14
The flash of the blade caught the green light of the glow sphere. His mother, insane, held the blade. "Come here, dear. Come here."
His father was out telling stories at the Atrium. One thought crashed through all others: Home was supposed to be safe.
The elf queen led J'role up the broad steps of the castle, each one formed from intricately placed, polished white bones. Some of the bones were large, some small, but all seemed strange in a way he could not identify. Thinking they might be the bones of Horrors the elves had killed during the Scourge made him wonder what the Horror in his head actually looked like.
As they walked up the stairs they passed the courtiers and elven magicians who were still positioned at either end of each step. All had thorns growing from their bodies. The magicians stared at J'role with disdain, though their faces bled from the thorns and from the scraping of their flesh against the bark and small branches that grew from their bodies.
When they came to the top of the stairs the elf queen gestured for him to pass through the great doorway. Plunging beyond the thick vine walls of the castle was a great hall under a spell of green twilight. J'role entered, followed by the queen, who touched his shoulder lightly, steering him through the corridors. Vines and trees made up the castle's inner walls, a wild profusion of flowers growing from them. Sometimes the flowers formed flowing patterns, other times they showed scenes of battle or portraits of elves. J'role saw that most of the elves portrayed in the flower scenes had no thorns in their flesh.
At one point a shrubbery walked past them, carrying a tray made of dry leaves. Sitting on the tray were cups, each formed from a thick layer of petals. The shrubbery bowed low to the queen, then continued on its ways
J'role and Queen Alachia then ascended a series of staircases that spiraled around tree trunks. The steps were branches carpeted with vines, and all the windows they passed were adorned with beautiful spider webs. The elves on the ground looked smaller and smaller as J'role and the queen ascended the spiraling stairs. Once he caught a glimpse of his father kneeling on the ground, surrounded by the thorn men. The other elves had moved closer, pointing at Bevarden and laughing. He almost felt a desire to be with him.
But the queen's fingertips rubbed slowly against his shoulder. He let the impulse die quickly.
Finally, after climbing many flights of stairs and traveling down many corridors, they reached the top floor of the castle. A long hall extended before them, the walls lined with tree branches that served as shelves. The shelves contained amulets and rings and gowns and silver cloth and countless other items that J’role suspected had served as gifts to the queen, and perhaps the rulers who had come before her.
At the end of the corridor were double doors made from white rose bushes. The queen pushed the door open and J'role entered a magnificent bed chamber. The room had only three walls. Opposite the door, in the place where the fourth wall would have been, was nothing but a wide empty space. J'role crossed the floor, a springy surface made of tightly woven vines, and then stood staring out into the open space.
Below him the top of the elven forest stretched on and on, forming a vast landscaping of shifting leaves. Beyond the forest lay all the brown of the world, the lands left dead by the Scourge. The stark contrast of the dead world against the forest made J'role reconsider his original fear of the forest. The abundance of life still disturbed him but he wondered what a world covered in trees would be like, and then he thought it might be wonderful.
"A beautiful view," the elf queen said, suddenly behind him. He felt her breath on his neck, and then her lips touching his flesh, rubbing slightly, dry and arousing. The thorns along her body pricked lightly against his back as she pressed closer and ran her hands down his arms.
Though he knew what would happen, he leaned back into her, desperate for her warmth to envelop him. The thorns on her body bit into his back, sending a delicious pain through his body. Yes, delicious, and so intense that he arched his back and uttered a low moan.
The creature in his thoughts purred like a cat, bathing luxuriously in the agony.
This was it, then, the touch and the pleasure and the pain, and J’role thought he could die at that moment; impale himself on the queen's beautiful body and know the pleasure he had always wanted while gaining a final rest so he would never feel longing again. Could anyone want more?
She gently raked her hand along his chest, tearing his shirt open, drawing thin lines of red along his dark flesh. Though the temptation was great, J'role said nothing, only hummed through tightly clenched lips.
She leaned in next to his ear, the morns on her throat pressing into the skin at the back of his neck. "No words of encouragement?"
He sighed.
“I know you can talk," she said, and the tip of her tongue pressed lightly against the inside of his ear. Her warm breath made him jerk, her thorns tearing his flesh. "What are you afraid of? What is it that you wish to keep me from knowing?" She removed her hands from his chest and he saw they were now smeared with streaks of blood. The leather thong was still looped about her hand, and she loosened it and slipped the ring onto her finger. She sighed and drew him tightly to her. He let out a soft gasp, but pressed himself even closer. Tears of pain formed and rolled down his face. He bit his lip to prevent himself from screaming, yet the pleasure was perfect.
'This ring.. ," she said, raking his flesh with the thorns in her hands. "I remember this ring. . from so long ago. . I was only a small child-four hundred, five hundred years ago-we made this for a city. Yes, Parlainth. I haven't thought about it in so long." As she suddenly pulled back, J'role felt the sticky blood pulling between their bodies.
"Why?" she asked, her voice distant and distracted. "Why haven't I thought of it for so long?"
Then, abruptly she turned him around, stared into his eyes-Ah, to be looked at with such desire! How wonderful! — and pulled him close. They kissed. The thorns drove deep into him now, but he did not dare stop for fear she would not kiss him a second time.
But even as they kissed, he realized she was not responding to her desire for him. Instead, she was using him to fulfill the desire created by the ring on her finger.
It did not matter. J'role would take her love in any form. She pulled away, blood on her face. She swayed as she tried to stay in control, gasping for air. "Where did you get this?
What do you know of Parlainth?"
He leaned forward to kiss her again, but she backed away, smiling. "You want me?" Her white gown, now smeared with his blood, parted easily as her hand pulled at the collar.
He stepped toward her, and she retreated once- more. "Tell me where you got the ring. I haven't thought about Parlainth for so long. Not since. ." She paused, lost in memories, and J'role nearly reached her. But she left her reverie just in time to leap up onto the bed a rectangular hammock made of vines and matted with a thick layer of broad green leaves.
"Not since we helped them. ." A memory seemed to come to her, and she smiled. Her face immediately contorted from the pain of the thorns.
"We built the ring," she said ignoring him completely now. "And the dwarfs cut the stones for the walls. The walls held the magic to hide the city, and the ring. ." She stared down at it, and then looked up at him. "You may go now."
He swallowed. He spread his arms wide, asking for an explanation. Warm blood turned cold and wet as it dripped down his body. The pain began in earnest without the intensity of the moment to sustain him. He stepped toward the bed.