The Volcanic Rose

By Renee Duke

The medallion has found the one it seeks. In Italy to attend a family wedding, Paige, Dane, and Jack’s final time trip takes them to a waiting Varteni, who is living in Herculaneum in the path of an already rumbling Mt. Vesuvius. But getting Varteni and her two young charges to safety is the least of their worries.

They’re not the only ones to have finally located her. Their nemesis, Khatcheres, has too, and is preparing to move against her and seize control of Time. To defeat him, the Line of the Restorer must unite and call upon every resource available.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BWL Publishing Inc.
• Release date: Oct 26, 2017
• ISBN: 9781773628639

Renee Duke

Renee Duke grew up in Ontario/B.C., Canada and Berkshire, England. Due to a treacherous re-drawing of county lines while she was out of the country, her little English market town is now in Oxfordshire, but she’s still a Berkshire girl at heart.After qualifying as an Early Childhood Educator, she went on to work with children of all ages in a number of capacities, including a stint in Belize, Central America with World Peace and Development. These days she still does occasional interactive history units with 6- to12-year-olds at an after-school care centre but is otherwise retired and able to concentrate on writing.Renee's BWL Publishing eBook titles are available in all the major markets and her print books can be found in local bookstore. For more information about Renee's books including blurbs, reviews and purchase links, please visit her website:http://www.reneeduke.ca/ReneeDuke.htm

Book preview

The Volcanic Rose

Time Rose Book 5

By Renee Duke

Digital ISBNs

EPUB 978-1-77362-863-9

Kindle 978-1-77362-864-6

WEB 978-1-77362-865-3

Amazon Print 978-1-77362-866-0

Print 978-1-77362-867-7

Copyright 2017 by Renee Duke

Cover art by Michelle Lee

Cover rose image by Marion Sipe, Copyright 2013

Cover model photography by Stacey Parker, Copyright 2015

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

Dedication

To my models, Antonella Feeny, Teryl Bates, and Gabriel L’Heureux, in appreciation of all the work they put into the Time Rose series. And to Antonella’s dog, Diesel, who appears on the cover of this book. Sadly, he has gone astray and is much missed.

Acknowledgements

The author would like to thank Gio Basso and Doreen and Dino Corlazzoli for their Italian translations; syilx elder, Wilfred ‘Grouse’ Barnes, for his syilx translation; Professor David Dendy, M.A., Department of History, Okanagan College, for his Latin translations and historical insights; and Mimma Macri for her in-depth information on Herculaneum, Vesuvius, and beyond. I would also like to thank Emanuele Vaccarini of the Gruppo Storico Romano (Roman Gladiator School); equestrian guide, Alessia Del Treste, of the Cavaliera di Gai (Knights of Gaia), and Lucia Pinelli of Il Fontanaro Organic Farm for valuable contributions in their areas of expertise, and Lorella Novello and Sofia Novello Gergen for their wonderful Italian hospitality.

Family support throughout the creative process was very much appreciated, too, as was input from my editor, Catherine Brown, critiquer, Jonas Saul, and beta readers, M.D., Pat Phipps, and Linda Rogers.

Special thanks to Patti Di Maria, who allowed us to shoot the book’s cover in her family’s lovely Roman garden, seamstress, Glenda Bissonnette, who made the tunics and robes, my cover artist, Michelle Lee, my photographer, Stacey Parker, my touch-up artist, Summer Bates, and my cover models, Antonella Feeny, Teryl Bates, Gabriel L’Heureux, Jacob Griffin, Mila Smith, Annabella Feeny, and Emiliano Feeny.

’Tis for youth to call its own,

By speaking words in proper tone.

And up to five times be guided,

To those whose fate be not decided.

For divers lives must come to blend,

Ere the roses’ peregrinations end.

Rhyme on the box containing

the Time Rose medallion

Prologue

Seated before an ornate writing desk, a young girl dipped an ornate pen into an ornate inkwell. One of the expensive, new-fangled, metal-nib pens her governess deplored, but her indulgent papa had supplied after only a small amount of wheedling. But she deemed it fitting her final disclosures be written with an instrument of the future. Those for whom they were intended belonged to the future. Though not yet born, it was they who would eventually discover, decipher, and act upon the insights she prayed would lead to the fulfilment of a vow made by an ancestor in a time long past.

Back in that time, centuries before this girl lived, a youth quaked before his master, whose fiery eyes bore into him, angry and accusing.

Worthless wretch. You are of even less use to me than the halfwit once in the service of that pathetic tiller of the earth who so grandiosely claims to be a mage. Your lack of judgement could prove disastrous. All I asked of you was that you find me a mercenary tribe capable of defeating the odious line serving the interests of Abaven’s heir. A task that was obviously beyond you.

B-But Titus Herne possessed all the attributes you sought, Master. Vain, arrogant, heartless, and…and greedy beyond measure. Several of his descendants were of like character. They—

—failed. And have now been rendered close to helpless. Had I been able to make the selection myself, instead of being forced to place it in the hands of someone so incompetent, I would not now stand to lose my heart’s desire.

Or gain, Master. If we can but find the girl, you could still gain it.

Oh, I intend to, Vasag. Despite your bungling, I intend to. Either her own folly or the arrival of the medallion’s persistent young acolytes will lead me to her. But obtaining his powers will be no small task, for those acolytes will not stand idly by and allow it. They have proved that time and time again. Should they manage to circumvent my only remaining barriers to their meddling, their aid could greatly strengthen Varteni’s resistance during the transference, thus making it more difficult for me to wrest Abaven’s legacy from her. The little man’s face contorted with rage. Begone. I have much to ponder.

The youth fled.

Nearby, a younger boy observed the scene and chanced a small smile.

Far off in another land, a young girl set down a heavy basket and looked up, sensing both the older youth’s distress and the younger’s exhilaration. Even so, she knew the latter, like herself, still felt some apprehension regarding what was about to happen. Now, at the time of its impending implementation, would their masters’ plan truly succeed?

And, in yet another land, in a time pre-dating both the others by millennia, another young girl stood atop a hill. She, too, knew what was about to unfold.

The culmination is at hand. Do you stand ready? she inquired of one who shared her blood, but not her era.

The reply came without hesitation.

Yes.

Chapter One

"‘As the legacy comes to be redeemed,

Little shall be as it once seemed.

But this of the old ones’ wisdom tells,

For this was always a game of shells.’"

Seated in the lobby of a hotel in the heart of Rome, two young Canadian tourists listened intently as their English cousin recited this rhyme.

Any thoughts? ten-year-old Jack Taisley inquired upon completing it.

Not at the moment, Paige Marchand confessed. Like most of Aurea-Rose’s verses, the meaning’s a bit obscure. She sighed. Just when we thought we’d got them all figured out, you and Uncle Trevor had to go and find some more in a secret compartment within her Little Box of Rhymes and Reasons. Maybe we should try another.

Jack obliged.

"‘’Tis essential to recognize

Both friend and foe as these arise.

For some will help, and some impede,

As ’twas long ago decreed.

Strive always then to be perceptive.

Appearances can be deceptive.

Pleasant demeanour can a black heart hide,

And in one scorned, true worth reside.’"

This time, Paige didn’t hesitate. Well, that one’s obviously a major warning, but we’re already on the look-out for people we can’t trust, so it might just be one of the cautionary rhymes whose significance has passed. Throw out another.

"‘On the day final seekers and sought one meet,

Those seekers must not their strength deplete.

For if the age of the eldest be not beneath the span

Of the rose tree’s own years when all this began,

The segment of power the disruptor did snare

Could a crucial alliance with all seekers impair.’"

"Hmm. Well, Professor Azarian told us Varteni was about fourteen when Abaven started working with her. If she was fourteen, we maybe have to get to her before I turn fourteen a few days from now. If we don’t, we might not be able to. Or might not be able to help her much, even if we do. Khatcheres could have used the statue shard he grabbed to cast a spell to that effect. And if he did… Paige paused. If he did, it would explain why he tried to shift my birthday when he was interfering with our personal timelines. If I’d been born a couple of months earlier, I’d already be fourteen."

Makes sense, agreed Paige’s brother, Dane, who was just three weeks short of being twelve. So we’d better not waste any time making a trip into the past. What about the last one, Jack?

"‘The final tapestry was designed

To be not to one thread confined.

And any who happen to miss their chance

Should later be invited to the dance.

Even those with close ties may attend

And to the others their strength lend

In holding back the threat that looms

Around the tree about to bloom.

Aiding the chosen as power disperses

And to the intended at last traverses.

And should this cause an additional plight,

A trip deferred will put all to rights.’"

Paige frowned. Nothing’s jumping out at me. Except, the ‘final tapestry’ has to refer to the culmination. We know that’s coming. We know we’re going to find Varteni on our next trip. And have another showdown with Khatcheres.

Khatcheres was a first century Armenian sorcerer. Considered a rather second-rate practitioner of magic in his own time, he greatly coveted the powers of one of his contemporaries—a formidable old mage named Abaven. Abaven knew this and, when his end was near, thwarted his rival’s ambitions by sealing his strongest powers into a statue of an eagle, there to remain until a successor of his own choosing was old enough to accede to them. He then stepped up the training of an apprentice mage named Varteni, and gave her, and her alone, the ability to release his powers from the statue upon reaching her sixteenth birthday. Unfortunately, enslavement by the Romans in seventy-seven AD took her far from home and lessened her chances of being in a position to do so.

Paige, Dane, and Jack belonged to a time travelling family who’d been looking for Varteni for generations, using an inscribed medallion that was one of several pieces of jewellery made from a melted down segment of the eagle statue, a segment broken off when Khatcheres tried to appropriate the powers within. Along the way, young seekers from the Line of the Restorer—referred to as such in a privately published family storybook written in the Victorian era—had helped restore the timelines of children whose lives had been affected by the damage.

Paige and the boys had recently managed to restore the last of them, and Keeper Pieces owned by the young people they’d helped, or, in one instance, been helped by, had either been presented to them just before they returned to their own time or left where they could find them. Since these Pieces were likely to be required for the culmination—the point at which Varteni was supposed to call up Abaven’s powers, and the point at which Khatcheres was certain to try to usurp those powers—their acquisition seemed to serve as confirmation that the children’s next time connection would be to Varteni.

Another reason to think so was that there were now five living generations of Time Rose Travellers, the oldest being the children’s almost one hundred-and-six-year old great-great-great aunt, Rosetta Wolverton—known to all as Grantie Etta—and Grantie Etta’s one hundred-and-one-year-old cousin, Aurelia Marsden. The next generation was represented by their great-grandmother, Emmeline Hollingsworth, the next by their grandfather, Avery Hollingsworth, and his brother Edmond, and the next by Uncle Edmond’s son Trevor. The children themselves made up the fifth, and one of Aurea-Rose’s verses they were already familiar with stated:

When generations five remain alive,

Deliverance is near.

And the rose tree will its role fulfil,

If all can persevere.

In anticipation of the time trip that would lead to the culmination, Jack had brought the medallion to Rome with him, and the rest of the Keeper Pieces were coming with Uncle Edmond, who was due to arrive in a few days to meet with the daughter of one of his friends. Currently living in Rome, Anoush Azarian dealt in ancient artefacts and was eager to view the ones her father had found so intriguing when he’d examined them some months earlier.

That was not, however, why the children were in Rome. They, along with their parents and maternal grandparents, had stopped off in the Eternal City to do some sightseeing before going on to Naples to attend the wedding of Paige and Dane’s cousin, Mallory, daughter of their father’s older brother Neil. The Marchands had rated an invitation because they were closely related to the bride, the Taisleys because Gareth Taisley and Augusta-Hollingsworth Taisley had been the English groom’s favourite professors at university. They both liked young Tyrone Kirby, and would have accepted even if the date hadn’t coincided with the end of their students’ spring exams and a week-long school break for Jack.

As for Granny and Granddad, they had been invited because Tyrone had Italian blood on his mother’s side and they were friends of his grandparents, Basilio and Eliana Miraldi. The four had met in Rome when a much younger Granny and Grandad had been working as research assistants to an English historian penning what Granddad claimed was an extremely scholarly, and therefore extremely boring, book on Ancient Roman pisciculture. Less formally known as fish farming.

Tyrone’s grandparents and other Italian relatives were housing some of the foreigners on the guest list, but the Marchands, Taisleys, and Hollingsworths had accepted an offer from Mr. Marchand’s older sister, Trish. Aunt Trish and her Italian husband, Sergio Gallo, operated a small hotel overlooking the Bay of Naples, and the provision of some guest accommodation was their wedding present to Mallory and Tyrone.

But that was for Naples. In Rome, accommodation was looking less certain. Even though the Taisleys and Hollingsworths had arrived at the hotel two hours earlier, they’d put off checking in until the Marchands got there. At which point the entire party was informed their reservations were introvabile— nowhere to be found. The adults were now at the reception desk trying to sort out what Granny was sure was just ‘a little misunderstanding’, and the three children were seated in the lobby awaiting the all-clear to go up to their rooms.

If they had any.

Dad’s getting aerated, Paige observed, as Mr. Marchand’s voice started to increase in volume. Doesn’t take much these days. He just finished work on a nightmare of a project. Everything that could go wrong did. His nerves are frazzled and Mum wants him to just relax while we’re here. Doesn’t sound like he’s getting off to a good start.

Mr. Marchand was a filmmaker specializing in historical documentaries and docudramas. The children often acted in them, and had been disappointed to learn he had no Ancient Roman project in the works to provide them with the correct attire for the time period they expected to visit. Fortunately, they’d been able to come up with an alternative source. Knowing her fourteenth birthday was likely to be overshadowed by her cousin’s nuptials, Paige had talked her parents into throwing her a ‘Roman party’ after the happy couple’s big day—with birthday girl and guests decked out in suitably Roman fashion.

Did your mum manage to find you something a little less fancy than the long robe you e-mailed us a picture of? Paige asked Jack, her thoughts turning, as the thoughts of young people with upcoming birthdays often will, to this very subject.

"No. That was all the shop had in my size. And you know she wasn’t about to make me anything."

The others nodded. Aunt Augusta’s distaste for sewing was well known.

You’re going to look way more affluent than we are, said Dane, whose own mother liked to sew, and had come up with a short grey tunic for him and a mid-length white robe for Paige.

Jack shrugged. "Talis vita est, he replied, using the Latin for ‘such is life.’ You’ll just have to be poor relations."

Jack had a high IQ, and could speak several languages, both ancient and modern. Paige and Dane were only fluent in French and English but had been studying Latin for about ten months. Spurred on by the knowledge it would probably be helpful to them on their final time trip, they had gone at it wholeheartedly and were now fairly proficient.

Dane punched him on the arm. "We’re