Briar

Ch. 2 An End

Azzelbreth was not a typical old man. Yes, he had a beard white as snow, no hair to speak of on his head, and was thinner than was probably healthy. But none of his vigor and sprit had gone out of him. He was a great friend to Jonas and Rose. He taught them the cool things that every little kid wants to know, like where to find tad poles and how to make mold grow. Azzel told them of places far across the world; places were no man, only wizards, had seen. He told them of the jobs he had been on, and the great going-ons in the world of royalty. Like the great scandal where Queen Jenny cheated on her husband, Arthur.
As they got older and Jonas became more and more skilled a wizard, he began to accompany Azzelbreth on his expeditions. Azzel joked that Jonas would have put him out of business if he looked the part of a wizard (Jonas hated wizard’s robes and always demanded that he wear his normal trousers and tunic) or had a more friendly disposition. Jonas might have been a ridiculously good wizard, but he was very weary of the world. He did not like going outside of Numberland, and for the most hated socializing with anyone he did not know. He would have been content never to leave Numberland. Jonas’s freedom was the one thing that Rose was jealous of. While Jonas, who was more seclusionary than a mole, got to go everywhere; Rose, who wanted more than anything to travel, could not even go shopping in the village. But the bond between the two young people still held strong. Neither would let jealous ruin what they had. Jonas gave her detailed reports of his trips although Azzel’s descriptions where much more vivid. This was forced to be enough for Rose. But when Rose was just 16 all traffic out of Numberland ceased.
Azzel was very old; no one knew for sure how old, may be not even Azelbreth himself. If he did know he took his secret to his grave. He had gone quickly and silently in the night. No sickness. A stony grief overtook Jonas; Azzel had been like a father to him. He blamed himself for not being able to save Azzel. What was the point of being a great wizard if he couldn’t protect the people he loved? Mrs. Happershap told Rose that it was just his time to go, but that consolation didn’t stop her from crying for three days.
Everyone assembled in their best for the funeral. Jonas donned his wizarding robes for the first time to perform the formal wizard burial. Kings and Queens, Dukes and Counts, well to do men and not so well off women. All the people who Azzelbreth had touched came to see him returned to the soil from which all things sprang. The castle was full. There was no rest for the people who had loved him most. Always someone needed to be fed or their fire needed to be stirred or some little bit of laundry needed to be done. Rose didn’t sleep for almost a week, constantly at the beck and call of little princesses. Jonas’s time was no better spent in constant company entertaining some new dignitary when all he wanted to do was curl away from the world. Even during the funeral, which everyone agreed was beautiful, there was no peace. Jonas stood up: his black robes shimmering; his blond locks floating in the slight wind. The sunlight reflected off of the flames as Jonas committed Azzelbreth’s body to the land where he had lived so long. But this was only hearsay for all of the Fonderals and Happershaps, they were all needed to cook the funeral dinner. The men roasted the meat while Mrs. Fonderal controlled the rest of the cooking. Rose and her mother were her slaves. Once this was done, they served every person of importance in Numberland. The meal itself was held at the grand table which had not been used for at least a decade. Everyone was talking lively and laughing. Their wine glasses always full. The funeral of Azzelbreth was hailed to be a great success and lasted long into the night.
By the time the last of the guest made their way upstairs all of the residents of Numberland were on autopilot. They quickly cleaned and then to bed to get a few hours of sleep before they had to rise to make breakfast. Rose went in search of Jonas. She had only seen him in passing all day. Never had they gone a day without talking. It didn’t seem right to go to bed without it. And today she needed him more than ever before.
She found him still in the grand hall. All alone in his high backed chair, staring blankly at the far wall that could barely be made out.
“Jonas … What are you still doing here?” But she knew what he was doing. He was grieving. Grieving for his new position so unjustly given to him. Grieve that his master, his friend was dead. Grieving that he was now the one forced to take the seat at the head of the table. Grieving for his inability to save him. “You can’t think like this Jonas. There was nothing you could do.”
Rose came to his seat; her footsteps echoing on the tiled floor. She put a calloused, dainty hand on his soft cheek, turning his head to hers.
“It’s not your fault.” Disbelieving eyes stared into her own. Tears began to well. How could his stay so dry?
“What would you know of magic? A servant.” His harsh word resounded in the large room. Her eyes fell and so did her hand. “What would you know of the world? Of life or of death? You know nothing.”
“I know only what Azzel taught me.” Her brows knitted together; her eyes hardening against this pain before she lifted her head in pride. “Not even you can fight the circle of life.” Rose spun in her heel making her way back to the servant’s entrance, a cleverly hidden door. A door she had not used until this night.
“Even I know that Jonas.” She gave him a final look, and she saw herself reflected in his hopeless eyes. Red eyed, pale skin with dark bags, and black hair only barely constrained. He didn’t look much better. “Get some sleep. Okay? I,” she paused before pushing through her closed windpipe, “I couldn’t bear to lose you both.”
She closed the door softly behind her, giving it a cushion of air. Her mother’s word rang in her head: Even in exit, a servant must be invisible.
Jonas was left alone with his guilt. His mind rolled over Rose’s words; they sounded shockingly like Azzel’s. Jonas knew he was making her worry, and was doubly shamed for calling her a servant when she had never been one to him. If anything she greatly surpassed him in everything. Jonas remembered learning to read with his cousins and how they had teased him for being so dumb. The beatings for not being able to keep up. But Rose, well, he smiled. He remembered their first winter holed up in the library. She had been so determined to get to his level. She had been so cute brushing through the hard words with false bravo, pronouncing them completely wrong. But before spring had sprung, she could get through a text as quickly as he could. They still spent full evenings in the back to the library reading, seeing who could finish an obscure text faster.
Jonas’s mind flashed back to Azzelbreth raising his eyebrow at the two of them because he should have been practicing not reading with Rose. Azzel’s face lit up as he told them of his grand adventures back when dragon’s still roamed. Jonas tightened his face as it felt like it was going to fall apart. A sob made its way through his clenched jaw.
Suddenly, Jonas stood up. Fists forming at his sides. His eyes darted to the door looking for escape. He started for it; every few steps he would trip a little over his robe. Even that slight inconvenience reminded him of Azzel, reminding him that this was Azzel’s robe, and Jonas was still too short to fit in it. Tears began to make their way down his cheeks, blinding him. Somehow, he made his way through the tall, cherry wood double doors and stumbled up the winding stairs, down a very curvy hall.
He pushed open the doors to the library with his whole body. There was no strength left him in. His muscles felt like they were about to slide off his bones. Limbs twitched, he had become a huddled mass, a black blob. Jonas pushed himself along the rows of books, trying to get to that one place where everything was okay. He came to the end of the library with an abrupt halt. There on the couch that had held them through so many stormy days, was Rose. She looked up at him as if she could feel his presence although it was more likely that she just heard him. The pre-dawn light streamed through the large windows that framed this corner. Her hair seemed blue; her skin glowing, and her tears reflecting like starlight. Her blue unfocused eyes caught his and crumpled in pain. She was spread out on their couch, curled into the fetal position.
“Rose.” It came out as a whisper, a prayer, a plea for entry. Her lids slowly closed over her leaking eyes. Jonas drew closer to her, and finally fell to the floor before the lady. His own tears were flowing steadily as he put his hand on her face, a mirror image of her earlier touch. “Rose,” he whispered. Her eyes fluttered open for a brief second before collapsing again. Exhaustion claimed her again.
“Forgive me.” Not even Jonas knew if it was for his harsh words or for Azzel’s death. The only response to his whispered request was for her to snuggle into the soaked cushion. Slowly as if too fast an action would break him in half, Jonas moved closer and he softly brushed his pale, trembling lips to her wet ones. “Please.”
With that Jonas lay down on the thickly carpeted floor. They lay for a long time unforgiven and rejected. His eyes closed, and, like Rose, his tears made their way out long after he was sleeping.

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Sorry that this one is late. I totally forgot. I'll remember this week promise. Sorry again.