Black Rose (25 page)

           
Others would spend the next thousand years going to their graves still swearing
that Mara’s abandonment was not betrayal. They stated it was for the good of
both the men she vowed to protect and for the good of the Captain who would
never again lead as long as he stood within her protective shadow. But Mara
knew the truth. She had betrayed him as assuredly as he had once chosen Liza
over her. She had chosen to protect the men who followed her to the Rose over
the man whose side she had sworn never to leave.

           
Yet here he was a half-century later, still struggling to find a place between
the lines of love and hate, loyalty and betrayal. It seemed to be their eternal
fate to contend with such issues, which is why Mara now found herself in the
uppermost tower of her ancient castle, prepared to open the chest she had once
vowed to never open again. The rose-shaped diamond was still held gently within
her grasp, her fingers tracing the lines she knew so well. She cast her gaze to
the window where the sunlight had begun to shimmer along the top of the
snow-covered mountains visible upon the horizon. The room was absolutely
silent, as though even the birds living in the nearby trees knew to avoid this
ancient tower.

           
Drawing a deep breath, Mara ran her left ring-finger along the diamond stem of
the white rose. The end of the stem curled slightly, leaving just enough space
to slide a single finger between the end and center of the stem. Placing her
left ring finger into this hollow, Mara pressed her skin against the sharp,
pointed end, pricking her finger. Blood bubbled to the surface almost instantly
and Mara turned the rose upside-down, pressing it more deeply into her skin.
The blood seeped from her hand into the hollowed veins of the pendant,
transforming the white diamond to ruby. Once the transformation was complete,
Mara removed her finger from the tainted rose and gazed at the golden chest
lying before her. “Put aside the anger,” the plea of the young enchantress who
had sealed it so long ago echoed clearly within Mara’s mind. “Inside, lies a
darkness that, if ever unleashed, shall destroy all it touches.”

           
Mara reflected upon these words now as she considered what she was about to do.
Then, fighting through her sense of dread, she moved the bloody rose forward
and slid the pendant into the indentation on the golden chest. The piece slid
effortlessly, acting as the key, and a loud ‘click’ sounded as the ancient lock
released from the inside. Then Mara placed both hands upon the lids and ran her
fingers across the cold, dusty surface. “Forgive me, Liza,” she whispered to
the long dead Princess. “Forgive me for the sins I must now commit.” She moved
her hands forward as though caressing a lover and then slowly, carefully upon
the top, exposing the contents of the chest to the early morning air for the
first time in over six-hundred years.

           
The chest was lined with black cloth. She reached forward, her hands shaking as
she slowly lifted the dark silk which held its carefully guarded contents.
Within lay two Arius blades.  Both were silver, differentiated only by
their intricate hilts. The first was black with a line of silver roses running
down both sides of the hilt. Two rubies were embedded in both sides of the
handle, far enough away from the center that they would not hinder the grip of
its holder. The second featured a golden hilt, adorned with black and white
diamonds. The blade marked with roses had been Mara’s personal blade carried
into the battle of the Muir Court. The second had been taken from Edward on
sands of the Muir Court.

           
Mara dipped her hand deeper into the chest and lightly caressed the hilt of her
ancient blade. The silver metal was cold against her fingertips as she ran her
hands along the length of the sword. Entranced, she pressed her palm against
its tip, hissing as the sharp edge sliced through her thin layer of skin. She
raised her hand. A thin stream of blood trickled down her snow-white skin from
a wound which Mara knew, would take a long time to heal. She closed her eyes
tightly and drew a deep breath before placing her hand back inside the golden
chest. This time, she laid her hand flat against the silver, then slowly curled
her long fingers around the black hilt. She tightened her grip, her fingers
gliding into each nook and crevice as though she had held the sword only yesterday.

           
She stood slowly as she lifted the familiar blade, a sense of completeness
washing over her that she had not felt since she had last held it in her hand,
at the edge of an endless sea. She closed her eyes as she raised the sword,
drawing it before her in a slow, graceful arc. With this sword, she had saved
the lives of her men. With this sword, she had avenged the death of her
Princess. And with this blade, she had nearly killed the man she loved. With
this blade, she had…

           
She could see the young boy standing barefoot on the sand. The last living
Prince of the Muir Court, mistaking his killer for his savior. The little boy,
not five years old, staring up at her with a trust which would haunt her for
eternity. Those deep blue eyes streaked with white lines like waves upon the
ocean – the last eyes to ever hold the sea. “Yes, child,” her words echoed
through the silent tower, “I am going to make the bad dream end. All you have
to do is close your eyes.” It was this sword which she had pulled in silence
from its leather sheath, the enchanted blade that would never betray its deadly
purpose. Mara’s hands had trembled as she reached to pull it from her side, but
steadied the moment her fingers had clasped its dark hilt. The boy’s eyes never
opened as she raised the sharp blade high for a downward stroke, her body
easily moving into the familiar gesture even as her mind recoiled from this
most heinous of sins. The blade came down as the clash of striking metal rang
through the air, racing down the beach in the powerful ocean winds.

           
Mara shook her head, recoiling from the memories of that night long ago. She
turned to glance out the window leaning her head into the small opening,
allowing the cold mountain air to clear her mind. She placed the sword upon the
ground before reaching down and removing the diamond from its place in the
golden lock. She slid the blood stained diamond back onto its silver chain and
secured it again her neck. Then she moved back towards the chest. Lying beneath
the second blade lay two leather sheaths which had been crafted to fit each
blade. Mara’s, much like the sword it was created for, was interlaced with the
outline of a line of silver roses while Edward’s had several large black and
white diamonds running down the center. She pulled both sheaths from among the
folds of black cloth and carefully placed each blade in its case. She then
gathered both swords in her arms before beginning the long descent down the
stairs, leaving the small tower to eventually emerge into the same hallway
where she had begun.

           
Mara entered her chambers to find Edward still asleep, his body only partially
covered by the sheets and blankets. She walked forward silently and eased
herself onto the edge of the bed. She gazed down upon his sleeping form for a
long time before reaching forward and brushing the long strands of his hair
back from his cheek. When he did not wake, she kissed his brow before standing
from the bed, placing his Arius blade in the spot where she had lain. She
turned and retrieved her own blade before exiting the room as silently as she
had entered.

           
Mara walked down the hall, requiring only a single left turn before coming to
the door of Brendan’s room. Resisting the need to knock, she opened the door
slowly as it made its familiar
creak
before fully revealing the room
beyond. Everything was in perfect order as Mara stepped into the room. The bed
was made with practiced precision, the thick wool blankets pulled tightly in
place. His books were aligned by their coordinating size along the wooden
shelves against the wall. A pile of papers were stacked neatly upon his desk,
with a single pen lying across them. Even the fireplace which, Mara knew, was
used on an almost nightly basis, was remarkably clean, clear of the ash and
soot which one would expect to find. No pictures covered the walls, save for a
single calendar opened to a scene of a setting sun dipped into an ocean so
blue, serving as almost the only proof that Brendan had ever lived within the
room’s barren walls.

           
She moved closer to the calendar as her eyes trailed toward to the desk. Upon
it lay the only other proof that a person had lived within these walls—a single
portrait. It was small, hand-painted with its age clearly showing, yet it was
there just the same. Mara stepped to the desk and reached forward, raising the
portrait encased in a silver frame gently in her hands. Mara remembered the day
they had commissioned the portrait. It had been Brendan’s request, the single
gift he had been granted upon receiving the rank of Sub-Captain. They stood
there together, Brendan, Mara, Phillip and Mathew. They were standing in front
of  their mountain setting, the portrait having been painted on the
balcony of the room in which Mara currently stood. They were smiling in the
portrait, each expressing a rare moment of companionship which was never
destined to last.

           
Still clutching the portrait, Mara moved to the left side of the room and
pulled back the  curtains which shrouded the entrance to Brendan’s balcony
before opening the  glass door. She stepped out to find that the glimmer
of early morning sunshine had vanished. The sky had transformed to a dark grey,
causing the distant mountains to appear almost ominous in the gathered shadows.
Mara’s black velvet cloak blew gently behind her in the breath of the cold wind
as she moved closer to the balcony’s edge. 

It
was carved of stone lined by thick, stone pillars which had been used to
withstand the test of time. From this side of the castle, Mara found herself
staring across at the very staircase she had climbed to the tower. She leaned
against the black stones that composed the balcony’s edge and after staring out
for several long moments, she slid a leg along the rail, and raised her hand
and pressed her forehead against the palm of her hand and fought back a fresh
round of tears, clutching the small portrait as she shivered in the cold breath
of the mountains.

She
might have spent days on that balcony had a voice not startled her from her
thoughts. “Mara,” the strong voice called as she looked up to find Garreth
standing between the swirling curtains of the glass doors she had failed to
close. Caught off guard, she did not have time to suppress neither the pain in
her expression nor the tears gathered in her eyes. “Mara.” He spoke her name
more gently than before.

           
“What is it, Garreth?”

           
He moved from the curtains and walked towards the rail upon which she sat, her
long dark gown trailing down the balcony’s edge to almost touch the ground. It
was not until he reached her that Mara realized he was not alone. Nolan trailed
tentatively behind him, unsure as to what degree his presence would be
welcomed. 

Surprised
by this unexpected presence, Mara’s eyes flew to her cousin’s, silently
awaiting an explanation for the additional intrusion. Then to her further
surprise, Garreth knelt before her, reached forward and took her hands in his
own, turning her body away from the mountains to face him. “My Lady.” 

“Yes?”

“My
Lady,” he stated again. “I need to speak with you about subjects which I know
you would rather be left unspoken. About events which I know you would rather
leave in the darkest corners of the past. Yet we need to speak of them just the
same.”

She
looked down at him with a sense of foreboding, then stood, pulling her hands
from his grasp. “I’m afraid you are going to have to be more specific, my Lord.
There are several moments of my past which I would just as soon have
forgotten.”

He
gave a slow nod. “Yes, it is true. Yet, despite all the darkness which we have
experienced, there is only one which is forbidden.”

Anger
began to seep into Mara’s tall form, stiffening her stance and creeping into
her voice. “No.” She spoke the single, short word and then turned walking back
through the swirling black curtains. She was caught off guard by the roaring
fire which was now burning brightly inside the room, but paused for no more
than a step before proceeding towards the door. However, before she could reach
the hallway, Garreth had reached her side, grabbing her arm in his powerful
grip. She whirled around, but froze when she saw the look of concern in his
golden eyes. “Please, Mara,” he pleaded. “Just listen, that is all I am
asking.”

She
drew a slow breath before pulling her arm free of his grasp then walked
silently towards the light of the fire’s golden flames. It was not until she
stood close enough to feel its warmth upon her cold skin that she finally
spoke. “Why, Garreth? We both know what happened that night.”

“Yes,”
he replied. “But Nolan does not.”

“This
has nothing to do with him. He is just a boy.”

“Boy
or not,” Garreth replied, “he is a part of this now.”

Mara
turned back to face him. She wanted to say he was lying, that the boy could
still be saved, that he could still escape their shared and inevitable fate.
Yet, she could not seem to form the lie upon her lips.

“Mara,”
Garreth said gently. “You need to tell him.”