awe and in their fear. They had never seen anything like the power armor, Having always lived such simple lives, free of such things. “Rose!” a cry went up. Another woman cried, “Rose, save us!” “Ah, I hope your precious Rose shows up!” a bandit said. “Yes,” the leader said, and grinned. “We’re ready for her this time. She cannot withstand the weapons we have brought to bear.” “Think not, oh brigand, that you are at ease, Ensconced within your armored suit so strong. For I am come, upon the Springtime breeze! And I am here to prove you very wrong.” All of them looked up, and lo! Above their heads Rose floated, Her bright red cape billowing amid the morning wind. “Get her!” cried the leader, and the bandits all went surging. With their power armor they jumped up into the air, Brandishing bright blades that gleamed and vibrated with power. Rose flew higher, out of their reach, letting them fall down. Then she twisted both her hands and sent a gale wind blowing, Knocking half of them off of their feet into the sky. Missiles fired from the power armors, straight up at her. She went spinning, dodging as their smoke trails filled the air, Soaring, flying, a great splash of bright red in the blue sky, As the missiles one by one exploded in her wake. She went dancing, spinning, flying, whirling, fast and graceful, Always dodging everything ‘twas fired up at her. Until--“Ah!” she shouted, like a wrong note on a piano, As a bullet grazed her upper arm as it whizzed by. A small cut was made there, and a splash of blood erupted, Shining in the air a moment ere it fell straight down. “She bleeds!” said the leader, and his voice sounded triumphant. “It’s just a girl! Kill her! Kill her!” Their weapons aimed high. But at once a massive surge of water burst upon them! Foaming torrents that caught them completely by surprise! Water washed upon them and flung them out of the village, Carrying them past the square and onto the main road! Rose followed the water and then floated down much closer, And with arms outstretched she quickly summoned mighty winds. The wind and the waves together flung the bandits harshly, Until Rose’s winds caught them up high into the sky, And, as she had done before upon her first appearance, She sent them flying far off, into the endless blue. The water receded, disappearing from sight quickly. Rose let out a sigh, and looked down at the villagers. “You did it!” cried one. “Again you save us!” cried another. “Three cheers for Rose!” came the shout, and cheering started then. Rose let them see her and let them cheer, as there she floated, Staring down at them from underneath her bright red hood. From amid the shadows of the hood there came a smile, And she spoke down to them in her normal, rhyming words: “Good people, I am happy to have helped! Your plight is mine to share, and to relieve! Those brigands—fouler folk were never whelped-- Will be defeated until they believe: Believe that never again will there be A time when you are slaves to any man. I swear to you, from now on you are free! My rosy fields are yours now to command. I will appear as needed, this I vow. So, good people, farewell! At least for now.” With her speech done Rose’s winds blew, carrying her skyward, Shooting her away in a great blur of red and white. They could not track where she went to; she seemed now to vanish, But the villagers still smiled up into the sky. “Look at her!” “So beautiful!” “She really is our savior!” So they cheered and shouted, full of joy and full of hope. But nearby, amid the shadows of a group of houses, Terry and Ardo crouched low and softly watched the crowd. Just beside them then there came a noise of flowing, slurping, And they saw a swell of water bloom next to their feet. It rose up and took a human shape: ‘twas Marin, rising, Just in time for Saera to float down out of the sky. She pulled off the hood of Rose; her short white hair blew gently, And her red cape flowed about her pale and perfect legs. “Well, that’s done,” growled Terry, and he sighed with great frustration. “Thanks for helping, Marin,” Saera said to her best friend. “No big deal!” said Marin, pretty face split with a huge grin. “I saw that you were in trouble, so I lent a hand.” “THIS is a big deal,” said Terry, pulling Saera’s left sleeve, Pulling up the white sleeve to expose her upper arm, Where the ruddy gash of blood marked where the bullet grazed her. “You’d better make sure no one sees this, until it heals.” “My green dress’s sleeves are long enough,” Saera responded. “They’re short, but still long enough to cover up the cut.” “But what happens now?” asked Ardo, worry in his red eyes. “They came back, after you did all that you did last time. What if they come back again?” “Yes, what?” said Terry, angry. “What if they come back again, Saera? Come back next week? What if they come back no matter how much you defeat them? Will you have us stay forever here, no matter what?” “I...” said Saera, breathing softly, worried and unsettled. “But we can’t stay, you know that,” said Terry, firm and hard. “If we stay too long here we will only draw the Stalkers, And then the Technocracy will know just where we are. Then these people will be at the Technocracy’s mercy. The Technocrats will attack them, just to get at us. And as bad as they have suffered from these bandits, Saera, What the Technocrats would do to them would be much worse. So, I think, despite how much you’ve helped them all out so far, We should leave them—we should leave this village very soon.” Saera breathed out, and the springtime air was sweet with flowers. All the breeze was sweet and lovely, warm and gentle, soft. Saera breathed a deep, deep breath, and all the fields were swaying, Swaying as the wind went swirling through the rosy fields. “You are right,” said Saera. “We shall have to leave at some point. But I beg you, Terry: just a little while more! I want to see if they come back next week, and then after. I want to see if they come a third time, and a fourth. This warlord that orders them around seems small in stature. He cannot have infinite resources to deploy. If they come back one more time, and I beat them a third time, I wonder if that won’t be enough, for all of this. I know that our time and our resources are both finite. But his are as well—let’s take a chance that his run out. Terry, please?” she pleaded, and her silver eyes gleamed brightly, And her pale skin flushed with eager yearning, and with heat. Marin shook her head and sighed to see her friend so earnest. She knew there was more than one reason she wished to stay. Terry saw that Saera stood there, eager, pleading, hopeful, And, at length, he sighed, the dust about him shifting some. “Fine,” he said, his voice low, deep, and filled with grim foreboding. “I have a bad feeling about this, but we can stay, Just for these three weeks though, Saera—then we have to leave, right?” “Yes,” said Saera, nodding, smiling, as the warm wind blew.
If you like what you’ve read, please consider donating. Any amount is fine!
Venmo: @Charles-Shoultz
CashApp: $CAShoultz