The Sorrow Anthology

by Helen Allan

  “Mother says he must marry soon. His parents’ despair of him finding his true love where he is, out on the fringes of the up-world – she says he will return soon to start a family and begin his royal duties.”

  “Oooooh,” another swooned breathlessly as he whirled by, his arms encircling a glowing young debutante as they circled the room in their dance which seemed something akin, at least to Sorrow’s eyes, to a cross between a waltz and the rhumba.

  She tried not to laugh out loud.

  In the weeks she had lived in Micah’s barracks and more latterly, his castle, she had learned much about him. The main thing she knew was that he enjoyed living and working with the cadets, had no inclination whatsoever to return to the city and take up his title, and felt that the title itself was an archaic left-over from centuries gone by, with no real purpose. He had joined the military at 18, as all his ancestors had done, but done so willingly and with the firm hope that it would take him away from the parties, the vacuous conversations and the lifestyle of the rich and famous that his royal title ensured. And he was inordinately happy that this was exactly what it had done over the past decade.

  His parents though, thought the opposite. His mother especially; and grandchildren were high on their agendas.

  Micah and Sorrow had been discussing the matter just that morning as they walked his parents’ extensive garden grounds. Sorrow had been touched and surprised when he picked her a flower. No man had ever given her flowers; not even one plucked from a garden.

  “So, you don’t wish to marry, but this ball is aimed at showing off all the new debutants in the hope that one catches your eye?” she smirked, sniffing the honey-scent of the blossom.

  “That is my mother’s hope, yes.”

  “You could always marry and then return to the barracks? A man must work.”

  “No. When I marry my job will be to undertake princely duties, opening hospitals, attending charity fundraisers, the kinds of things that make life really worth living,” he chuckled.

  Sorrow joined in his laughter.

  “And what of you? Are you married? I am sorry that this is not something I asked you sooner. No doubt you would be keen to return to the surface if you left behind your life’s partner.”

  “No,” Sorrow shook her head, trying not to think of Anhur and imagining Micah’s response if she told him the truth:

  ‘I was married, but he turned out to be a monster, and I watched as his head was cut off – destined to become a meal.’

  Instead, she opted for partial truth.

  “I was married. He died.”

  “Did you have any children?”

  Sorrow swallowed hard, the memory of her miscarriage still raw.

  “No.”

  “Have I said something to upset you?” he frowned, turning to her, their walk through the hedgerows momentarily stalled.

  “Ugh, no,” Sorrow smiled, looking up at him, “just memories. You know.”

  As she said this, she noticed his eyes flick from hers to her lips. She could smell his scent in the close confines of the garden where they stood between two tall hedges. He smelled of musk, and pollen and something else delicious she couldn’t put her finger on, almost ginger, or maybe cloves – whatever it was, it drew her into him without her realising it. She wanted, very badly, to kiss him.

  He smiled and stepped back.

  “Don’t get too close,” he cautioned, his eyes laughing, “I wouldn’t want to think you were being drawn in by my scent.”

  Sorrow swallowed and nodded, her face flushing as she looked down at her shoes.

  “Were you?” he asked, his voice still gentle, but hinting at real curiosity.

  “I think I was,” she laughed, looking up at him, “you do smell nice – is that a problem?”

  He stared at her for a moment, frowning, before reaching out and taking her hand.

  They continued their walk for some time, silent, hand-in-hand.

  Now, watching him dance, Sorrow shook her head at the direction her mind was taking. She wanted him; there was no denying it. She was as attracted to him as the rest of the female Nãga who circled him like bees to a flower.

  She took another sip of her drink and studied the gowns the women wore. Unlike human women, Nãga females did not have breasts, did not breastfeed when their babies were born, because apparently, the babies were born with teeth and could eat whole food, although soft, straight away. Lacking breasts though did not in any way detract from the women’s attractiveness. They were winsome and lithe, their scales and spikes, not as prominent as the men, were shiny and beautiful, as though they wore jewels constantly, and their eyes and faces were as varied, and in many cases, as beautiful as any human woman Sorrow had seen.

  She was busy studying them when a woman sat down to her right and spoke to her.

  “You are one of the lucky ones,” she laughed.

  “Really?” Sorrow turned and smiled at the woman. She wore a long, dark-green gown of some sort of soft material that perfectly matched the colour of her eyes, and a necklace featuring what looked to Sorrow like a large Emerald. Her return smile was friendly. “How so?”

  “You do not feel compelled to throw yourself at Micah’s feet and dance until your own bleed for his favour.”

  “Ugh, no, you are right,” Sorrow laughed ruefully, “although, in fairness, he has not asked me to dance.”

  ‘Throw myself at him though, yeah, I’ve considered that.’

  She shook her head and laughed at her own idiocy.

  “Indeed,” the Nãga woman said, now serious, “perhaps he is not aware that a creature such as yourself knows our customs.”

  “Oh, we dance on Earth,” Sorrow smiled, “although you are right, I’ve never seen steps like these before – I’d need some serious lessons before I could cut the rug like he can.”

  “Indeed,” the woman laughed, “but we do not cut any rugs in this dance; this is a mating ritual.”

  “Oh,” Sorrow gasped, shocked, “I didn’t know.”

  “Oh, yes. We Nãga are drawn to our prince by his pheromones, his scent. Those who find his smell irresistible will be ready to accept his eggs, their bodies preparing automatically. Dancing with him gives him the opportunity to smell us – when he finds the one that he also cannot resist, he will marry, and they will have children.”

  “You make it sound like it is inevitable you have babies,” Sorrow quipped, trying not to sound as judgmental as she felt, or as sick as she felt at the thought she had admitted to him that she was drawn to his scent.

  ‘Oh fuck, what must he think?’

  “Oh, but it is, surely,” the woman chuckled, unaware of Sorrow’s inner torture, “for once in the bedroom who could resist such a mate?”

  “Indeed,” Sorrow mused, “wait, did you say eggs? You know, on Earth I am a doctor. The physiology of those I meet on new planets interests me in many ways. Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Of course,” the woman laughed.

  “How do you make babies here? And, secondly, don’t you have birth control?”

  The Nãga’s peals of laughter echoed loudly, drawing eyes from throughout the room as Sorrow once again blushed a deep red.

  “Control, yes, some of us have it,” the woman said, when she finally reigned in her mirth, “but few would have it with him,” she nodded in Micah’s direction where he was speaking to another, older Nãga, his eyes though, on Sorrow and her companion.

  Sorrow smiled as he nodded to her before turning his attention back to the man he was speaking to.

  ‘Note to self. Ask one of the cadets about eggs and birth control when I return to the barracks. Second note to self, stop lusting after someone who possibly hatched from an egg and who probably has something very bizarre down his pants.’

  Sorrow paced her bedroom and chewed her lip. The ball had ended hours ago, and yet she could not sleep, she had too many questions whizzing around in her brain, too much energy.

  At lea
st, she mused, she was comfortable now, wearing just knickers and a T-shirt that she had retrieved from her Earth pack – her gear having been returned to her by the captain months prior.

  The knock on her door took her by surprise, but forgetting her state of dress, she opened it immediately.

  “You were not asleep?” he frowned.

  “No.”

  “Do you want to go for a walk in the garden?”

  “At this time of night?”

  “I feel like I need some air,” he laughed, raising his hands in supplication, “I thought you might too.”

  “I need air,” she sighed, smiling, “and I need to get some energy out. I sat all night and watched your mating dances.”

  “Ah, so you were told of our rituals,” he laughed, holding out his hand to her.

  “Did you, uh, smell anyone you liked?” she asked, taking his hand without question, but making no move to leave the room.

  “Yes,” he said, his eyes intense.

  Sorrow couldn’t help herself; she took a deep breath and pulled him into the room, pressing herself to him and kissing him deeply.

  His response took her by surprise as he pulled her tighter to him and explored her mouth. Her fingers left his shoulders, as she ran her hands up the side of his smooth neck, gripping the large spikes that ran in a central line down his skull and opening her mouth to his probing tongue. As the kiss deepened and she bent into him, feeling the long, hard length of his body against hers, she moaned, and he pulled back.

  “This is wrong.”

  “So wrong,” she breathed.

  He laughed and kissed her again, softly, sweetly, but sweet was not what she wanted, her body afire with need for him.

  “Micah,” she tore her lips from his and whispered into his ear, “I want you.”

  “Want me?” he smirked, his hands running up her back, underneath her shirt and feeling the soft skin along her spine. “So smooth,” he murmured, “I couldn’t have imagined skin feeling this way.”

  “Yes, I know, yours feels amazing too, I want to, uh, sleep with you.”

  “I thought we just ascertained neither of us was sleepy.”

  “No, I mean,” she groped for the words she was looking for, “I want to, I suppose, mate with you.”

  “Oh.”

  He withdrew his hands from underneath her shirt and took a step back, shaking his head.

  “That is not something, not something I think you will be able to do,” he frowned, stepping back through the open door hastily.

  “But,” Sorrow reached for him, “surely we can’t have that many differences, physically I mean,” she cast a meaningful look at his bulging pants.

  He took a deep breath and put his hands on his hips, looking at her sternly.

  “You don’t know what you ask.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “I…”

  Sorrow frowned as he turned and strode away, his sentence left hanging.

  “What the?” she whispered, slamming the door and turning to throw herself onto the vast bed, “mother-fucking fuck?”

  Sorrow read through the library in astonishment. The only sounds, apart from the ticking of the clock on the wall, her occasional gasp at a new revelation and the flicking of pages as she poured over Nãga medical textbooks, stunned.

  She had been reading since first light when she had heard a tap on her door and opened it, hoping to see Micah. Instead, she found a note pinned to the panels with a hand-drawn mud map showing the way through the vast corridors of the castle to the library, and a list of numbers directing her to a shelf full of reference books. She had expected him to be there, but he was not, and it was now late afternoon.

  As she stood now, absorbed in her study, she didn’t hear the door open and was unaware she was being watched until she heard a throat clear.

  Looking up, she saw Micah leaning against the door jamb, watching her, his eyes full of laughter.

  “What has you so shocked, Earth doctor?” he chuckled moving into the room, “no, wait,” he held up his hand to stall her answer, “let me guess. You found what you were seeking, and it was not what you expected.”

  Sorrow put the book down and walked towards where he now leant on the desk.

  “I’m so sorry, Micah. I had no idea what I was asking you when I suggested we sleep together.”

  “How could you?” he said, his voice deep, but his eyes still full of humour as he pulled her to him and ran his nose and lips up the side of her cheek and back down to her lips, kissing her gently.

  She shivered as his tail ran up the back of her leg, stroking her from her calf muscle to the top of her thigh, and back again.

  “I have so many questions still,” she shook her head, looking up at him, one hand resting on his broad chest, appreciating the smooth silkiness of his scales.

  “Fire away, metaphorically speaking, alien creature.”

  “I don’t quite understand,” she ran her hand down his chest, stopping just above his pubic bone and tucking her fingers into the top of his pants, teasingly, “you don’t have sex, in the way that humans do, but you do have sex – although not for pleasure.”

  “We don’t,” he chuckled, “we only enter a female to procreate. We can choose to absorb the DNA of a mate, and we fertilise our own eggs this way. The eggs are transferred to the woman’s body at three months, for maturation and ultimately birth, another three months later.”

  “Eggs plural?”

  “We usually have six.”

  “Huh,” she chewed her lip as she thought this through. The babies, she knew, were tiny when born, no larger than a rat, and yet fully formed little individuals capable of far more than human babies were at birth.”

  “When you say, transferred….?” she left the word hanging.

  “We have an ovipositor,” he smiled gently, and the eggs are deposited internally.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “No,” he laughed, “from what I hear, it is deeply pleasurable for both parties.”

  “And to gather the DNA?”

  “We lick our mates, all over, regularly. We kiss – as you humans do, we sleep together, our bodies entwined, and we stay together day in and day out for three months. It is called The Bonding.

  “Huh,” Sorrow smiled, leaning in and kissing him deeply, and pulling away reluctantly, “it sounds similar to our honeymoon on Earth. The man and woman, after marriage, spend some time together away from friends and family, getting to know one another physically. Of course, you and I have already been together for months now…”

  “Yes,” he nuzzled her neck, his long tongue snaking out and licking from her collarbone to her earlobe, “but until now our bodies have not touched; although I confess, I have wanted to feel your skin for some time.”

  “And I yours,” she laughed.

  He kissed her again, gently.

  “Can I see it?” she whispered against his mouth, her hand reaching down to touch his bulging crotch.

  “No,” he laughed, pulling away and shaking his head, “you may not.”

  “It is purely, you know, for scientific purposes. I mean, I am a doctor,” she laughed gently at his amused expression.

  “My organ is not for viewing,” he snorted, still laughing, “it is not a thing to be studied.”

  “Kissed?” Sorrow smirked.

  “Woman, your mind is strange and temptingly dirty,” he stepped back and moved to leave the room.

  “Wait,” Sorrow held out her hand, resting it on his hard bicep, “when will you return?”

  “Tonight,” he smiled, “you said you would read to me from your book of Earth poems – but I think instead I would like you to tell me what this Earth sex is all about. Purely for scientific purposes, you understand.”

  Sorrow smiled.

  “It is a date. But Micah,” she said, her voice suddenly serious. “I think after I have told you all about our kind, knowing what I know about yours, you will come to agree that I can’t stay here.
I can’t,” she paused, “I can’t stay feeling the way I do, the way I’m starting to feel about you.”

  “Yes,” he turned for the door, his expression now serious, “I know exactly how you feel, Sorrow.”

  She watched him leave, her face puzzled.

  ‘Does he know how I feel because all women feel this way about him? Or does he know how I feel because he feels it too?’

  Shaking her head, she turned back to the wall of books and headed to the resource book section marked ‘The Bonding.’

  11

  “I know what I want, but I know I can’t have it,” she sighed, her eyes rolling and breath hitching as his long tongue licked up the length of her stomach, from her bellybutton to her breasts, before encircling her nipple.

  He massaged one breast as he sucked the other, his spare hand snaking up to cover her mouth and prevent more words that neither of them wanted to hear from being uttered.

  Pausing to look into her eyes, he removed his hand and kissed her lips before moving his mouth to her ear.

  “You can have it; you can have everything, all, all of me. Just stay, Sorrow.”

  “Micah, there is only a week, perhaps less before the portals open. I have to go back; I have to save those I can save.”

  “They are war-like creatures, you though, you are made for love – we have bonded, can’t you feel it?”

  Sorrow sighed and arched her back as he moved his head down, past her belly button and between her legs. But her mind, although suffused in pleasure, was a million miles away, above ground, imagining the children and babies being burnt to death in a nuclear explosion that only she had the power to prevent.

  “Micah,” she gripped his head spines and pulled him back up so that she could look into his eyes, “I have to save the children. They are innocent in all this and have had such horrible lives – I have to do something.”

  He sighed and looked at her with soft, loving eyes and Sorrow’s resolve began once more to melt.

  In the months they had been back at the barracks they had rarely been apart. They had left his parents’ castle the day after their discussion in the library, much to the disappointment of the debutantes who would still attend several more weeks of dances and garden parties in the hope of securing a mate.