The Last Golden Rose Read online

The Last Golden Rose

  By A.S. Morrison

  Copyright 2013 A.S. Morrison

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: Maows’s Story

  Chapter 2: Leaving Childhood Behind

  Chapter 3: The Coming of Age Ceremony

  Chapter 4: Start of a Journey

  Chapter 5: Progress Report

  Chapter 6: Meeting Mitchum

  Chapter 7: The Rough Dogs

  Chapter 8: The Secret Wonders of Parli

  Chapter 9: The Second Palace

  Chapter 10: Stone Faces

  Chapter 11: Back to Rerum

  Chapter 12: Gaining Support

  Chapter 13: Town of Memories

  Chapter 14: Mitchum’s Plea

  Chapter 15: Forest Maze

  Chapter 16: The King and Queen of Parli

  Chapter 17: Dinner

  Chapter 18: Hall of Statues

  Chapter 19: Change of Plans

  Chapter 20: Occupation

  Chapter 21: A Call to Greatness

  Chapter 22: General Quinn

  Chapter 23: The Tunnel

  Chapter 24: The Last Golden Rose

  Chapter 25: Only the Second Battle Ever

  Chapter 26: Defining Success

  Chapter 27: Something’s Missing

  Chapter 28: The Forgotten Room

  Chapter 29: Righting Wrongs

  Chapter 30: A friendly Reunion

  Chapter 31: The Sword of Ijnus

  Chapter 32: Just Passing By

  Chapter 33: Meeting Oldo

  Chapter 34: Magic vs. Magic

  Chapter 35: Swords and Roses

  Chapter 36: One Last Memory

  Chapter 37: Making a Difference

  Chapter 38: The Gloves

  Chapter 39: Family Reunion

  Chapter 40: The Ball

  Prologue

  The guard gripped the hand rail and yelled down the stairs as loud as he could. Behind him the patter of footsteps mixed with the sound of metal bars clanking loudly.

  “Quick, they’re escaping. They broke out, they—”

  A foot came swiftly to the back of the guard’s head.

  “Shut it.” Came a harsh voice.

  The guard fell unconscious down the stairs. As he fell, a tall man came down from the stairs above; his face showed with deep hatred of everything around him, his black eyes were cold, dark, his mouth stretched down to an everlasting frown. He wore a plain yellow tunic, same as most everybody else in that building. He turned to the other man in the staircase.

  “Is that all of them, Gyrd?” He asked with authority.

  “He was the last of them, sir.” Gyrd pointed to the man who now was curled up at the bottom of the stairs several floors below.

  “Put him in a cell then. Tomorrow we show the world what we’ve done.”

  Gyrd quickly ran down the stairs towards the guard’s body. The man who gave the orders started slowly down the same stairs. Halfway down he paused at a window in the wall. The window had vertical bars on the sill. The tall man with the cold black eyes looked out. There, far off, past the rough sea pounding on the rocks far below, he could just make out a mass of land. It glinted beautifully in the evening light. A strange and satisfied smile crept over his face.

  Chapter 1: Maows’s Story

  　

  The winds of change blew on the great island of Parli. It came in gusts from the mountainous region in the north, caressing the dark and sometimes ominous mountains with its soft, yet cool breeze. The wind moved through the palace gardens in the center of the island, to the bay in the south. As the wind blew the day waned, sun setting, into night. The darkness crept slowly across the land. And with it, the idea of sleep, dreams, and the steady promise of a new day.

  The people of this island were not unlike people in places in our world. They may have been a little smaller, or maybe a little more elegant, but still not unlike our own. They went to bed when the sun set, and awoke when it rose again. Some believed in the spirits of the land, and respected their judgment. But just like our world, they differed in a great many ways, and it made them stronger.

  Violence was a rare tongue in the Bay Region, in the south of Parli. It was known by few, and spoken by fewer. The people of that region believed in a non-violent life. They worked in the fields, growing plants, they worked in the bay, catching fish, and they worked in the towns, educating the young to do the same.

  It was not yet night in the small town of Rerum in the southwestern side of the Bay Region. The sun was not yet completely below the horizon, giving the townsfolk several more minutes of light to complete their day. There was a tradition that once a month, on any given day, the young people of Rerum would gather in the center of town to hear a story from one of the town’s elders. On this particular night, the elder was old Mr. Maows. He was the oldest of the old, and a very wise man. He had seen many things in his life, and knew of matters unheard of to most.

  On this night he had the youth of Rerum gathered around in a half circle, while he sat in a finely carved chair in the center. He looked around at the children; their eager, young eyes glowed with affection for this man. They knew nothing of why they should admire him; all they knew was that they should. It was the right thing to do. Maows looked around in the dim light at all the children who had shown up that night. A pleased smile crept onto his face as he settled into his chair.

  “Now then,” he began, in an old and shaky voice. “I suppose you all know the story of the roses.” He said, thinking aloud.

  “One for every region.” The children answered in Unison.

  “Very good young ones,” Maows said, impressed, “I’m glad you remember our last meeting.” He sat back in his chair and thought about what story to tell. I could talk about the palace, but they already know that story. I could talk about the mountains, but again, they already know that one. He straightened himself in his chair. Wait, I’ve got it. Maows scanned the audience, looking for two children in particular. He found them in the back of the bunch, one on each side of the gathering. He leaned close so as to talk to the group without speaking too loudly.

  “I’m going to tell what happens when—” He quickly looked around in all directions, to make sure none of their parents were in earshot. Everyone trusted Maows, and nobody would expect him to tell a story they didn’t approve of.

  After seeing that no one was in sight, he looked back down to the children. “I’m going to tell you what happens when you turn fourteen.” A murmur of excitement grew within the youngsters as they looked to their peers, all surprised. All but two looked happy, and these two were the ones Maows wanted to make sure were listening.

  Only those who were about to turn fourteen were able to know what happens when the age comes. And in this half circle of children, only two were old enough to hear what was to occur. In fact, both these children were about to find out for themselves what was to happen. For both of them were to turn fourteen the next day.

  Maows straightened back up once more. “Mith, Ludus, why don’t you two come to the front of the group, right here in front of me. You’re the two that need to hear this the most.” They both moved around the group of smaller children until they were right in front of Maows.

  “Are you sure you should tell them, sir?” The girl named Mith asked. “They aren’t to know until they get to our age.” Mith was rather tall for her age. She had long golden blonde hair, with beautifully blue eyes. She wore what all girls about to come of age wore, a flowery, flowing dress, orange for her family’s color, with a large ribbon as a belt.

  “Yeah, and besides,” came the boy, Ludus. “We had to wait all this time, so should they.” He was average height
for his age—which made him the same height as Mith—and had short blonde hair, with bangs that rested halfway down his forehead. He also had blue eyes, with a constant look of determination in them. He wore what all boys wore when nearing the age of fourteen: A tunic, blue for his family’s color, that reached to his knees and a belt made of woven willow twigs.

  “Young ones,” said Maows quietly. “Don’t you want to know this information more than anything in the whole world?” Maows asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Yes we do,” Came Mith. “But we had to wait, and so should they.” She pointed back at the children behind her. They had already begun to converse with each other in hushed tones about what they were about to hear. They paid no attention to the conversation in front of them.

  “Young ones,” Maows put an old hand on each of their shoulders. “The time for secrecy is over; I feel the spirits telling me that it is time to tell them the truth. Now sit down and let me tell the story.”

  Mith and Ludus sat down reluctantly with an anxious look to the other.

  “Children!” he called to grab the attention of all those whispering. “It’s time for the story.” At once the gathering settled into silence. The children looked at Maows with utmost eagerness. “To begin this story I must first tell you that these two,” he nodded his head toward Mith and Ludus, “were to hear this information for the first time, tomorrow. But now they will hear it for the first time with you.” The silence seemed to grow as the children leaned forward to hear Maows better. “This story, or information for two of you, will take us to places you have never even imagined, past the boundaries of the bay, into the unknown.” The entire crowd sat with mouths agape in awe. Maows decided to add a little more to the mood. “Once in the unknown, Mith and Ludus will be able to experience things once thought to be legend. Soon they will be able to leave and come whenever they please, and with no permission.” Maows decided now was the time to begin the story. The mood was perfect; all the children were too amazed to even think of speaking. Even Maows, who knew for a long time the things he was about to tell, seemed to be growing more excited.

  “Our story begins in a place where other stories that we elders have told began. And that place is right here, in this very square. Every time a young one, just like you all, turns to the magical age of fourteen; he or she learns what they must do to become adults.” Maows looked out into his audience; they were hooked on every word. “Once the new fourteen year olds come here we go right over there.” He pointed to a small hut only ten yards behind the gathered children. “Once there we take them into our confidence that they will never tell anyone that is younger than them what we tell them. And then too become an adult they have to. . .” He paused, looking around once more at all the eager faces. They looked so eager to hear the story that Maows almost felt a little disappointed inside, for he knew that the story was really not all that exciting. So he decided to add a little more to it. He stood up from his chair as to get a better view of all present, and to make his story all the more dramatic. Every now and then he would sneak a look at the setting sun. The children had to be home before dark or he, despite being the head elder, would be in trouble.

  He continued his story, his voice surging and fading. “We tell them that they must go from this, our lovely home in the Bay Region, and journey to far off lands. They have to make it through the Rough Region to our west, without any guidance, without any food, without any hope of return. This is where they must dig deep inside themselves to find out just what kind of man or woman they will become.” He paused once again. All the children looked as if they had never heard such a wonderful, yet terrible story in all their lives. “Once across the rough and treacherous terrain that awaits them there, they come to the magnificent Merchant Region where their destiny is determined. In the land of the merchants they have to find a secret token to return to the elders here, if they cannot find it they may never become adults.” He flung his arms wildly around to make the story even more dramatic. “Then they have to return through the Rough, and make it back in one piece.” All together the children gasped, even Mith and Ludus. “And if they make it back alright, they then can become adults. And of course you all have seen that ceremony before.” But he could not end his story just yet. “And all this has to be done at night” There was another gasp through the audience. Some almost fell backwards; others covered their mouths with their hands. No child was allowed out after dark, it was considered too dangerous. The elders told every child that the reason was because the spirits were out at night, and it was horrible luck to actually see them. Whether this was true or not, no child knew. They just knew that if the elders said it, it must be true.

  Maows sat back down, panting. He hadn’t been that worked up in some time. He looked to the sun and saw that it was almost completely below the horizon to the west. “That’s it for the story tonight, kids. The sun is almost to bed, and so should you, you don’t want to be caught by the spirits.” At once all the children stood up and thanked Maows for the story. Some looked timidly at Mith and Ludus. They then ran their separate ways home, very quickly, so they could make it back before dark. Soon Mith and Ludus were alone with Maows.

  “I’m sorry to question your judgment sir, but why tell such young ones this story? It was meant for older ears.” Mith asked, trying to sound calm. She got a little scared during the story.

  “Young one, don’t worry. Looking at all their eager faces, I may have added to the truth.” Maows said kindly. He struggled to drag his chair towards the elder’s home, which was a small hut, just as all the other homes were in Rerum.

  “Sir,” Began Mith, but Maows stopped her.

  “Young Mith, the night is near; it is time for you to return home.”

  “Yes sir, but I just was wondering . . . about that story?”

  “All will be explained tomorrow. Now is the time for sleep and dreams.” They were getting closer to the elder’s hut now, they could clearly see it’s finely carved door through the waning twilight.

  “Goodnight.” And without another word Maows walked to the door of the elder’s home, and disappeared inside, leaving the two children outside, alone, in the near dark.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Ludus called to Mith as he started running towards his home. Mith stood outside the elder’s hut for several more seconds before running to her own home.